I hope you like it! Only three weeks until release day and I’m getting very excited and a little nervous. Until then, here’s another little snippet.
Aileana hesitated and smoothed her pale blue dress again; hoping Gawain would be pleased by her appearance. Regardless of his reserved ways, they needed to address this marriage and his usual tight-lipped manner would not do. Perhaps with no one else around, he would engage in an actual conversation for once. Her life would be much easier if he would just tell her what he wanted instead of shutting her out.
Picturing him, she lifted the latch. She pushed on the door with a smile on her face and an appropriate greeting ready.
The heavy door arced across the floor quieter than a whisper. Aileana scanned the room. At first it looked empty, but she soon saw him sitting in her uncle’s chair behind his writing desk with his back to the door. He twirled what looked like a letter between his fingers. One leg was half slung over the other and the sight of a thick calf muscle surprised her. Didn’t Gawain pad his leg irons?
He seemed quite relaxed. Something wasn’t right.
Her heart beat a little faster as she crossed the threshold and crept further into the room to catch a better view of the lower half of his body. Woolen plaid covered a dark leather jerkin. A wave of nausea washed over her as she inched closer. Her gaze trailed up his torso where the plaid swept over a thick shoulder then disappeared behind brown hair.
She tripped on a chair, out of place in the center of the room, and cursed to herself when the sound alerted him to her presence. She froze as his head turned and green eyes met hers. Her mouth dropped. It was not possible! What was he doing here?
The man pushed the chair back. The sharp scrape of wood across stone echoed and sent a hundred butterflies loose in her gut. He turned toward her and stepped around the writing desk. She should flee, but could not uproot herself. His intense gaze pinned her. When he was near enough that she could have reached out to touch him, he held out a piece of folded parchment. She wanted to hide from him, from herself, from anything that would remind her how unhinged he made her.
He placed the letter in her hand and she looked down. Her clan crest was stamped in red wax. The seal was unmistakable. She placed her thumbs on either side of it and pressed down, the soft crack echoing in the silent room. He stood so close, sending every nerve in her body on end. His leather scent filled her senses again, feeding her urge to slip into his arms.
She must get a hold of her scattered wits.