Unofficial for their purposes, at least.
For Kipp Aldwine, it is very official. We are here to offer him the crown. Prepared to give him anything he desires to convince him to come south.
“Did Lord Bailor press you on our purpose?”
Another woman, another wink. The man is incorrigible.
“Aye.” I consider my meeting with him that morning. “A bit, but I pacified him, I believe.”
“You didn’t mention the boy’s name?”
I’m unsure why Thomas insists on referring to a man older than him as a boy.
“Of course not.”
“There she is.”
At his words, I push away from the wall and stand tall. Which, of course, prompts a fit of laughter from Thomas.
“You chastise me for flirting?”
Hitting him, prompting an “ow,” I watch as the Garra approaches.
So serious. Her full lips are pursed together, brows furrowed. She does not smile easily, that I can tell. Even so, her beauty dulls even the bright blue sky framing her from behind. Dressed simply but elegantly, she glides toward me, greeting those around her with a simple nod.
“She’s beautiful, that I’ll allow.”
Ignoring Thomas, I prepare to greet her. Prepare to spar with her.
For there’s no doubt she doesn’t like me. An affliction to which I’m unaccustomed.
“Good day,” she greets us.
Lavender overpowers the scent of salt air.
“Good day, my lady,” Thomas says smoothly, bowing.
Her response is polite but cool. At least she appears to like Thomas as little as she does me. I can’t help but grin at his stricken expression.
“Shall we?” I move toward the door.
“Nay, not in there.” She gestures for me to follow her, her expression brooking no refusal. Thomas and I exchange a look, but she’s already walking. I bid him farewell, and the last thing I see before I hurry after her is Thomas winking.
The Garra walks from the inn toward the docks. No ships are in port, but the area still bustles with activity. A fishing village never sleeps, and this one is no different.
“Where are we going?” I ask as the docks end.
“Away from prying eyes and overly curious ears.”
It’s clear we’re following a path, and with my attention on our surroundings—timber-framed buildings with thatched roofs, others built of stone—I don’t notice when she veers off in another direction. But she certainly notices.
“Nay! This way.”
I stop and strain to see what’s ahead.
“Why don’t you wish to continue this way?” I ask.
She grimaces.
“I shall go ahead and see for myself.”
Aedre exhales loudly, frustrated. “That way lies the forge where my father works.”
Ah yes, she’s the blacksmith’s daughter.
“He would not be keen to see us together?”
Understandable, as Aedre is an unmarried maid.
“Even less if he knew the reason. This way.”
Following her through the winding paths between buildings, I consider her words. So her father does not care for her chosen profession. Interesting. Back home, without a father’s approval, she would find it difficult to pursue such a path.
A dog emerges from what appears to be the tailor’s shop. Stopping, I reach down to pet him without thinking. It’s attention he wants, and I’m more than willing to give it.
“Good day, Lady Aedre.”
The tailor.
“And . . .”
I stand, offering my hand. “Lord d’Abella, at your service.”
Though quite old and unable to stand completely straight, he shakes my hand vigorously. “Ronald, my lord.”
I step back, aware Aedre wishes to move on. “Good day, Ronald. To you and . . . ?”
“Dog.”
Did I hear him correctly? “Your dog’s name is Dog?”
“Aye, my lord.”
I try not to smile. “Very good. ’Twas my pleasure to meet you both.”
As we move away, I notice something quite surprising.
“You’re smiling,” I say to Aedre without thinking. But the smile disappears as soon as I mention it, my words snuffing it out of existence.
“This way,” she says with an aggrieved sniff.
Emerging once again at the water’s edge, the docks giving way to a rocky coastline, we continue to walk. As the buildings fall away, I watch her. Curious.
“Should we not stay in the village?”
No answer.
“You do not know me. What if I . . .”
She stops, moving so quickly I’m not in the least prepared for the knife she points at my neck. Where did it even come from? I shove away a vision of it tucked between her breasts.
Curia Commander indeed.
Eyes blazing, she doesn’t move her hand away. The tip of her blade is so close I can feel its presence just above my skin.
“Once again, you underestimate a woman’s place.”
Definitely lavender. I can smell it easily. Although my well-being should be foremost in my thoughts right now, it’s not.
“I vow not to do so again.”
From the look in her eyes, it’s obvious she doesn’t believe my claim, but it’s true. We are at an impasse, one I have to end.
“Shall we begin our training now? You are a Garra. Tell me, Aedre, what am I thinking?”
I’m thinking of two round breasts nearly pressed against me. I’m thinking of her sweet scent and the small smile I spied back in the village. I’m thinking this woman is unlike any other.
Something flashes in her eyes. “Do not . . .”
Too late.
“You are quite beautiful.”
She lowers her hand, but I grasp it before she moves away.
“What am I thinking?” he presses.
“I’m not sure what tall tales you’ve heard, my lord, but I do not read thoughts.”
Her wrist is so small, so delicate in my hand. Very much unlike her personality. Delicate is not a word I’d use to describe her. Not at all.
“But you do read expressions? Feelings?”
She snatches her hand back. “I do.”
“And?”
She makes a most unladylike sound. “And yours says you’d like to stick your cock in me. What of it?”
She continues on, forcing me to take long strides to catch her.
“Nay, Lady Aedre.”
We reach an outcropping of rocks and, weaving her way through it, Aedre climbs deftly toward one particularly flat stone. She arranges her skirts and sits, and I settle in beside her. Though it is large enough for
