Page 23 of Keeping a Nymph’s Heart

“Orla, are you all right?” Owain asked, looking down at her, brow creased with concern. He stepped in front of her, taking up her entire field of vision. “Breathe for me, Orla. Take a couple of those deep breaths for me.” He took her hand in his and placed it on his chest as he inhaled deeply. “Just like this, in and out.”

As he said it, she felt the firm planes of his chest rise and fall. On her inhale, she smelled cedar mixed with hints of charcoal; it was a pleasant combination, calming and masculine. After several deep breaths, her pulse started to slow and the cacophony of words playing in her head started to quiet. After a few moments, she felt steadier.

“That was embarrassing. I—” She paused. Looking up into his beautiful eyes, shocked by the tenderness there. He looked so concerned for her. “Thank you, Owain. If it’s all right, can you make it the rest of the way to the office? I should probably return to my rooms.” She hated the nauseous feeling that she was left with after one of her bouts of nerves.

“Let me walk you,” he said gently.

“No, it’s fine. Besides, you have to go and play lord, remember?” She tried to joke but it fell flat as Owain continued to look at her with such tenderness in his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Thank you again.” And she turned and headed towards her room.

Orla’s panic had subsided a bit after she had time to herself, plus a bath and a generous helping of chamomile tea. Since the rain from the past several days cleared, she found herself walking to her favorite garden. Now that they were nearing winter, few of the flowers were in bloom. The air was crisp when she sat down on a bench, tucking her knees up under her chin. The cold of the stone bench bit into her backside and made her wince. After a time, she started to shiver and wondered how long she could stay out in the garden when the air around her warmed perceptively. She smelled that intoxicating cedar and charcoal scent before seeing large antlers and a head of reddish-brown waves peek out behind a tree across from her in the garden.

Owain.

“I wanted to check on you, but you weren’t in your rooms.” He walked towards her, setting himself on the bench beside her.

“How’d you know where to find me?” she asked, turning to face him in time to see his cheeks flush.

“I’ve seen you sitting here a few times.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you stalking me, Owain?” she teased.

“Admiring,” he said as his voice dropped an octave that sent a thrill straight through her.

As she looked away to hide her smile, a few of her braids fell into her face. Gently, Owain tucked them back behind her ears.

“What was that back there, Orla?” he asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she replied, turning away from him again. How could she explain what happened there? That she panicked at being reminded of Rhyan. That every time someone mentioned one of her famous battles, she thought about his death. That she was a murderer who killed innocent people because she never learned how to do much with her powers besides make flowers grow out of season. No, it was too much to explain to this cool, unaffected male that didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

“How can I help?” he asked with such sincerity in his voice.

“You can’t,” she said softly, looking down at the earth still damp from the days of rain.

“There must be something I can do.” He touched her elbow just like he had in the palace. This time he rubbed his thumb up and down as he touched her. His touch sent a jolt through her, warming her core in an unexpected way.

“One thing,” she said. “Follow me.” She headed off towards the entrance to the garden as Owain followed after.

Chapter Twelve

For the second time in as many weeks, Owain found himself trailing Orla through the forest on the palace grounds. This time, her heavy blue cloak impeded his view of her glorious backside. He debated making it warmer as they walked but decided that would be an abuse of his power. Making it warmer in her rooms or in the garden was for her comfort. Even making it rain over the grounds for the past few days had been to make her happy. If he made the trail warm now it would only be for his lust.

It had been over a moon since he had come to the palace to complete his mission. Gain allies at court, implement a coup, and kill King Mikki. It was a simple plan, which was part of its brilliance. His father, King Vernon, would seize Emmental for his own. And Owain, as the king’s only living son, would be legitimized and become the rightful heir and prince of these lands.

Truthfully, he had never wanted to be a prince. That was Gwayne’s birthright and then Aengus’s after Gwayne. But what Owain did want was to feel like he belonged. To be seen as worthy in the eyes of the nobles who had turned their noses up at him since he was a boy. He spent so much of his life on the outside of things, looking at the true born nobles with such envy.

Being a bastard in a kingdom like Edam had been difficult; being the son of a woman who worked in a pleasure house had been even worse. He could only think of the ways his father and the other nobles would have reacted if they had known the full truth of his mother’s background. He had always felt less than.

Lord Calix’s words of his failure to complete their tasks while at court had made him feel all of twelve years old again, hiding out in his room as those at his father’s estate cast aspersions on him and his mother.

He didn’t feel that way with Orla. Though their first meeting was fraught with contempt, he had come to see that the version of her from the rumors in Edam couldn’t be further from the truth.

She was funny and kind. There was a fierceness about her even though she was soft in so many unexpected ways, clearly much more nymph than Elven. He appreciated how much she enjoyed the outdoors and the way she narrowed her beautiful dark eyes when she was getting ready to tease him. For the first time since he came to Emmental, he didn’t think he could follow through with their plans to frame her for King Mikki’s death.

The thought hit him like a blow.

He couldn’t move forward. Couldn’t have her pay the price for the crimes of her kingdom. Framing this funny, sensitive, kind female for what was about to happen to her kingdom left him stricken. The thought of what would happen to her if he moved forward with his plans left him physically sick.

“Where’d you go?” She had turned to look at him.