Page 71 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
“I’m…” I put the mallet and cutter down. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“No”—he paused at arm’s length—“regretsabout last night?” His chest rose and didn’t fall, and his gaze fixed on my hand resting on the table.
“You thinkI…?” I huffed, shaking my head. “Gods, no.No.”
He blew out a low sigh and closed the distance between us. “Then…” His hands landed on my shoulders and slid down my arms. “Are you tired? Or…?” He shrugged, eyebrows rising in question.
Why are you acting so strangely?That’s what he meant.
I’d let Boyd get to me. And Goren’s magic that had made the changeling appear to me. Their words had wormed their way inside my mind.
Wincing, I tugged on Ly’s shirt. “Tired and… so much has happened… and I wanted to make progress on this, so you could teach Goren a lesson.” Again, that quiet venom sounded in my voice.
Ly nodded at the mallet. “So itwashim, then?” He grinned, making me ache to kiss the dimple in his cheek. “Well, you’re going to need your strength—I had no idea sewing was so energetic.”
Before I could laugh, he scooped me over his shoulder.
“Ly! What are you—?”
“Delivering you to your lunch.” Under my belly, his shoulder shook with laughter as he gripped me by the backside and crossed to the armchairs.
Cheeks burning, I wriggled. “Firstly, I can walk.”
“Yes, but you weren’t doing so, were you? You didn’t even make it down to the kitchen for breakfast.”
“And secondly, I’m sure you don’t need to hold my bottom.”
“Ah, you’ve got me there.” He gave a squeeze, and my pulse sped. “I don’tneedto, but Iliketo. It’s such a lovely bottom—wonderfully round and soft and positively glorious. Besides, your heart rate says you don’t mind me doing thisat all.”
One eyebrow raised, grin utterly wicked, he set me on my feet.
“My heart rate is a traitorous fool.” I glared up at him. The effect was probably spoilt by my flushed cheeks and breathlessness. “But maybe it has a point.” Hands sliding up his chest, I tiptoed to his lips and lost myself there for a while.
Just as a low groan sounded in his throat, and his grip on me tightened, I pulled away and smiled sweetly. “Our sandwiches are drying out.”
He made another sound that might’ve been a growl, but he nodded and waited for me to sit before serving me tea and the little sandwiches Hil had made.
As I picked up the first one, he watched, intent.
“What?” I frowned and swiped at my cheek in case a stray thread was caught on me.
Head tilting, that warmth entered his eyes, and he lifted one shoulder. “I’m just enjoying the fact you don’t wear a hood anymore. I like getting to see you.”
My cheeks flushed as I touched my hair. I hadn’t even thought about my hood in weeks.
“In Briarbridge, I saw how you hid, how you spoke softly, kept small.” A frown ghosted between his brows. “I don’t think it was something new or something you did because I was there. I think that place kept you that way.”
My chest filled, not with suffocating wadding but with something bright and warm, as though his hand rested over my heart. I blew out a shaky breath. “I think you’re right.”
He bit his lip, but a smile tugged it from between his teeth. “Much as I cursed her when I received the order, I’m glad the Queen made me go to Briarbridge.”
So am I. But the words stuck in my throat, so we ate our sandwiches and turned the conversation to lighter subjects. We drank cup after cup of tea, poured from a pot that never ran out, and all the while, he insisted on serving me.
The next tier of the stand contained a dozen varieties of cake, each no larger than a mouthful, and on the top tier were scones with little pots of raspberry and rhubarb jams and clotted cream. Ly called it “afternoon tea” and that tugged on a faint memory. Lady Hawthorne had once asked me to make her a day dress that would impress her guests at afternoon tea.
It looked more like dessert than a meal, but I wasnotabout to complain about that.
When I peered at the cakes, trying to choose which to devour first, he craned over the gap between our chairs.
