Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Maybe he’ll need a new bride.
Her words from earlier still burn in my gut. She’s not wrong that Sanjurel could probably use a new wife. But the thought of young, laughing, happy Nicola with that old nosy mesakkah? It bothers me. I think of him filling her belly with a child, and it makes me want to put my fist through the table between us.
That’s a problem. I shouldn’t care if Sanjurel’s right for her. I know he’s a good enough man and he’d keep her safe. I…just don’t like the thought of Nicola in his bed. Nicola with her warm, crop-gold hair and that little dent in her cheek that shows up when she smiles wide.
Pisses me off just thinking about it.
Nicola gives a delicate yawn and hitches one of the blankets tighter around her shoulders. Her breath puffs in front of her face as she casts her final hand and I realize I’ve let the fire die while we played. It’s almost as cold inside the house as it is outside, I’d wager. So much for protecting her. I’m terrible at thinking of others, it seems.
“Cold?” I ask, my voice harder than I mean for it to be.
She looks surprised at my question—or maybe the brusqueness of it—and shakes her head even as she hugs the blanket closer to her. “I’m fine.”
But it’s not fine. Instead of arguing, though, I simply say, “It’s late, and the fire’s out so we might as well head off to bed.”
She nods and yawns again, then gets to her feet. “Can I…keep this blanket?” She looks at me with tired eyes. “The one on the bed is kind of thin.”
I’ve never thought to make extra blankets. I only have a thin one for everyday use and the one she’s got around her shoulders right now for colder nights, like tonight. “Of course.” It’ll leave me without anything to sleep, but I don’t mind. I’ve slept through worse.
The smile she gives me is grateful and she heads to the bedroom. I put a heavy log on the fire so it’ll give a little heat all night and then consider the floor. Wasn’t so bad outside last night, but it’ll be too cold tonight. Without any sort of blanket or softness tonight, it doesn’t look all that appealing. I move to the chair and sit down, rubbing my face. That’s fine. I can sleep here tonight. She’ll be gone soon enough.
The thought doesn’t fill me with relief like it should, though. Instead, I feel a gnawing sort of anger at myself, and frustration. And I feel damn lonely. Why couldn’t she be mesakkah? Actually, scratch that. I don’t even care that she’s that strange, pasty shade or that her face is all flat. I like things about her, like the color of her hair and that little dent in her cheek. I find her appealing.
Why couldn’t she be stronger? Doesn’t matter how charming I find her, I still need a keffing partner for my farm. I can’t expect fragile Nicola to haul me inside if I fall off the barn roof again.
She’s all wrong for me.
Doesn’t mean I’m not aching with want at the thought of touching her, though. But she’s not mine to touch. Not if I’m not keeping her.
I stare into the coals of the fire for a long time.
Eventually, I hear a clattering noise that drags my attention away. It’s coming from the bedroom, and when I get to my feet and step forward, I realize what it is. I can hear her teeth chattering, even from across the house.
“Nicola?” I ask, heading toward the bedroom as if drawn. I shouldn’t go. I should just stoke the fire and ignore her chill and let the heat that will eventually come from the flame take care of things. But…I don’t do that. I move toward the bedroom, gazing in through the darkness at the small, huddled form of her under both blankets. “You okay?”
“I’m f-f-fine,” she chatters. “J-just a little chillier than I’m u-used t-to.”
Stoke the fire, idiot, I tell myself. Go throw a few more logs on there and get the house to boiling. You don’t have to touch her.
I don’t listen to that voice, though. I strip off my tunic and kick off my boots, leaving only my trou, and I head for the bed. “Move over.”
She sits up in my bed, her hair disheveled and tumbling about her head wildly. “What—”
“It’s a cold night and I don’t have enough blankets,” I explain, climbing into bed next to her. She feels slight next to me, but good. I’m not entirely surprised to see that she’s still wearing her layers of clothing from earlier this night. “We’re going to share body heat.”
“We are?” Nicola’s voice is shaky with surprise—or the chatter of her teeth.