Wishing she could stop herself, she looked over at him again, then wished she hadn’t. “I have some work to do, and you seem to be feeling much better,” she said, then fled the room before she threw herself into his arms.
She stood on the porch, leaning again the railing, sucking in huge gulps of air, her body still pulsing deep inside, images she would have rather not envisioned running through her head. The Fae in her urged her to go back inside and let Colin’s words become the truth, but the other side of her knew that it would be mistake. Something had already sprung to life between them, and even if for Colin it was only a distraction, she felt herself falling for him like she’d never fallen for anyone before.
Knowing that she would only be feeding a fire that was already burning too hot, she stepped off the porch and headed for the dying shed. Work would take her mind off the man sitting at her kitchen table and the strange effect he had on her. By tomorrow, his wounds should be fully healed, and even if she had to give him the money herself, she’d see that he was on his way to wherever it was he belonged.
Her life had been just fine until he showed up; she kept her head down, worked at the store, and ran the farm. If she got lonely occasionally, she had friends to help ease the pain and cheer her up. A romance was the last thing she needed right now, and definitely not with a man who didn’t belong in her world. Better to end it before it began than end up hurt.
First thing tomorrow, she’d send him on his way; it was the only intelligent thing to do. Letting him stay would be playing with fire, and she wasn’t planning on getting burned, not by a man who wouldn’t remember her in a month from now. Reminding herself of all the things she’d heard about Prince Colin, she promised herself to keep her distance until he left. It was the only sane thing to do, the only way to keep her heart and dignity intact.
Chapter Eight
***Colin***
Colin finished his sandwich, smiling the entire time, feeling more like his old self. There was nothing he liked more than pursuing a difficult female, and Darby was clearly going to be a challenge, but he was confident that in the end, he’d have the prize he sought. He ignored the little voice inside his head warning him that he might get more than he bargained for if he did win that prize and got up from the table.
It was strange being in the house alone, no servants, no family bugging him, and he decided that spending a few days here might not be all that bad. Then it occurred to him that up here, his parents wouldn’t know where he was, and an evil smile spread across his face. By now, their spies would have reported that he’d disappeared, and they might be getting worried; a few more days should seal the deal, and they’d welcome him home with open arms.
Even more pleased with the circumstances he found himself in, he wandered back to his bedroom, a huge yawn reminding him he was still recovering. Climbing back into bed, he grabbed the remote and turned on the television, but it wasn’t long before his eyelids began to droop, and he tumbled into a dreamless, healing sleep.
When he woke a few hours later, he could hear someone in the kitchen and soon, the smell of food began to fill the room, making his stomach growl. Pulling himself up so he was leaning against the headboard, he channel surfed, waiting for his dinner, thinking he’d never been so hungry in his entire life.
By the time Darby came into the room, his stomach was cramped with hunger, and his good mood had soured. “I thought you were never going to bring my dinner,” he groused without even greeting her. “What did you do, eat first?”
Darby was clearly shocked by his words but tried to hide it. “Well, good evening to you too,” she said, setting the tray on the table by the bed. “You were asleep when I got home. How are you feeling?”
“I feel like I’m starving to death,” he said, annoyed by her chipper mood. “Is this how you always treat guests?”
Darby was losing her patience, but he didn’t care; he was hungry, and she still hadn’t given him his food. “You mean cooking over a hot stove for an hour so you’d have something hot to eat isn’t the right way to treat a guest?” she asked, a bit too sweetly.
“It’s not going to be hot unless you give it to me,” he said, looking over at the tray.
She looked over at the tray too. “I just assumed that since you’re a grown man, you could manage by yourself,” she said, then got up and headed for door. Before she left, she turned back to him. “I’ll be back for your dirty dishes later, that is, unless you can manage to get out of bed yourself and bring them to the kitchen.”
The sound of the door slamming made him jump, and for a second, he could only stare at it in shock and anger, but then the smell of his dinner wafted over to him, and all he could think about was food. Grabbing the tray, he settled it on his lap then pulled off the cloth covering the food but scowled when he saw what was on the tray.
Disappointed, he picked up his spoon and poked it into the bowl of stew that was supposed to be his dinner. He’d been lying there for what felt like hours thinking about all the wonderful things he could have been eating at the castle, and now all he had was a bowl of vegetables and broth. The temptation to throw the bowl across the room was so strong, he had his hands around the bowl before he stopped himself.
The sound of the slamming door and Darby’s last words to him popped into his mind at the last moment, and he stopped himself. He had a distinct feeling that she wouldn’t appreciate him throwing food across the room, so he picked up the spoon, resigned to his peasant dinner, and scooped up a little bite. Bracing himself for something horrible, he put the spoon in his mouth, and almost instantly, it was filled with the most wonderful flavor.
He’d eaten almost half the bowl when he noticed the golden-brown rolls on a plate with several bright yellow pats of butter sitting next to it. Grabbing it, he broke it in half, held it up to his nose, and inhaled the yeasty scent, then stuffed it in his mouth. The bread was crusty on the outside but soft in the center, and it melted in his mouth as he chewed, making him sigh with pleasure.
When every last scrap of food was gone, he licked the last of the butter off his fingers and set the tray aside. As simple as the food had been, it was the best meal he’d ever eaten, and any trace of anger or frustration he’d been feeling had vanished. A strange feeling began to creep through him, and for a minute, he wasn’t sure what it was; then it hit him.
He felt guilty for treating Darby the way he had, and as the harsh words he’d used echoed over and over in his head, he realized that he had to apologize. It wasn’t something he did very often or meant when he said it, but this time was different. A bit surprised by his feelings, he got out of bed and grabbed the tray.
***Darby***
Darby sat curled in a chair in front of the fire, her half-eaten dinner on the table next to her, still marveling at how different Colin had been that night. At first, she’d thought that he was joking, but it had become clear pretty fast that Colin was having a tantrum. She’d never seen a grown Fae act that way, and it had taken her a second to realize that for Colin, it wasn’t all that unusual.
But it also hadn’t taken her very long to decide that he wasn’t going to treat her that way; she wasn’t his servant and wouldn’t behave that way. Slamming the door on her way out had felt good, and she wished she could go back and slam it again just to make sure he understood.