“It’s time for you to go to bed,” he ordered, pushing me toward the stairs. “And lock your door.”
“Why?”
“To keep unwanted intruders out.” Kash gave me a slow smile. “Or don’t.”
My heart raced as I ran up the stairs to my bedroom and locked the door behind me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I came downstairs the next morning after spending way too much time in the mirror playing with my hair. I braided one side, pulling it back and pinning it, letting the rest of my locks run down my back. I pinched my cheeks to add color and stared at my lips for far too long. My heart fluttered, and I went down the stairs, eager to see Kash and his devilish smile, only to realize that the front door of the manor was slightly ajar. The gloomy light streamed through, and a set of footprints led off the steps and into the woods.
I closed the door, the beating of my heart slowing down as disappointment followed. He left again. It was not how I imagined the morning after my first kiss. I had hoped we would spend breakfast together, holding hands, talking while I stared at his contagious smile. I had it bad. My first crush and first kiss, all in one. With each passing candle mark, my heart ached even more with the desire to see him.
As the day wore on, I skimmed the books left in the manor. I made soup with the leftover rabbit, bits of dried herbs, and the potatoes that were only just beginning to grow eyes. Even moving around the kitchen, I would frequently stare at the place we sat and shared a kiss.
I found myself gazing out the windows, searching the snow for a shadow of Kash returning, hoping he would enjoy the hot meal I had cooked for him and the fresh bread I had baked. Is this what it was like to be in love? My head was in the clouds, my heart unable to keep a steady rhythm, my lips aching to press against his again.
But despite all my longing and wishing, I knew he wouldn’t return until the sun had set. I sat on the stairs facing the door, watching the last ebbs of the overcast sun’s rays disappear, time passing as the shadows moved across the marble floor.
He didn’t return. The sun had set and Kash still didn’t come home. Home. I chastised myself. This wasn’t Kash’s home. He didn’t live here. He lived . . . I didn’t know where he lived. What if he already had another home . . . and a wife?
My thoughts continued to spiral, and I worried on my thumbnail, biting on the edge.
Nonsense. He wouldn’t have kissed me if he were married, right? But what if he regretted it and wasn’t coming back? What if he realized it was a mistake? He seemed comfortable in the snow and storm. There was nothing keeping him here. My shoulders slumped and my head lowered onto my arms as the night wore on.
He still hadn’t come back.
Despite telling myself not to cry, I couldn’t hold back the sting of tears and I fell asleep curled up on the stairs.
“Rhea.” Kash’s gentle voice broke through an uneasy slumber. “Why are you sleeping on the stairs?”
I blinked and rubbed at my salt-crusted eyes.
He touched my face and swore. “Your skin is like ice.” He swept me up in his arms and carried me to the kitchen.
“You didn’t come back,” I said lamely. “I was worried.”
Kash kneeled by the fire and took a flint out of his pocket and quickly had it going again. Heat warming the room and my frozen toes.
“I see you made dinner. It smells wonderful.” Kash lifted the lid on the pot, his face wrinkling. “But it looks questionable.”
I let out a long sigh. The soup had thickened and looked like greasy mush. “I can fix it.” I stood to go to the pitcher to add more water. “It just needs to be reheated.”
“Sit, get warm. I’ll take care of it.” Kash looked different. There was something about his demeanor that immediately alerted me to the problem. That and he was wearing different clothes than he had been the last time I saw him. These clothes were clean, pressed, and had the slightest detailed trim. As he passed me, he caught me staring at the intricate design worn by those of nobility.
“Who are you?” I asked coldly, my eyes taking in the shiny boots, the leather belt, and the rich black cloak. “Those aren’t the clothes of a peasant.”
Kash stopped stirring the soup, his shoulders slumped, and he looked at me, guilt filling his golden eyes.
“I can explain,” Kash said softly.
“Where do you go during the day?” I continued, my hurt bursting with pain at the secrets that were slowly tearing us apart. “It’s like you’re avoiding me.”
“It’s not like that. I mean it is. I am avoiding you.” He took a deep breath, his shoulders straightened. “It’s complicated.” He reached for my hand.
My anger rose at his admission, and I yanked my hand back. “It’s not, really.”
People had avoided me my whole life because of my family. I never expected to find someone that cared for me, and to learn that he didn’t want to be with me hurt. It hurt more than I wanted to admit. I turned so he couldn’t see my eyes fill with tears of rejection. I quickly wiped them away.
“Rhea, I want to tell you something. I—”
“Hellooo!” a high-pitched voice hollered from the foyer, echoing through the manor. Kash pulled away, reaching for the knife that was never far away from him.
“Stay here!” he commanded and tiptoed toward the kitchen door. He pressed his body against the wall and peered around the corner before slipping into the next room.
Stay? I inwardly fumed. I grabbed a heavy pot and headed out the opposite servant’s entrance, taking the back halls that would bring me around to the other side of the manor.
Running on tiptoes, I made excellent time to the west side of the manor and took a glance at the intruders. There were two. One extremely huge with ruddy brown hair that brushed his shoulders, a giant axe on his back, the other small and feminine.
They were both covered in snow and were stamping and shaking it into the foyer.
“Why did you convince me to come here?” the female whined. “I don’t like this white stuff. I’m freezing my tail off.”
“You don’t have a tail anymore,” the one with the axe said. His voice deep was filled with affection for his companion. “And the white stuff is called snow.”
The female pulled her hood back to reveal long lavender hair with eyes that were deep and exotic. She stuck her bottom lip out. “Well, I don’t like this snow. Make it go away. It tastes like—”she licked her lips again—“like nothing. I’m not going back out in it.” She stormed across to the stairs and crossed her arms, giving him a stern look.
The man was no longer listening. He had tensed, his hands held at his sides. I don’t know how I knew, but he sensed us. Just as I was about to step out of the shadows. Kash slipped behind him and pulled his knife.
“Move and you’re dead,” Kash threatened.
“Same goes for you,” the man answered, his own knife pointed into Kash’s stomach. With his cloak pushed aside, his arms were riddled with long white scars. He was an obvious fighter, possibly a mercenary.
The lavender-haired woman didn’t even care about the commotion. She was removing her cloak and heading into the sitting room toward the warm fireplace.