Page 3 of Promised to the Satyr

“Not really,” I say. “I wonder if Father read the letters?”

“He did not.” Niko turns down a driveway that ascends a mountain.

My thighs and calves begin to ache. Maybe I shouldn’t have said no to being carried. “How can you be so sure?”

“He gave them to me and they are all still sealed.” As if sensing my distress, he lowers to his knees with his back to me. “My legs are much stronger. Please, let me carry you?”

Against my better judgment, I wrap my legs around his waist and grip his shoulders. “Only because climbing mountains is not in my daily routine.”

Holding my calves in his hands, he runs up the mountain.

I hold tighter, afraid that if he hits a rock, I’ll go flying off and roll to my death. “Why are we running?”

His voice is tight. “Because having your body pressed to mine is more than my cock can take. Galloping is a distraction and if I don’t, it will be difficult to walk.”

I stifle my amusement. “Then why did you offer me a ride?”

“I am a gentleman and didn’t bring you proper transportation. Thus, carrying you is the least I can do.” He grunts and a hint of what’s under his kilt nudges at my foot.

My body tingles with lust. I think it’s going to be a long week.

Two

Niko

With her arms wrapped around my chest and the rest of her flush to my back, it’s hard to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. She’s more beautiful than her pictures led me to believe. When she stepped out of that tree, my heart skidded to a stop. She’s clever and smells of wildflowers. The few nymphs I’ve known have had no interest in defiance. Astra is different.

We crest the last rise and my new cabin comes into view. I bought the place through photographs only and hired a team of people who spent the last three months fixing it up.

Astra gaps. “This is your cabin?”

“Yes. Do you like it?” I hold my breath.

It’s a two-story log cabin with porches and a stone chimney. From this distance, it’s part of the mountainous landscape with a view of several lakes and the top of the Appalachian range.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” She unwraps herself from my back and stands next to me, gaping. “When did you buy this?”

“In the spring. I?—”

“The spring!” She spins to face me. “When did you agree to this arrangement with my father?”

It feels as if whatever I say next will be wrong and important. Lying is not an option. “It was in March that he first sent me your photograph and I knew then that I would agree to whatever terms he offered.”

“March.” She storms toward the cabin. “March.”

I follow. “What’s wrong, Astra?”

She throws her hands up in the air. “March was five months ago.”

“I don’t understand.” My gut is twisted and my heart pounding. I have no idea why March is significant or what is going to come next from her. Even so, the sway of her hips and the high color of her cheeks have me enthralled.

“You’ve written letters to me since March. Didn’t you think it odd that I never responded?” She puts her fists on her hips and faces me.

Back in Canada, I longed to hear some word from her. I wanted to know her and begin our relationship. Her image, though beautiful, was not enough. “I was disappointed that you didn’t wish to let me know you. Of course, now I understand your father didn’t share my correspondence.”

Shaking her head, she turns and continues down the drive. “Father never gave me those letters. Do you know what else he never did? He never told me anything about you or thearrangement the two of you had made. I found out yesterday that I was to be married today.”

I lope to catch up. Her legs may be much smaller than mine, but she walks fast. Feeling like I’m losing her, I take her arm. “Yesterday. That’s not possible. Who made all the wedding arrangements?”

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