Was I doing that?
A lothadbeen on my mind. Rowan. Worrying about Prince Sawyer. War with Haran.
Yeah, I needed some fresh air.
As quietly as I could, I continued down the hall. Once outside, I took a deep breath and slowly released it, willing my lungs to work. The questions and worries were eating me alive. The railing beneath my hands helped ground me. Another inhale. Exhale.
The cold night was a prelude to winter, crisp and frigid but still with lingering notes of autumn. I focused on those notes. The smell of damp leaves and earth. Woodsmoke from the various lit hearths. Another scent mingled in the air.
Something… strangely familiar. Sweet with a trace of pepper and smokiness. Like black cardamom.
The back of my neck prickled as I swept a gaze along the dark trees behind the cottage. On impulse, I lifted a hand to my necklace: the protection stone my men had made for me. Briar had infused the white gem with protective magic to ward off attacks. Lake had carved the wood that encased the stone, and it hung on a leather strap that had been taken from a piece of Maddox’s armor. The necklace symbolized their love. A love that protected me wherever I went.
One moment passed, then another.
Just as I was about to write the whole thing off as me being paranoid, movement stirred from my peripherals, and the scent of peppery sweetness intensified. I snapped my head in that direction. The shadows seemed darker than normal. Denser. Then, within those shadows, a shine of gold. Two orbs of dark topaz reflected in the thick cloak of darkness.
Eyes.
A tiny yelp sprang from my lips as I shuffled back.
“Hello again, little treasure.”
That voice. The nickname.
“R-Rowan?”
“The one and only.” He stepped from the shadows. Dark auburn hair fell past his neck and had been pulled to one side, held in place by a golden cuff. He stood only an inch or so taller than me but carried himself with the confidence of a man twice his size. A long dagger was sheathed at his hip, but I knew he kept more concealed in his boots and another strapped to his thigh.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. Well, squeaked. It happened when I was nervous. One of my endearing qualities.
“Do I need a reason to come and see you?” Rowan stopped at the foot of the porch and rested his arm on the railing.
“Considering you kidnapped me once, yes.”
“Oh, how you wound me.”
“Yeah, that smirk says you’re awfully beat up about it.” I calculated the distance between us, not liking my chances of escape. The porch was only two steps high, so he could definitely reach me before my clumsy feet made it to the back door.
“Stop trying to plan your escape,” Rowan casually said. He moved to the first step, sliding his hand along the rail with his slow approach. “Though, it’d be entertaining to watch you trip over yourself in your haste.”
“You said something similar after youkidnappedme.”
Rowan gave a dismissive flick of his hand. “That was a misunderstanding. I thought you were a prince. And did you just stomp your foot?” The corner of his mouth hitched up higher. “I’d ask you to do it again, but I’m not sure my heart could survive it.”
“I can stomp my foot on your face. Will that work?”
“So feisty,” he said with a tsk. He reached the top step and stood level with me. “I gotta say… I’m kind of into it.”
His close proximity stirred something in my chest. Something that had lain dormant in the almost two months we’d been apart. Fluttery and hot.
“I distinctly remember you saying you don’t like sweets,” I said, inwardly cursing the silly butterflies that shouldnotbe fluttering for this walking red flag. “So, you wouldn’t be into me. I’m sugary sweetness that’ll give you a cavity.”
“I’d have to taste you to be sure.” A slow smile formed on his mouth. “Because to me, little treasure, you seem like you’d be a mug of spiced rum.”
“Um. Spiced rum? I’m not much of a drinker. I take like three sips of wine and feel a buzz.”
“Well, I happen to enjoy drinking, and spiced rum is my favorite.” The humor in his expression was reflected in his slightly raspy tone. Humor and… something else.
