Page 75 of Lost in the Dark

Her cheeks burned. “I’m sorry, that was terribly rude of me…”

“It’s fine, lady.” He chuckled, a surprisingly warm sound, and placed the bucket on the ground. “I have spent many years in this castle.” The smile fell from his face. “Perhaps too many.”

“Not at all.” Drawing herself up, she crossed to his side and brushed his elbow with her fingertips. “I am… I am sorry for this morning. I did not mean to set you at odds with your half-brother, or imply… I don’t know how I’d have managed without your help. You’ve offered much needed kindness and—”

“It’s not kindness I seek, lady.” He jerked away from her touch. “Let us work.”

“Very well.” Crouching before the bucket, she wrung out her cloth.

Conversations always ended quickly with Enulf, and once he’d declared a topic closed, she’d learned she’d wrest no more information from him. No matter. She had no desire to amplify his discomfort from the morning. She’d never force her affections on anyone, even if she couldn’t shake the feeling he returned her regard.

“If you can help me lower the ten-pronged hart’s antlers from the far wall, and the boar tusks beside, we can start there.” She pointed to the end of the trophy room with her rag. “Then we can work our way around.”

“As you wish, lady,” he replied quietly.

If he doesn’t want me, why does he look at me that way?

The need to understand tore at her insides, yet she’d gain nothing from alienating her lone ally. There was so much pain in this house. So much unspoken past. Lord Rathbytten turned to hunting and cruel jokes, while Enulf seemed to curl in upon himself as if he deserved all that bile.

She wanted to tell him the jokes were wrong.

To cup his face and promise he was worth so much more than what he’d been given.

But those attentions weren’t welcome—he’d made that clear. She’d been mistaken, and she was left with cleaning as her only means to appease the mora and serve the house.

She slung the cloth over her shoulder and got to work.

While Enulf worked on the boar’s head, she tried to wrestle the buck’s antlers from the wall. No wonder most nobles did not bother to mount pieces of their kills—the wooden frame alone weighed more than her middle sister sopping wet.

It slipped from her fingers.

“Easy.” Enulf caught it before it could hit the ground, holding it with one hand as if the mounted prongs were no heavier than a cushion.

“How are you so strong?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Not so strong.”

Only he was.

Strong and kind and huge.

In the rapidly fading light, his skin took on a purple hue. Shadows hugged the muscles of his shoulders, as if begging her to slide her fingers along those contours and do everything to him that she’d seen in the paintings.

Her body flexed and she swallowed hard.

It wasn’t desire.

No. Her arms and thighs burned, protesting the endless scrubbing, that was all. She glanced away. “That first set of tusks are ready to return to the wall. We should finish before night—”

The room whipped around her.

Massive hands closed around her waist, steadying her. “What is the matter?”

“Noth...nothing, Enulf.” She tried to wave him off. “Do not worry.”

“Anna, you work too hard,” he rumbled, his breath warm against her hair. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day and—”

“No. I’m fine.” There’d be no rest for her until the mora were appeased. She forced herself to her feet, used the wall to steady herself. “I should not have tried to lift the tusks on my own, that is all…”

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