Page 8 of The Dark Elf's Surprise Baby

This is so perfect. Do not ever lose this.I tell myself sternly as Harper sits down on the blanket.

She is wearing a pale purple dress and the skirt of the dress spills away from her waist. The fabric ripples around her soft,lithe body beautifully. I can see the curves and lines of her body through the thin fabric of the dress.

I swallow as I follow her to the blanket. I sit down with some difficulty, and Harper laughs out loud when I struggle to cross my legs.

When I look more closely at the dress, I see that tiny, delicate rirzed flowers have been sewn into the fabric of the dress.

The color and texture of the fabric complements the warm undertones of Harper’s skin.

For a single moment, Harper looks lush and ripe and I have to restrain myself from groaning out loud.

Around us, the servants bring us dishes of meat, baskets of bread, and bowls of fresh fruit.

I wave the servants away after we have dished our fill, and Harper and I sit in silence.

Though as much as I love the simplicity of sitting in silence, I am anxious and eager to hear how Harper has been.

“So what have you been up to in the time that I have been gone?” I ask her.

She bites into some fruit, and licks her lips before speaking. I restrain the groan again.

“I have been reading mostly.” She says, and recounts some of the stories she has been reading.

I realize very quickly that she is reading stories that I read as a child.

“Are you trying to learn elvish?” I ask her, with wonder in my voice.

A blush spreads across her face.

“I want to be able to understand you when you speak. I know that sometimes you get tired, and speak your own language,” she says, her voice soft.

“I do,” I have never admitted this to anyone. “But you do not have to do that for me.”

“I want to.” There is obstinacy in her voice, and I smile indulgently.

We slowly eat our way through the various foods that the servants prepared. Everything is absolutely delicious, and I will be tipping each servant personally tomorrow.

I cannot help but notice that Harper eats more quickly than I do, and then hurries to clear up her plates.

When I finish, she moves to clear up mine, but I grab her hand gently.

“No,” my voice is firm but gentle. “That isn’t your job anymore. And there is nothing wrong with wanting to clean up. But I want you to rest.”

She smiles and I pull her into my arms. I place small, soft kisses on her jaw, on her nose, and her forehead. Then we push aside the soiled crockery and lay down on the blankets.

Now that I know that Harper was okay while I was away, laying in silence feels good.

The different constellations of stars brighten as the sun slips further beyond the horizon.

I rub at my forehead at the headache that is starting to build in my temples. As much as coming home has relaxed me, the stresses of the last few weeks remain.

Harper notices right away.

“What’s wrong? Is it your head?” She is used to the headaches that I get from stress.

“Come,” she says, her voice efficient. “Lay here and I’ll massage your head for you.”

I do as she says and lay my head in her lap. Slowly she strokes my forehead and temples, and pulls my shocking white hair from its braid.

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