Page 42 of Ironling
Hakon’s heart kicked violently in his chest—and his cock with interest in his trou.
Lady Aislinn’s hand was painfully soft, her fingertips branding his skin.
With a little gasp, she pulled her hand back.
Her gaze fell away, and she hid her blush behind the brim of her wide hat. “I-I’m so sorry. I merely…”
Hakon cleared his throat again, luring her attention. Peeling back the collar of his jerkin, he showed her the line of lighter green skin below his throat.
“We do darken under the sun,” he said, bemused but inordinately pleased when she blinked and blinked at his exposed skin, not pulling her gaze away. “Orc hide is too thick to burn. Or too stubborn. Halfling skin…” He rocked his open hand in an undecided gesture. “It’s a bit more sensitive.”
She stared at his throat for another long moment before nodding decidedly, her mouth set in that determined way of hers. “You should have a hat, then.”
He laughed at the thought of him wearing something like her floppy hat, but when he next came to help her, he found she was serious, awaiting him with his own wide-brimmed straw hat.
Lady Aislinn held it out to him expectantly, and he knew, mate or not, he’d never disappoint her.
He sat the hat on his head, his ears immediately cooler under the shade.
She made a humming sound of pleasure, reaching up to tighten the strings under his chin.
Those fingertips brushed him again, and his ears weresuddenly not so cool anymore.
She seemed pleased with her work, so Hakon was pleased, too. Under the shade of the hat, he could easily watch her more than was strictly necessary as she taught him the proper pruning of garden roses.
He took to the work faster than he did eating in the dining hall, especially when he saw how the thorns cut and scratched at Lady Aislinn’s soft hands. Even with gloves, the roses fought them, determined to keep their brambles and wild shapes. He insisted on battling the more difficult plants, where the shears had to get in deep. They had their retribution, scratching his arms and face, but better his than hers.
With his help, the garden slowly but surely began to reveal itself. Lady Aislinn was overjoyed with the progress they made, and Hakon happily listened to her talk of the roses and what colors they would be next spring.
As they worked, they also spoke of Aislinn’s ideas for future projects—namely, the bridge she meant to build on the southern side of town.
“I’m determined to start soon,” she told him on another sunny afternoon.
Autumn had begun, though it’d been strangely mild so far. Still, a chill rode on the breeze, prompting Lady Aislinn to want to finish preparing the garden for its winter dormancy before the first large storm.
Hakon followed behind her with a barrow full of mulch, listening in amazement as she described her plans for the bridge, from the angle of the arch to the width of the footpath to the composition of the mortar.
“I suppose if I’m to be left in charge of Dundúran, I’ll have my way with the bridge at least. I’d like to begin soon so that at least the preliminary work might be finished before the snows, but soon that won’t be possible.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned the approaching time when she would rule over not just Dundúran but the whole of the Darrowlands. Hakon had had to piece together the story from Orek’s account of Jerrod Darrow, castle gossip, and what Lady Aislinn said.
That Liege Darrow intended to leave soon, and not to look for his wayward son, sat unwell with Hakon. Resentment on behalf of Lady Aislinn grew faster and more numerous than the weeds that wanted to claim the rose garden, and he often didn’t know what to do with the feelings, other than throw himself into helping her any way he could.
So when she turned to him near the end of their work that day and asked, “Would you…accompany me to speak with the guild-masters when it’s time? I’d appreciate your opinion,” there was no other answer for him to give than, “Of course, my lady.”
And not just because it meant more time at her side. He genuinely wished to help. If the brilliant heiress wanted to build a bridge, then Hakon would make it so.
There will be time later to get to know more of the women and find a mate.
Yes, he was sure when winter settled on the land and everyone kept indoors, he’d have the time. For now, he could offer his to Lady Aislinn.
For a few weeks, as the autumn air began to carry a crispness that heralded harvesttime, Aislinn found uninterrupted refuge in the castle smithy and her mother’s garden. For a blissfulfortnight, Aislinn’s little hideaways went undiscovered, her afternoons her own for the first time in what felt like a long while.
She was grateful to Hakon for letting her monopolize so much of his time. Fearghas was certainly already tired of her in the smithy, grumping about not liking being watched as he worked, but she and Hakon just threw each other furtive grins as he got on with his work.
Whatever she brought to Hakon, no matter how outlandish, he agreed to at least try to bring her vision to life. He was spoiling her with his agreeableness, and it was quickly becoming addicting. She was actually running out of the bits she’d wanted to have made as prototypes or experiments and was spending the late hours of her evenings sketching any idea that came to her—if only for the excuse to steal to the smithy again.
She had a little treasure trove of items he’d made her, from scissors to quill nibs to coal tongs to new hinges for her study door, so they’d never give her away when she slipped out. Her favorite, though, was still the little wooden rose.
