Page 63 of Ironling
Lady Aislinn looked up at him, her bright golden eyes wide with surprise. “We don’t have any more unclaimed estates, I’m afraid.”
“No need for something so grand. I was thinking of something like Varon’s farm.”
“I didn’t realize you had farming aspirations,” she teased.
“By the old gods, no. I’m not suited for it. But land of my own—that I aspire to.”
He held her gaze as the merriment of before morphed into curiosity. Lady Aislinn cleared away the parchment from atop the map and traced a finger from Dundúran toward the Brádaigh estate.
“There are several parcels available. Did you know which one?” she asked.
Hakon leaned over the desk, putting their heads close, and followed the path of her finger. His bumped hers over the Brádaigh estate.
“Here,” he said, “with the meadow. Do you know it?”
He watched as her expression went soft with fondness. “Yes. Sorcha and I used to pick flowers there in the spring. It’s a lovely place.”
She liked the plot. She had fond memories of it. It was near her friend.
His beast howled in triumph.
Take her there. Mate her there. Build her a fine home.
“What will you do with it?” she asked, voice gone low and soft.
“Build a home. A forge.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “Have a family.”
“Is that why you came to the Darrowlands, ultimately? For a family?”
The question felt far more serious than her voice implied.
He held that gaze of hers, enthralled, and knew he had to choose his answer wisely. He didn’t know why, only that he did.
“I came to find a purpose,” he finally answered.
And it’s you.
She pulled a long draw of air into her lungs, and Hakon couldn’t help his eyes flicking down to see how it made her breasts push against the neckline of her gown. He pulled his gaze up only to find her watching him, her eyes gone heavy-lidded.
Hakon swallowed on a dry throat.
The motion pulled her gaze to his throat, and then up to his mouth, where it lingered.
Kiss her. Do it. She wants you to!
Hakon swayed toward her, hardly hearing how the papers rustled beneath his hand. Her pupils blew wide, and her lips parted. He could feel the heat of her on his lips, needed only the smallest encouragement to close the breath’s distance between them.
“Shall I draw up another deed for my father to sign?”
She turned her head away, and Hakon retreated. Only a little.
She feels it.
His heart pounded harder than a hammer against an anvil in the confines of his chest.
She feels it, too.
“Yes,” he said, too dumbstruck to say more.
