Page 67 of Ironling
Aislinn slapped her chest and shoulders, the emotions needingout. The tears came fast and hot, scalding her face on their way down to soak the soil below. Mud streaked across her face as she tried to wipe them away with her dirty hands.
She didn’t know anyone, not truly. She never expected anyone to lie to her, especially not those closest, and yet that’s all they did. Lie and leave and disappoint.
Turning her face up to the sky, her eyes stinging with dirt and tears, Aislinn cried and cried and cried.
The tears didn’t abate, and her chest ached with the sobs—so much so she thought she imagined the big, warm hands coming around to hold her own. That her imagination tried to manifest the comfort she always longed for but never received.
“Shh, shh,” a deep voice rumbled in her ear, “it’s all right,vinya. It’s all right.”
Aislinn could hardly see through the tears and could hardly believe it when she was lifted from the lawn and carried into the shade of the trees at the back of the garden. So, so gently, she was placed back on the ground, but those warm hands didn’t leave her.
“Oh, gods,” she croaked, the green of Hakon’s skin justdiscernible through the tears that wouldn’t stop.
“I’m here,vinya,you’re all right.”
She shook her head viciously, pawing at her face. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. She didn’t want him seeing her like this—so unkempt, so undone. So…vulnerable. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
Those big hands grasped hers, pulling them away from her face. With another tug, she was brought into the warmth of a great chest, the heart beating steadily beneath soft skin.
Despite herself, her dirty hands clung to the soft leather of his jerkin, afraid he’d suddenly rescind his comfort. She held on for all she was worth, held on through the sobs as they wracked her chest and the tears as they scalded her skin.
She’d have a monster of a headache tomorrow and be sore for days. She’d need a cold compress all night to ensure she wasn’t red and puffy for the wedding. This had to run its course now; there was nothing else for it.
None of that mattered. Not then, under the autumn sky in her mother’s dormant rose garden.
What mattered was the steady beat of his heart under her ear. The way his hand ran in soothing strokes up and down her back, up and down, up and down. How he drew her heavy hair from around her face, allowing the breeze to cool her nape. When his big hand cupped the back of her head and held her there when she otherwise might break apart.
Words tumbled out of her mouth; she wasn’t sure if they made any sense or explanation, but that didn’t matter. He made noises of agreement and assurance as she told him of what Brenna did, of what Brenna expected, of everything Brenna had done for her and her family. She told him about Jerrod and his apathy and anger, how she often wondered if she’d been a better sister if he’d have chosen a different fate. And she told him howshe’d so rarely left the Darrowlands, and even Dundúran, that she loved her place as Lady Aislinn and wanted to take on the role of heiress, but that the castle often felt like a burden, a prison of its own.
Like she was nothing without it.
“No,vinya,” he whispered into her hair. “You areeverything.”
She wanted to protest, but she hadn’t the wherewithal. In fact, the tears were slowing, the sobs lessening—and the exhaustion coming swift on their heels.
Within another few moments, she’d stopped shaking and her senses began to return. A breeze blew across the garden, rustling the branches of the trees. The smell of earth and iron and male finally registered in her nose, and she blinked at the thick green column of Hakon’s throat.
Oh, fates.
Embarrassment surged through her, but on that cool autumn day, her body was too tired, her heart too battered to do anything about it. Instead, she kept her place—atop her blacksmith, she realized.
He’d propped his shoulders against a tree, his long legs spread out before him and Aislinn set between them. Laid upon his chest, his arms cradled her as if she was precious, and there was nowhere in Eirea she’d rather be.
Too exhausted to check herself, she turned her nose into the hollow of his throat and nuzzled there, claiming a long draw of his scent. The word that came to her slow mind wasdecadent. This felt decadent, laying here with him through an autumn afternoon and indulging in his intoxicatingly masculine scent of leather, iron, and soap.
His legs shifted beneath her and his arms tightened around her, bringing her impossibly closer to him.
In a moment she’d be embarrassed. In a moment she’dapologize for crying all over him.
Until then, she enjoyed the moment she had now.
I want more of this.Wanted it more than she’d wanted anything before.
Aislinn lived her life content with how it was. Change was frightening, the unknown dangerous. She’d made up her mind about husbands and children and romance long ago—yet as someone who enjoyed science and invention, she well knew that plans changed. Challenges and opportunities always arose, and the successful innovator was one who adapted to them.
Hakon, and everything he could mean for her, was frightening, to be sure.
