Page 21 of Sweetling
Squeezing his dry hands, Molly whispered, “I’d appreciate if you kept an eye on the girls, though. Make sure they go to school. My uncle is often too busy.”
Doherty made an uncharitable noise. “Indeed. Rest assured, Miss Molly, I’ll look after the little ones. Everyone will attend school as they should.”
“Good. That makes my heart lighter.”
Doherty nodded, patting her hand one more time before releasing her.
Together, they approached the fae.
He was in his standard long dark cloak, but both sides had been folded back over his shoulders, revealing the strong, lithe form of him. Broad shoulders narrowed into a trim waist and lean but powerful thighs. A rich doublet of claret red molded to his form, a silver belt cinched at his waist, and his black leather boots had been polished to a high shine.
He looked like a groom in his finest, arrived for his wedding day.
Heat crept up Molly’s cheeks, and she couldn’t help picking at a stray thread on her skirt.
The others gathered nearer, and Doherty began the handfasting.
The fae held out his large hands with their dark blue nails and tapered fingers. Molly stared at them for a long moment before remembering to slide her hands into his. She thought perhaps his hands would be cold—he had the color of someone nearly gone to hypothermia—but found the opposite. His skin was smooth and warm, not unpleasant at all.
Molly’s nostrils flared, her pulse beginning to throb. She couldn’t keep his gaze but instead stared at the fae’s throat. It was after a few long moments that she realized with a start that no pulse of his own beat in his neck. She didn’t feel one in his hands, either.
Does…does he not…?
The mayor produced a red ribbon, snagging Molly’s attention. She said the requisite things when prompted as Doherty twined the ribbon around their hands, tying them together. The fae’s voice was deep and resonant as he repeated the promises back, and Molly couldn’t help it, her insides quivered to hear that tone of his.
The promises of a handfasting were simple enough, to love and be true. In her fantasies late into the night, Molly often dreamed of hearing the words. She’d never quite seen the face saying them to her, and as they were said now, she refused to look at his face.
The heat continued to rise in her, the witnesses and tavern itself seeming to bend near as the ceremony finished. A hush fell over all of them, Doherty falling silent.
It wasn’t until a long moment of silence passed that Molly dared glace up. The fae looked down at her…softly, expectantly.
Oh.
Handfastings ended with a kiss.
Molly bit her cheek. If he wanted a kiss, he’d have to come down and get it, and he wouldn’t be getting a good one.
He remained perfectly still, those dark eyes searching hers, before finally he bent at the waist. Molly held her breath as he descended to her, locks of starlight hair slipping over his shoulders as he dipped his head.
His lips hovered over hers, but Molly made no move to meet him. She kept her eyes open wide and forward. Within the red ribbon, her hand trembled.
She felt his lashes, silvery like his hair, flutter against her cheek. His head dipped lower, and her belly swooped. She thought he meant to kiss her on the cheek, and to the others that’s what it must have looked like, but no, he—
His warm mouth pressed gently into the side of her neck, near where her pulse beat rapidly at her throat. The heat of him exploded through her, and if she hadn’t been clutching his hand with her own, she would’ve sworn he ran them down her sides to her waist and hips.
For one prolonged moment, they stayed like that, bound together, his mouth on her skin.
Molly’s breath burst from her aching lungs when he finally pulled back an inch.
Low enough so only she could hear, he murmured into her skin, “Azai.”
Her breath shuddered out of her, and Molly stared wide-eyed at her groom as he straightened. Even with his black sclera and violet irises, she thought he looked at her…warmly.
“Thank you, sweetling,” he whispered to her. “I treasure the gift you give me.”
Molly’s lips parted in surprise, but she didn’t know what to say.
A few of the crowd around them began to clap, but it didn’t quite catch on. Mayor Doherty looked between Molly and the fae, as if to see if either would suddenly renounce the handfast.
