Page 48 of Sweetling
“Oh,” said Lorna as she wrapped their purchases, “I nearly forgot. This was a canceled order and within the parameters of what you asked for.”
Crossing to a sturdy armoire, the woman pulled out a breathtaking gown of red velvet. Molly’s heart pitter-pattered to see the delicate black lace at the sleeves and the glisten of the expensive fabric.
The gown was far too small for her, though. Much more suitable to someone with a willowy figure—not her soft belly and thick thighs. She’d spill right out of that low, narrow neckline.
Allarion reached out to touch the gown and made a sound of approval. “Yes, very good. I’ll take it.”
Red suffused her cheeks and her brows rose, though Molly quickly looked away when Allarion rejoined her.
The gown wasn’t sized properly for a woman like Molly—and although beautiful, perhaps not her style, either. Inexplicable anger sparked in her chest, and she was horrified to feel tears gathering at her lashes.
Why would he buy her something like that?
All day, he’d at least asked if she wanted something. He’d never presumed or forced the issue if she truly put up resistance.
It wouldn’t fit her, no matter how it was altered. There wasn’t enough fabric.
Confused and embarrassed and disliking both feelings, Molly was quick to flee the shop once everything was safely packed in his ridiculous basket.
The market was still busy, but it seemed the crowd had grown bored with how long they’d spent in the dress shop. Molly was grateful for fewer eyes as she blinked back more frustrated tears and fewer bodies to dodge as she headed back the way they’d come.
Allarion soon caught up to her. “Have you found everything you wanted?”
“Yes,” she said sullenly, not wanting to seem ungrateful but also not wanting to be there any longer.
“We did promise to stop at the soap-maker’s.”
“Youpromised,” she reminded him, and pushed on.
11
As dusk fell on their eventful day, Allarion knocked before poking his head into Molly’s chamber to see how she was getting on with all her new things. The trek home had taken far longer than the one to Mullon, as it was done in relative silence. Upon returning home, Molly quickly made herself busy sorting through the foodstuffs purchased, ensuring everything went where it needed to.
She seemed disinclined to chat as they had that morning, and so Allarion left her to her business. Something had changed amidst their shopping. Allarion couldn’t pinpoint when it happened nor why, and he spent the better part of the late afternoon pondering it as he hung the heavy green curtains he’d bought for her solar.
When he returned to the kitchen, hoping to find her in a better mood, he found it smelling of savory things, but she had obviously already organized the foodstuffs, prepared herself a meal, and eaten. The countertops were immaculate, as she always left them in the evenings. Although he’d insisted the house could see to it, Molly had a habit of cleaning.
He found it endearing—until he realized it almost made it seem as though she’d never been there at all.
To ease his troubled spirit, he sought her out. He’d vowed never to enter her space without permission, so his head was the only thing he allowed past the threshold.
His smile of greeting fell from his face to see the state of her room. All of the things they’d purchased had been laid across her bed—there seemed to be some method to the chaos, but he couldn’t find it. What truly troubled him was that nothing, not even the belongings she’d brought from Dundúran, seemed to be stored away properly.
Her clothes erupted in a geyser of fabric from her bags; small items like a hairbrush and mirror had been crowded onto the side table adjoining the bed. The drawers of the armoire and lid of the chest were open, ready to receive her things, but both lay empty.
She…never unpacked.
That troubled knot in his chest tightened.
When his gaze returned to Molly, it was to find her staring warily at him. Frustration had him grinding his back teeth.
He’d no inkling why she looked at him so—this morning, she’d been almost friendly, asking her questions and even joking with him.
Larry indeed.
The memory of her laughter set his soul to longing. Her laughter he craved above almost all else—second only to her happiness. Although…his fangs ached to sink into her sweet flesh nearly as much as his cock into her warm cunt.
That she teased him, laughed at him, had given him such hope. She seemed to warm up to shopping after accepting that he would pay any price for her to receive whatever she wanted.
