Page 50 of Sweetling
Her pupils widened and the pulse at her throat jumped.
Yes,he thought,that’s it, sweetling. You aren’t as unaffected as you pretend.
“Then what is all this?” she asked. Her voice clung to her affront, but it’d gone throaty to his ears, and those breasts, goddesses those breasts, they rose ever higher with her deepening breaths.
“I hope one day to welcome a friend to Scarborough. This room is for her, when she comes.”
Molly’s brows rose in two perfect skeptical arches. “A friend, is it? And who is this friend? When can we expect her?”
“I don’t know. Soon, I hope. Her plight is more dire than mine, and it is my wish to offer her a safe haven.”
Those expressive eyes searched him, some of that ferocity banking. He’d caught her curiosity, but he couldn’t reveal more.
“I will tell you when it’s time, sweetling. It’s not my secret alone.”
And…first he needed to know if he could truly win her heart. That she would stay here with him and be his queen. Ravenna’s secret was so dire, Maxim and Aine’s sacrifice so great, that Allarion couldn’t risk them without complete surety. Even from his own reluctantazai.
“I see.” That wariness had returned to her, but she didn’t pull away.
Allarion met her curious gaze, wishing there were no secrets between them—wishing there was nothing between them at all.
Dipping his head even lower, he drew deeply of her scent, filling himself up with it to gird his patience.
“I wouldn’t presume to buy you gowns, Molly. Not yet, at least. One day I hope to know you well enough to do so.”
Surprise replaced all else in her big brown eyes.
Does she truly not understand? Does she not feel how I long for her?
I’m not sure she cares.
Go away, Bellarand.
You’re the one thinking LOUDLY.
Quieting the bond between them, Allarion returned his focus to hisazai. She still hadn’t moved out from under his arm, defiant little thing that she was.
“I am curious to see what you create with all that you bought.” Daring her and his luck, he traced a finger up the strap of her stays, feeling the texture of the embroidered vines there. “You are talented with a needle.”
“I’m talented with a lot of things.”
Allarion’s gaze snapped to hers then down, to that plush, pouting mouth.
Goddesses, was she flirting?
“I hope to learn of every one,” he murmured.
Daring a little more, he took the curve of her cheek into his palm, feeling the velveteen textures of her, the soft warmth. Running the pad of his thumb across her skin, he couldn’t help teasing the corner of her mouth.
She allowed it, although she gave him no other signals—she didn’t lean forward nor part her lips in invitation. Allarion doubted she’d permit many more liberties from him, but while he had her, there was something else he wished to discuss.
Finally stepping back, Allarion straightened to hold out his bent arm for her. She peered at it before his face, her gaze questioning.
“If you would be so good, I wish to show you something before you turn in.”
Molly stood there for another long moment, no doubt considering what he might show her. He very much doubted she would guess—but there again, that was his fault.
When she finally nodded and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, Allarion bit back his grin of triumph. Her touch was most welcome, even more so her trust. Even if both were only the barest taste.
