Page 56 of Sweetling
A pained sound escaped his throat, and Allarion reached out to lay a comforting hand on hers. She didn’t push him away—the weight of his hand felt like it was the only thing keeping her from breaking apart.
“I first saw you in a square, fetching water and speaking with other women. You were laughing. You had a brown fillet in your hair. I don’t know what you said to them, but I stood and watched, unable to look away. When you left, I followed and found the tavern.”
“Allarion,” she groaned, “you can’t just follow women back to their homes.”
“It’s too late now,” he said, a sad sort of humor to his voice. “It wasn’t in the tavern I first saw you. That Molly at the well is part of you, too, as is the Molly at the tavern. I wanted all of you, and I didn’t care what stood in my way. Another lover, your uncle…not even your own wishes.” His grimace was pained and heartfelt. “I see now that that was a mistake. I should have spoken to you first, announced my intentions. As I am now.”
He took both her hands in his, claiming her gaze with his own. “You are myazai,Molly Dunne. The goddesses have declared it so. But I wish to earn that blessing, and your trust. I cannot go back, but we can go forward. Please, I beg of you, consider what I offer.”
“Allarion…”
He shook his head once, that silvery hair sliding over his shoulder. “I would love you, Molly, if given the chance. I have loved the Molly at the well and the Molly in the tavern. I want to love the Molly I see before me, too. I hope that this can be a safe place where you can discover who it is you are. I should like to get to know her, too.”
Allarion’s gaze fell to their joined hands, where they sat in her lap, knitted together not unlike their handfasting. His throat bobbed, as if getting out his next words pained him.
“If, however, this cannot be done, I swear to you, I shall return you to your uncle’s door. Nothing will be expected of you. You can return to your life as if this never was.”
Molly’s lips parted in surprise. “You would do that? Take me back?”
“Yes,” he said, although it was evident he struggled with the word. “I would ask only that you consider, now that you know the truth. That is all I wish.” And, never dropping her gaze, he dipped his head to press a single, soft kiss to the back of her hand.
Molly sucked in a breath, unprepared for how his lips on her skin made her every nerve alight. Was that his magic, or just him?
“Please, sweetling, tell me you will at least consider staying?”
Fates, did she dare? Did she even want to?
Those questions were hard to answer in her fuzzy, dazed mind. She still held onto her anger, but her insides twisted with indecision. He gazed up at her with so much longing, his words so gentle and loving, it was hard to deny him outright. Yet, she didn’t have any answers, for him or for herself.
He’s not asking for an answer, he’s asking for time.
She was in no state to make a decision, that was certain. So maybe…
Maybe she should take that time he asked for. Not for him or anyone else. For Molly.
Slowly, Molly nodded, her heart racing with a baffling kind of excitement.
A great rush of air left him, and he bowed his head in relief. “Thank you,” he whispered against her skin.
He lingered there another moment, but neither said a word. Shocked into silence with all he’d told her and what she’d agreed to, Molly watched as he finally stood, bowed to her again, and made his exit.
She stared at the door long after he’d closed it behind him.
Without thinking, mind still fuzzy, Molly drew her hand to her mouth and pressed her lips to where he had, imagining she caught his lingering warmth.
Fates, what will I do?
13
Allarion had done and said all he could. Now there was nothing for it but to wait and hope.
Every hour that ticked by seemed an eternal agony. Never before had he so acutely felt the passage of time, nor had it slowed so to a trickle for him. His mind could grasp onto nothing; no matter the task he set himself, he started it halfheartedly, only to abandon it soon after. He tried to keep near the house, for fear that she would decide and wish to speak with him but be unable to find him.
No answer came, though, and he spent most of his time alone.
Without a task to focus on and his mind a mess, the magic that gathered in him had little release. Usually, he went to give over excess to the forest every few days, but as he awaited Molly’s answer, Allarion found himself wandering into the trees each morning and night, needing to purge away the roiling, unhappy magic. He even thought he might be affecting the local weather, and so gave over more than he might have otherwise to the forest, for fear of creating a tempest with his unease.
Two full days passed thusly. He didn’t think he exaggerated to consider them the longest of his long life. In that span, he saw her a handful of times. She nodded politely but didn’t invite conversation, and so he let her be, his hope withering that much more.
