Page 61 of Sweetling
No!her soul cried, but she didn’t know if the unicorn could hear.
Tears sprang to Molly’s eyes, and she turned to glare at him, but Bellarand had already moved back toward the forest. He flicked his tail at her as if to bat her away like a bothersome fly.
Biting her cheek, the pinch of pain helped her contain her tears.
She hated that the overgrown pony was right.
She needed to decide.
But knowing and doing were two very different things. And what if she chose wrong?
Closing her eyes, Molly breathed in the damp air of the morning, trying to clear her mind and make herself think.
In that quietness, one truth became clear—her heart didn’t want to leave.
Her freedom and independence meant much to her, so if she could maintain it here…
If she could come to understand or even establish rules for this place…
She supposed there was no true reason to leave.
There was nothing for her back in Dundúran.
What if she gave this a chance? What if she stayed?
She liked the house. She liked the promises the fae made her. She even liked him, with his strange ways. He took a little getting used to, but she often found him oddly compelling. There was something to the set of his shoulders and the jut of his chin…even with his black eyes and sharp fangs, there was a gentleness to him she couldn’t deny.
No man had treated her as well as he had—paying for her or not. No man had looked at her the way he did.
He’d told her all along he meant only to please her. He’d spent their days together being patient and gentle.
Perhaps…she could do the same.
14
Molly’s walk back to the house was slow and meandering. Although the fog had mostly burned off by the time she turned back, she still watched her footfalls. With each right step she listed a potential problem with staying—he could be lying, he could change his mind, this is all a trap, if he’s willing to buy he may be willing to sell,and more—and with each left step, she counted the possible boons of staying—away from Uncle Brom, comfortable bed, not having to wait tables, only one man to contend with, wanting to see that fae-man smile again, a friendly sentient house,and much more.
Before she knew it, she had all her arguments for and against arranged in her mind. She stared at the kitchen door, realizing with a start the possible boons far outnumbered the potential problems.
Of course, she realized that many of the boons were creature comforts. Most of the problems hinged on the fae-man in question, who she found sitting on a stool in the kitchen.
His brows rose almost as quickly as he did from his seat when she entered. They stood there blinking at each other for a long moment before Allarion cleared his throat and bowed his head.
“Forgive me, I will leave you.”
Before he could turn to go, Molly yelped, “Wait!”
His gaze flicked back to hers, and the small glimmer of hope there had her stomach doing flips.
Through her furious blush, she said, “You don’t have to go. I wanted to speak with you, actually. Let me just make some tea…”
With a small roar, the stove burst to life, fire licking up the side of the kettle she kept there. They both watched as within a few moments, the water began to steam.
The house was apparently eager to have them speak, too.
Hiding her blush behind the motions of making tea, Molly gathered the leaves to steep and poured the water, all the while feeling Allarion’s intensely curious gaze on her back.
Bringing her steeping cup to the butcher block, she faced him. It would’ve been easy to stare at something more innocuous, like his throat or nose or left ear, but she made herself look him in the eye.
