Page 63 of Sweetling
Molly took another deep breath, working to swallow such a revelation. Her, magical. Unimportant Molly Dunne, orphaned barmaid—imbued with magic.
“We would be bound in the human way and in the fae tradition. Given enough time, you would come to influence the estate nearly as much as I can.”
Blood rushed in her ears.Incredible. And terrifying.
The house creaked happily, breaking through her stunned silence.
Allarion looked up at the rafters, grinning. “Although, I think you already influence the house a great deal. It likes you very much.”
“I like it, too.”
Their smiles for the happy house turned on each other, and Molly’s stomach flipped again.
“When you say bound in those ways, you mean married. Mated, like Lady Aislinn is.”
“Mated. Yes.” He leaned forward again, those dark eyes boring into her with an intensity that made a shiver run down her spine and straight between her thighs. “I want you in all ways, Molly, but I am a patient man. Or at least, I can be. We will go as quickly or as slowly as you wish.”
She swallowed hard, trying to wet a throat that’d gone dry at the thought of performing marital activities with the fae. Fates, she should find it abhorrent—but then, if she did, she wouldn’t be staying, now would she? Molly could admit, at least to herself, now that she had thought past her indignation, that getting to see everything beneath all that formal clothing of his was ofmarkedinterest to her.
“What about the circuit?” she croaked.
“It may take more time, but I am willing to wait. The bond isn’t simply about the carnal. To forge a strong one requires trust. That is my aim, above all.”
“And what about your friend?” Molly asked. “Will all this delay her coming here?”
“It may,” he admitted. “But she…she is secure. And creating this bond with you, it will only make this land safer for her and for you.”
Nodding, Molly said, “All right. I suppose that’s acceptable. But, I want to know for certain that this is what you want, too.” Those dark eyes tightened with confusion, and Molly hurried to explain, “What I mean is, I wouldn’t want this to happen just because it’s convenient for you. If we do this, it’ll be for true. A woman wants to be wanted, you see. So, if it’s to be a real marriage, a bonding as you say, you need to want me for me, for Molly.”
She made herself stop, to suck in a much-needed breath. Unsure how much sense that made, she watched him carefully, her words hanging above with the drying fronds suspended from the rafters.
Those dark eyes took her in, and a sort of uncanny understanding flickered there.
With care, he laid his arm across the butcher block, offering her his open hand. That simple act of reaching for her had Molly’s pulse fluttering in her throat. Breathless, she tentatively reached to lay her hand in his.
His long, elegant fingers wrapped around her hand, his purple-gray skin such a contrast to her freckled, tanned tone. His blue-black nailbeds were still an otherworldly sight, but they didn’t alarm her like they once had. His were just hands, like any others.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, and not just because of their color.
No other hand had had Molly breaking out into a riot of gooseflesh from her neck to her toes. Not even Finn, and Finn, like all good cons, had had a way with words.
“Oh, sweetling,” he said in that voice, the one as smooth as warm honey, “there is nothing in this world or the next that I want more than to have you in all ways. Not just because you are myazai,but because you are you. Since that day at the well, it has only and always beenyou.”
Molly dared to look into his amethyst eyes, and what she saw there stole the breath from her lungs. She wasn’t ready to name all that she saw, only a hunger so deep, it went beyond lust or a need for sustenance. He looked at her as if one word from her could have him across that countertop, devouring her in all the best ways.
His lips curved with the slightest smile as he said, “There isn’t a male alive who will be more devoted a mate than I. When you are ready, I look forward to proving it.”
His promise left her steaming hotter than her mug, and for a moment, Molly really had nothing coherent to say.
She thought he might be enjoying her befuddlement, if his enigmatic little grin was anything, but he patiently waited for her to find her final question.
“The only other thing I want to know is that I’m free,” she said, giving his hand an experimental squeeze. “That if I want to go somewhere, I can. I don’t need your permission, and that big guard pony outside won’t stop me.”
His horrified frown calmed her nerves almost as much as his answer. “Of course, sweetling. You have never been a prisoner here. This house, the estate, I mean for it to be as much yours as it is mine, which means you may leave it whenever you choose.”
“So I could go to Mullon on my own? Or back to Dundúran to see my family?”
“Yes, of course. I’m not your keeper. I hope to be your friend and soon your mate, but that will never mean I dictate where you go or what you do.” He paused, his lips scrunching into something of a troubled moue. “Unless it is a question of your safety. Then, I might make a few vehement suggestions.”
