Page 25 of Song of the Dawn
I wasn’t surprised he knew that, but was relieved I didn’t have to explain further. She trusted me with her secret, and I did not want to break her trust by sharing with him what had happened. “I want to cheer her up, although I don’t know her very well. All I know is that she likes horses.”
“Hmm. I’ll think of something. Dusty mentioned breeding horses, and while I don’t think we have the space for it, we could take on a few more. I’ll speak to him about it.”
“Thank you,” I breathed. It would be delightful to see Rachelle smile again without having to pretend. Although a horse was no substitute for the city, perhaps she could get what she wanted by staying in Lagoda.
“What about you? Are you happy here? Do you have any needs? Wants?”
How could I tell him what I desired? I had clothing, food, shelter, and music. I wasn’t sure if he wanted an actual request or if he was humoring me. “I’d like to visit your workshop sometime and see what you do there.”
Ezra said nothing for a long moment, and his expression was still as if he was turning over my simple request.
I opened my mouth to take it back and then paused, letting it hang between us. I’d crossed a line, I was sure of it.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to come to my workshop; it’s simply that I’m not sure if I’m ready to be perceived in that way. The closer people get to me, the more their opinions shift and change. I’m not like most people, and it comes out in my work.”
His voice was low, steady, and when he looked at me, his eyes were a shade darker. I wanted to tear my eyes away, but his gaze held mine.
“Mila, I like you. I want to get to know you, and I want to spend more time with you. But some of the heavier aspects of myself I’m not ready to reveal. Not yet. The time will come.”
“What are you saying?” I whispered, not daring to look away. His words gave me hope, and yet his secrets dashed it away.
With a sigh, he stared off at the pond, then rose.
My fears surged. He liked me, but he wasn’t willing to share. He liked me, but he wanted to keep me in the dark, to pretend.
He knelt in front of me, knees in the dirt, and took my hands in his. The sun gleamed on his golden head, and my breath caught. He was handsome in an otherworldly way, the set of his jaw, his sensual mouth. I had the sudden compulsion to lean in and kiss him, to feel his lips against mine and his hand, warm and strong, around my waist, embracing me. Could he sense those wants?
“Mila, this inn has given me the chance to do something new. I named it the Dawn because it’s like being reborn, a second chance at life to do things right, and I don’t want to ruin it by introducing all the layers of myself to you too quickly and frightening you away. I don’t know you well yet, but from what I’ve seen, you have a kind and generous soul, you’re curious, you make me laugh, and I appreciate your honesty. I also sense you are bold and not afraid to ask for what you want. One day, I’ll take you to the workshop and let you see through the lens of my art, my craft. But for now, I just want to talk to you, to show you. Will it be enough?”
My voice trembled when I spoke. “Yes, it will be enough.”
His shoulders relaxed, but instead of letting me go, he turned my hand palm up in his and pressed his lips against the inside of my wrist.
A thrill shot through me along with the faint memory of my dreams of him. Strong hands encircling my waist, impatient fingers unraveling clothes, hot and heavy kisses in the woods. My entire body shuddered, wanting that dream to be real, craving his warm mouth against my skin again.
“You are quite lovely, Mila,” he murmured. “I want to be worthy of you.”
With those cryptic words, he stood and released my hands.
I wanted him to stay, to say more, but words would not come. He smiled at me, although I detected sadness in his eyes.
“The orange harvest is this week. I’ve hired a few lads from the village to help with it, but after, I want to spend time with you. We’ll make a day of it, go out on the lake, pack a picnic, and I’ll show you this place.”
“I’d like that,” I told him, standing.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll find you soon,” he promised and left.
Mila
Islept poorly that night, my mind awake, puzzling over what had happened in the gardens. Suddenly a rush of strings filtered to my ears, as though the sound was lured by the wind, to my window. Pushing back the covers, I tiptoed on bare feet to the window and opened it. My view overlooked the rotunda, and the night air was crisp, as it often was in the foothills. Hot, summery days cooled by the balmy breeze of night, almost enough to make one shiver.
Hints of cedar drifted to my nose, odd, as if it was a smell from somewhere else. There were no notes of fruit or the sweet fragrance of flowers, just some haunted tune being played and the night gathering around to amplify it.
Closing my eyes, I listened to the lonesome song continue, a series of notes played on a violin, frantic and reverent. The pace quickened, the song increased, and the tempo made me want to sway. It wasn’t a song to dance to, for it was too wild. It was a call, a summoning, as though it was attempting to waken something buried deep and bring it to life again.
The song paused, and I opened my eyes, as if seeing would allow me to hear more. Something moved, flickering in and out of the pale light. I leaned further out, hoping to glimpse the violinist. Instead, a shadow stepped from the trees. It was just a shape, hunched over, sinister, and suddenly the air went icy. I trembled as the shadow moved, somehow staying out of the patches of moonlight as it walked through the trees. A vile odor filled the air, the scent of death, decay, and my heart leaped into my throat.
I stared, unable to look away as the form slithered, drifting into a grove of trees, and did not reappear again. My hands shook violently as I yanked the window closed and pulled the curtains tight. Pressing a hand to my mouth, I stopped the cry of hysteria and took a deep breath. It was nothing, just my imagination. A guest or one of the staff was out on a midnight walk, and the darkness made it impossible to see clearly. That was all. I should go to sleep. Evil did not exist here; nothing was haunting the inn.
