Page 91 of Brambles and Bellflowers
As if my thoughts had summoned his modesty, his face turned red.
“I-I mean,” he stammered, averting his eyes from mine and clutching the blanket against his chest. “I won’t let you get sick. I won’t look at you. You can trust me, I would never—”
“Stop.” My breath caught. I leaned toward him, and he flinched when I touched his cheek.
This was the kind of reaction I’d been trying to avoid. “I amnotquestioning your honor,” I told him, fully meaning it.
“You make me sound so noble…” he muttered.
Because he was. “Even though you’renota monk right now,” I continued. “I still—”
“Now, just hold on,” Miles interrupted, suddenly grabbing my hands. “You’re misunderstanding something very important. While itistrue that Ihavebeen a monk, that term doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
“What does it mean?” A monk was a monk.
Miles sat back on his heels, and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t think we should be having this conversation while we’re sitting here wet—”
“Tell me,” I commanded. I was onto something here. I couldn’t allow him to back out of this.
He shot me a strange look, and resignation laced his voice when he spoke. “Yes. I’ve been a monk. But I’ve also been a priest, a rabbi, and other ranked religious officials.”
I still wasn’t sure about this—he hadn’t mentioned his primary practice. “How does that work with you being a witch?”
Miles shrugged. “Witchcraft is a practice, not a religion. It’s been commonly mislabeled throughout history in ignorance.”
“…So what is it?” I wanted to understand.
“Witches have many different specialties,” he explained. “Some work with herbs, while others prefer crystals or a combination. Some don’t do spellwork at all. It’s all based on personal preference.”
“So, you don’t worship the devil?”
“I told you I don’t.” Miles rolled his eyes. He shook his head as if clearing his thoughts, and his gaze refocused on mine. “Now that that’s cleared up,” he said, “I need you to understand something. While I had taken a vow of chastity, that was only in our first life. Our lifespans were different then.”
I blinked at him, my heart echoing furiously.
What did that mean?
“But, during that life, I abandoned those vows,” Miles continued—his eyes steady on mine.
“Why?” My voice was almost a whisper. The air was thick, and my skin hummed. The damp fabric clung to my skin, and the warmth of Miles’s body reached out to me. Rich, dark eyes held mine, and my heart began racing as his breath mingled with mine.
Despite the cold, the temperature warmed. He didn’t even have to answer me, Iknew.
It had something to do with me.
He broke eye contact first. He moved to his feet and held up the blanket. “I’m going to air this out—it smells dusty. I’ll be back in ten minutes, and when I return, you’re stripping. Don’t argue with me,” he quickly added before I could protest. “I will not gamble with your health.”
Despite everything, a flush of shyness washed over me. It was ridiculous—these boys had seen me in far less than only a blanket.
Soon enough Miles was back, his gaze carefully averted, and the room felt like it was closing in, leaving me nowhere to hide.
“Okay,” he said, sounding as nervous as me. He glanced at me before turning away. The blanket was still wrapped around his arms. “Take your clothes off and put them by the fire.”
I stared at his back, my heart pounding. He was serious, and somehow, I was sure I couldn’t change his mind.
This was stupid—I shouldn’t be nervous. I’d taken a bath with Julian in the same room before.
So why did this feel different?
