Page 61 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
Their hands touched, and the sudden jolt of contact threw her off balance. The plate slipped from her grip, clattering to the table, knocking over her glass and sending a stream of water splashing across both of them.
“Oh, for goddess’s sake!” Nia yelped, snatching her napkin.
Lochlan moved just as quickly, grabbing his own napkin and dropping to the ground to help. Their hands collided over the spill, fumbling awkwardly as they both tried to blot up the water.
“It’s fine,” Nia muttered, wrestling the napkin from him.
“Just hold still,” Lochlan said, his tone calm and steady as his hand moved to her lap. He blotted at the water that had soaked through the fabric of her skirt, utterly unfazed by the chaos.
Her breath caught.
Her body stiffened as heat rushed through her veins, spreading like wildfire. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to shove him away or pull him closer, but before she could do either, she bolted to her feet.
Lochlan froze, still kneeling on the floor in front of her, napkin in hand, his face a mix of embarrassment and?—
Her father clapped his hands once, the sound sharp and commanding. Instantly, the tablecloth dried, their clothes were crisp, and the glasses were refilled as if nothing had happened.
“Why didn’t you do that in the first place?” Nia rounded on him, her cheeks burning.
“And miss this?” Wulfric gestured broadly between her and Lochlan, his expression smug. “Not a chance, daughter.”
Nia shot him a glare but said nothing, lowering herself back into her seat with a decisive thud. She scooted in before Lochlan could even think about helping.
Dinner passed in a haze. She barely tasted the food. Her attention was tethered to Lochlan, every movement amplified: the scrape of his fork, the quiet clink of his glass, the brush of his fingers along the table’s edge. Her chest tightened with every passing second. It was maddening, the way his presence seemed to expand, filling the room until it left no space for anything else.
Across the table, Wulfric’s gaze darted between them, a gleam of triumph flickering in his eyes.
“I’ll leave you to finish,” he announced suddenly, pushing back his chair. “There’s a call I must attend to.”
Without waiting for a response, he strode out, his satisfaction palpable.
The moment he was gone, the atmosphere shifted. The lighting softened, shadows pooled in the corners of the room, and a low, seductive melody drifted from unseen speakers. The air felt heavier somehow, tinged with something unspoken and electric.
Nia’s pulse stumbled. Of course her father had planned this.
She cleared her throat, pushing back her chair abruptly. “I’m just going to…” She gestured vaguely toward the hallway, not even finishing the thought as she rose and hurried out.
Cool air greeted her in the corridor, soothing her overstimulated senses. She made her way deeper into the house, past the staircase and several closets. She needed space, needed to breathe—and figure out what she was going to do.
With trembling hands, she pulled a vial of black salt from the deep pockets of her skirt and scattered it across the stone floor. Whispering urgently, she said:
“Darkness wrap and keep me sound,
Let no one in, let none around.
Stay alert, stay sharp, stay true?—
And you will know just what to do.”
The spell hummed faintly, the shadows thickening around her and offering a moment of reprieve from prying eyes. She felt safe here, cocooned in her own magic.
Until Lochlan stepped through the barrier.
The faint ripple of her wards shivered, but didn’t push him back, didn’t sound any alarms. Her breath caught as she realized her magic didn’t even try to stop him—how traitorous. Maybe it recognized him. Maybe being magically married meant he got a free pass.
“What’s wrong?” Lochlan asked, his voice gentle yet urgent as his eyes searched her face.
Her cheeks flushed hot, and she grabbed his arm, shoving him toward a nearby door—a small closet beneath the stairs. The space was cramped, and the only light came from a stained-glass window and candles that lit automatically, but she didn’t care.
