Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Meg backs off and smiles. “Excellent. We can trade the cookies for the coffee.”
She places a cloth over the full basket and smooths down her new skirts. Some of the women of the village held a small sewing party to make the queen a functional wardrobe. Meg was effusive in her praise of the three dresses, two pairs of pants, two shirts, and some nice undergarments. She made the women promise to teach her what they know. Her gracious acceptance of their rather plain garments endeared her to the women of the village. It’s the kind of thing that Beck would have turned down, fearing he was taking advantage of his subjects.
What Beck doesn’t—won’t—understand is that people need to be needed. Those women enjoyed giving their queen a gift she appreciates. Beck holds himself apart. While the people love him for his loyal defense of their lives and property, they rarely speak to him beyond saying hello. They rarely ask his counsel or wonder about his health. Meg is going to change some of that.
If she survives meeting the goblins.
“Are you ready?”
“No.” I don’t particularly want to go meet the goblins without Beck at my back.
“Good,” she replies as though I had cheerfully said yes.
She picks up her basket and walks straight out the door.
Where did my day go wrong? I planned it all out. I worked hard all week so I would be able to spend this afternoon seducing my wife, and now I have to follow her into a goblin cave where she intends to talk them into exchanging their precious liquor for sweetened oat cakes.
I’ve gone down the wrong road.
I slide off my stool and run to catch up with my wife. Her hips sway invitingly in her pretty skirt. She turns and winks as she walks down the lane. I jog the last of the distance between us and slip my hand into hers. She’s talking and moving with a sweet feminine energy that has me sighing.
I might be going down the wrong road, but it’s the one she picked. I will never let her walk alone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Meg
I chatter happily with my husband as we walk through the village toward the caves where the goblins are based. I smile up at Cian and realize I really do think of him as my husband. It isn’t merely a title someone stamped on us. We’re married. When had that happened?
The last week has been a revelation. I’ve begun to fit into village life. I’m not delusional. I know I’m not the best cook in the world. My poor husband is suffering as I learn, but I’m not about to give up. The cottage has rapidly become my domain. Cian convinced me to stay there while Beck is gone. There are many daily tasks that require a resident.
It was a smart play on his part. I wasn’t able to hold myself apart. I find myself rearranging the furniture and reorganizing things to suit me. I found yards of gauzy fabric in a trunk in the closet and fashioned some pretty curtains with Flanna’s aid. I weeded the front flowerbeds. The gnomes were happy to give me bulbs to plant.
I’ve even becoming fond of the chickens. It makes it almost impossible to eat them. I’ve become fond of all the animals. I learned to milk the cows and how to brush Sweeney’s mane. I didn’t let Cian kill the rooster. The rooster only crows about half the time. Cian’s cock is a much better judge of when dawn is here. It presses against me every morning as the sun rises, seeking relief.
It hasn’t found any, yet.
That will change soon. I can’t deny him much longer. I don’t want to. I dream about him at night, Cian and his brother. As wonderful as Cian is, I’m still heartbroken over Beck. I miss him, but I need to move on with Cian. He doesn’t know it yet, but I intend to do that tonight.
We become quiet as we trudge through the forest toward the caves. I feel Cian’s hand squeeze mine as he helps me over a puddle.
Beck’s been sending letters. They began arriving the day after he left. They popped up on the vampire computer, but each was written in his own careful hand. Beck’s writing is like everything else about him, carefully controlled and wholly masculine. There are two every day, one addressed to Cian and the other to me.
I refused to read the first one. Cian read his aloud and then dictated his response. The brothers ask about each other’s health and the status of their endeavors. Beck inquires about the farm and the village, while Cian asks about the job Beck is doing.
I remain silent.
I’m going to have to deal with Beck eventually. I don’t understand him at all. Beck left me behind, but then writes to me every day. The day before, I broke down and read one of his letters. It was full of him saying he misses me and wants to make up for the way he treated me. He promises to come home soon with gifts. He promises me a life of comfort.