Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Rhodes’s jaw worked as if he ground down the very truth he did not wish to face. He recalled last night, his words slipping past his guard, his heart refusing to keep them locked away. He had told her he loved her. He had meant it, fiercely, wholly. And yet here he stood, staring at her as though she might be a stranger. Was his anger born of betrayal, or of the fear that he might lose her to secrets she had kept?
Rhodes’s eyes did not leave Fawn. “How can I trust you,” he demanded roughly, “when witchcraft runs through your very blood? When your kin deal in witchcraft?”
Fawn’s throat ached from the words stuck there. How could things change so suddenly from last night when she lay in bed with his arms wrapped around her, his voice rough not only with desire but with words of love as if he didn’t quite believe it himself, yet he could not deny it.
Bloody hell, I love you, wife.
She had felt the truth in his words. But the look in his eyes now unsettled her more than her mother’s endless warnings ever could. The thought of losing him frightened her in a way she had never imagined.
Fawn lifted her chin, though her pulse raced. She would not cower. She would not let him believe she was a lie, even as fear twisted inside her.
Theodora’s sharp eyes moved between them, her usual certainty fraying. She had warned Fawn, had pressed her away from him, but what she saw now was not distance. It was love, raw and shaken, but clinging fiercely between them. For the first time, doubt wavered in her, a doubt she could not quite smother.
Fawn’s chest heaved, the fire in Rhodes’s eyes more than she could bear. Words tangled on her tongue, but none seemed worth saying to a man who looked at her with anger instead of love. With a sharp turn, she strode past him, the hem of her cloak brushing the snow.
“Fawn!” Rhodes’s voice thundered after her, his command echoing through the waking forest. “Stop.”
She didn’t.
Theodora’s gaze hurried between them, then she slipped back into the shadows of the trees, her cloak swallowing her whole. Whatever was to be said now belonged only to husband and wife.
Boots pounded behind her, crunching through snow until his hand clamped around her arm. He yanked her to a halt, spinning her toward him. His grip was firm, his jaw set, his eyes black with temper.
“You’ll not turn your back on me.” His voice was low, hard as iron.
Her eyes blazed. “What use is there in speaking when anger deafens you? You’ll hear only what you want to hear.”
His fingers tightened on her arm, not enough to harm but enough to hold her fast. “And you? You think storming off will solve this? That silence will clear the shadows your mother cast between us?”
Fawn jerked against his hold, chin lifting, her voice sharp. “What casts shadows between us is not me—it’s your mistrust. Your doubt.”
His chest rose and fell with the force of his breath, his face drawn taut. “Bloody hell, Fawn, how am I to trust when every word from your mother’s lips drips with secrets? When you stand between me and the truth I demand?”
She glared back, her heart pounding. “I stand between you and my mum because you go at her with nothing but rage. You demand truth but refuse to listen to it.”
For a moment, only their breaths filled the silence, steaming in the cold air, their bodies close, neither willing to yield, when the sharp cry of a raven split the morning. Its hollow call echoed through the trees, an omen carried on the wind.
Rhodes’s head snapped up, his gaze sweeping the branches, his hand tightening on Fawn’s arm. “This is no place to discuss what must be said. We finish this at the keep.”
Before she could protest, he pulled her forward, his grip tight. Fawn stumbled once, and his firm grip quickly righted her stride. Fury and fear rose in her with each step but she held her tongue. There was time enough to talk when they reached the keep.
The village stirred awake as they entered, smoke curling from hearths, doors creaking open. Men and women paused in their work, eyes widening as their laird all but dragged his wife across the snowy path. Whispers followed them, low and sharp. Children were hushed and tugged behind parents. A few heads bowed, others lingered, curiosity too strong to resist.
Cander leaned on his crooked staff near a small cottage, the hood of the warm cloak he’d been given shadowing his face. As Rhodes strode past, his gaze went to Fawn, then to Sara, who had paused nearby.
His voice rasped, just loud enough to carry. “Mark me, witches walk bolder these days.”