Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“I will not ask you again,” he snapped.
Holding her tongue was something she often had no choice but to do, as well as being careful with her words, but this situation was different, and so she spoke up. “Why do you wish to know?”
He turned a fierce glare on her. “You dare question me?”
Her stomach stirred nervously, and his tongue was so sharp it felt as if his words slashed at her. “Nay, my lord.”
“Then tell me,” he ordered.
“It is a day’s ride from here,” she said.
“You will tell me the direction and if you lie to me—”
“I will not like the consequences,” she said, recalling his words.
“It is good you learn fast,” Varrick said.
She did learn fast, and she knew without a doubt that the situation she was riding into could prove deadly for her, yet she was unsure how she could escape it. She needed to know what Varrick wanted from her, for she feared once he realized she was not a witch, not capable of giving him what he wanted that she would be useless to him.
What then?
She thought of asking again what he wanted from her, but she did not think he would tell her yet. In the meantime, she had to take note of everything about him and his warriors and even more so where he was taking her. She needed to become familiar with her surroundings if an escape proved possible.
He is your fate.
She had been reminded of that repeatedly. Did it mean she was fated to remain with him? Was there more to him than she could see? Was she to give him a chance? She pondered the many questions that rushed through her thoughts, yet no answers came to her. She supposed time would tell, but how much time did she give it before it could prove dangerous for her?
She knew little of the man who rode beside her—her husband. She had heard tales just as others had but had paid no heed to them. She had no reason to. There had been little chance their paths would ever cross, yet here she was, his wife.
Learn about him. Learn from him.
She planned on learning about him but whatever could she possibly learn from him?
Her grandmother had reminded her often that knowledge came in strange ways and to always be open to it. She would see what of anything her husband could teach her.
“Put your hood up, it’s snowing,” Varrick said, having watched his wife drift off in deep thought and wondering where it had taken her.
Fia had not realized it had started to snow. She held her hand out to catch a snowflake that swiftly melted at her touch. “I love the snow and the way it paints the forest white.”
“Your hood,” he reminded, seeing that the snow had dusted her hair, making it appear as if a soft veil crowned her head.
He could not take his eyes off her. He had known beautiful women, had coupled with a few, but there was something different about Fia’s beauty. Or was it her witchcraft that forced a man’s eyes to linger on her so she could devour his soul? He still remembered the day he had lost his soul. He would never forget it, never wanted to, for it had served him well.
“Your hood,” he said again, seeing she still had not paid heed to his word and leaned over to yank her hood up on her head.
His fingers grazed her face, her skin so soft that a tingle shot up his arm and through him or had that been her witchcraft? He stared at her and she at him. Had she felt it too?
“Lord Varrick!”
Varrick turned at Argus’s shout.
“A word,” Argus said, turning a menacing look on Fia.
Varrick joined Argus, not saying a word to Fia, and two of his warriors suddenly flanked either side of her, though kept a good space from her. She should be concerned that he intended to keep a steady watch on her which would make escape difficult, but not impossible. Instead, she was concerned about what his light touch had sparked in her. His fingers had done nothing more than graze her cheek and yet it had sent a flurry of sensations through her, pleasant sensations that continued to linger in her.
Fia tried to make sense of her reaction. She had known no gentle touch since her grandmother had died, nor a loving embrace. Her mum had hugged her often and would lay a gentle hand on her in encouragement when she taught her healing ways. Her grandmother had continued to do the same after her mum had passed. She missed their gentle touches, and she missed their love and being loved.
Was that why Lord Varrick’s innocent touch caused such a flurry of sensations in her? Had it ignited memories? That might explain it, but what would explain that his reaction had been the same as hers? Something had sparked in him just as it had in her, and she had felt it.