She calmly regarded him with her soft, liquid eyes, but all he could do was stare back into them, mesmerized by their depths.
If she truly knew me, would she still look at me as she does?
He could see what she wanted. They had created a connection with each other, a small one, but a connection all the same. She had shared with him, given a part of herself to him, and she wanted to give more. She had tasted him once, and she enjoyed it. She wanted to taste him again.
He wanted more than that. He wanted to devour her in the lake and bring heat to both their bodies. He stared back at her for far too long. She was testing the waters, and he was inviting her in. He should never have gazed into her eyes, but it was nearly impossible with how beautiful and alluring they were.
They were two sirens, waiting on the rocks to tempt him closer, where he would crash against the cliffs and be lost to the water. He was supposed to be teaching her how to swim so she wouldn’t drown. Yet, he felt like the one who was drowning.
You’re a soldier. You have dealt with far more demanding situations.
“That is enough for today,” he instructed. “You did well to learn as quickly as you did. The next time, you will learn how to use your arms. So, back to the bank.”
“Oh, you don’t want to stay out here longer?” Her eyes became a little more pointed in her stare, and they weren’t as wide anymore.
“It’s cold, and time to return. That is for the best.”
Before we do something we can’t take back.
Chapter Thirteen
Lysander rode with ease across the open fields atop his majestic horse, Artemis, who was the largest and fastest of all his horses. The two of them shared a close-knit bond consisting of respect and understanding that had developed over their years together and made riding him an unfettered delight. Artemis did exactly as he asked and made no sound. There was no huffing, neighing, or baying whenever the Duke was around. Lysander had a certain respect for that.
As he rode Artemis, he felt free. He had been liberated from the dukedom’s endless obligations, unshackled from the needs of his wife, and freed from his past. He still bore the scars of war, but not all his scars were visible.
Lysander rode to a nearby village, not one under his watch, to meet with Thomas for a drink. As he reached the small building, the noise spilled out from within.
The tavern stood at the edge of the village, right where the road forked, giving two routes into the village. The tavern was calledThe Forks,but the locals called itThe Forking Inn.The beams were a little crooked and timeworn, and the thatched roof had seen better days, but it still kept out the rain. The wooden sign swung in the wind, creaking each time it did.
Lysander dismounted and tied his horse to a nearby wooden post. As he walked toward the man holding the door for him, he heard the song from within.
“Oh, Sir Toby rode out in his finest of dress,
With buttons of brass and a coat to impress,
But a fence post gave chase, how it managed, who knows,
And left dear Sir Toby quite bare from the nose!”
Lysander rolled his eyes as he entered the tavern, recognizing the sound of his friend’s voice. He spotted Thomas in the far corner of the bar, a glass of claret in one hand and one of the barmaids in the other. He cheered and toasted Lysander as he entered, before finishing the song.
“So, raise up your glass for the brave and the bold,
Who fall to the mud when their tales are retold,
For fortune may smile, but she trips us all yet?—
And leaves us half-naked, full drunk, and in debt!”
Thomas and everyone around him fell into laughter. Lysander thought he was going for a quiet drink with his friend, but almost nothing about Thomas was predictable. Perhaps he would have been better off expecting the unexpected.
“Bring some more of your fine claret!” Thomas called. “Only the best for His Grace.”
Lysander had hoped not to draw attention to himself, even though half the people in the tavern already knew who he was. Thomas must have sensed that Lysander wanted to talk, as he quickly shooed off everyone who was hanging around the table.
“How are you, old chap?” Thomas asked his friend. “Should I sing another song for you?”
“How about we leave the singing for later?”
