Page 7 of His Dark Delights

Lilly

Ren and I dined in charged silence. Each clink of a spoon and muted slurp of vegetable stew were hefty reminders I wasn’t alone anymore.

As was the persistent heat of his wandering eyes.

I pretended not to notice his blatant curiosity searing into the side of my face when he thought I wasn’t looking.

No one had ever looked at me that way before. It differed from the wary curiosity of the neighboring villagers. Ren’s eyes held an intensity I had no experience reading.

The knight offered to clean up afterward.

He flustered me, but I was grateful for the help.

It gave me the opportunity to change the blood-stained bedding and turn over my thoughts.

And to become uncomfortably aware of the close confines and sleeping arrangements.

It was a simple thing when the knight slept soundly, wholly unconscious and clinging to life.

It was another when he was awake and aware of my presence.

Though I had a bed upstairs in the loft, I’d spent most nights sleeping on the window bench to monitor the near-dead stranger.

Now he didn’t require such close attention, yet I found myself almost disappointed by the loss.

Perhaps a side effect of recent grief and loneliness, but I’d gradually appreciated the silent presence he offered.

On the other hand, I wasn’t unfamiliar with the stories of men and vulnerable women.

It was a truth universally known in the hearts of ladies.

Ren might have proved himself a gentleman so far, but human nature changed when the sun set.

When darkness skirted over the land and biological urges turned men into monsters.

He found me at the edge of the bed with a quilt tucked over my arms, biting my lip until his voice diverted my attention. “I can sleep out in the barn if it makes you more comfortable.”

The offer cut loose the knot of anxiety in my chest.

“Oh, no, that’s unnecessary.” I turned with a slow smile. Ren leaned on the doorframe with his thick arms crossed over his chest. His imposing frame filled the entire threshold.

“I only noticed one bed. Where did you sleep while I was here, Lilly?” Ren asked, then shrugged. “Not that I would mind sharing.”

“I… I slept there.” I pointed to the bench under the window.

Ren’s face twisted. “That’s no place for a lady to sleep. I’m terribly sorry my presence put you out of your own bed.” He leaned back, shaking his head. “I’ll leave tonight and give you back your home.” Even as he said it, he cringed and placed a palm over the injury on his side.

“No.” I lurched forward. Thinking better of reaching out, I leashed myself back, wringing my fingers. “You’re still recovering and leaving in the dark wouldn’t be safe.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he offered.

“And if you catch a chill, your fever might return.” I shook my head. “No, stay here and rest. Besides, that wasn’t my bed. I usually sleep upstairs in the loft.”

Ren paused, seeming to consider the double bed and the spare clothes he borrowed. Understanding settled over his expression, a grim sort of frown turning down the corners of his lips.

“If you insist,” he relented, hands up in surrender. A breath of relief passed through my lips.

“I do,” I huffed. He’d incense me if he went out and died after I went through the effort of saving him.

Ren vented a laugh, and the sound breezed over me like shadows and silk, curling through my ears and delighting my senses. I wanted to listen to him laugh all night long.

I placed the quilt on the mattress, looking at him across the expanse of the bed, the only thing keeping us apart. Father’s room had never seemed so small before, but the knight radiated a pressing aura. Everything in my home felt paltry compared to his glorious, towering bulk.

He split the silence. “You know, I heard your voice. During my fever, that is. I heard you talking to me. ”

I perked up, sharply inhaling. “Oh, yes.” I reached for the worn leather book on the bench with my ribbon placeholder hanging loose. “I read to you every day. This was my father’s favorite. I read it to him too.”

Ren’s eye flicked between the bed and the book in my hands. “Would you read it to me now?”

“I’d be delighted to!” Perhaps I sounded a little too eager, but I enjoyed the story in my hands and reading calmed my nerves. I grabbed a knitted blanket, wrapped it around my shoulders, and settled onto the window seat with my legs crossed.

Ren lowered onto the bed, wincing at a pang from one of his many injuries. Despite his wounds, the knight moved with practiced grace. Every alluring line of his body flowed like a predator lurking in the skin of a man. I gripped the book so hard my hands shook, and I thought it might split in half.

The low orange glow of the fireplace cast dancing light and shadows on the wood-paneled walls. Night shrouded the farm in complete darkness, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted from the woods. But my voice filled the bedroom as I read a story I knew by heart.

I didn’t think I’d fall asleep. Not with Ren raptly staring at me from the bed, as if the words on my lips and the story utterly entranced him as it came to life.

Sentence by sentence, the soft crackling of the fire and the heaviness in my lids allowed sleep to steal me away into the land of dreams.

A horrid banging sound startled me from sleep as morning sunlight cascaded into the bedroom. I shot upright in a bed and my head whipped toward the window. Then my eyes flared wider, and my heart skipped a beat as I realized where I was and the time of day.

When did I get into the bed? What was that awful racket outside? Where was Ren?

The angle of the light informed me it was late morning already. My animals needed to be let out to graze. I couldn’t worry about my questions until I’d tended to the farm.

I surged from the bed and raced to my upstairs armoire, ignoring my unused bed in the loft’s corner.

More knocking and hammering noises echoed outside as I changed into my pale blue dress, an apron, and shoved my feet into my brown leather boots.

My heart ricocheted against my ribs with each solid slam outdoors.

Bursting through the front door, I flew around the cottage. In my rush, I nearly tripped over the chickens already pecking and scratching at the dirt around the garden. A surprised noise leapt off my tongue to see the farm bustling with my animals out and about already.

Millie mooed at me from the fence, pulling me out of my frozen state. I turned my face up when the black and white speckled cow swung her head toward the barn.

Ren balanced on the barn’s roof with a hammer in his hands.

“Oh, gods, what’s he doing? He’s going to reopen his wounds!

” I dashed for the gate before breaking to a halt.

The sturdiness of the latch knocked the wind from me.

Had Ren fixed the gate and lock, too? He must have gotten up early to do all that, and he’d had no reason to.

What was a wounded knight doing fixing up my farm?

“Ren! What are you doing up there?” Annoyed, bleating goats scattered from my hurried path.

I braced a hand on my brow and shielded my eyes from the blazing morning light.

From my angle on the ground, the golden glow wreathed Ren’s frame, making him appear like some sort of sweaty, muscled, panting—er, something.

“Morning, Lilly!” He waved at me from the barn’s roof with the hammer in his hand he’d been making all the noise with. The sunlight emphasized the dazzling smile on his lips.

“What are you doing?” I repeated. Terribly exasperated, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

In one graceful leap, Ren dropped from the roof. He landed safe and sound, boots thudding softly in the dirt. The knight lifted one brawny arm and swiped at the perspiration coating his brows. My eyes followed the shapely bulge of his bicep, and I shifted from foot to foot.

Ren gestured over his shoulder with the hammer at the half-fixed structure. “Repaying you for your kindness. Helping around your farm is the least I can do for you.”

Without meaning to, I stomped my foot and huffed. “Reopening your wounds does not repay me. I demand you put the hammer down. Now.”

His blue eyes swirled with delight at the challenge, and the corner of his lips curved wickedly. “You demand it?” he laughed easily. “No one has demanded anything of me in a very long time, Lilly.”

A haughty statement for a knight to make, noble or not.

But this was my farm. I rooted myself firmly in place, standing tall and strong like an ancient, unmoving oak.

Wordlessly, I placed one hand on my hip and pointed to the crate of tools on the ground with the other.

As the seconds stretched and I remained as still as stone, Ren’s confidence faltered.

“But I’m not done yet,” he argued, unsatisfied with the progress he got away with. He crossed his arms across his chest, staring down his nose at me.

I jerked my finger as if pointing harder at the tools. “You are not in charge here. On my farm, I am the ruler, and I will give the orders.”

Ren’s dark brows launched up his forehead, and his petulant frown slowly morphed into a wide, obscene smile. He hummed as if tasting words on his tongue before speaking them into existence. “Hm, Queen Lilliana. I quite like the sound of that.”

Despite the ridiculousness of it, a giggle bubbled past my lips. I dropped my arms as I closed my eyes, giggling at the absurdity of the situation. There was a knight on my farm insisting to help regardless of his injuries, and he was making me feel something I hadn’t felt in months—not alone.

“You jest too much, sir.” I’d be nothing important in a kingdom ruled by a butcher of my kind. Though I wouldn’t speak that aloud without confirming Ren’s loyalties.

“I enjoy hearing you laugh,” he shrugged out, but the movement made him wince. His hand smoothed over his ribs where his worst injury bothered him.