“Ugh. Well, if you think I’m undressing in front of you, you’re crazy. And what am I supposed to put on while my clothes dry?”
He pulled his shirt up over his head. “You can wear my shirt. It will be long enough to cover your. . umm-” He chuckled. “It is a bit damp in the front from bringing you here, but if you leave it in front of the fire until you get your dress off, it should be dry.”
Kira barely heard his words. She was too busy staring at the scabbed over claw marks on his chest and shoulder. She gently touched one with her finger then looked into his calm blue eyes. “You would tell me if she was here, wouldn’t you?”
He took her wounded hand and without taking his eyes off hers, began unraveling the wet bandages from around her broken finger. “You are safe here, Kira. If I felt you were in danger I would not leave tomorrow.”
His words only confused her. “So I’m not in danger from the Royals hunting me, either?”
He shook his head and smiled. “King Tyrious called off his men until after our meeting. It would be bad for his reputation if something happened to you before we were able to plead for your life.”
“Oh, well. . we wouldn’t want his reputation tarnished,” she teased. But inside she was shaking. Actually, she shook on the outside, too. Despite the roaring fire, she felt chilled to the bone.
He spread the bandage along the front of the hearth to dry, kissed her cheek and stood. “I will be outside if you need me.” Then he disappeared.
Kira quickly stripped down to her skin and put on his shirt. The hem reached about mid thigh, which actually covered more than her shorts did back home. She had to admit it felt strange having her legs exposed. She would have never thought she’d like, or even get used to, the long dresses. She actually enjoyed living in a fairytale world-except for the danger, the lack of a hot water at her fingertips, and a few other minute conveniences of her world. Like a shower and toilet.
She grabbed the chair from the desk and put it near the fire, then draped her dress over the back to dry. She took the combs out of her hair and put them on the mantle and began twisting her hair in her hands to wring out the excess water. When she yelled for Octavion to come back in, his expression when he came through the door made her laugh. He spun around on his heals and faced the door.
“The shirt was your idea. Deal with it,” she teased.
He carefully made his way to the overstuffed chair, keeping his back to her the whole time. “It is not the shirt, Kira. The light of the fire is behind you. Your silhouette leaves very little to the imagination.”
“Oh.” She quickly sat on the hearth and wrapped his shirt tightly around her, covering herself the best she could with her arms.
Octavion propped his feet on the rickety ottoman and leaned his head against the back of the chair, closing his eyes. “Do not mind me.”
“Do you at least have a comb or brush I can use? My hair is totally tangled.”
Without offering to lend her a hand, he motioned above his head to a small wooden box. “That belonged to my mother. You might find something in there.”
“Well, could you hand it to me?”
“I would have to open my eyes.” He smirked.
“Ugh! You’re a lot of help.” She inched her way around the ottoman and slipped to the side of his chair to reach for the box. She was fully aware of what happened to the length of his shirt as she reached above her head for the box, but she tried not to think about what Octavion would think-or see. She wasn’t, however, expecting his hand to wander from the arm of the chair and graze her thigh. She jumped back and squealed, dropping the box into his lap. The lid popped open, spilling the contents.
He didn’t complain, simply picked up the comb and handed it to her then turned over the box and placed the items back in their place.
“I’m sorry, you startled me.”
“It was my fault. Perhaps you should go back to drying your hair.” His jaw muscles tightened.
She pushed his legs aside and sat on the ottoman. “Were all these things your mother’s?”
“Most are, yes.”
“I’m sorry, Octavion. I should have been more careful. May I see them?”
He picked up the last item, put it in the box and handed it to her. Most of the items were things she would use to fix her hair. There were several decorative combs, a few ribbons and a long, peculiar looking pin. But the things that caught Kira’s attention were two broken pink crystals. She picked up the pieces, held them together and saw they were once part of one whole. One end connected to a silver loop that must have hung on a necklace. It would have been beautiful.
“Was this your mother’s too? How did it break?”
“No.” He took it from Kira and put it back into the box then closed the lid. “I broke it.”
She sensed his reluctance to share the circumstances behind what happened, but her curiosity got the better of her. She put her hand on his. “Octavion, why won’t you talk to me? Did I do something wrong?”
He raised his eyes from the box and sighed. “This is not a conversation you want to have right now. Trust me.”
“Tell me. No secrets, remember?”
He searched her eyes for a moment. “It was to be Serena’s engagement present. I held it in my hand the night my father entered Lydia’s chambers. . and told me Serena had died.”
“Oh.”
Neither said anything more. All she could think about was the stone he’d picked out for her the day before. Had he intended it to be an engagement present for her? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know-it would cheapen it somehow. She stepped to the fire to dry her hair while Octavion returned the box to its place on the shelf, sat back in the chair and closed his eyes.
It had been dark for a while when her hair had finally dried. She slipped under the covers on the bed and tried to sleep.
A few minutes passed when Octavion stood and came to sit next to her. “Kira.” He gently brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. “I am sorry.”
“Will you hold me?” she asked, desperate to feel his arms around her.
He looked at the empty space beside her and then focused on her face. “Not tonight.” He smiled, but it didn’t seem genuine to her. He kissed her on the forehead, pulled the covers up and went to lie on the animal pelt in front of the fire.
With one clumsy move she’d managed to bring back painful memories of both the mother he never knew and the woman he loved and lost. Now he wanted nothing to do with her. In response to his rejection, Kira rolled over toward the wall and curled into a ball. Her shell was a good place to be tonight.
Chapter Thirty Three
For several minutes Kira numbly stared at the dark cobblestone wall, trying to figure out how she’d turned what began as a perfect day into a nightmare. At some point she found sleep, but it didn’t last. When she woke she heard Octavion put another log on the fire. She slowly turned to find him sitting on the rug with his back to her, one knee drawn up with his arm draped over it. She watched as the flames from the hot coals found life in the added chunk of wood. The hot sap caused the fire to snap, sending sparks into the air and up the chimney. The renewed flames licked the air, stealing the coolness from around the room.
She found herself thinking about what it would be like to lay in his arms. Not like before, but with no restraints or conditions. She wanted him. She needed him more than ever before. The reasons she’d conjured up for prolonging their intimacy seemed lost in her memories-a memory of violence and abuse. She no longer felt like the innocent girl he fell in love with near the falls, but a barren shell of a woman who had very little left to give. She had no reason to save something that served no purpose.
Before she could silence her thoughts, she stood behind him, waiting for him to take notice of her presence.
“Not tonight,” he said. His voice had a deep and throaty sound to it.