Wildest Dreams (Fantasyland #1)(71)

“Hey,” I started to say, turning my head to who I expected to be one of my girls leading in the two dressmakers but instead seeing Frey standing statue-still, hand still on the door handle, eyes aimed at my ass.

I went statue-still too and took him in.

Okay, it was safe to say from the look on his face he definitely liked the underwear.

And it was also safe to say from the panic that seized my innards that I was definitely not ready for him to see me in it.

This was why I put my foot down, whirled and ran across the room to the screen that had my robe thrown over it.

I got there. I even got my hand on the robe. But the silk was soon gone from my hand because Frey got there with me and he jerked it right out of my grasp.

Ho boy.

I turned to face him, eyes wide, breaths coming fast like I’d run a two hundred yard dash and not across a room, my mind reeling for the right words to say to sort our shit out but with one look in his eyes, both heated and enraged, not one word came to mind.

“I think,” he growled, “don’t you, that at the very least I’m entitled to see the woman who is supposed to be my wife without cover.”

I stared up at him, close to panting.

Yep, definitely enraged.

That was when I did the smartest thing I could do.

I retreated.

Quickly.

And Frey advanced just as quickly, invading my space with every backward step I made until I slammed against the wall and he pushed right in, h*ps to my belly, he pinned me to the wall.

Oh shit.

I had to arch my back to tip my head to look at him which pressed my belly into his hips.

Shit!

“Frey –” I started and his name was breathless but I stopped saying whatever it was that was going to come out of my mouth when I heard gasps from across the room.

And I knew the dressmakers had arrived and I knew Frey heard them too but he didn’t release my eyes and I couldn’t look away as he barked an obviously impatient and equally infuriated, “Out!”

My body jerked with the noise.

Oh shit, shit, shit!

The door closed.

Shit.

“Frey –”

He cut me off this time by saying, “I’ve come to inform you,” he paused, his eyes moved to my rising and falling chest then back to my face, “wife,” he spat and my stomach clenched, “that I’m away in an hour. Business. I’ll be gone at least a month, likely longer.”

That was when my stomach wrenched searing pain up through my lungs and even in my throat.

And because of this, all I could manage was a whispered, “What?”

“I’m away in an hour,” Frey repeated.

He was away in an hour.

In an hour he was away.

Without me.

“But… but the Bitter Gales –” I started.

He interrupted me to bite off, “Is there reason for me to escort you to the Gales?”

“Uh…” Oh shit. Think Finnie! “Yes, you… you’re, um… my husband. A husband –”

“I’m not, Sjofn, there are many things I am but one thing I know I am not and that is your husband.”

That hurt, God, it hurt so bad, I had to close my eyes and turn my face away from the anger in his.

And it wasn’t him saying he wasn’t my husband.

It was him calling me Sjofn.

I was not Sjofn. I was Finnie. His wee Finnie. I was not the Sjofn he knew and hated.

I was not.

But I’d asked for that.

Shit. I’d asked for it.

I felt my throat clog as my breaths kept coming fast, my br**sts brushing his chest as they came.

Then I felt the tip of his finger glide along the dense ruffle at the edge of my camisole, light against my skin. Gentle, sweet and unbelievably sexy.

I closed my eyes tighter and my breaths came faster as hope budded at his touch.

Then his finger went away.

I missed it when it was gone and I clenched my eyes tight as the tears rushed up my throat.

“Enjoy your Gales, Sjofn,” he said softly but his tone wasn’t gentle, it was distant and that hurt too. “I’ll see you upon my return.”

He started to move away but I looked at him then and I knew, hells bells, I knew when I opened my eyes there were tears there.

Tears!

From me!

But they were there and I didn’t have it in me to make them go away.

And this was because I really, really did not want him to go away.

My chest still moved, rising and falling rapidly as my mind went blank to everything but the thought of him going. But he not only stopped moving away, he had grown completely still as his eyes stayed riveted to mine and there was no way to stop the one tear that dropped and slid down my cheek. I watched him watch it as it went all the way down, falling from my jaw and landing on my chest.

Then his gaze came back to mine when I decided what I needed to say.

And when I did, I whispered, “I change my mind, Frey. I really don’t like it when you call me Sjofn. Please don’t call me that anymore.”

I barely got out the last word when he was back in my space and one of his arms sliced around the small of my back, the other hand plunged into my hair, fisting and pulling back as well as tilting my head to the side and then his mouth slammed down hard on mine.