Ensnared (Knights of Brethren #3)(24)

Deep inside I knew what I had to do. I needed to sever the ties with her just like I’d done the last time I was home. The best way to do that was to give Frans the money so he could pay the bride price. What did it matter if Mikaela loved him or not? She needed to marry him to be safe. The sooner the better, especially since I was unable to keep my distance from her.

“I pray you will find some happiness in your marriage,” I finally said to Torvald. “You deserve it.”

He gave a sharp nod. “I shall be back.”

“And I’ll be waiting for you.”

I helped Torvald and his squires pack and ready their mounts. By mid-morning as I watched them leave through the castle gates, I couldn’t shake a strange foreboding that perhaps I wouldn’t see Torvald again.

After he disappeared from sight, I squared my shoulders and braced myself for what I should have done all along. I had to sever all ties with Mikaela and tell her I couldn’t come any more to the nursery.

I rounded the keep into the gardens at the rear, knowing that’s where I’d find Mikaela and the girls. I wasn’t embarrassed that I already had their daily schedule and routine nearly memorized. I loved that whenever I thought about her, I could picture where she was and what she was doing.

Getting fresh air in the gardens every morn was an important part of her routine with her charges. As I came upon the stone benches and walkways closest to the castle, I searched amongst the raised vegetable and herb beds as well as the raised flower beds. Most of the greenery had only just sprouted. The gardener had to cover the sensitive shoots every night to protect them from frost. Even so, the plants were hardy and able to survive the harsh conditions—much like the villeins who lived on the land.

The dozens of fruit trees beyond the raised beds were beginning to blossom. Likewise, the raspberry, gooseberry, and red currant shrubs were flowering, and as a result, a sweet heaviness permeated the air.

Near a fountain in the center of the fruit trees, I glimpsed Rikissa, her face down in her hands as though she was silently crying.

I hastened my steps, and as I drew nearer, I realized she wasn’t crying but was instead counting. At my approach, she paused and peeked up through her fingers at me. “Good day, Uncle. We are playing hide-and-seek. Would you like to join us?”

“Of course I would, Angel.” I scanned the woodland and spotted Rena squatting behind a too-narrow tree trunk. But I couldn’t find Mikaela anywhere.

“I’ll give you thirty more seconds to hide.” Rikissa dropped her head back down and covered her eyes. “One, two, three . . .”

I bounded off, scrutinizing the gardens again. The door of the tool shed was slightly ajar. Since the gardener was nowhere in sight and wouldn’t have left the door open in his absence, I guessed that Mikaela was hiding there.

I veered toward it and slipped inside. The shadows were dark, but I easily spotted her.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

Crowded with shovels and rakes and hoes, baskets and barrels, crocks of seeds, trays of seedlings, and much more, the floor space hardly had room for Mikaela, much less a full-grown man like myself.

Nevertheless, I pushed in, our bodies nearly touching. “Rikissa invited me to play your game.”

“You can’t hide in here with me.” She shifted but bumped into a barrel.

“Why not?” My eyes began to adjust to the darkness, broken by the sliver of light coming in through the crack in the door.

“You need to find your own hiding place.”

“I like this one.”

“But I was here first.”

Rikissa called out that she was beginning her search. I pressed a finger to Mikaela’s lips to silence her.

At the touch she froze. Her only motion was to draw in a quick breath.

But it was enough to awaken every nerve in my body to the realization that she was close enough that I could feel the tickle of her hair against my chin and the graze of her chest against mine.

The air inside the shed suddenly felt hot, like the middle of summer without a breeze. I was unable to take my finger away from the soft curves of her lips, unable to step back, unable to form a coherent thought save one—she was the most vivid and beautiful woman in the world. I wanted nothing more than to trace every one of her features.

At the tremble of her lips, I gave in to the need. Gently, I started at her chin and drew a line up her cheek.

She didn’t bat my hand away as I expected. Instead, she remained absolutely still, almost as if she was waiting for more.

Taking courage from her lack of protest, I skimmed her forehead, then traced her delicate eyebrows before caressing her nose.

Her lashes fell as though she relished my touch.

Did she? Was it possible I had the power to affect her the same way she did me?

A faint warning sounded at the back of my mind, but I ignored it, letting my fingers go where they wanted. And they wanted to trace her other cheek down to her chin before returning to her lips.

As I let myself graze her bottom lip, she parted her mouth. At the gush of warmth, my gut clenched with sudden and intense desire. I wanted to kiss her more than I wanted anything else in life. And from the increased tempo of her breathing, I could sense she wanted it too.

What harm could come of sharing a brief kiss here in the shed? No one would have to know. It would satisfy our curiosity. It would sate our longing. It might even bring an end to the undercurrent that had been building between us. Because ultimately, that was where this attraction had been leading all along, wasn’t it? The inevitable culmination in a kiss?