The Knight of Slaughtaverty

Chapter 25 - Friendly Therapy

The rain that's been streaming down since I woke up tangled in my duvet has finally let up.

I can see the vegetable garden beyond the open back door when I enter the kitchen with the tray laden with my empty breakfast dishes. Gentle light glistens on wet surfaces, making the world twinkle with mischievous sparkles.

"Thank you," I smile when the demure young woman, who often serves my meals, takes the tray from me. She'd warmed to me considerably but still doesn't speak to me. She simply returns my smile and inclines her head in acknowledgement of my thanks.

I'm feeling incredibly energetic today and have this almost overwhelming desire to go for a long, long run. I want to feel the breeze in my hair and the burn in my muscles.

I don't run... ever!

Running is for people with good coordination. Whenever I try to run, I end up in a tangle of limbs on the ground. Running is a very dangerous sport when it's me taking part in it, and what's that nonsense about burning muscles? I don't want my muscles to burn!

Yet, here I am, gazing longingly out the door at the dripping garden and the footpath leading to the rest of the estate. I am even sighing dramatically.

I have too much energy to spend my time indoors.

I have work to do, though! My first presentation for Alaric is nowhere near ready for Monday, and tomorrow, I want to spend most of the day in Slaughtaverty. Turning away from the temptation I never thought I would ever experience, I hurry to the front of the house and up the stairs to the office.

Ransford isn't in the mansion or anywhere on the grounds. I have no idea how I know that. I can just feel it, and it makes me sad. I miss him, but not in the gut-wrenching horrible way I missed Alaric yesterday. It's more of a burning ache, like a pot simmering at a very low temperature. It might be because he hasn't left the island. I can still feel his presence subtly lingering like a mirage trembling in hot air.

I need to speak to him about that kiss yesterday. I need to understand what happened between us.

I'm surprised I don't miss Alaric as much as yesterday. That intense longing has faded into a vague throb somewhere deep inside my heart. Perhaps my blood sugar was just really low yesterday, and I was feeling a bit melancholic. No, that doesn't usually happen to me, and I'm not going to surf the internet to see if my diagnosis makes any sense.

I've been so focused on trying to follow the trail in my mind, somehow leading me to where Ransford is hiding, that I didn't even notice that I could feel Alaric's presence strongly. I am, therefore, startled to find him sitting at his desk, sifting through some printed pages.

When I enter the office, he looks up, and seeing his face is like a punch to my gut. His dark hair is immaculately styled, as always, and his eyes seem to grow darker and darker while he gazes at me until none of the irises' silvery shine is visible. Something is tugging at the back of my mind, a memory like the name of a song or a person just beyond my reach.

My heart is beating so fast; I can imagine it taking flight from my chest to crash into the window behind Alaric with a wet, squelchy splat, blood spraying all over the office.

Suddenly, I'm thirsty.

Alaric's lips move soundlessly as if he's about to say something, but then his eyes narrow, and his frown deepens as he studies my face. The muscles in his jaw clenches and unclenches as if he's grinding his teeth while he reaches out and grabs a pencil from the holder on his desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Slatherty," I say with a tight smile, immediately on my guard. He is clearly in a bad mood, and though I've never seen him angry, I would rather not set him off. He has the air of someone who could be very dangerous when provoked.