Forever and a Thousand Times

Chapter Eight

Othniel squeezed the back of his neck and let loose a low growl of frustration. He didn't like how he'd behaved upon first seeing Ismene with Kendric. Damn that man for knowing her first. There had been nothing untoward in their meeting in the alcove off the great hall, but Othniel had not expected to find Kendric with her when he'd gone searching for her upon his return.

He shook the residual water from his hair and threw his oiled long coat on the chair closest the fire. Three days away, and every moment of each his mind had wandered back here, with her. He'd missed her more than he thought possible after such a short time. This emotion, though . . . never before had he experienced such a keen dislike for someone as he now did for Kendric. He'd never come face to face with his own jealousy before either.

"My Lor-Othniel, I'm so sorry I wasn't there to greet you sooner. I fear no one informed me of your return, but that is none's fault but my own," Ismene said, hesitation obvious in the timidity of her voice.

Othniel had barely walked through the door of his chamber, and he'd left it open without thinking. He turned from where he stood at the window to see Ismene standing in the shadow of the frame. The sight of her, coming to him of her own accord, melted any anger he harbored except toward himself for his insensitive behavior. He took a step toward her.

"I must take the blame. I wanted to surprise you," he said, hoping to alleviate any discomfort she might be feeling, even if he didn't know why. Something about her innocence softened his mounting distrust.

Ismene's mouth formed an 'o' as if she hadn't expected it. If not for the shadow falling across her face, Othniel thought she might be blushing.

"I am surprised," she said and added hastily, "and pleased. Lady Grace said you were often gone for weeks at a time when you left on these diplomatic trips."

"I told you I'd be back before Fortnight."

Ismene nodded in response, but an awkward silence filled the space between them. When she bowed, Othniel realized he must make the first move or she'd never be his. He just didn't know what the right move would be.

When he walked in this room, he'd been angry at himself for how he'd handled his feelings and at her for spending time with Kendric in his absence, but he could easily forget all of it if—somehow—he knew she was wholly his.

She stepped back, and without another wasted thought, Othniel strode across the rest of the space separating them and grabbed her hand in both of his, bringing her warm fingers to his chilled lips and halting her escape. His heart thumped against its unforgiving cage, and he hid his smile at her soft gasp. Emboldened, he pulled her into his arms, and then he reached out to caress the ever-escaping wisps of dark hair framing her face.

Othniel didn't know if her heart beat the same wild rhythm as his, but when she didn't pull away, he hoped she couldn't tell how much her nearness affected him. His sight settled on her wide eyes as he did his best to keep his own averted from her parted lips.

"I thought of nothing but you while I was away. I am . . . bewitched by my wife."

"Oh," she said on a breath and tilted her face up.

Othniel searched her eyes, silently daring her to tell him she didn't care, but he found not an ounce of resistance in her. Much like at the waterfall, a new and still unfamiliar desperation filled him to kiss her, but he swallowed the lump in his throat and restrained himself, only giving in to the desire to touch her mouth, running his thumb over her soft lips. He'd always planned to make the most of this marriage, but at this defining moment, he knew full well his intent and that was to woo his wife so that no other man would ever fill her sight.