Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
The fire popped again, louder this time, startling a few. Shadows danced over the villagers’ faces, and for a moment it felt as though the trees themselves were listening.
One by one, the villagers drifted away, drawn home by cooling embers and thoughts, left unspoken in the dark. Goodnights were murmured, none too loudly, and glances were cast over shoulders as if the night itself might be watching.
Raff remained where he was holding Ingrid’s hand and adjusted her shawl that had slipped off one of her shoulders. Her eyes were on the dying embers.
“Best I walk you back,” he said, his voice firm. “No need to tempt the shadows.”
She gave him a look, half smile, half something else. “You think I’m afraid of what might be out there?”
“Nay,” he said, and chuckled as he bumped his shoulder with hers. “But I am.”
She laughed softly. “Then it is I who should be escorting you to your cottage.”
Only if you plan on staying the night. The words would have slipped from his lips if he hadn’t caught them. The old Raff would have said that to a woman without thinking, cock-sure of himself that no woman would turn him down. But he wasn’t looking for a one-night poke with Ingrid. He wanted something more substantial, more permanent, more committed. The thought frightened him as much as it pleased him.
They said little else as they walked the worn path toward her cottage, the hush of evening wrapping around them. An owl hooted and the wind rustled the nearly bare branches. When they reached her door, she turned to face him, her expression unreadable in the moonlight.
“Whatever comes of this,” he said, “whatever truth lies behind these whispers… I’ll keep you safe, Ingrid.”
Her breath caught, just enough for him to hear it.
“I know you will.”
He stepped closer and kissed her, slow and sure, like it had been lingering between them since their arrival home and needed to be satisfied. She leaned into him, her hand tightening around his as he deepened the kiss and pressing just enough against him to feel his strength.
She thought to ask him to stay, but that wouldn’t be right. She needed to know he would make this place his home permanently and not find him gone one morning when she woke.
She ended the kiss reluctantly, though when his lips begged for more, she returned his kisses until she finally stepped away from him, fearing she would submit to her own desires.
“Goodnight, Raff.”
She didn’t want him to leave. He had felt it in the way she returned his kisses and how she pressed against him, but not too close or else she would have felt the strength of his desire for her. And he didn’t want to leave. He felt as she did and soon, very soon, more would need to be said and decided.
He waited until she slipped inside, and the latch fell into place, then he turned to go. But as he walked down the path alone, a weight settled in his chest. He’d heard the rumors. He’d seen the fear. And deep down, where even the fire hadn’t reached, a thought stirred with quiet dread.
What if the witch hadn’t come for the village?
What if she’d come for him?
The night pressed in around him, like a heavy fog. His boots found the familiar path back to his cottage, but his mind wandered far from the ground beneath him. Ingrid’s kiss still lingered on his lips, warm and grounding, as did her obvious desire for him. But it did little to silence the quiet storm building in his chest.
Why now?
The question circled him like the wind whispering through the trees, persistent and full of warning. He had started to believe, just a little, that maybe things could be different here. That with Ingrid—clever, kind, fierce when she needed to be—he might have a chance at something he hadn’t dared want in a long time.
A life. A quiet one, perhaps. One built with her.
He imagined what it might look like, kissing her whenever he wanted to, which would be often, protecting her, sleeping cuddled together while snow fell outside, waking beside her each morning. It was a life he hadn’t given much thought to but now it was the only life that mattered to him. He’d felt something touch him deep inside every time she reached for his hand, as if her touch held a promise he didn’t deserve but longed for all the same.
And now… this.
The rumors. The fear. The talk of a witch.
What if it had followed him? Not just the tale, but the truth behind it, the shadow tied to the wish he made long ago, when he was too foolish to know what he was truly asking for.
He paused at the bend on the path where the trees grew thicker, old oaks hunched like watching beasts. The wind stirred through their branches, brushing his cheek like a whisper.