Chapter 10
Rowan
I awoke with a start.
Water sloshed all over the floor as my body lurched upright. My heart raced as I scanned the room, searching for Caelan, before belatedly realising it had been a dream.
Just a dream.
Rubbing a hand over my face, I tried to process that fact.
It had felt real. My lips, my skin – both still tingled from the intensity.
My body throbbed in a way that left me with no doubt that I had just had an orgasm.
But how could I have experienced such a thing in my sleep?
I stared down at my pruny skin. Maybe I had been touching myself.
That thought alone caused my cheeks to flush with embarrassment.
And they only grew warmer as I recalled every vivid detail.
I shook my head, trying to dispel the images, and stepped from the tub.
I found the towel on the chair and wrapped it around me just as a knock sounded at the other door.
Déjà vu swept through me and my cheeks coloured again.
“Come in,” I called out, fanning my face.
Jesmina hurried in and my relief nearly knocked me to my knees. “Milady, we must get you ready.”
“Oh. That’s quite all right,” I replied, eyeing the garments laid out on the bed. They didn’t look too complicated. “I’m certain I can dress myself if you have other duties to take care of.”
Beckoning me closer, she quickly whipped off my towel, leaving me standing there in nothing but my embarrassment.
But before I could even worry about my modesty, she had a shift pulled over my head and was holding a large woollen skirt at my feet.
I stepped in and she pulled it up, fastening it behind me.
“Whose clothes are these?” I asked as she gathered up a top and laced me into it.
“I know they’re a bit old-fashioned, but I’m sure milord will arrange new ones for you soon. These will suffice for the time being.”
Old-fashioned? Try ancient.
“You have lovely hair, the colour just like milord’s,” she said, releasing it from its pin and running a brush through the ends.
I tried not to grimace as the bristles caught the knots, all the while thinking she must be colour-blind, for Caelan’s hair was as dark as night, no hint of red to be seen.
Tangles removed, she started to braid while I watched on in the mirror. My lips were red, like they had just been kissed, and the colour rose to my cheeks when my thoughts immediately returned to that dream. Sweet Jesus. How was I ever going to be able to look at him again without blushing?
The problem, it seemed to me, wasn’t so much that it had been a dream, but that I wanted it to be real.
Over the last few days, I had found myself drawn to Caelan, and the idea of kissing him had crossed my mind.
Yet it had only been three days. Was it possible to develop feelings for someone so swiftly?
I pondered this while absently watching Jesmina in the mirror.
She wrapped the braid around my head, the end result looking like a coronet.
Staring at my reflection, I noticed the way the freckles on my nose stood out against the whiteness of my skin.
There was still a bit of colour in my cheeks, likely from my earlier thoughts, and it brought out the dark blue of my eyes.
I’d never been vain before, but suddenly I had the urge to look – well, pretty.
I knew I wasn’t ugly, but had never really thought myself attractive either.
Though my father had reassured me I was beautiful whenever I had voiced those doubts.
My red hair and pale skin sometimes made me appear washed out, especially in the winter months when I didn’t get much sun.
Ordinarily, I didn’t wear makeup at all, but what I would give right now for a lick of mascara…
“There, you’re all done,” Jesmina advised, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Will you be needing me to help you undress later, miss?”
“No, I don’t believe so. Thank you again for your help, Jesmina.”
She placed what looked to be satin slippers near my feet before gathering the discarded towel and rushing from the room.
I heard her greet someone on her way out, and movement sounded from the other room.
This time, when I looked up, I met Caelan’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror.
He stood just inside the bedroom door. My eyes trailed down, and for a moment I was confused.
My gaze flicked back up and he gave me a soft smile.
“You look lovely,” he said.
I smiled back shyly and murmured a thank you.
“May I escort you to dinner?” he enquired, his tone impossibly formal.
I nodded, unable to speak, certain if I did, I would say something stupid. Instead, I slipped my feet into the waiting shoes, glancing up just in time to see Caelan extend a hand towards me.
His fingers twitched when I just stared at him, gesturing for me to take it.
So I placed my hand in his. At the touch, a tingle ran through my body.
Just like static electricity, but not in a sharp, biting way.
It was soft and glittery and made me relax.
I hadn’t realised I had felt awkward until that moment and smiled at him when the feeling disappeared.
The room around us seemed to fade away as we stood there, staring at each other, our hands intertwined.
“Caelan, I…” I started to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. What could I say? I like you seemed a bit… juvenile.
He squeezed my hand, a tender expression on his face. One that caused my heart to skip a beat. I returned the squeeze, and just like that the atmosphere in the room softened. You don’t need to say anything, his expression suggested. And at that moment, I believed it.
He escorted me down the hall, my hand now resting in the crook of his arm. “Will we be dining alone?” I asked when the silence stretched on. I had been trying to think of something to say, but nothing had come to mind. He seemed lost in his own thoughts as well.
“Unfortunately, yes. Lord Wyndaryn is not in residence, so I’ve been told. Though I expect his return at any moment.”
Unfortunately?
“Lord Wyndaryn? I thought you were the lord.”
He barked out a laugh. “Hardly! Don’t be fooled by Jesmina’s deference. I’m not a lord; she just calls me that out of respect.”
“Well, that makes sense, as she calls me milady.”
“Hmm.”
“Who is this lord? Does he own this castle?” I waved my hand at the walls around us.
“Aye, he does. As well as the estate. You’ll be meeting him soon enough, once he is home.”
I had nothing else to say to that, so let my eyes wander, trying to take everything in.
Our pace this time was decidedly less hurried, so I was able to study the tapestries on the walls and keep note of which way we walked.
When we reached a grand sweeping staircase, my eyes nearly fell out of my head at the grandeur of the entrance hall.
With soaring ceilings and decorative mouldings, it conveyed a sense of elegance.
There were doors lining the walls off the main area, each one holding a secret I was dying to uncover.
I had always been fascinated with castles, and had spent a fair bit of time in Wales exploring the many ruins there, my parents happy with me keeping my travels south of the border. And now, here I was, standing inside one. Despite the lack of modern facilities, I was enamoured.
Caelan gestured to the left and I followed dutifully.
At the end of the wide hall were a set of double doors, and high above them hung a shield.
A Celtic shield, if I was not mistaken. There was a stag’s head embossed upon it and two swords crossed over one another, blades facing upwards.
I was certain that depicted something, but did not know what.
“That is the Wyndaryn family crest,” Caelan said, noticing the direction of my gaze.
He opened the doors, revealing a dining room that was nothing short of magnificent.
A large wooden table dominated the space.
Only two place settings were made up, the silverware sparkling in the light of the candles.
Serving staff stood at opposite ends, ready to attend to our every need.
I counted the chairs on either side, my mind racing.
“There are twenty-two,” Caelan said, at my enquiring gaze.
“Oh.” I turned back to the table, wondering which setting was mine. But Caelan gestured towards a seat on the left and guided me to sit down before making his way to the opposite side.
I examined the room while he did so. The bottom half of the walls were covered in wood panelling, not too different to a modern-day interior. But it was the elaborate candelabras, the extravagant mouldings that framed the ceiling, and the high windows that made it clear this was no ordinary home.
Curious, I asked, “How many rooms does this castle have?”
My question was met with a slight shrug.
“Rooms? There are quite a few, I suppose. I haven’t bothered to count them all.
” He began serving food onto my plate, waving away the waitstaff before they could do so.
More had entered in that brief time, bringing succulent-smelling dishes under silver cloches.
I waited until they left before commenting, “I’m not used to being waited on. Not like this, anyway.”
“You’ll get used to it,” he replied. “Though tonight, they are certainly trying to impress you. Our meals are usually much more relaxed.”
“Is it because I’m a guest? Do you not have many guests?”
“Not many, no. Though I hope you won’t think of yourself as a guest for long. This castle can be your home if you’ll have it.”
I thought about that as we ate our dinner and I took in the details of the grand room. The fireplace. The plush rug. The matching curtains. The paintings on the walls. It was all so very homey, leading me to wonder if maybe, just maybe, this could be my home after all.
The meal was exquisite, leaving me pleasantly satiated. I hadn’t eaten that heartily in a long time and wondered if I had been trying to make up for the last three days. When the plates were cleared away, Caelan turned to me and whispered five words that I had been dying to hear.
“Would you like a tour?”
“Yes!” I said, leaping excitedly to my feet.
He chuckled and took my hand, leading me back out into the entrance hall.
He pointed out the different rooms on the ground floor.
A study and library on one side. A sitting room and some more stairs at the other end.
The giant staircase that swept up to the other levels.
There was another door behind those stairs that led through to the back of the castle, to the stables and past the servants’ quarters.
He explained that was where we had come in earlier.
When we once again stood in the entrance hall, I couldn’t help feeling slightly overwhelmed by the opulence.
Not just in there, but in every room he had showed me.
Each was filled with priceless antiques, the kind my mother would have swooned over.
I was particularly drawn to the expansive library, imagining myself getting lost amongst the shelves and books.
I had already made a mental note to return and explore it more thoroughly.
As I turned to look again at the shield and the paintings on the wall, the events of the past few days, plus my beautifully full stomach, took their toll, and I couldn’t help but stifle a yawn.
The evening had been filled with so much to see and experience, but now my body was begging for rest. Caelan noticed and graciously offered to escort me back to my room.
“Thank you for the tour,” I said sincerely when we reached my door.
He smiled warmly. “You’re very welcome. Lord Wyndaryn will be home tomorrow, so we’ll meet him after breakfast.” I nodded in acknowledgement. “Don’t forget, my room is just down the hall, one door down, if you need me in the interim.”
“I won’t,” I replied, looking to where he pointed. He removed my hand from his elbow and placed a soft kiss on the back of it, much like he had hours before.
“Good night, Rowan,” he said gently, turning away.
“Good night,” I whispered, a slight frown marring my brow.
That’s it?
I don’t know why I had expected more. A kiss to the lips at the very least. But as I stood there, staring at his retreating back and then his closed door, that voice inside me whispered, Be strong, be brave.
My heart raced as I weighed my options. I could knock on his door and…
and what? Offer myself? What if he rejected me?
I was being stupid, my dream leading me to believe there was something there when there actually wasn’t.
I paced outside my door, worrying my lip with my teeth. I hated the frustration that welled within. The intrusive thoughts that arose, sneering and snarking at me.
You’re a coward.
You’re ugly.
You’ll die alone.
You’re weird. Different. Strange.
I really hated that voice. It was the voice of anxiety. It was the voice from my childhood, the voice of bullies. It was one I’d lived with for an exceedingly long time. It fed my insecurities, playing with my emotions.
I stood frozen in the hallway, torn. Should I go knock? Or should I just forget about it and go to bed, pretending I wasn’t disappointed?
That voice sounded again.
I would likely regret not taking this chance, but I couldn’t bring myself to face potential rejection – or worse, being humiliated in the morning when he realised it was all a mistake.
My chin fell to my chest as I abandoned the thoughts, suddenly feeling weary of it all.
Stepping into my room, I closed the door behind me with a soft click.
Defeated.