Not Yet #3
Dragonfly watched her from across the room, a tide quiet and aching rising up inside her.
Hadria’s words came back unbidden. Collin is in love with you. What would it feel like to belong to someone like that? To be gathered into his arms, no explanations needed? To lean into warmth, into care, just because it was there?
Her tea had gone cold in her hands.
Maybe it was only infatuation. But still—what if? What if she and Collin could share that kind of ease, that kind of certainty? Would she let him touch her like that, tease her like that, hold her in the middle of a crowd like there was no one else?
The questions raced faster than answers, bright and frightening all at once.
Dragonfly’s thoughts snapped back when Hadria leaned in and whispered, “What did he mean by you’d owe him?”
Helen’s blush deepened, glowing down to her collarbone. “He’s just being Nic,” she said, fiddling with the sash at her waist.
Hadria tilted her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Have you two...?”
Helen shot a glance toward the window. The boys were still roaring with laughter over something Aries had said, Collin crouched low by the fire, clutching his stomach.
“No,” she murmured. “I’m not ready yet. Have you?”
“Goodness, no,” Hadria said quickly. “I’m not ready either.”
Helen laughed, a soft, breathy sound. “Oh, good. I’m glad I’m not the only one waiting.”
Dragonfly sat very still, her palms pressed flat against her knees. Heat flared across her cheeks, and she shifted her gaze to the embroidery on the tablecloth.
She had nothing to add. She had no stories, no touch that had left her breathless in the dark.
“I don’t know why I get so shy,” Hadria said. “Aries and I have been nearly naked together so many times. But when he touches me, I still feel like... like I should hide.”
Helen gave a shy smile. “I used to feel that way too. Nic’s hands are so rough—he’s all calluses—but he’s careful. I like it now, when he...”
She trailed off, and both girls giggled behind their teacups.
Dragonfly looked down at her lap. She ran a fingertip along the crease in her skirt. The conversation felt like a mysterious garden whose gate she wasn’t allowed to open. And yet, here she was, sitting just on the other side, close enough to hear everything.
“Has Nic ever kissed you in other places?” Hadria asked, her voice low and sly, her smile half-hid behind her teacup.
Helen’s blush deepened. “Yes, and I thought I would die of embarrassment,” she whispered.
Hadria let out a squeal and leaned in, delighted.
Helen giggled, covering her mouth. “But now I love when he... and he really loves when I...” She trailed off, her eyes dancing.
They’d fallen into a bubble—soft, private, fizzy with shared secrets. Not excluding her on purpose. But Dragonfly felt it all the same, the way the air shifted. She didn’t belong in this particular conversation.
She shifted back in her seat, trying to seem relaxed. Her fingers worried at a thread in the cushion seam. Heat crawled up her neck.
She couldn’t even imagine what it felt like to be touched like that. Not with skin and breath and closeness. She didn’t know if she’d shy away or lean into it. The thought alone made her chest tight and her stomach twist.
Her friends were still whispering, laughing softly. Hadria murmured something about Aries’s stubble scratching her skin. Helen said Nic’s lips were always warm, that his hands were rough but sweet. That he listened when she told him what she liked.
Dragonfly swallowed hard and took a sip of her tea.
The way they talked—so freely, so easily—it made something bubble up inside her. Longing, maybe. Curiosity. Envy she didn’t want to name.
They spoke about these men as if their bodies were familiar ground: chests, shoulders, smells, textures, tastes. Intimate maps she hadn’t even unfolded.
She thought of the forest. Collin’s arms around her after the panther—the pressure of his body, the way she’d buried her face against his neck.
The scent of soil and sweat and him had soaked into her, stayed there long after.
It had lived in her skin for days, maybe weeks, stirring back to life in quiet moments, stealing into her breath like heat in spring.
Hadria’s voice broke through her thoughts. “When you’re doing things, does it ever feel like he’s pressuring you?”
Helen paused. “No, but I know he wants more—of course he does—but he always stops when it’s too much. He’s careful. Attentive.”
Helen stirred her tea with slow circles, the spoon clicking lightly. “I just... I want to figure out what to do, before we go too far. I don’t want to end up with a baby.”
“Oh, I’ve been thinking about that too,” Hadria said. “But I wouldn’t know who to ask. I’d feel so awkward.”
Helen nodded. “There’s no one. I can’t talk to my mother, and Nic’s mother—god, she’s a midwife! No way I’m asking her anything.”
“The other midwives are worse,” Hadria muttered. “They’d have the whole town talking before you could blink.”
Their chatter softened into a quiet, thoughtful rhythm. Outside, the boys’ voices drifted in—lower now, but still laughing, murmuring secrets of their own.
Helen twirled her spoon. “I just... I just want to know what to expect, you know? There’s so much I don’t know.”
“There are books like that,” Dragonfly offered before she could think better of it. Her cheeks burned as both girls turned to look at her. “At the hospital. I—I saw one once. I was there for a cough, and I noticed the volumes on the shelf.”
The title came back to her suddenly—the heavy spine with its curling gold lettering.
“It had a Blue Isle mark on the cover. I think it was called A Liberation of Womanhood.”
Helen sucked in a breath, eyes widening. “Ooh—liberation? That sounds more exciting than just pregnancy talk.”
“It’s probably one of those books everyone reads but no one admits they’ve read,” Hadria said, eyes glinting.
Dragonfly nodded. “I’ve seen similar ones when the Blue Isle traders come through. My sister had one once. She hid it under her mattress.”
“Does she still have it?” Helen asked, leaning in.
“No. My aunt found it years ago and burned it.”
Hadria frowned. “I guess we could borrow the hospital copy—but you’d have to sign for it. The stewards would know. That’s practically like announcing it to the whole town.”
Helen straightened. “I’ll ask Nic to do it—oh but...” she gave a little frown. “Nic can get River to check it out. He’s a doctor’s apprentice. He can borrow it without signing. It might take a few days, but once Nic passes it to me, the three of us can read it.”
Dragonfly blinked. The three of us?
Her stomach fluttered—part nerves, part curiosity. She had no lover. No pressing reason to learn these things. What would she even do with the knowledge? But the idea of it... the thrill of knowing, of being included in something secret and important...
Hadria caught her eye and smirked. “You won’t be single forever. You should be prepared. The book will help all of us. I mean, what’s the point of having a beau if we’re too scared to do anything because we don’t know how not to get with child?”
Helen nodded. “My mother never talked about any of this. She shuts down if I even hint at it.”
Hadria’s voice softened. “I wonder what my mother would have told me. Would she have approved of Aries?”
Helen glared at her teacup. “My parents don’t even pretend to like Nic. They think he’s just using me. He’s not ‘appropriate’ for our status, and they won’t believe I want him for the rest of my life—and that he wants me too.”
Dragonfly sank into the cushions a little.
She didn’t have those complications. No parents pushing expectations, no family name to protect. There was no “suitable match” to live up to. If she fell in love, it would be hers alone to decide.
But even that freedom felt like a kind of distance. Hadria had broken all the rules to be with Aries. Helen was fighting to keep Nic. And she—she was still at the edge of it all. Just watching.
Collin, Aries, and Nic tramped into the house, their voices booming ahead of them. The girls quieted instinctively, like birds sensing a shift in the wind.
“Dinner is served,” Collin announced, grinning as he carried a tray of filleted fish, the edges crisped golden.
“I left your apron on the butcher block,” Nic said, sliding bowls aside to make room for the platter.
Aries disappeared into his room. “I’m going to change my clothes.”
Helen was already at the table. “Everything looks wonderful.”
“Should we eat at the table?” Dragonfly asked, though she already knew the answer.
“We can just each grab a plate and eat around the sitting room,” Hadria said. “Very casual—just as you wished.”
Dragonfly’s plate filled quickly—slices of fish, bright salads, fruit soaking in cream, those tiny goat cheese balls dusted with herbs. She sat back on the rug, barefoot and cross-legged, with her plate balanced carefully in her lap.
The first bite melted on her tongue. The fish was smoky and tender, laced with lemon and fire.
The pheasant practically fell off the bone.
The rabbit was sweet and charred, the kind of food that lingered in her mouth like summer around a campfire with friends and laughter.
The goat cheese was her favorite—tangy and soft, coated in something peppery that made her reach for her cup of cider.
Praise floated through the room—Collin’s name passed around like a blessing, Hadria’s dishes admired, Aries’s game devoured. Laughter came easily, bubbling between bites.
Clive and Niall slipped in just as they were finishing the main meal, bringing a tray of sticky cakes drenched in honey and stuffed with spiced nuts. Dragonfly licked syrup from her fingers and didn’t care if anyone noticed.
The twins didn’t stay long—they had an early morning, and soon ducked back out into the dark.