Wildest Dreams

Chapter Seven

Mr. Conversation

While Frey’s attention was on the deer, I grabbed my stuff and nipped to the hot springs for a quick bath.

One could say the hot springs were awesome but one could not say drying off afterward was. However, I’d done it so often, I’d made an art of it so I was out, dried off and clothed in record time. Then I wrapped my clean, wet hair in the bathing cloth and nipped back quickly, luckily without him seeing me.

Since I had one day of essentially semi-kinda-dating my husband before we got down to the nitty gritty husband and wife stuff, once I got back, I lotioned, powdered and perfumed as well as put on some light makeup. I mean, I would never go on a first date without making an effort. And I had at least a couple of weeks of dates (according to my own personal philosophy of how long before I considered sleeping with someone) to squeeze in one day so I made an effort.

As I did this, I planned the dinner I was going to make that night and therefore drew up a grocery list in my head of what I needed to get from the store. I wanted something special so he would notice I was making an effort (and maybe he would make one too). I also wanted something chewy. He made light work of those pancakes, chewing approximately twice before each enormous swallow and I was hoping dinner would last a whole lot longer than that.

I was in the kitchen, all done up but hair still wet (though pulled back in the ribbon again) and I was getting the basket I usually took to town with me to carry my purchases back when Frey walked in.

I turned to the door and again, like that morning, when he saw me, he stopped dead.

Weird how he did that.

“Hey,” I greeted. “I’m going to town to pick up some stuff for dinner. Do you want anything?”

He stared at me a moment and I was hoping he wasn’t back in silence mode when he stated, “I’ll take you.”

Hells bells. I’d actually wanted some time alone to psych myself up for what was going to happen after dinner.

However, time alone wasn’t going to help me know this guy any better, or get used to having him around, so maybe him going was a good thing.

We could chat.

“All righty then,” I replied.

His eyes moved to my hair and he moved toward the living room, muttering, “I’ll saddle Tyr. You get a hat. I don’t want my new wife catching a chill.”

Hmm.

That was thoughtful.

So thoughtful, I smiled as I followed him and called out, “Tyr?”

He turned at the front door, answered, “My mount,” then left.

Well, there you go. I already knew something more about him. His horse was called Tyr.

That was a start.

I went to my trunks and pulled out a cloak I liked especially. It was a light silvery-gray wool with fur in a matching color on the high collar. It had matching gloves and hat. The hat was knit wool at the top, furry around the edges and I’d noticed it didn’t give me hat head.

I didn’t want hat head. Not that day or, maybe, any day when Frey was around.

So I got ready to face the chill, nabbed my basket and then walked to the stables.

When I got there, Frey had Tyr in the middle of the space, bridle on, saddle on (with a longer, very dark brown blanket style thing that hung over his rump, probably to help ward off the cold, something the horse hadn’t worn on our long ride there). I noticed now that the horse was like everything Frey that was to say his coat so dark brown it was nearly black. He was also huge. He was also glossy. He also had extremely intelligent eyes.

He was lastly beautiful.

I went to the hooks on the wall to get a bridle for one of the grays and had lifted a hand to nab it when Frey called from behind me. “What are you doing?”

I dropped my hand and turned to him then answered, “Preparing a gray to ride.”

“You’ll ride with me.”

I blinked.

Then I asked, “What?”

He stood by his horse for about half a second then he walked to me, reached low, engulfed my hand in his then led me to his horse. Before I became unstuck, he’d mounted and leaned down to hook me around the waist and pull me up in front of him.

Then he immediately clicked his teeth and Tyr walked out of the stable. Once clear of the structure, Frey clicked his teeth again and leaned slightly into me, taking me with him, chest to back, at the same time his arm moving me back into him as it tightened around my belly and Tyr took us from walk to a not fast but definitely not slow canter.

Apparently, Frey Drakkar did not stop and smell the roses.

“Um…” I started then pointed out, “You just broke our deal.”

“How?” he asked, his voice sounding in my ear.

“You just put me on your horse,” I explained as the forest went passed us and I noticed Frey knew a better, what appeared to be more direct route because he was now taking it.

“Yes, I did,” he agreed.

“Part of our deal was, you wouldn’t do that.”

“No… Finnie, part of our deal was I wouldn’t toss you on a horse. I didn’t toss you on a horse. I pulled you onto a horse.”

“That’s a technicality,” I declared.

“A what?” he asked.

I didn’t explain, instead I stated, “I think you knew what I meant.”

“And I think, when you’re making a deal, you may wish to be more clear in your demands and your expectations,” he returned.

Well, it could be said he was not wrong.

I made a mental note to do just that.

We rode through the frozen forest and it didn’t take long for me to come to the understanding that I liked this better, riding with Frey. I could pay more attention to the beauty that was around me (even if it was mostly streaming by) and not where I was going. And he was warm and solid behind me and any warmth in Lunwyn, I had learned, should not only be made use of but treasured. It was a lazy way to go but it was definitely the better way to go.

Hmm.

I decided not to focus on that and instead, learn about my husband.

Therefore, I set about doing that.

“So,” I began, “uh… where have you been the last six weeks?”

“At sea,” he answered readily.

My brows went up but I kept my eyes on the vista before me. “That whole time?”

“That whole time,” he replied then went on, “or the part of it we weren’t in Middleland.”

I twisted my neck to look at him and got an eyeful of strong jaw and masculine throat. Attractive strong jaw and appealing masculine throat.

That was when I looked back forward.

“What were you doing in Middleland?”

“One of my men had an errand to run.”

Interesting.

“What was the errand?” I asked.

Frey did not answer.

Hmm. Interesting.

“Was your errand successfully run?” I queried.

“Yes.”

Not informative but at least an answer.

“Um… how many men do you have?”

“Many.”

Again not informative but at least an answer.

“Are we talking ‘many’ as in ‘more than ten’ or ‘many’ as in ‘more than five hundred’?” I attempted to clarify.

“Somewhere in between,” Frey clearly didn’t feel like clarifying.

I was not deterred

“So, are you often at sea?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going back soon?”

I asked this because I wanted to go with him when he went though I wasn’t going to tell him that then. I just wanted to know how much time I had to convince him to take me.

He didn’t know this and thus read my question wrong. I knew this not only from his next words but an arm that got very tight at my belly.

“I’m just home, wife, and you wish to be rid of me?”

“That’s not what I meant,” I kinda semi-wheezed, he heard it and his arm relaxed.

“If not, then tell me what you meant,” he ordered and I knew I couldn’t say I wanted to go with him, not yet.

So I said softly, “I’m just trying to get to know you, Frey. You aren’t a font of information, telling me your favorite color and pouring forth your heartfelt desires. I didn’t mean anything except to ask about you.”

“I don’t have a favorite color,” he replied, “and my desires, at the moment, though I would not describe them as heartfelt, but felt somewhere else, all revolve around what I shall do when I first bed my new wife. Would you like to talk about that?”

Ho boy.

“Um…” I swallowed, “no.”

He shifted then muttered over my head, “I did not think so.”

Okay, so, that went well. Kind of. I learned a few things about my husband. Since I did, I decided that I could take a break and stop talking to Frey.

We made it into town and I refused to think about the fact that the last time I was here I was carted out of a pub by my just returned from sea husband. Instead, I acted business as usual, smiling, waving and calling out greetings to people I knew. Luckily, they did the same (with glances at Frey, of course, who did not call out greetings, wave and, I couldn’t see him, but I was pretty certain he did not smile) and he stopped us outside the market.

He dismounted then, with hands at my waist, I came down too.

Then he did something sweet, something unexpected, something I didn’t think he had in him even after stoking the fire and saying he liked my pancakes.

His big hand enveloped mine and he walked me to the market while holding my hand.

Shit. I liked that. That was nice.

Hmm.

We walked in and I called out to Maria, “Hi Maria! It’s Finnie! I’ve come to get some groceries!”

She was in the back room and yelled in return, “Greetings, Princess Finnie! I’ll be out in two moments. We’ve had some green beans come in!”

Freaking cool!

Fresh veg, I had also learned in Lunwyn, was to be treasured.

Green beans just got jotted on the menu.

“I want some of those!” I yelled.

“They’re yours!” she yelled back.

“This pleases me,” Frey muttered and I stopped wandering through the store shouting and looked up at him.

“What?”

He was looking toward the back room but at my question, his chin dipped down and his active, assessing and, indeed, pleased-looking brown-green eyes came to me.

“You have your mother’s grace, something I never noticed before. But you do not have her manner. She is refined but cold. You…” he looked to the back room then at me, “are not.”

I wasn’t certain but I thought that was nice.

“Thanks,” I whispered, kinda embarrassed.

He tugged me through the store, continuing to mutter, “You can teach this to our daughters, if we have them.”

Oh shit.

Another item for the grocery list: see if they had a condom section (though I held no high hopes for that). And another topic for discussion at dinner: birth control (though I held no high hopes for that either).

Shit.

Frey let my hand go and I started to pile stuff in my basket making a mental note of what we needed to get at the butcher and the baker.

Unfortunately while I did this, Frey felt talkative and with what he felt like talking about, I decided I preferred him taciturn.

“It is well-known your father, not having a son, did all the things with you that he would do with his son. He taught you archery, swordplay and you went hunting with him from when you were wee. Our daughters will not do these things.”

I clenched my teeth after his declaration, not wanting to think of “our daughters” which was something I hoped we didn’t create while I was on my adventure.

I grabbed a jug of golden syrup and decided to whisper, “Okay.”

“It is also well-known that he kept your mother and you close to his side during all his travels and business, by land and by sea. This, I will consider doing.”

I looked up at him and froze.

I did this because, first, my Dad in this world sounded a lot like my Dad in my world. He liked me close and he never went anywhere without Mom and, most of the time, me. I had tutors when I was young and I was only not with them when they died because we’d been around the world and back again so many times, they decided I needed to have some normalcy in my life and make some friends and they’d enrolled me in boarding school. Second, I did this because I was super happy he was already considering taking me with him.

“Really?” I whispered and his eyes moved over my face before locking on mine.

“I see this idea pleases you,” he noted.

I nodded.

“Good,” he muttered then looked to Maria who had walked into the shop from the back room.

I grinned at the nuts.

Then I looked up at him and asked, “Do you like pecans?”

Frey looked down at me and asked back, “What?”

“Pecans, nuts. I’m really good at pecan pie and I’m going to make one for us tonight. But if you don’t –”

He interrupted me. “I like pecans, Finnie.”

Boy, I liked it when he called me Finnie.

In fact, I liked that there were things to like about Frey Drakkar and I was noticing there were a number of things to like.

Therefore, I grinned at him, “See, we’re getting to know each other already. This is working out great.”

He didn’t answer verbally. Nope, he didn’t.

He did better than that.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, his big hand lifted to cup my jaw and his calloused thumb slid lightly across my curved lower lip.

This felt good. So good, my belly dipped and my breasts swelled again.

Yes, his touch could be light. Very light. And very sweet.

Ho boy.

I noticed his gaze had lifted to my eyes and then I knew those eyes were hazy from his surprisingly sweet touch when he bent so his face was close to my own.

“I very much like the curve of your mouth, wife,” he whispered, the nipples in my swelling breast started tingling and my body swayed slightly closer to him as if he had some invisible pull and it was reeling me in. “I also like to watch it move, to hear it speak words of teasing or jest, or just any words at all.”

Oh man, that was sweet too.

He got even closer and kept whispering, “I wonder what else it can do that I will like.”

Now that wasn’t sweet, that was hot.

“Um…” I mumbled for no reason whatsoever and when I did, I watched his eyes go sexy lazy at the same time they smiled.

It was a good look. No, it was the best look I’d ever seen. On him or any man.

Uh.

Wow.

I was about to do something, I didn’t know what, maybe throw myself at him or toss the basket aside and demand he take me home immediately, strip me naked and do as he pleased when his thumb slid back across my lower lip and he straightened.

“Your pecans, wife, my pie,” he murmured, I blinked then my body jerked and I pulled myself together.

“Right, pecans, pie, uh… dinner,” I muttered and turned to the nuts thinking maybe this adventure was going to be a lot better than I ever imagined.

Maybe even beyond my wildest dreams.

* * * * *

I spent the afternoon baking and cooking (and letting Penelope in and out a gazillion times). Frey spent the afternoon lugging logs in to replenish the supplies by the fires as well as reloading the back porch. Then he set about chopping more.

I was seeing it was good having a husband around because in my six weeks there, I’d already gone through the stash on the back porch and spent an hour of back and forth to the shed restocking it. This meant the supply in the shed was half gone and I’d been getting worried. To keep warm and cook, you went through a hell of a lot of wood. I wasn’t looking forward to another hour of back and forth, my favorite chore wasn’t lugging wood into the house and I was pretty pleased I’d done well roughing it but was not hankering to hone my currently nonexistent skill with an axe by chopping down trees.

With Frey there, I didn’t have to worry about any of this.

Bonus.

The bigger bonus was, even in the frigid temperatures, evidently chopping wood was hard work because Frey took off his sweater to do it and he did it at a stump that was clearly visible from the kitchen windows.

Watching this, I could see why my husband was seriously buff.

Watching this, I could also get distracted from cooking (and did).

So I stopped watching.

I went all out, using the china, silver and crystal in my trunks for the first time. It looked kinda silly on a farm table but this was our first dinner as husband and wife, this was our first dinner ever (for me) and this was our pre-consummation dinner so I wanted to make it an occasion and nothing said occasion like delicate china, heavy silver and elegant crystal, even in a rustic cabin.

So I used it.

I roasted a piece of beef, somehow pulled off potatoes dauphenois and boiled green beans which I was serving with fresh bread from the bakery and, after, my homemade pecan pie with cream for dessert. I called out to Frey at his stump (by this time, the sun was long gone so he was chopping in the totally frigid, totally dark evening and doing it by torchlight) twenty minutes before I reckoned it would be done, he quit ten minutes later and came to the table washed.

That was good.

He sat at the table and scooped out food on his plate without really noticing (and definitely not commenting on) the obvious effort I’d made.

That was bad.

When he was about to commence eating, I asked quietly, “Can you open the wine?”

That was when he looked at me, he looked at the table, half of his mouth hitched up for a millisecond then he got up and opened the wine we bought in town. Then he poured it. Then he sat down and commenced eating.

I started eating too and was pretty pleased with the results. The potatoes were burnt a little on the top but the roast was done to perfection, nice and brown on the outside, nice and pink on the inside.

Frey made light work of it and, even after tasting it, didn’t say a word.

This was bad too.

Or, perhaps, chopping wood gave you an appetite.

I decided to think of it that way.

He had refilled his glass of wine (and topped up mine) and was reaching for seconds when I decided conversation was in order.

And I also decided what we were talking about.

And I’d also spent a great deal of time while baking and cooking deciding how I was going to talk about it.

“Uh… Frey?” I called.

He showed me he’d heard and was listening by looking at me.

“Can we talk about something important?” I asked.

He stopped cutting into a slice of meat and gave me his full attention. “And what’s important to you, wife?”

“Um…” I started and stopped.

Frey put his silverware on his plate and aimed a minor scowl at me. It wasn’t terrifying but it wasn’t his best look either.

“I have manhandled you,” he made this surprising and maybe a little weird admission then went on to explain why he did it, “but I have never hurt you. This…” he paused, “hesitancy in speaking to me has not been earned.”

Well, it was interesting he thought that, but…

“And,” he continued, “it’s beginning to be trying.”

“I –” I started but he kept talking.

“Indeed, what you said this morning, I will agree with for it is visibly obvious. I am a big man and you are not a big woman. But I have never given you cause to think I’d do you harm.”

That was interesting he thought that too. And not entirely true.

“So,” he concluded, “it would please me greatly if you would stop with your ‘uhs’ and ‘ums’ and just say what’s on your mind.”

“Okay,” I returned swiftly, mainly because, after having spent hours cooking, making dessert and setting it all out nicely, as well as deliberating on how I was going to say what I needed to say, only for him to hijack the conversation and be a dick about it, I was suddenly wicked ticked off. “What was on my mind was that I was going to tell you I liked you.”

Frey did a slow blink, showing surprise, but I didn’t care. That was just how wicked ticked off I was.

“Now,” I carried on, “I’m thinking… not so much.”

“Finnie –” he started but this time, I cut him off.

And I did it by throwing out my hand holding my fork then going right back to cutting my beef (though I did it this time more like hacking) all the while talking.

“You have my leave to call me Sjofn. I’m thinking, now, I prefer that from you, a man who tosses me around and leaves me in a filthy house after driving ever onward through the freezing cold countryside,” I speared my meat with my fork at the same time I speared him with a look, “for hours. Then taking off without even helping me with my four,” I jabbed my fork with meat in his direction, “very tired horses. A man who made it clear he didn’t like me much, considering our wedding night I spent alone and he was off at sea, missing, I might add, some really freaking fantastic underwear.” He did another slow blink but I kept right on going. “So if I’m a little hesitant with that man, I beg your pardon. I’ll endeavor not to be so in future.”

Then I chomped down on the meat on my fork, yanked it off and started chewing.

Frey didn’t reply and I looked anywhere but him as I continued to saw into my meat, fork into my potatoes with far more vigor than needed and suck down healthy gulps of wine.

The instant I’d cleaned my plate (which was about three minutes later considering I wolfed down the remainder of my food), I jumped up, snatching it as I went while asking, “Are you done? Do you want pie?”

Then I didn’t wait for his answer as I dumped my (probably priceless or at least, by the looks of it, exorbitantly expensive) china in the wood sink and then going back to grab the serving bowls.

“Finnie,” he said softly, I turned my eyes to him and held up the bowl of green beans.

“Would you like to finish these off or do you want to move onto pie?”

“Put down the bowl,” he ordered.

I did as he ordered but did it after walking back to the sink. I had cleared the meat and potatoes and was going back for his plate when suddenly two big hands closed around my hips and I was sitting in his lap.

I put my hands on his chest and tried to push up at the same time crying out, “Hey!” but I got nowhere because his arms had locked around me.

I stopped struggling as it was undignified and my Mom taught me no matter what pickle you were in, never lose your dignity and instead I raised my eyes to glare at him and demand, “Let me up.”

“No, my new wife, take a moment, take a breath, calm yourself and let us go back to what you wished to discuss ten minutes ago.”

“I don’t want to go back there,” I returned.

“Take a moment, take a breath, calm yourself and maybe you will,” he suggested.

I shook my head. “Nope, I know myself pretty well and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to go back there.”

He grinned, it was a good one, I had rarely seen him do that, in fact, I wasn’t certain I had ever seen him out and out grin, it wasn’t lost on me that it looked good on him but I was still too pissed to care before he said, “It would seem, Finnie, you have no problems with ‘ums’ and ‘uhs’ when you’re vexed.”

“Yes, it would seem that way,” I agreed then asked, “Do you want pie?”

“Yes, I do but not now. Now, I want you to calm yourself and then I’d like to listen to what you had to say.”

I glared at him. Then I guessed, “You’re not going to let me get up until you hear what I had to say, are you?”

Another grin. It was again good. It was again not lost on me. And I was still too pissed to care.

“No, I’m not,” he confirmed my guess was accurate.

“Fine,” I snapped, shifting my booty to settle in his lap and crossing my arms on my chest, I looked right into his green-brown eyes and stated, “Waking up this morning, I liked you. To be totally honest, I liked you last night, not when you were being a jerk at the pub but when you came home and you were being kinda sweet. I liked you more when I woke up and you’d proved you could be thoughtful. And I liked you more throughout the day because, well, you aren’t exactly Mr. Conversation but at least we could have conversations without you freaking me out or pissing me off which I thought was a plus considering we are married and having conversations that don’t freak me out or piss me off for decades upon decades would not be a good thing. You also demonstrated you could be sweet again in town and it must be said I’m glad you carried in logs because that isn’t what I call fun and it’s nice to share the load. With all that and the way you kissed me after we got married, which I liked, a whole lot, and the way you were at the market today, I was thinking maybe tonight might be good. And I was thinking that I wanted to talk to you about that and how, maybe, if I kept liking you and maybe started liking you more and if I really liked tonight, it might be nice if we had that for awhile, just the two of us and ask if you’d help me with that. But now I’ve changed my mind. I don’t like you because you have again been a jerk, I’m reneging on the deal and there won’t be a tonight. You’ll get pie, I’ll do the dishes and if you won’t let me have the bed then I’ll sleep on the couch.”

He had no reply, he just stared at me.

So I concluded, “So that’s it. That was what I was going to say. I’ve said it. Now will you let me up?”

“No,” he replied and I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and muttered, “Great.”

“Finnie,” he called and I rolled my eyes back to him and glared. He pressed his lips together and I’d never seen him do that so I didn’t know what that meant but I didn’t care about that either.

Then he spoke again.

“You enjoyed my kiss at the Dwelling of the Gods?”

“Uh… yeah,” I said like I’d say, “uh… duh”. “Frey, I’d wrapped my arms around you. You’re a jerk but you can kiss.”

Another lip press and then, “Explain what you mean about me helping you with us having what we have tonight just the two of us for awhile. It is my understanding, unless you are unusually broad-minded, what I have planned for tonight is always just the two of us.”

Yeesh. Men. Their minds, no matter what world they live in, always wandered down the same paths.

“I’m not talking about a threesome, Frey, I’m talking about children. As in, I don’t know you but I was thinking that I was really liking getting to know you and that when that extra component was added, you were giving all the signs I would really like that too. So, I thought, if I did really like all of that, I’d like to have all of that with you for awhile, just the two of us before we start thinking of daughters and sons and who’s going to teach who swordplay and all that jazz.”

I felt the pads of his fingers dig into my hip and noticed his eyes had gone weird but I didn’t pay much attention to that either.

Then he asked, “You wish to delay providing your father with an heir?”

“Not forever. Not even for very long. A few months, enough time I could learn about you, you could learn about me, we could learn about… uh… how we are together and maybe I could ride on your ship.”

Another slow blink then, “Ride on my ship?”

“Or, take a trip on it or whatever you call it. I mean, you know, go voyaging with you. That might not be so much fun pregnant and if I have a kid, I’d have to stay home while off you go on your adventures and that would suck. I was thinking maybe we can squeeze in an adventure or two and then we can have sons and daughters and provide heirs to the kingdom and all that stuff. It’s not like I’ll be this age forever and it won’t be as much fun when I’m old and decrepit and struggling along with my cane only to slip on a deck one of your men are swabbing and break a hip.”

He did yet another slow blink.

Then he threw back his head and burst out laughing.

I stared because, first, I didn’t know the man could laugh. Second, I was staring at his throat which I’d already noted was a nice view. And third, he had a great laugh.

I, however, did not laugh with him. I was still too pissed.

He eventually stopped laughing (though, I will note, he took his sweet time doing it) and returned his attention to me.

And when he did, his eyes roamed my face before he said quietly, “When my wife gets vexed, her cheeks get pink.”

I fought the urge to struggle out of his lap and the urge to cover my cheeks. Instead, I simply continued to glare.

“I like it,” he went on talking quietly.

“Can I get up now?” I asked snappishly.

He didn’t answer nor did he let me up. Instead he remarked, still quietly, “I’m intrigued about these wedding undergarments I missed.”

“Sorry, Frey, that was a onetime deal. I was all decked out in my wedding finery and you took off. You missed that boat, totally.”

He grinned again then whispered, “More fool me.”

“Uh… hello?” I called then requested, “Can I get up now?”

One of his big hands drifted up my back and he said softly, “I must tell you, Finnie, I like you here. You fit well in my lap.”

Uh-oh.

“Does it matter that I don’t like being here?” I asked.

“Indeed it does, wife, let’s get you somewhere where you’re more comfortable. I’m thinking the loft.”

Uh-oh again.

“Frey, I think I told you, the deal is off.”

He grinned and shook his head. “You know, my Winter Princess, you never renege on a deal with a Raider.”

I blinked.

Oh shit. I’d read that in both of those books. You made a deal with a Raider, you went back on it, you regretted it.

Big time.

Shit!

His hand was now wrapped around the back of my neck and he held me still while he leaned into me.

Once there and he had captured my gaze, he said quietly, “You have ten minutes to prepare yourself and meet me up there. We will see how it goes as to whether we guard against conceiving or, perhaps, forget.”

Ho boy. I knew what that meant because I figured that meant the same thing on both worlds.

“You haven’t had pie,” I pointed out in an attempt to stall.

“We’ll have it later…” he paused and grinned. “Maybe. We might be too busy; we might need sustenance to keep going.”

Ho boy!

“Frey –” I whispered.

He cut me off. “You now have nine minutes, Finnie.”

Shit! Shit! Shit!

“That wasn’t a minute,” I argued.

He pressed his lips together but I knew what it meant this time because his eyes were so close, I saw them dancing.

Then he warned softly and effectively with one word, “Finnie.”

I stared into his eyes.

Then I saw there a clear indication that there was no way I could delay.

This was happening and it was my choice whether it happened in the loft or on the farm table. Since that was my only choice, I definitely needed the loft.

So that was why I muttered, “Oh, all right.”

That got me another grin. It also loosened his arms. And this meant I scrambled off his lap and hurried out of the room trying not to look like I was hurrying. I hit the trunks, found what I was looking for and went to the bathroom space not bothering with the lock on the door because he could easily break it down if he had a mind to.

Only then did I start hyperventilating.