Chapter Twenty

Rhyse

T hwack.

Thwack.

My eyes slowly peeled open.

Thwack.

The noise that had roused me from my unplanned —albeit very welcome—afternoon nap quickly resolved itself into the sound of an axe biting into wood.

Someone was chopping. Since nobody else lived in the house, I figured it meant Rhyse was back from the palace. He'd left early in the morning before the sun came up to tell the sovereign about the incident with Killian.

I got up off the couch and started toward the door, thinking to greet him. The warm breeze coming in stopped me short, however. It was quite toasty out there.

A smile crept over my lips as I headed to the kitchen, filling a large glass with water before I headed outside.

The woodpile was around the corner, behind the fireplace, so I couldn't immediately see him. I did, however, hear his grunt as he sent the axe sailing downward and through the target log, splitting it easily.

"Hey," I said as he tossed the split pieces onto the pile of already split wood, where it would wait to be added to the neat stack already resting against the side of the house. "Thirsty?"

Rhyse turned at the waist. He was shirtless, and the move made every single one of his abs pop. I nearly took a sip of the water to bring some moisture back to the Sahara that was my mouth.

"That sounds wonderful," he said, face lighting up as he saw me standing there.

I walked the glass over to him, noting the pile of wood. "How long have you been back?"

He shrugged, wiping sweat off his brow. "An hour or so. I didn't want to wake you, before you ask. You looked peaceful and very comfortable."

"I was," I said, covering a yawn. "Those couches are deadly when it comes to their napping ability."

Rhyse chuckled, draining half the glass of water in one go. "Damn that's good. Thank you."

The wave of appreciation swept over me like the sun breaking out from behind a cloud, heating me equally all over.

"Is this a typical day for you?" I asked. "I just realized I don't actually know what you do in a day."

"Mostly," he said. "Work around the house doing upkeep. Go diving for things to sell in the market. Things like that."

"Sounds almost idyllic."

"I like it." He stared at me. "It provides me what I need that I can't get on my own. Clothing, food, that sort of thing. Speaking of which, did you want to go diving with me today?"

I didn't need our link to detect his eagerness. He wanted me to go with him.

"No. I can stay here. I don't really want to get on a boat again today. It seems like a bother, anyway. You can probably just jump off the edge here and be gone without me."

"I don't mind."

"I'll do something around here," I said, gesturing. "Surely, there's something I can do to help out."

"I wasn't asking you to come help," Rhyse said. "You don't need to."

"One thing I am not, Rhyse, is a princess. I'm used to rural living. I won't sit around while you do everything, thank you very much."

"Sorry," he said a bit defensively. "I didn't mean it that way. I just thought, you've only been here a few days and basically just met me. A few days of not doing a ton, learning to adjust to this place, isn't a big deal."

"I was thinking the opposite," I told him. "While you were gone, I grew bored. My brain started to wander."

I carefully did not tell him to what did it wander.

"Okay. So?"

"So," I said. "I think doing familiar things might help me feel more at home. More comfortable. Maybe heal my brain somehow if I'm doing tasks that I would do there. I don't know. What I do know is that I can't just sit around. So, please, let me help. There must be something."

"Okay, okay!" Rhyse said, throwing up his hands in surrender while smiling. "Let's see. Hmmm. What could you do …?"

He looked around the house a little wildly, trying to come up with something.

"Uhhh."

"Don't worry, I've got an idea," I said, rolling up the sleeves of my imaginary shirt and then getting to work taking the wood he'd split and stacking it neatly against the house, ready for burning.

Rhyse watched for a moment, saying nothing.

"Stop staring at my ass and get back to chopping," I said, already breaking out into a sweat.

I wasn't dressed for this sort of work, but I didn't care. Right then it was about showing that I wasn't helpless.

Whether I was proving that to him or myself was still undecided. But it felt good to do something for once.

After a minute, Rhyse tossed another thick log onto his splitting block and then drove his axe head through it in one blow.

I watched the entire motion of his shirtless body, without ogling him at all. It was after turning away I licked my lips and drooled wildly.

Why did he have to be so damn hot? It wasn't fair.

A trickling answer of interest entered my mind as I bent over to pick up some wood.

He really was staring at my ass.

In minutes, I was sweating profusely, too, as the heat of the sun beat down on us both working together to get the house all stocked up on firewood.

Again and again, I witnessed him raise the axe over his head, his muscles flexing and popping with each swing.

Fuck, he's so hot .

In an unscripted daydream, I sent myself back to the boat. To that moment when he hoisted me onto the rail, his tongue parting my lips, the fire of his fingers tracing designs across my hips and ass as he touched me wherever he desired. Unbidden, a question of what his tongue would feel like parting my other lips came to me.

Rhyse grunted, and the axe went wide on his swing, planting itself into the ground an inch from his foot.

I gasped then blushed fiercely as he looked up at me sharply, clear knowledge on his face. We both knew why he'd missed. And what had distracted him.

Hurriedly, I grabbed up a piece of firewood, fumbling the movement and nearly dropping it as I hurried to stack it.

I was back to being nineteen again. Young and foolish. No idea of how to proceed.

A hand landed on my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my shirt. When had Rhyse come up behind me?

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, gently turning me to face him. "If you don't want to explore this any further, we won't. Just because we both want it doesn't mean we have to do anything about it."

"I know," I found myself saying. "I do want to, Rhyse. I think. I mean, I do, but I'm confused. I want it. I can't help but asking myself, though, what if?"

He blinked. "If what?"

"I don't remember the past nine months. What if, in that time, I found someone? What if there's someone waiting for me at home."

Rhyse's face bunched up in a frown. A spike of pity followed by care reached me.

"Pity?" I questioned.

"Emma," he said, placing both hands on my shoulders now. "If there was such a person there … why did you volunteer to come here? When you can't go back to them?"

My mouth opened to reply. "I … Umm. Hmmm. You know, that's a very good question. Though, why would I volunteer at all?"

Rhyse shrugged. "I can't answer that one. Only you can."

He dropped his hands, making to go.

"Rhyse."

For a man as large as he was, Rhyse could start or stop moving scarily fast. As he did now, simply ceasing his movement. Waiting.

"I …"

Reaching out, I grabbed his arm. Pulling him back around.

"Yes?" he asked, meeting my eyes, letting me see into his gaze as he waited, nervous anticipation in his mind.

"Can we?" I cleared my throat as the words cracked my voice. "Can we try, I mean? It's clear we're both … you know. And if I'm stuck here, then …"

I tapped the scale to emphasize what I meant by that.

"I don't want you to feel stuck here, Emma," he said softly. "I want you to want to be here."

"Right now, I know where I want to be," I said bluntly. "And I can't fight it forever. There's something dragging us together. We should at least see if it's … good? If we're compatible? I don't know. This is insane, but I—"

He cut me off, leaning down and in to kiss me fast and furious, backing me up until I was pressed against the cool stone of the side of the house.

We pawed frantically at one another for several long minutes. Then he pulled back an inch or two, eyes flicking open to watch me.

"What do you think?" he asked breathlessly. "Is there any compatibility there?"

It was half real, half tease.

"I think ," I said, one hand sliding down his shirtless upper body and over the waist of his pants, "you should stop asking questions."

Rhyse's reply was stolen away as my hand found what it was looking for.