Chapter 13

13

S weat and condensate ran in thick rivulets down Hakon's straining neck and back, his skin finding no relief as the warm water and steam of the baths swirled around him. The knuckles of both hands had gone pale, one with the effort of holding himself up against the far wall while the other fervently worked his cock as the water lapped at his bollocks.

A nightly bath had become his ritual, a way to wash off the day's soot and grime—and lust. He took to the baths late in the night, when no one else would be there to witness his weakness.

The ritual was simple—grabbing his angry cock and releasing what he could of his frustration. He cleansed himself of his daydreams, purged his fantasies, and in the hot water and steam of the baths, he renewed his resolve to finally put aside his desire for Lady Aislinn.

It didn't matter what he or his snarling, unhappy beast wanted, because she didn't want him.

It was that simple.

Hakon bared his tusks in agonized fury at the wall and pumped his fist harder.

She hadn't come to him in over a week. No projects, no requests. She wasn't even taking all her meals in the dining hall, so when he did see her there, he had to look his fill and make it last.

She doesn't want you.

That's what this had to mean. She found him enjoyable and useful enough, but she had more important things to see to. He was merely staff.

It's what he'd been trying to convince his beast of for weeks, but the dogged thing wouldn't listen.

And now look. No Lady Aislinn. A spurned potential partner—and Brigitt was likely to speak of him to the other maids, which meant his immediate prospects with anyone else within the castle were slim.

Only want one person in the castle, growled the beast.

Hakon violently wrenched the head of his cock, the pleasure-pain searing through him. That was all his beast ever said. Never anything useful, nothing that would help him build the life he wanted.

It was hard enough living as a halfling amongst humans and looking for a potential mate. It was difficult enough finding the woman of his every dream only to discover he could never have her.

He didn't need an unhelpful, stubborn beast making it more difficult.

And yet, that's exactly what he got.

Hakon shook his head from side to side as his orgasm ripped through him, a blazing moment of pleasure that never lasted long enough and never left him satisfied.

Oh, he could imagine her there with him, her skin glowing and rosy from the steam. He could see how her golden hair would pool around them on the surface as she smiled up at him. Those intelligent eyes would flutter at him as she took him in hand. That brilliant mouth would grin a precious little grin before bestowing teasing kisses up and down his length. She'd torment him for as long as she wished, testing his mettle, and he'd savor every moment of agony, waiting for that glorious moment when she'd slip his cockhead inside the hot well of her mouth.

The picture of her in his mind, those plush pink lips wrapped around the angry green of his cock, had Hakon shouting into the stones, ropes of spend hitting the water.

When it was all finished, he was left heaving. He leaned heavily into the wall for support, his legs weakened and shaking in the water.

The ritual was complete. A day's worth of frustration and unrequited desire purged.

But he feared he'd never be free of her. Every new day brought new hope, new dreams that would wilt and wither as the sun crossed the sky.

He was caught in his own trap, unsure how to escape. Everything he'd wanted, the sacrifices he'd made to come to Dundúran—they were all for nothing if he couldn't get his head on straight and give her up.

With a sigh, Hakon slumped backward into the water, floating aimlessly on his back.

The steamy air was heavy in his nose and lungs, but he couldn't seem to make himself leave.

Other than the smithy with Lady Aislinn in her designated chair, the baths were his favorite place within Dundúran Castle. Sourced from a natural spring beneath the castle and supplemented with a hypocaust, the baths were a sprawling network of heated pools. The natural spring had been hewn into rock formations with veins of glittering minerals, as well as columns that supported arching passageways. The floors were inlaid with small tiles and glass squares, set in intricate mosaics.

The baths were split down the center by a metal mesh screen, the openings just large enough to allow air but not to see into the other side. Should a woman be bathing on the opposite side, he'd be able to make out her silhouette, but no features.

He was always careful to wait and ensure no one was in either bath before taking himself in hand. Even if a woman could only see a silhouette, his was distinctive within Dundúran.

Hakon drifted for a long while, his body warm and spent.

The situation wasn't out of hand yet. If he could break his beast of its obsession with the heiress, perhaps then he could finally get serious about meeting a potential mate. One he could truly have and make a life with.

Fates, it all sounds so simple.

Nothing ever truly was.

Hakon grumbled and set himself upright. Pushing out of the water, he grabbed his bath sheet and made quick work of drying. He pushed his legs quickly into the loose linen braies he wore just to the baths and hung the sheet around his neck.

Determined to leave the morose thoughts behind, he climbed the stairs back up into the castle.

He'd made the convergence of the stairs leading down to the two sides of the baths when he heard quiet voices and steps coming down to meet him.

Hakon looked up in surprise.

Lady Aislinn and Fia looked back at him much the same, their faces cast partially in shadow by the lantern Fia held.

Both were obviously bound for the baths, linen chemises peeking out from brocade dressing gowns. Lady Aislinn's was a rich claret color that caught the light of the lantern where it curved around her body—her shoulders, her hips, her generous breasts. Her golden hair fell in soft, unbound waves down her shoulders and back, framing her lovely face.

She looked as undone as he'd ever seen her, and he knew the sight was branded onto his mind forever.

Ears burning, Hakon dropped his head. "My lady, forgive me, I…"

"No, no, don't mind us," she insisted. She cleared her throat as silence stretched.

Hakon dared pick up his head, unable to help how his gaze fell greedily upon her. Fates, she was all softness in the lantern glow.

Good thing Fia was there, for if she wasn't, Hakon didn't know if he'd have been able to stop himself from doing something foolish.

More foolish at least than murmuring, "It's good to see you, my lady."

He didn't imagine how her pulse visibly beat at her throat. A purr of desire gathered in his own, and although he knew he should look away, he couldn't.

"You, too," she said, her voice a low, breathy noise that drew him up, up the steps, until he was just one below hers.

Those brilliant golden eyes of hers searched his face, and he wondered if she could hear him crying out to her— send Fia away, come back to me, come with me.

If she did, she said nothing. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Hakon stared at those lips, his body rocking toward her as if she was a celestial body and he was pulled inexorably into her sphere.

"Goodnight, Master Hakon."

He looked at Fia in a daze, seeing her arched, expectant brows.

Hakon swallowed hard. Fuck, what am I doing?

He stepped as far back as he could, bowing his head once more.

"Goodnight, my lady, Fia," he said, and took the steps two at a time.

By the time he was safely sequestered in his room, his pulse pounded at his ears and his cock bobbed in his braies.

He'd never forget the sight she made—soft, glowing, perfect. And never to be his.

A islinn lay awake for a long while, her body overwarm despite having long since dried off from the baths. The castle was quiet and still in the deepest hours of the night, all but the night watch having found their beds. Yet Aislinn couldn't rest, couldn't turn her mind from the sight of the blacksmith coming up from the baths.

Another wave of longing surged through her at the memory of him, glistening from his bath, every heavy muscle thrown into stark relief in the light and shadow of the lantern. She couldn't stop thinking of how his damp hair had been slicked back close to his head, nor how droplets of water gathered on the pointed tips of his ears. His cheeks had been rosy and his skin supple from the steam.

And his braies…clinging to his thick thighs from the dampness, they left little to the imagination over his shape. Aislinn's throat ran dry thinking of the outline she'd glimpsed of his cock, hanging against a thigh. She shouldn't have looked, but his head had been bowed and she was excruciatingly curious.

Had Fia not been there, Aislinn suspected she would've given in to temptation—thrown herself into the strong form of him, finally indulge and discover what his truest scent was, how his skin would feel against her cheek, how his arms would feel wrapped around her…what those big green hands would feel like as they pushed away her dressing gown and revealed her to the soft light…

Sucking in a breath, Aislinn pulled down the neckline of her nightgown to run her fingertips over one pert nipple. Bending a knee, she rucked up the hem to her waist and set her other hand to exploring between her legs.

She hadn't brought herself pleasure in quite a while. She'd certainly thought about it since meeting Hakon, but now, she couldn't go another moment without satisfaction.

Her fingers worked in a practiced rhythm, and Aislinn was quickly slick as her hips rolled beneath her hand. She pinched and worked her nipple and clitoris in unison, wringing her pleasure out with familiar movements and tricks she'd learned over her youth and womanhood.

She'd lain with two men before, but she herself was always the one to ensure her own pleasure. Her climax built, gathering tension low in her belly, until it all released in one bittersweet moment. Her thighs clamped around her hand as her hips rolled and rolled, chasing the pleasure.

His name was on her lips as she crested, pleasure pooling like syrup in her veins.

She lay for a long while in the center of her bed, the sheets tangled round her, staring at the canopy and thinking, I wish I was with him. In the baths. In this bed. Anywhere. Everywhere.

She'd tried to resign herself to distancing from him. She thought it would be for the best.

Her mood only worsened with every day she didn't see him.

The wooden rose she kept in her pocket was a constant comfort but also a reminder of him. That she hadn't spoken with him in days. Even if he was only ever to be her friend, she was grateful for it. There were few people in her life who she'd found it easier to talk to than Hakon.

What am I to do? She'd been asking herself that for days without finding an answer.

Somehow, tonight, it felt as though a line had been crossed or a rite performed. Something had happened, but she couldn't quite say what.

And as she lay there in her bed, her body still shaking with the aftermath of her orgasm yet aching for him, she wondered, How can I stay away?

In the end, Aislinn couldn't. She stole to the smithy again, her heart fuller for it when she saw his wide, welcoming smile. The way the dimple in his cheek appeared when he smiled like that…it set her insides to fluttering.

She couldn't go as often as she had before. Duties and work truly were piling up as her father shifted most of his focus to preparing for his venture south. Harvest was one of the busiest times of year as well, as all throughout the Darrowlands, crops were brought in for storage or processing. The silos, granaries, and mills were hives of activity, workers bringing in the harvests from the surrounding farms and tax collectors the dues from the nobles and yeomen.

Head full of accounts and numbers and tables, Aislinn hadn't been able to keep herself from visiting him. She needed the relief, the comfort of watching him work.

The smithy was safe and warm, a world unto itself. It made her happy to be there with him.

As the duties compounded, the letters from Bayard continued, Jerrod's whereabouts went unknown, and the vassals continued to complain about the raised dues, Aislinn savored those moments of happiness where she could find them.

She'd worried that when returning to him, she might find their friendship strained or awkward, but he only smiled at her and handed her fresh pieces of beeswax for when he hammered.

It was a relief that things settled into the way they'd been before. There was an easiness between them, one she longed for whenever she interacted with someone else and found it more difficult.

Day after day, she stole to the smithy and was happier for it.

Yet, it wasn't truly as it'd been before. There was something…different about their time together. Perhaps even about the two of them.

She caught him blushing more than once, and she didn't think it was from the forge fires. And when she noticed his gaze falling to her lips, her heart stuttered in her chest remembering what the maids had said.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but for a while, she wasn't brave enough. She feared what his answer might be, and what might happen because of it. It was easy to settle back into their easiness, but she couldn't help feeling the change.

Finally, one night, she decided she had to know. No matter the outcome or how it changed what was between them. She spent her nights longing for him and her days missing him—she couldn't go on like that forever, her body always aching, her heart always pining.

When next they were alone in the smithy, once more discussing her plans for the bridge, she noted when his gaze fell to her mouth.

Drawing herself up in her chair, she smiled gently before asking, "Hakon, why do you look at my mouth so often?"

She'd surprised him.

He went perfectly still. She watched as his mind turned over her words, and his ears darkened with a ruddy blush.

Hakon turned away from her suddenly, giving her his profile as he worked a polishing cloth over the iron he held.

"I meant no offense," he said quietly.

"I know you didn't. I was merely curious. I just wondered if…"

The words, those said and more so those unsaid, hung between them for a terrible moment. Aislinn clutched her fingers into her skirts and made herself stay still, even as she wanted to fidget—or better yet, flee.

It was a while before he turned back to her, setting down his work. He wouldn't quite meet her gaze, but he did approach, stopping only a step away.

Heart in her throat, Aislinn kept quiet and still, feeling the weight of whatever it was he was about to say.

"I…I don't like to speak of it. But I'm mostly deaf in this ear." He touched a finger to his right ear, the one with but a single golden hoop. "I protect what hearing I do have because I fear losing any more."

"I didn't know," she murmured. He'd hidden it so well—she'd never have guessed he struggled with his hearing.

Hakon shook his head, gaze straying out the smithy windows. He seemed to find it easier to speak to the night outside, and so Aislinn listened patiently, not demanding his gaze or more than he was willing to give.

"My grandmother was, too. She taught me the hand-talk. With others, I can usually hear them, but reading lips helps. Especially if it's loud, like in the dining hall. I fear I may have given some the wrong idea by it."

Aislinn swallowed around the lump in her throat. "It's not your fault," she insisted. "You didn't know."

He nodded, though she wasn't sure he actually agreed with her. "Perhaps. It's made learning and speaking Eirean challenging."

"You've done wonderfully!" she was quick to praise him.

That earned her a faint smile. "Thank you, my lady. You…you've helped greatly. I enjoy listening to you talk."

Aislinn flushed from head to toe. That deep brown gaze of his returned to her, compelling her up out of her seat. Gently, she laid her hand on his arm.

"Thank you for telling me."

The corners of his lips, which had just begun to turn up again, fell, and his gaze grew evermore serious. Slowly, he took the hand she'd laid on his arm in his.

Keeping her gaze, he lifted her hand and bowed his head, pressing his warm lips to the back of her hand. Pitter-patter went her heart as her breath escaped her in a soft gasp. His eyes flicked to her mouth, and she couldn't help it, she drew her tongue along the bottom lip.

She felt the rasping breath he took against her skin, then a harder, more fervent kiss was pressed into her palm.

The forge fires crackled, Wülf snored, and the nightingales sang, but Aislinn hardly heard any of it over the rush of blood in her ears.

The way he looked at her now…the frisson of heat that arrowed between her thighs when he tasted her skin…

The smithy door clattered open, and Fearghas stomped inside.

She and Hakon gaped at the old blacksmith with surprise.

"Evening, milady," he said in his usual brusque way, but rather than shuffling off deeper into the smithy, he stopped to look at the scene before him.

His big bushy beard twitched.

"I'd better go," she murmured.

"Good evening, my lady," Hakon said just as quietly, allowing her hand to slip from his.

She tried to walk away, but under Fearghas's inscrutable gaze, it felt too much like fleeing. So she turned and told the both of them, "I like the new organization. It seems most efficient."

"Thank you, my lady." Hakon's smile was wide and, interestingly, a bit smug. She'd never seen quite that expression on him, a hint of wickedness, and she…rather liked it.

She couldn't help keeping his gaze for another moment as her heart tried to thunder right out of her chest.

She had her answer, even if she didn't know what it was.

Things were changing —and while that did frighten her, she couldn't help the well of excitement, too.

Giving him one last smile, she left the smithy, the hand he'd kissed curled against her breast, just above her racing heart.