Free Web NovelChapter 68: Chapter 68
He heard the sound of water sloshing faintly from the direction of his private bathing chamber the moment he stepped into the bedroom. Ragnar should have turned around and walked out. That was what a decent man would have done in his place, after all. But his feet stayed rooted to the spot, unwilling to move.
It was Circe that was in there now. There was no one else who would dare use his washroom. The realization that only a single wall separated them now sent a warmth through his veins, a heat that had no business existing.
Unbidden, his mind conjured an image of her beyond that wall. Naked. Water droplets glinting off her bare skin, trailing down the curve of her back, slipping between...
Ragnar tensed and immediately banished the thought, dragging it back down to the dark crevice of his mind it had emerged from. Thoughts like that were dangerous. Forbidden. He shouldn’t even be entertaining them.
And yet...
He had caught himself thinking about her during odd hours of the day, even while engaged in the most mundane of tasks; reading over war reports, adjusting his collar, gazing out his window. It was unnerving how frequently she crept into his thoughts.
He remembered the wicked curve of her full lips as she’d smiled in defiance, a dagger held steady in her hand as she threatened him in the palace. The fury in her eyes the night they were forced to marry, when he pinned her down to keep her from running, the insults she hurled like knives. Those were the memories that plagued him the most, not the moments of silence, but the ones filled with fire. The ones that proved she wasn’t breakable.
I believe you.
It had all started after she had said those words to him. After she heard what he had to say and saw the truth in his words when many others hadn’t. That conversation, short as it had been, had shifted something inside him. Since then, it hasn’t stopped. Now she was everywhere, lodged in his head, in his bed, in the very air he breathed. Her scent clung to his senses like a curse, soft, sweet, and maddening.
Ragnar squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a steadying breath. His mind was already too muddled, the last thing he needed was to add lewd fantasies of a wife who couldn’t stand the sight of him. He needed to remember why she was here. Circe was a pawn, his leverage and nothing more. That was how it had to be. He would do well to remember that.
Searching for a distraction, he scanned the room. He had come in to change out of his clothes, but now, there was no chance of him undressing, not when she could step out of that chamber at any moment.
His gaze landed on the open book resting on the bed.
He moved toward it, curiosity pricking at him. The book wasn’t his, that much was obvious from the stitching on the cover and the faint vanilla scent clinging to the pages. It had to be hers.
Normally, Ragnar would never stoop to invading someone’s privacy. He hated it when people poked around his documents, especially those in his study and in turn, he tried not to do the same to others. But he was slowly discovering that when it came to his infuriating wife, his self-control was all but nonexistent.
He picked up the book and began flipping through the pages.
Drawings, almost a dozen of them. They were carefully sketched, some in fine detail, while the others looked more rushed, as though she’d been overwhelmed by whatever she’d been imagining at the time and just wanted to pour it out as quickly as possible. The lines were bold and expressive.
Some sketches were of nature, others of people he wasn’t familiar with, though their faces were often half-hidden or left unfinished. He recognized one of the drawings. It was the jagged silhouettes of the king’s tower, drawn from the perspective of the southern garden. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ
He hadn’t known she could draw this well. He hadn’t known she drew at all. But then again, there were many things he didn’t know about her. Things she had never told him. Things she would never willingly share.
The sound of the chamber door creaking open jolted him back to the present. He snapped the book shut as Circe stepped lightly back into the bedroom, unaware of his presence.
Ragnar froze.
She hadn’t seen him yet. Her eyes were downcast as she dried a section of her long, dark hair with a towel, the wet strands clinging to her neck and exposed collarbones. Her movements were slow, and distracted, humming under her breath as she worked.
It was the first time he had ever seen her like this, so unguarded, quiet... gentle. She wasn’t sending vicious glares in his direction or hurling insults at him. She wasn’t glowering at him from across the room or trying to shatter his ego with a well aimed word from her sharp tongue. She almost looked docile and somehow, that was far more dangerous than anything else she had ever done.
Ragnar didn’t know what to do with this version of her. Something stirred deep within his chest, something warm and strange.
She finally noticed him mid-motion. Her entire body went still, her eyes widening in surprise. Her lips parted, probably to hurl some new insult, but no words came out.
Then her gaze dropped to the book in his hands and her expression changed instantly.
Rage replaced her shock as she stormed forward and snatched the book from his grip with such ferocity, it was as though his mere touch had tainted it.
Ragnar didn’t stop her. He didn’t say a word. Because what could he possibly say to the woman whose silence now rattled him more than her rage ever had and whose presence shouldn’t have had him in such a twist.
