The King - Page 25

I let out a low, long exhale and ran my hands up and down my skirts, realizing right then how nervous I was.

When I turned around and faced Banner, I was surprised to see he was off his steed and standing only a foot from me. I tipped my head back to look into his shadowy face, loving the masculine cut of his face and being turned on by the scruff that covered his cheeks and chin. His dark hair was a little too long, but I loved it anyway, and my fingers itched to touch it, to tug on it as I brought his mouth closer.

I could see Odhran and Cian leading their horses up the long path that led to the manor, the gates now open mysteriously, and Banner and I once more alone again. He held his hand out to me, and I instantly, eagerly slipped my palm against his warm, callused one.

“Let me show ye my home—yer home—in the Highlands, lass.”

He immediately pulled me into the hardness of his body, and my head barely reached his chest as I pressed my cheek against it. I heard the steady beat of his heart and could feel his warmth surrounding me. And I knew everything was going to be okay.

Chapter Eleven

Luna

Banner had given me a tour of the estate, and my mind was still reeling. The manor was massive, with more rooms than I could count, with tartans and tapestries covering the walls and a giant great room holding a fireplace I swore nearly reached the ceiling.

There was a kitchen that was big enough to feed an army. And the pride I’d heard in Banner’s voice as he explained everything to me, told me the history, shared with me all the memories he’d had in it… and all the memories he wanted to create in it with me had set my heart alight.

And now he was leading me out to the back, dawn swiftly approaching but the silvery glow of moonlight still kissing the sky as we stepped outside. I inhaled the sweet scent of wildlife, of fresh air and clean freedom.

I could smell the aroma of Lycans nearby, knew they were the sentries Banner had spoken of. The Guard stayed far enough back to give him privacy. And although he insisted he didn’t need protection, that he was a virile, strong and powerful male—which had me smirking because his chest had literally puffed up with pride at that—he said they were stubborn like him and wouldn’t back down.

I supposed the king of the Scottish Lycans needed a few as hard-headed as Banner in order to help keep him in line. The king of the Lycans needed to be protected at all costs, even if he was too stubborn to want it.

I just stood there feeling the pricking of daylight coming on soon but still far enough away that I could enjoy the scenery.

“This area would make a lovely garden,” I said idly, more to myself as the words tumbled out. I thought about the small one I’d had back in Ryeka, how I’d picked the rose bushes because the flowers still stayed open even in the evening. I inhaled their sweet scent and imagined what they looked like under the bright sun, soaking in the rays, growing thick and lustrous.

I wanted that here, I realized with such a profound feeling I sucked in a little gasp.

I want to stay here, to see how the rose bushes I’d plant in this very spot will bloom and grow and fill this space so it reminds me of the home I once knew, but also showing me my new one.

“Then it shall be,” he said instantly, and I looked over at him, lifting an eyebrow and feeling a smile curve my mouth.

“Just like that, huh?” I teased, and he took a step closer to me, his expression so serious that my slight amusement faded.

“Just like that,” he murmured and lifted his hand to cup my cheek, smoothing his thumb underneath my eye. “I want ye tae make this yer home, too. I want yer touches on everything. I want tae be able tae look at the walls and see the pictures ye hung, to walk into every room and smell yer scent lingering.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“If a garden is what ye want, I want ye tae plant flowers on every available strip of land. I want tae be able tae look out the window and see all the colors from the life ye planted.”

My breath stalled as I became speechless, his words sinking in. The sincerity, the almost severity of his expression told me how deeply he believed those words, how much he wanted to please me, to make sure I was happy.

Was this how it should be with all mates? I didn’t know, having only bare flickers of memories of when I was a child of my own parents’ mating before they passed. But my father, who’d been cold and hardened, aggressive and, as I’d thought, unable to feel emotion, had never shown affection in front of others.

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