Her lips lift into a knowing half smile, but she doesn't try to remove my hand. “Oh, no.”
“No? Don't most women like to shop?”
Her smile falls and she spears me with a droll look. “Do I look like someone who likes to shop?”
“For weapons,” I add quickly, realizing my error.
“Yes, well, that’s why I'm at a blacksmith's shop and not the dressmaker’s,” Lena says dryly, before her eyes dart away from mine. She chews on her lip. “I probably should have gone with him and stocked up on a few provisions, but I'm not a big fan of crowds.”
“Too many admirers,” I tease, rubbing her hand with my thumb, the feel of her silky skin soothing me along with the warmth of her leather vambraces.
“Unfortunately,” she mumbles to herself, blowing out an uneasy breath. “No, that's not why.” She shuffles awkwardly and I force my legs to remain still when her hip brushes against my inner thigh. “Being around that many people at once can be a bit much. Not that they appreciate my presence anyway.” At my blank stare, she explains, “I can be a bit blunt. It’s off putting to most.” She shrugs.
“That's because most people are liars,” I reply, my mood darkening at the thought of anyone treating her less than what she deserves. “They can't stomach someone exposing their truth for all to see.”
Cocking her head to the side, she eyes me quizzically. “You believe someone to be a liar, simply because they keep secrets?”
“Omission and lies are one and the same, both an act of betrayal.” There’s never one without the other, and I’ve experienced too much of both to ever think any differently.
Lena watches me with eyes no longer soft or affectionate, but disappointed, perhaps even sad. My assessment is confirmed when I feel an odd twinge down that link, traveling from her to me in what I now suspect to be some sort of bond between us.
“What if they only do so to protect someone?” she asks, her voice thickening with a more pronounced rasp. She tugs her hand from mine. “Is it a betrayal then?”
“It doesn't matter the why, just that they do.” Feeling a strange emptiness from the loss of her touch, I readjust myself against the table, her body swaying in tandem with mine. “How can you trust someone who's dishonest with you?”
“You earn their trust first, and they'll reveal it to you in their own time.”
I scoff, surprised at how such an intelligent woman could be so naive. “That's not good enough.”
“It should be.” Smiling softly, she looks at me as if I'm the naive one. “You aren't entitled to someone else's truth; neither are they to yours.”
We stare at one another, neither of us willing to give in to the other until Lena shakes her head with a roll of her eyes, smiling.
“And now you can see why some find my bluntness to be an acquired taste.” She chuckles, I along with her, but it trails off when I see her slide her palms along her backside, slipping her fingers into her back pockets, unconsciously jutting her chest out in the process.
Since entering the room, I've been careful to keep my gaze from drifting below her neck, but when her tits bounce with the motion, my eyes helplessly swerve in their direction.
Fuuuck!
Mouth watering, I watch her chest rise and fall with her breaths, her vest slowly slipping lower with the motion to reveal more of those circular shaped scars. Small dots stagger from between her cleavage to rise up and outward to shape the swell of her breasts like she draped a strand of skin-colored pearls artfully across her skin. And I have to bite my tongue to refrain from licking every last one.
Realizing I've been ogling her for an indeterminable amount of time, I tear my gaze from those perfectly plump tits and speak in a tone more gravelly than usual. “Have you formed any trade contracts since arriving?” I ask, already knowing the answer to that question, but it's the only thing I can think to say while the image of her breasts is still seared into the forefront of my mind.
“Oh!” she says, obviously startled by the change of subject. “None, actually. Although, I'm sure that's more a reflection of my people skills than the leather itself.”
“Or it could be because you came to Cascadonia to sell leather,” I say, followed by a grumbled curse, realizing my own social skills are a bit lacking at the moment.
Lena shrugs. “And?”
Does she really not know? How can she not?
“Cascadonia is the only supplier of leather for all of Vanyimar,” I say neutrally, even though her lack of knowledge is baffling. “None of the other kingdoms even have leather workers, besides a few repair shops here and there.”
Her eyes widen and she places a hand on my thigh, curling her fingers into my trousers. “Is that why everyone acts so strange when we tell them what we trade?”
That, and your beauty can befuddle even the strongest of males.
“That’s exactly why.”
“That explains that, at least.” Frowning, she peers upward, mumbling to herself. “Jathro should have done more research before sending me here.”
“Jathro,” I say, his name tasting like ash on my tongue. “A lover?” I hiss through my teeth, flames suddenly flaring from my palms as I clench the table, wood smoldering on a crack between my grip.
Eyes widening at the sight, she steps further between my thighs, snatching my hand up before I can stop her. Shocked, I jolt back, smothering the flames instantly as I try to pull from her grasp, but she holds tight.
“My brother,” she says gently, clasping her hand with mine. “The leathersmith.”
Hissing a curse, I pry her hands from mine and unfurl her fingers, sure I've burned her all the way to the bone. But I’m shocked to find not a single mark marring her skin. Even her vambraces are untouched, the texture unblemished as I stroke my finger along her palm. Slowly tracing along the lines of her skin, my concern morphs to fascination as I absorb the feel of her small, smooth hands splayed within mine. She laces our fingers together, braiding and twining one finger with the other. Her tender touch fills me with a sudden warmth, fanning the flames within.
“Does this mean you'll be leaving soon?” I ask, my voice guttural, grating against my throat.
She watches our clasped hands dance with one another, just as enthralled as I am. “Not yet. I came all this way. May as well try.”
“Is there anyone waiting for you back home?”
She lifts her glazed gaze to mine and swallows thickly. “My brother.”
Locking my jaw, I hiss through clenched teeth, “I'm not talking about a brother.”
