A Love Unveiled

Chapter Thirty-Five

               

            It came as no surprise that Fallon slept little unto the night. His thoughts drifted frequently to Alana, every-nerve ending in his body yearning to go to her.

            He had had many a restless nights since bringing Alana to Linden, but this night in particular plagued him more so than others.

            She had easily stayed his desires, her heated words preventing him from taking what would have been given easily by countless women, but the very idea of taking her unwillingly churned his gut in the most unsettling way.

            A frown creased his brow. He was certain she felt a particular way about him, so why then, did she continuously deny him?

            I do not wish to be claimed…

            I am not a piece of property to possess…

            Aye, it had been that very reason when first he laid eyes upon her; he’d wanted her the way a man desired a woman, but things were different, things had changed. He wanted her for other reasons entirely aside from the basis of lust.

            She did inexplicable things to his beating heart. He had never considered the idea of another life, one without war and bloodshed, this life consisting of laughter and love for a woman who would walk alongside him and bare his children.

            Did she truly think he would discard her so casually after he’s had his fill of her? Surely she knew he had every intention of making her his wife, so why this unwillingness towards him?

            He hadn’t realized how swiftly night had crept by until the first streaks of early dawn filtered into his chamber.

            Certain he would get no sleep; he arose from bed and crossed the room to grab a tunic.

            Just as he pulled it on, a resounding knock sounded at his door.

            He stiffened; his brows drew together as he started toward it. Who would be at his door at this early hour?

            Another knock came, this one a little more persistent than the last and then, a voice- “Milord?”
            Fallon frowned, certain he had heard incorrectly. Why would Curran’s man be at his door?

            Averting his eyes briefly to search the remnants of his room, he found his dirk and sheathed it in the sleeve of his tunic, returned to the door and opened it ajar to peer suspiciously at the man on the other side, “What is it, Olaf?”
            The burly warrior took a step back, instinctively setting off Fallon’s uncanny abilities to detect certain amiss. There was a peculiar air of unease about the man and a particular glint of fear in his eyes. This took Fallon unaware for the bearded warrior was not accustomed to showing his weakness, especially to him.

            He thrived off instinct and in that moment, he felt something was terribly underway. He knew not whether to contribute the slight inkling to his warrior-like senses or to sheer luck, either way, he knew to heed them well.

            The corridor was eerily dark and unnaturally stilled.

            The keep was far too quiet for his liking.