carving.
Gowthaman avoided thinking about how the flame brightened the golden strands of her short hair. He pushed away thoughts of the intensity of her bright blue eyes when she concentrated. When she traced the angled cuts of words with her finger he shuddered as if that finger touched him. He swallowed heavily.
“That... that is a recording of a curse.”
She turned a wide smile to him. “Then I shouldn’t try to read it out loud, should I?”
He drew his eyebrows together in confusion, then relaxed when he remembered the movie she had made him watch with her a month ago. She’d explained then it was a common device to have the innocent hero or heroine read a chant or incantation they didn’t understand, speaking the words out loud and thus releasing the danger. He struggled then found his own smile. “No, you should not. Unless you wish a sand demon from Bard’s world waiting on your doorstep.”
“I don’t think I’m in the mood for that today.” Replacing the stone rectangle on the table, she tilted her head to one side and studied him. “How about you, Gowtham? How are you?”
Gowtham. She was the only one to use the shortened, personal form of his name. A familiar, pleasant heaviness filled his chest. “I am fine.”
“Uh-huh. I don’t think so. But don’t worry, I won’t press. This time. So, what do you have to show me today?”
He wished he could show her the worlds upon worlds he’d been discovering in the ancient writings. Expose her to the amazing places described in the scrolls and volumes hidden deep in the library. Experience those worlds through her innocent eyes. To show her feelings, his feelings... about her.
With a tightening of his fist at his side he brought himself back to the reality of this world.
“You’ve been having dreams again, haven’t you? Nightmares.” Her bold statement startled him. He hadn’t been hiding the pain deep enough. What more did he need do to keep his agony secret?
“I can always tell. It’s your eyes, Gowtham, surrounded with lines of pain. Let me—”
“No.” He retreated two steps and lifted his hands before him to keep her at a distance. “No,” he said more softly.
“Why won’t you accept what I offer?” She sat and watched him, the sadness stark in downward turn of her full lips and the dimming of her eyes.
Did she realize she offered herself along with her healing touch? Of course she did, she was a woman grown. A woman who had offered him her love when but a child and who had never retreated from that offer. “No, Breanna.” Sweet Breanna, my love.
Ignoring her wounded expression, he lightened his tone and steered the discussion to a safer topic. “I have added to the family trees.”
Instantly, her expression brightened. “You’ve discovered more?”
Waving one arm to indicate the huge parchment covering an entire wall, he nodded. “Nothing new for the Zeroun clan, but I have discovered ancestors for others related to the rulers, including one of my own.”
She clapped her hands once, and he was struck by her youth. There was too much time between them but still her enthusiasm tugged at his heart. “Wonderful.”
“Yes. Many families have been entwined again and again for untold ages. Look.” He pointed to a branch of a small ornate tree set to one side of the large, multi-branched Zeroun genealogy.
Breanna felt her eyes go wide. “It’s me.”
Gowtham’s easy smile erased some of the pain from his face. The tight lines of his dark eyebrows eased to a slight arch. Tiny strands of black hair twisted into curls at his temple. Bree restrained the impulse to smooth them back, because then she’d want to touch his face. Nothing would delight her more than to trace the angles of his straight nose or the firm line of his jaw. She loved the contrast of her pale skin against the golden brown of his. In a wistful moment she’d once written in her diary that his skin reminded her of rich, cream-lightened
Gowthaman avoided thinking about how the flame brightened the golden strands of her short hair. He pushed away thoughts of the intensity of her bright blue eyes when she concentrated. When she traced the angled cuts of words with her finger he shuddered as if that finger touched him. He swallowed heavily.
“That... that is a recording of a curse.”
She turned a wide smile to him. “Then I shouldn’t try to read it out loud, should I?”
He drew his eyebrows together in confusion, then relaxed when he remembered the movie she had made him watch with her a month ago. She’d explained then it was a common device to have the innocent hero or heroine read a chant or incantation they didn’t understand, speaking the words out loud and thus releasing the danger. He struggled then found his own smile. “No, you should not. Unless you wish a sand demon from Bard’s world waiting on your doorstep.”
“I don’t think I’m in the mood for that today.” Replacing the stone rectangle on the table, she tilted her head to one side and studied him. “How about you, Gowtham? How are you?”
Gowtham. She was the only one to use the shortened, personal form of his name. A familiar, pleasant heaviness filled his chest. “I am fine.”
“Uh-huh. I don’t think so. But don’t worry, I won’t press. This time. So, what do you have to show me today?”
He wished he could show her the worlds upon worlds he’d been discovering in the ancient writings. Expose her to the amazing places described in the scrolls and volumes hidden deep in the library. Experience those worlds through her innocent eyes. To show her feelings, his feelings... about her.
With a tightening of his fist at his side he brought himself back to the reality of this world.
“You’ve been having dreams again, haven’t you? Nightmares.” Her bold statement startled him. He hadn’t been hiding the pain deep enough. What more did he need do to keep his agony secret?
“I can always tell. It’s your eyes, Gowtham, surrounded with lines of pain. Let me—”
“No.” He retreated two steps and lifted his hands before him to keep her at a distance. “No,” he said more softly.
“Why won’t you accept what I offer?” She sat and watched him, the sadness stark in downward turn of her full lips and the dimming of her eyes.
Did she realize she offered herself along with her healing touch? Of course she did, she was a woman grown. A woman who had offered him her love when but a child and who had never retreated from that offer. “No, Breanna.” Sweet Breanna, my love.
Ignoring her wounded expression, he lightened his tone and steered the discussion to a safer topic. “I have added to the family trees.”
Instantly, her expression brightened. “You’ve discovered more?”
Waving one arm to indicate the huge parchment covering an entire wall, he nodded. “Nothing new for the Zeroun clan, but I have discovered ancestors for others related to the rulers, including one of my own.”
She clapped her hands once, and he was struck by her youth. There was too much time between them but still her enthusiasm tugged at his heart. “Wonderful.”
“Yes. Many families have been entwined again and again for untold ages. Look.” He pointed to a branch of a small ornate tree set to one side of the large, multi-branched Zeroun genealogy.
Breanna felt her eyes go wide. “It’s me.”
Gowtham’s easy smile erased some of the pain from his face. The tight lines of his dark eyebrows eased to a slight arch. Tiny strands of black hair twisted into curls at his temple. Bree restrained the impulse to smooth them back, because then she’d want to touch his face. Nothing would delight her more than to trace the angles of his straight nose or the firm line of his jaw. She loved the contrast of her pale skin against the golden brown of his. In a wistful moment she’d once written in her diary that his skin reminded her of rich, cream-lightened
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