The Silver Rose Read Free Page B

wool sweater and faded denim jeans, Aden wore his dark brown hair long and bound into a ponytail with a piece of thin leather. His skin was olive, his cheekbones defined. He possessed an intense, hungry air. A silver lightning bolt in his right earlobe glinted with the fiery rays of the setting sun shining through the gallery windows. For a second Rosa thought she saw the same glint reflected in the dilated pupils of his eyes — eyes so dark their color could only be described as midnight.
    Here stood a man used to getting his own way. It was in his stature, in the way he stood before her, confident, direct, and arrogant.
    â€œI’m interested in the sign in your window,” he said, jerking Rosa out of her intense regard.
    She blinked in confusion. What sign? “The window?”
    â€œLavender Cottage. I understand it’s for rent.”
    Comprehension penetrated her addled brain. She released a short, audible gasp of surprise. “You want to rent Lavender Cottage?”
    That Aden agreed to participate in the Totara Festival in their small town had both shocked and delighted all three sisters. When they’d issued the invitation, the idea had been he would ship his work to them to display and sell, but they’d been astonished, pleased, and excited he had responded by stating he would love to accept their invitation and would attend the festival as well.
    Now, he not only had arrived early, but he intended to reside within their Circle of Three. The man didn’t know what he was asking.
    Stay calm.
Rosa inhaled. Aden’s essence washed over her, and she wished she didn’t feel so giddy. “Lavender Cottage,” she repeated, and could have kicked herself for acting like a sullen teenager.
    He oozed the raw, brooding power of a creative man, a man who employed his hands to create exquisite jewelry and artifacts. The prospect of being able to see and touch his work in person was cause for excitement. Now, she wasn’t so sure she wanted excitement of any kind.
    â€œYes. Lavender Cottage,” he responded, and this time he smiled, but it didn’t reach all the way to his eyes.
    She hadn’t fooled him. He knew she knew who he was.
    â€œPerhaps I should have started with my name.”
    Rosa couldn’t pretend she didn’t already know. “Aden Dragunis. We saw you this morning.” He held out his hand. She hesitated, reluctant to touch him until she determined why she was experiencing this intense reaction to him, but innate courtesy outweighed any qualms she had, and she reached out to grip his hand.
    â€œRosa Greenwood.” Panicked by the suddenness of her runaway pulse, she quickly released her hold, wondering if he’d felt her strong pulse at all. Her mouth was dry, her voice surprisingly husky.
    â€œI’m sorry. It was rude not to come in. It’s a long way from Paris to Raven’s Creek. I’d barely slept in forty eight hours, and I’m not the best company when tired.”
    He was lying. Why would he lie? No dark circles framed those dark-as-molasses eyes, no lines of fatigue etched his golden skin. How could she believe him when she had not slept since hearing the bells? She was all too aware of the dark circles rimming her own eyes. Her head ached, and she was ready to collapse from the untimely and unwanted weighty predicament she now found herself in. And he claimed not to be getting enough sleep?
    â€œWe didn’t expect you for another two weeks at least. You should have advised us you were arriving early. We could have organized alternative accommodation for you.”
    â€œA spur-of-the-moment decision,” Aden explained. “But, as you see, now I’m here.” The corners of his mouth lifted into a fragment of a smile, softening his jaw line slightly. A semblance of satisfaction stole into his eyes. “As luck would have it, I met a Ruth Fielding earlier today. I gather you know her well. She