Lady of the Loch by Christen Stovall & Jennifer Sanders

Author:Christen Stovall & Jennifer Sanders
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boundless Fantasy
Published: 2022-05-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Under the Pale Moonlight

The following day saw the investigation once again focused on Elias Whitfield’s study. Charlie was situated on the floor, sifting through her uncle’s notes. Asher was at the desk, feverishly scribbling notes of his own, presumably a log of their investigation thus far.

The events of their expedition on the lake were too much to be examined deeply outside the safety and comfort of home, and on some level that had been a relief for Charlie. Now, however, she couldn’t avoid the questions that the experience had created. They’d left this world entirely, entered into the Fae realm itself, and doing so had made Charlie’s recent nightmare a reality.

She’d been in that place before, and whatever dangers she’d narrowly escaped the first time clearly were not confined to that realm. It could be no coincidence that their boat was attacked mere minutes after returning to the familiar waters of Loch Ness. If it had not been for the creature itself, neither of them would have made it back to shore, of that much Charlie was certain, and her mind shied away from that distressing conclusion.

To distract herself she glanced over at her companion, admiring the set of his broad shoulders, envying the sun that so comfortably landed on his neck and jaw. She found Asher Burton a singularly fascinating man. He was kind, intelligent, selflessly brave, and undeniably handsome both in appearance and in spirit. It was that latter part that tended to drive Charlie to the point of absolute distraction.

None of the men around Lochmuir made the very sun shine brighter simply by walking into the room. She’d never wondered what it would be like to touch or be touched by any of them. But her stomach flipped at the mere idea of Asher’s touch, a veritable colony of butterflies taking wing. And on the occasions he had touched her—to help her stand, or dismount, or when he’d wrapped his arms around to demonstrate how to defend herself—the contact sent little shivers across her skin.

Even at night, when she’d lay awake in her bed trying to quiet her mind and find sleep, it wasn’t only the concern for Uncle Elias that made her restless, but also thoughts of Asher’s blue eyes, his smile, and thick black curls. More than once as they’d gone about their day she’d found herself wondering what it would be like to run her fingers through his hair, and then remembered the way she had felt when he had brushed and braided her hair, how his fingers had danced ever so lightly across the back of her neck. That was a memory that enjoyed making its way to the front of her mind several times throughout the day. Her preoccupation was frustrating and exhilarating all at once, and Charlie wasn’t sure she wanted it to end.

And now Asher had asked her something and she’d missed it. “Miss Whitfield? Should I collect the eggs when I milk Nan?” he repeated, getting up from the desk.

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