The Oak - A Grown Up Fairy Tale by S.L. Dearing

Author:S.L. Dearing
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fairy Tales, paranormal romance, historical romance, paranormal fantasy, elemental, France
Publisher: SLDearing
Published: 2017-04-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

“Thank you for showing me all those places that mean so much to you and sharing your stories with me, Keitha,” Aiken said as he cut potatoes at the table for their mid-day meal. “I don’t do this very often, so I hope I’m doing it correctly.”

Glancing over at him, Keitha grinned. “They look very nice. Thank you for helping me.”

“It’s the least I can do. You have fed me, healed me, washed my hair... I’m at your service, chère, whatever you need. You said you would tell me the story of the wolves.”

“Ah, yes. Before my mother became ill, she and I would walk through the woods. One day, we came upon a white she-wolf caught in a trap. Poor thing was in so much pain. My mother told me to stay back. I watched, terrified as she moved closer and closer. The wolf growled and snapped at my mother, and I heard my mother say something, but I didn’t understand. It was like a different language. But whatever she said, it stilled the creature. She allowed my mother to kneel down and open the trap. The she-wolf pulled her foot out, but instead of running, she waited, lying on the forest floor. My mother always carried a healing bag whenever she went walking in the woods. She pulled out a salve and bandages, then treated the leg and wrapped it. The wolf nuzzled my mother, then walked to me and did the same, as if to say thank you. And ever since then, she brings her pack to visit. Sometimes she’s brought food, and other times she would just visit. They came last night, as a matter of fact. I was putting snow in the kettle— Oh, I need more wood,” she mumbled as she caught sight of the dwindling pile. She began to walk to the door, but he reached out, gently taking her arm, and stopping her. Her stomach flipped at his touch.

“I’ll get that,” he said, rising out of the chair. “I’m much better at collecting wood than at cutting potatoes.”

“But your chest—”

“Is much better, and I have one very good arm to aid my not-so-good arm.” His gaze bore down on her, and she felt as if she could never look away. She saw that odd familiarity and felt safe. Every moment spent with him, she felt her attraction grow. He consumed her every thought.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured, his deep timber caressing her soul. Striding to the door, he wrapped the cloak around his shoulders, then grabbed her wood sling and walked outside. Not until the door closed did she return to the stove, unable to turn away from him when he was in her sight.

“What is wrong with me?” she mumbled as she added the newly cut potatoes to her stew. “I’ve been alive for twenty-five years without so much as a quiver for any man. Now, in only a few days, this stranger has me on edge! What am I to do, Gideon?”

The ebony cat simply blinked at her and appeared to sigh.

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