Entwined by Kristen Callihan

they not be awkward with each other? What they’d done went beyond intimacy. It had also been raw and animalistic. The mere thought of which had Lu’s flesh heating and the tender space between her legs clenching tight.
    She’d dropped her fork then. And Eamon had pushed back from the table as if pinched. He hadn’t let his gaze meet hers as he explained in stilted fashion that he was starting a new project and would be in his smithy for most of the day.
    Well, good. That was a relief.
    Save it wasn’t.
    And it went on for a week. A week of nearly silent shared meals and Eamon running off to his smithy. A week of Eamon not returning to her bed. Had once been enough for him? Was she sinful and wrong for wanting more?
    Oh, but she caught his looks, those heated, yearning looks. He was careful about it, waiting until her attention was turned to other things. But she was watching him too, aware of every movement he made, so she’d seen.
    Desire was not the issue. Lu couldn’t help but think that the specter of Aidan, and her own guilt, had built a wall between them.
    The rains had returned, so heavy and strong that the roads turned to muck and the house grew dark and gloomy. Given that she had no place to go, Lu took to roaming the endless corridors of the house. Evernight Hall certainly did not bore her. Room upon room opened up to her inquisitive gaze. The Evernights were collectors. Celadon bowls from China, alabaster figurines from Egypt, little brass elephants from India, her fingers trailed over treasures as she moved along.
    Eventually she ended up back in the family wing. Upon their marriage, Eamon had taken up the master of the house’s room, with hers connecting. But she remembered the move and realized that she was now walking past the door of his old rooms, and next to his were Aidan’s.
    Lu’s heart pounded as she stood before her door, her hand cold and heavy upon the handle. Part of her felt like a traitor to Eamon. She ought to let Aidan go. He was her past. But she couldn’t. She had to know… something. Any clue as to what he’d been thinking was better than being lost in the dark.
    So, like a thief, she crept into Aidan’s room. Cool air and the smell of staleness enveloped her. Her heart was going like a rapid metronome. Fear of discovery—that somehow Aidan would pop out and yell “Ah-ha!”—heightened her senses. Every creak of her step upon the floor, every shallow breath she took, rang loud and clear in her ears.
    The room was fairly sparse by way of decoration or even furnishings. A large bed took up one wall, and before the hearth there were two masculine armchairs. Between the two tall windows was a sideboard holding crystal decanters and glasses. No writing desk, no books, no sign of Aidan’s personality.
    A hollow ache spread through her chest as she took in the room. She’d expected more.
    Sinking into the nearest chair, she stared at the empty hearth. The Aidan she knew liked to read, he wrote her diligently, he had a sly sense of humor and hated horses. He was sensitive, and a disappointment to his father…
    Pushing up from the chair, Lu hurried from the room, no longer worrying about discovery. Her steps thudded upon the floorboards as she went down the hall and into the next room.
    * * *
    Heat smothered Eamon in a heavy embrace. It filled his lungs and clung to his skin. And he reveled in it. Wiping away the sweat on his brow with his forearm, he readjusted his grip on the tongs and swung the hammer down. It connected with the glowing steel, and the impact hammered through his bones, rattled about in his skull. Clang. Clang. Clang. Sparks flew. Each hit shaping and strengthening the length of steel into his creation. His muscles ached. Sweat ran in rivulets along his chest and abdomen, cooling him even as the forge raged and heated his every breath.
    And it was perfect.
    Almost.
    For he could not quite let go of Lu. She invaded his thoughts. Made him want.
    Grunting, he swung