The Knight Of The Rose

The Knight Of The Rose by A. M. Hudson Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: The Knight Of The Rose by A. M. Hudson Read Free Book Online
Authors: A. M. Hudson
wet.
    “It’s magnificent this time of year, isn’t it?” David said.
    “It’s always magnificent.” Over the unmoving
    reflection of th e lake, I mar velled at the
    clouded blue sky, touched with a hint of grey. “So, are we going over there or what?”
    David looked at the island. “Yes. I just—” He let his words out with a breath, then stole my
    hand and, using his fingertip, traced one slow line down the middle of my palm. “The lines have

    changed.”
    “Of course they have. They don’t stay the same forever.”
    “Mine do.”
    “Everything about you does.” I chuckled lightly.
    “Not everything.” He looked right into my eyes. “Physically, ye s, but every day I exist, I
    grow older inside, more mature. And since meeting you, I think I’ve aged about two hundred years.”
    He laughed and folded his fingers around mine, but the smile faded from his eyes, and a flicker of
    something foreign flashed for only a second before it disappeared.
    “David.” I squeezed his hand a little tighter. “Is something wrong?”
    Studying our interlaced fingers carefully, he traced another line over the back of my hand.
    “I—No. It’s nothing. Let’s just enjoy this day.”
    “Okay, but, you’d tell me, right? If there was something wrong?”
    “Probably not.”
    I stood between him and his distracted glare. “David? Please, what is it?”
    “Nothing that needs discussing right now.” He pressed his lips into a thin smile and looked at
    the island; most of the trees were still green, but every third one, at least, was covered in a flurry of
    yellows and pinks.
    While I swallowed the urge to beg him to tell me, raindrops started lightly around us, and the
    scattered blue of the sky enclosed with a dark, low-hanging grey.
    “So? Are we going to the island or are we gonna stand here and get incredibly wet?”
    “Yeah, hold on though—this is my favourite shirt.” He crossed his arms and grabbed the base
    of his shirt, then rolled his shoulders, lift ing the skin-covering fabric away. A cheeky grin glistened
    in the corners of his eyes as his arms fell back down to his sides—his shirt in his hand.
    I shook my head, imagining my f ingers moulding to the shape of his tanned chest or rippling
    over his firm stomach. I just wanted to lay my body against his and trace circles over his rib cage.
    “Okay, let’s go,” he said.
    “What are you doing?” My limbs flailed outward as he swept me off the ground.
    “Keeping you dry.”
    “Dry? But, David, it’s raining.” I laughed, watching drops of water discolour my jeans.
    “I know.” With the cheeky grin glued to his lips, David moved wi th the speed of light again,
    and I snuggled my brow into hi s jaw—wrapping my arms around his neck—feeling only the soft,
    cool breeze as we skimmed over the water. “Open your eyes,” he whispered in my ear and set me
    down on my feet.
    “Aw, wow!” My eyes drifted along the willowy grass at the base of tall, colourful trees, and I
    rolled my palm under the lacy leaf of a fern to catch the fat dropl ets of gathering rain. “You know,
    I’ll really miss this place when you’re not with me anymore.”
    “I know.” David plucked a purple wildflower from a tree-hugging vine and gently tucked my
    tangled, disoriented curls behind my ear with the blossom holding them in place.
    “Thank you.” I touched the sati ny garnish. “You know, I still have the last flower you gave
    me here.”
    “I know.” He nodded.
    Just as I looked up t o smile at David, the sunlight filtered through a break in the canopy and
    made the raindrops on his hair and the curves of his bare shoulders glisten. Little bumps rose on my
    arms, and a soft shiver forced my neck to tense and tighten, though I doubted my sudden shaking had
    anything to do with the ending summer.
    “You’re cold.”
    “I—” My breath st ammered into my lungs as David stepped into me, my for earms meeting
    his bare chest; skin on skin.
    The desire to

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