Chapter 449: Shells and Glass
That same night, in a warmly lit dining room adjoining Owain’s quarters in the Lothian Manor, Owain gave a dramatic bow of welcome as he greeted his guest for the evening. After months of chasing ghosts through the brothels and seedier districts of Blackwell City, he was finally once again in the presence of the genuine Jocelynn Blackwell.
Seeing her again made the long months in Blackwell County feel like exile, toiling away without the sight of the sun. Her soft blonde hair shined like spun gold, and she carried herself with the natural confidence of her impressive height, standing tall enough that few men in court could look down on her.
She moved with a grace and elegance that no common or even uncommon whore could immitate, as her pale blue dress clung to a classically proportioned figure that struck the perfect balance countless artists sought to capture in their portraits of noble ladies. And when she smiled at him, the gloom that had settled over his heart lifted like fog retreating before the sun.
"My Lady Jocelynn," he said, extending his hand to escort her into the dining room. The servants had already prepared their feast for the evening before he’d sent them away. Tonight, he would dine privately with the woman he longed to possess more than any other. "I’ve prepared something special for us this evening," he said in a voice that was rough with barely contained desire.
Ever since his return two nights ago, he’d been bound to a formal dance of banquets, working lunches, and even garden tea parties where he introduced Master Isabell to the wives and daughters of the local barons, despite the fact that there was nothing blooming in the gardens and they never left the covered gazebo to stroll between the seemingly endless cups of tea.
Everything had been so stiff, formal, and public that he didn’t dare greet Jocelynn the way he wanted to, with a firm embrace and passionate kiss, but even now that they were alone, he had to restrain his pulsing desires.
Soon, they would announce the tragic death of Ashlynn Blackwell in labor. Only afterward could he be seen to grow close to her younger sister, and if he touched her now, he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back when it mattered. Soon, he would have his reward for all of the suffering he’d endured since the disastrous night he married Ashlynn, washing it away with the sweet taste of her youthful sister, but until then, he could only court Jocelynn covertly in private moments like this.
"My hero," Jocelynn said, taking his arm and pressing her modest bosom against it as she pressed close enough to him to feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of their clothing. She was tall enough that lesser men could never measure up to her, but next to Owain’s mighty frame, she felt secure and protected by his knightly stature and powerful physique. "You must have suffered away from home for so long," she said, gazing up at him with limpid eyes the color of seafoam. "I hope the journey wasn’t too hard on you."
"Nothing was harder on me than being away from your radiant beauty," Owain said, giving her a bright smile that melted her heart and warmed her to her toes. "I brought a gift for you," he added, pulling a small, velvet-lined wooden box from his tunic and presenting it to her with a flourish. "I’m told these have special meaning in Blackwell County."
Jocelynn’s heart leaped at his words, and her fingers trembled as she took the slender box from his hands. There were few traditions in Blackwell County that involved jewelry, but there was one that would fit in just such a box.