Free Elves and Escapades (Scholars and Sorcery Book 2) by Eleanor Beresford Page B

because so much of her is elven, that she sees the world more straightforwardly than the more human among us. I don’t know if I would ever have been brave enough to do and say what she did.  
    If she truly does feel like I do, she could have been hurt very badly… but perhaps she instinctively knew I couldn’t hurt her. I never will, I swear to myself. I’ll keep her safe and happy.
    I cover her hand with my own, very gently. “I love you, Rosalind. My Rosalind,” I whisper. I suppose I’m quite possessive myself, when it comes down to it. “Sweet dreams, darling mine.”
    She makes a small sound and moves closer, so that I can feel her just slightly touching me down the length of her body. I don’t think she wakes.
    I drift off to sleep in a haze of happiness.

    When I wake again, grey light is filtering in through the curtains. I lie quietly, listening to Rosalind’s breathing. She’s turned over in the night, her back turned to me; I inch closer, putting an arm across her warm form, carefully cuddling her.
    It seems incredible that I have the right to hold her like this. I let my hand glide up, gently cupping her breast through her nightgown, moving timidly as if I’m still afraid of disaster if I dare too much. The garment is still unbuttoned and I slip my hand inside, tentatively touching velvet skin.
      I try to make myself understand that last night I really did unbutton her gown myself, that it’s not just another dream. All of it really happened, all of it. She’s mine, as I dreamed and never hoped she would be, and I’m hers, as I have been for the longest time, only now she knows it beyond doubt. Her unbuttoned nightdress, my way my own pyjama top is open so that my bare skin can feel the gown she’s wearing, is somehow a far more tangible proof than the strange little pulsations and aches left in my own body. It’s all real, and it happened.
    I’m not quite sure what to do with the knowledge. Everything is changed; it remains to see what it has changed to, and what we will do with this strange, bright new reality. I’m so happy that it is almost like pain.
    I do know I can’t possibly let her part from me now, not ever. I can’t ever let her go away, marry anyone else, even my own brother, let anyone else ever hold her like this. She belongs to me, as I do to her. It’s as simple as that. I won’t let her go.
    At the same time I can feel fear deep in my heart. If anyone knows… I don’t care, for once, about myself, I realise. I care about this girl, the daughter of aristocrats, with her pointed ears and her magical Gifts, with a presumably glittering future that will all fall apart if anyone knows that her tomboy best friend has kissed and touched her as a lover in the night in a crowded, ramshackle house. There’s triumphant joy inside me at having her in my arms, but in the merciless dawn light it is almost matched by the terror of what my love has done to her. Perhaps it would have been better, kinder, more loving, to leave her friendship to Diana, and not to throw her life into chaos like this.  
    No. My stomach tightens in rebellion against the thought. Rosalind is mine, for better or for worse.
    As if she feels my fear, Rosalind stirs restlessly. One hand comes up, to find mine still gently touching her. I freeze in panic and my hand slips from her as she turns to face me, her eyes seeking out my face, her pupils dilated.  
    “Charley.” Her voice is wondering, not quite a question. Her hand is still pressed against her chest, feeling the bare skin there. Her gaze drops to where my top is open over my own rather more substantial bosom, and even in this faint light I can see her translucent skin flash into the red heat of realisation. “Oh, Charley!”
    I reach for her, to pull her close and reassure her. Before I can grasp her, there is a movement somewhere down the hall, a door closing, and she tears away, sitting up in panic. “Oh. I shouldn’t be here!”
    She slips