Romance: The Bad Boy Affair: A Second Chance Romance

by Veronica Cross

  When they reached the heart of the town, where there were more people making much more noise, he finally slowed to a stop. He turned to look at Guinevere and she held her breath, wondering what he was going to say or do. She was just as nervous as when she had first stepped into town but there was something new there. It was a new source of nervousness had mixed with the old and it left her feeling quite confused.

  “Miss, what exactly is it you are looking for?”

  Guinevere’s was hesitant to tell him everything. Even though he had been perfectly kind and respectable thus far, she was still a bit skeptical. She looked up at the sky’s orange glow; the sun was setting and she would need a place to stay. That was yet another thing that had not been taken into consideration about this undertaking. She drew in a deep breath and turned her gaze back upon the young man.

  “I need help,” she said in a near whisper.

  “What do you need help with?”

  “I need… I need to find a place to stay,” she told him. Nightfall was nearly upon them and she knew she could not sleep out under the stars like she was used to doing deep in the forest as a dragon. Although she would not have found it uncomfortable, it posed a danger to her. Someone could easily try to harm her or, at the very least, ask too many questions. Guinevere needed to blend in with the humans as much as possible.

  “Very well,” the man said. He looked around and then mindfully said, “I can help you with that if you just follow me.”

  Guinevere walked just behind him, off to the side, as he continued walking in the same direction they were heading in. They walked and walked until they reached another outskirt of town. There was a small cottage surrounded by open land on two sides. In front of it was the town and behind it, somewhat far off, was a very large house with more land surrounding it. The two of them stopped right in front of the cottage and the young man turned to look at her. She eyed the front door and then turned back to look at him unsurely. This place was so far removed from other houses in town that it felt isolated.

  “Is this your house?”

  The young man leaned in and Guinevere felt her breath catch in her throat. She felt nearly trapped between the door and the tall figure of the young man. Even though it was a situation that should have elicited more fear from her, she was more taken aback than anything else. She felt her chest tighten and she did not know why. She gulped.

  “I own this cottage,” he informed her. At once, Guinevere readied herself to reject his offer but he spoke before she had a chance to. “I own it but I do not live here. It is merely a small cottage on the land I own. If you see the large house behind it in the distance,” he gave a single nod in its direction, “That is my home.”

  “Oh,” Guinevere breathed out.

  “I promise you privacy during your stay here but I ask only one thing in return.”

  Guinevere eyed him carefully and asked, “What is it you ask of me?”

  “I ask only that you share with me what you truly need help with.”

  Before Guinevere could respond, he moved his arm around her to reach for the door. He opened it up and motioned for her to enter before walking off toward the large house. She ran to the back of the cottage and peered through the window. She could see the young man walking quickly toward the large house. Even from this distance and in the low light of the setting sun, Guinevere could see it was much more elegant than any of the houses she had seen during her walk through the town.

  “That must he is of a higher status than that of most townspeople,” she muttered.

  She placed her hand flat on the wall beside the window and exhaled onto the glass, causing it to fog up. He was nearly at the front door of his home. He looked stately at his tall height with such broad shoulders standing beside such a grand house. Guinevere watched him turn to look back at the cottage for one last look before he stepped inside and disappeared from her sight.

  Chapter Six

  Guinevere sat by the fireplace, which had no wood in it and thus she could not use it and rested her head back against the armchair. Despite her eyes being shut, she was not resting. There was too much on her mind for that. Her body slowly gave way to exhaustion and she felt it weighing her down. Her first day amongst the humans had gone well overall but it had certainly been a taxing ordeal for her. A sudden knock on her door made her jump out of her chair with a start.

  “Who…” Her voice trailed off and she placed her hand delicately over her mouth. Maybe it was better if she did not let her presence be known. After all, there was not a single person in town whom she was acquainted with aside from the young man and he was too far to come to her aid should she need it. She walked quietly closer to the door and peered cautiously out the window.

  Guinevere sighed in relief. It was the young man standing on the other side of the door. He was holding something she could not make out in the low light of the early evening and through the sheer fabric of the curtains. She unlocked the door and pulled it open.

  “Good evening,” the young man greeted politely, “I thought you perhaps did not have dinner or a means to acquire food so I am here to drop off a plate.”

  He extended his hand and offered her a covered plate. She took it and softly said, “Thank you.” She looked into his deep brown eyes and felt warmth well up in her chest once again. It was something only he caused and it made her very curious.

  “Very well then, if there is nothing else you need…”

  “I think I am well, thanks to your kindness.”

  He looked over her shoulder and gave a nod toward the fireplace, “Would you like me to get that going for you? Nights in the cottage can get pretty chilly.”

  “Oh, sure. If it is not a bother.”

  “None at all,” the young man said. He walked inside and opened a door near the restroom where there was neatly stacked firewood. He carried over a few logs and arranged them in the fireplace before getting the fire started. After he dusted off his hands, he stood up and turned to look at Guinevere with a kind smile.

  The reflection of the fire danced in his intense eyes and the warmth Guinevere had felt not only intensified, it spread through her. She felt it drop to the pit of her stomach and move as if it were stirring. She squeezed her legs and shifted; that was yet another new feeling he brought out in her that she had no clue what to make of.

  “I am very grateful for your hospitality, sir.”

  “Sir?” The young man looked at her quizzically and then something dawned on him. He opened his mouth and chuckled as he said, “I haven’t even told you my name. I’m Doran.” The young man looked at her, still smiling, and then a second look of realization crossed his face. “Come to think of it,” he said, “You never told me your name either.”

  Guinevere felt her face flush and she looked over to the fire, crackling pleasantly and filling the small cottage with comforting warmth. She thought of her Elder and whether or not she would be advised to reveal her name to this young man, Doran. She reasoned that if she accepted to stay in his cottage and took his help, he could at least be trusted with that basic piece of information. Guinevere cleared her throat and turned to meet his gaze.

  “I am Guinevere,” she told him.

  “Guinevere,” he repeated, a smile curling up the corners of his lips. “Well, Guinevere, it has been lovely to make your acquaintance. Now I will give you the privacy I’ve promised. Sleep soundly.” He turned and walked out the door, closing it carefully behind him.

  Guinevere ran to the door and locked it at once before dashing back to the window from which she could watch him walk back up to his large house. This time he walked faster than he had earlier, perhaps because it was darker out. She watched with her hand pressed flat against the window until he stepped inside and closed the door. She wondered what it was he would do now. Did he live alone? How was it that he came to own such a sizable piece of land with a cottage and a large house on it? These were the sorts of questions that filled her mind as she lay in bed for her f
irst night of sleep since she’d gone to fetch Althaeda.

  The following morning filled the small bedroom with bright sunlight and the sounds of birds chirping could be heard from outside the window. It was very different than what Guinevere was used to and when she awoke, she was quite shocked to have spent the night so comfortably. She walked back out into the main room and spotted the covered plate of food atop the small table where she assumed humans ate. Stomach grumbling, she walked over to see what was underneath but when she peeled back the covering, she saw only spoiled fruits and a small, cold piece of meat.

  “Ugh,” she muttered in disgust. She quickly dumped the food into the covering, wrapped it up, and threw it into a small bin tucked away in the corner.

  Guinevere placed her hand on her stomach. The discomfort soon turned to pain and she knew she would need to eat sooner rather than later. She looked longingly out the window. If she were home, it would only take going out for a hunt. But now amongst the humans in their territory, Guinevere was unsure what to do for food.

  As if she’d called out to him and he heard, there was a knock at the door. She dashed over and opened it, smiling when she took in the Doran’s face. His long, black hair reached just past his shoulders sleekly, tucked behind his ears. His manly looks truly drew her to him even if she did not understand why or how. She felt her face flush just as it had the previous night and it was all because they were making eye contact early in the morning.

  “Are you hungry?” Guinevere nodded emphatically and he smiled as he said, “There is a woman nearby who serves breakfast on her patio. Many people go daily.”

  He was about to turn to head out when he paused and looked her up and down. Guinevere shifted her weight from one foot to the other and crossed her arms shyly. It felt like she was on display and he was admiring the sight. But when he moved his eyes back up to hers there was a different look in them that made her nervous.

  “Guinevere, pardon me for asking, but do you have only this to wear?”

  She looked down at the body coverings her wings and scales had provided and nodded. It was not until that moment it really crossed her mind how differently she was dressed than all the other women she’d seen in town. But she had nothing else to wear or any means to acquire something new. As luck would have it, Doran had a small wardrobe of dresses left behind by a cousin of his.

  “Are you sure? You have done so much for me already.”

  “Please, wear any as you need them,” he paused and then asked, “How long will you be in town?”

  “Oh! I do not know but I can find another place–”

  “No, no! I do not mind you staying here as long as you need. I was merely curious.” He looked at her for a moment and she could tell he had many more questions on his mind but, much to her relief, he held back from asking.

  He stepped out of the bedroom so she could have privacy to change. She pulled out the first dress she spotted. It was a muted teal color with a fitted bodice and wide skirt down to her ankles. The bodice pushed her large breasts up but the chest cloth still covered even her cleavage. For some reason this made her feel more comfortable, intuitively knowing it would be a lot of exposure otherwise. She struggled a bit to pull it on and even when she stepped back out to the cottage’s main room she was unsure if it was on correctly.

  “Oh,” he said in a strange way when he saw her in the dress, making her think it was on incorrectly. But when his eyes lit up with a smile she felt her cheeks blush and she knew nothing was wrong with her dress, nothing at all.

  The two of them walked for a few minutes in silence before reaching the place where the food was served. She saw him hand some coins to a woman before she ran off to fetch two plates of food from somewhere inside.

  “I do not want to take advantage of your kindness,” Guinevere told him. Even though she was not well versed in the ways of the humans, she was certainly intelligent enough to know those coins were to receive the meals in exchange. Surely those coins were valuable and he had to work to acquire them.

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said.

  Two plates were set in front of them, steam rising off from the food. Guinevere poked at a pile of hot, yellow pieces of something on her plate and immediately withdrew her finger. She had absolutely no idea what she was eating, except for the meat. The meat looked different than how she consumed it but her sense of smell picked it out at once. Her mouth salivated for the flesh on her plate and, without thinking, she grabbed it and threw it in her mouth all at once. She chewed it quickly and then swallowed the deliciously prepared meat. She looked up at Doran with a wide smile that quickly fell. He was gaping at her, obviously in great shock. Then it hit her– that was not how humans ate.

  “Would- would you like more sausage?”

  “Sausage,” she repeated, committing the word to memory. Her stomach rumbled and taste buds asked for more but she was too mortified to say yes. She shook her head and then glanced sneakily around to figure out the proper way to eat. She saw a young lady near her holding a piece of silver and appearing to stab her food with it before placing it delicately in her mouth. Guinevere did not understand how stabbing the small piece of food with silver was dignified but she had to fit in. She picked up the thin silver beside her and stabbed the yellow lump on her plate, which came apart.

  “Like this,” Doran said quietly, “You eat the eggs like this.”

  “Eggs,” she repeated. She looked at the yellow pieces curiously. Those were not eggs in any way she recognized. The eggs she knew were oval and white with a hard shell. How was it that humans call a tender yellow lump an egg? Still, she mimicked Doran’s movement and took in a mouthful. They tasted somewhat bland but she ate them anyway. The thin, round bread with some sort of sticky sauce on top was too sweet but she managed to stomach it.

  “Are you full?”

  Guinevere nodded to let him know she was even though all she could think about was eating some more sausage. The two of them stood up and walked out, heading toward the center of town. It was on this walk that Doran finally asked what it was she needed help with, reminding her of their terms for her stay at the cottage.

  “There are some items I must find,” she said quietly.

  “Items? Like what?”

  Guinevere hesitated but knew it was time to tell him what it was she was in search of. After all, he would be unable to help her locate everything if he did not know. By now she had decided to trust him as much as she could trust a human. She told him everything she needed, at the end of which he said it would all need to be written down or else there was a risk of something being forgotten. Guinevere was relieved when he took the initiative to write the list since she was unsure if she could write like humans did. The two of them spent the rest of the day searching for the items, by the end of which they had only found about five.

  “Sundown will come soon,” he told her, “I think it is best if we call it a day.”

  “Call it a day?”

  “Yes. I mean to stop for now,” he clarified, once again looking at her curiously.

  Guinevere made a mental note not to seem so confused about so many things or else he would start to catch on there was something more to her. Even if he was her trusted human, for now, she could not risk him finding out too much. She sat down on the chair in front of the fireplace and he immediately set to work on setting it up for her once again. When he was done, still crouching down on the floor, he looked up at her and cleared his throat.

  “Would you mind if I accompanied you for dinner tonight?”

  “Yes,” she told him rather quickly.

  “Oh,” he said in disappointment, “I understand. I’ll just drop it off for you later.”

  “You won’t stay?” Guinevere was confused but he looked just as confused too. She then looked down at her dress and said, “Please eat with me.”

  Doran smiled and went off to his home at once, returning a while later with dinner for the two of them. He pushed the two plates on
a small wooden cart along with some candles, which he set up on the table for them to eat. A lovely scent came from the candles that reminded Guinevere of home and comforted her. This was the first time she felt somewhat at ease in any other place than where she called home with her Elder. She ate slowly, trying her best to mimic Doran's movements and the size of his bites. There was more meat on her plate than there had been at breakfast but it was different. It was a much lighter color and the taste was not as rich. She wanted to ask what it was but thought it best not to do so. What she did know was how lucky she was to have run into Doran on her first day.

  “Doran,” she spoke softly, “Why do you live in such a big house?”

  “I inherited it,” he told her simply. He took a drink of water and then clarified, “It belonged to my parents. It became mine when they died.”

  Guinevere looked at him sadly. If there was one thing she could relate to, it was the pain of losing one's parents. She could see from the look in his eyes that it hurt humans just as much too. She could not even remember her parents. It was really only her Elder whom she had known her whole life. And now she was dealing with the uncertainty and sadness of possibly seeing her Elder take the last breath. All she hoped was to be present for when it finally did come to be.

  “Were you little when they died?”

  “About 10 years old,” he told her.

  Guinevere did not know exactly what that meant for humans so she asked, “How old are you now?”

  “31 years old.”

  He was only one-third of his current age when they died. She knew that was little. She also knew that, in human years, her Elder had once told her she would look to be somewhere in the end of her second decade. So she was close to his age, at least in looks. Dragons, however, lived about twice as long as humans did. She started piecing it all together and it really struck her– he would have been like the child she saw on her first day in town when he lost his parents.