Chapter 11

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Lydia's POV:

Warmth.

That was the first thing my mind processed.

An intense feeling of warmth and comfort that was half-way pulling me to fall back asleep.

At least, that was my plan before the previous day's events caused my body to do the exact opposite.

Basically every muscle in my upper body tightened as I forced my eyes open and sat up with a gasp.

Within the first few seconds of just trying to regain my bearings, I realized I was alone in a large bed.

That was the only thing I processed before my hand came up to my forehead as I attempted to remember what happened.

I don't even remember falling asleep.

The last I remember we were about two more hours into our trek and I definitely felt like I was going to quite possibly die if we didn't take a break.

Luka mentioned that we were very close, but still easily complied and let Angus and I recuperate by a lake.

I decided to lay in the cool grass to catch my breath and then...

Oh my god...

A heat crawled up my neck in embarrassment, my hand lowering to cover my mouth.

God, please tell me I didn't fall asleep right there and make Luka somehow bring me the rest of the way here himself.

Yet despite my pleas, I couldn't recall anything happening after that.

How on earth did he manage to do that?

I wasn't a heavy enough sleeper for him to somehow maneuver me back onto a horse.

Which really only left the possible conclusion that he carried me himself.

The heat spread quickly to the rest of my face.

I was definitely going to have to apologize to him about this later.

But first I needed fo to figure out where I currently was.

My hand lowered onto my lap as I allowed myself a deep breath, inhaling that subtle hint of cedar and oak as I got a detailed look at my surroundings.

The dark logs were the first thing to catch my attention, being the things that made up the walls.

It didn't take a close inspection to tell that it was hand made.

A quick look around the rectangular room told me that everything was.

From the door straight ahead to the nightstand to even the bedframe, each looked to be expertly well made.

Even the quilt on this bed looked expertly handstitched.

I gently ran my hand across the fabric, noticing that the quilt itself looked and felt old, yet the stitching had been carefully kept together.

All in all, I had to admit that I was impressed.

If just one room of this house looked like this, I was curious to see what the rest of it looked like.

I let out a small sigh, looking over the bed I was sitting on.

Lifting the pillow that sat beside me onto my lap, I admire the stitching on it as well.

At least I was until a long, white piece of hair sitting upon it caused my eyes to widen in the sudden realization that the bed I was in was his.

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