The doorbell jingled again as the door squeaked open. The masculine sound of boots thudding into the room echoed in my ears. Was Godfrey so relentless?


    My head hung between my knees. I called out shakily, “He’s not here. He’s still out there somewhere, Godfrey.”


    “I’m not Godfrey.” An unfamiliar voice so powerful and deep that it gave me chills filled the room.


    I jerked my head up to face the stranger and caught my breath in my throat. He was remarkably handsome, with golden locks of hair and a beard to match, his eyes the color of warm amber.


    He towered over me as I rose to my feet. I noticed the familiar point of his ear, and I knew at once he was some sort of elf creature.


    “W-who are you?” I asked, his honey-colored skin glistening as he stepped further into the sunlit room.


    He was so large and robust that he made the entire bakery appear miniature, and I was afraid he’d break the rickety chair he settled himself into. The flimsy furniture creaked and whined, but it didn’t collapse. He scooted his chair up to the round table I’d dressed in a white lace cloth.


    “I’m Lord Woodthorne, madam. I believe I scheduled an appointment for a sampler this afternoon at three o’clock.” He watched as I scurried over to the counter. “Have you forgotten me?”


    I smoothed my apron, embarrassed my high-paying customer had seen me indisposed. I’d been so distressed that I really had forgotten about him. “Of course not. An order that large couldn’t be forgotten.”


    Nor could an elf that large, I thought.


    He smirked, his apricot lips stretching across his warm face. His orange eyes were mesmerizing, and I tried not to appear too flustered as I admired them across the room. An odd sense of déjà vu nagged at me, but I pushed it aside.


    He softened, his smirk easing into a sympathetic smile. “Is everything all right, madam? You seemed distraught when I first arrived. I do not enjoy seeing women suffer.”


    He sounded sincere, but he was in no place to be burdened my troubles. “Yes, just a small family matter is all. I will be fine.”


    He nodded acquiescingly. “Madam Lockmere, am I correct?”


    “Yes, that’s me. But you can just call me Aislinn. Everyone does.” No sense in scathing formality; I’d had enough of that to last me a lifetime.


    “Like your shop, Aislinn’s Apple Strudel.”


    “Correct,” I said, carrying a large tray filled with the desserts and pastries I’d painstakingly curated for him. The breads were fluffy and moist, the pastries filled with what fresh fruit I’d had left. The platter was large enough for two or three people, but Lord Woodthorne was alone. “Dining alone, Lord Woodthorne?”


    Intently watching as I settled the tray before him, he answered, “Yes, madam. But you may call me Landyn.”


    Landyn Woodthorne. The name sounded familiar in my mind, but I wasn’t in the right headspace to question him. I simply wanted the appointment to be over so I could make amends with my son.


    “Well, Landyn, pick your poison. I’ve got tea, ale, milk. What will you be having to wash this down?” My hands on my hips, I watched as he delicately spread a cloth napkin across his lap. Just one of his thighs looked to be almost the size of both of mine together.


    “Ale, please.”


    “Of course.” Going back into the kitchen, I retrieved a pitcher of ale and my best pewter mug. I’d shined it that morning, but it still looked dull before the elven man whose very skin glittered. Much unlike my own, my arms and hands battered from years in the kitchen. I was glad I’d worn long sleeves that day.


    Pouring the ale into his cup, I watched as the liquid swirled before me, its color a pale version of Landyn’s enchanting eyes.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    “Thank you, Aislinn.”


    “My pleasure,” I added with a quick curtsy before stepping back a few feet to give him his privacy. “If you need anything at all, I’ll be glad to serve you.”


    He nodded, his silver fork piercing into an apple tart. I tried not to stare, but my curiosity got the best of me as I watched him savor each bite. I hadn’t seen anyone nearly as attractive since my Leopold. The guilt of that realization made me nauseous, and I darted my eyes away.


    “Delicious. Simply delicious. You’ve outdone yourself, really, Aislinn.” His voice was muffled with his napkin against his lips.


    “I’m glad you’re pleased,” I chirped, a smile blossoming across my face; I always enjoyed it when my customers praised my art.


    “Come, have a seat.” He pointed to the empty chair across the table. It wasn’t often guests asked me to dine with them, and nervous jitters danced through me.


    I found myself waltzing across the stone floor, the hem of my dress rustling against it. Perching before him, I hoped I hadn’t looked as sweaty and frazzled as I had in the mirror earlier.


    “Have a bite,” Landyn said.


    “Oh? No, I couldn’t possibly.” It seemed strange and unprofessional to dine with my client, but the fritters did look particularly mouth-watering, and I had been too busy to eat that day.


    “Oh? Come on.” He must have noticed which dessert I’d been eyeing because he carefully scooped it up on his fork and held it forward for me. “You must learn to loosen up, Aislinn. Make the best of each opportunity and never deny oneself a chance at harmless happiness. Even momentary, fleeting joy.”


    He seemed good-natured, but I didn’t appreciate him spouting off cheap wisdom as if he knew anything about me. I would have loved to tell him where he could shove his happiness, but the prospect of losing a large payment kept my quip at bay.


    Awkwardly, I took the utensil from his grasp, the sensation of his knuckle grazing mine making me tense up. I straightened my posture as I took a bite of fig fritter. He was right; it was delectable, but I already knew it would be. I was Aislinn Lockmere, after all. I could make pastries blindfolded.


    “I do believe that,” he chuckled.


    “Believe what?”


    “Believe you could make pastries blindfolded.” He wiped his hands on his napkin and leaned back on the back legs of his chair.


    “H-how did you…”


    “I’m half-elf, madam. It leaves a lot to be desired in the magical abilities department, but I can read the minds of humans and others of lesser magic. Or, rather, I can hear them. At least of those in proximity.” He crossed his arms behind his head cockily.


    A deep blush swept over me, the heat encompassing. I hoped I hadn’t been so close that he’d heard my thoughts about him being attractive earlier.


    “Yes, I heard them, darling.” His white teeth flashed at me as my stomach churned. “But appreciating beauty is nothing to be ashamed about.”


    Just what I wanted. To be humiliated by an elven lord within my own bakery. I vowed to myself to be more careful with my thoughts as an annoying sweat broke out across my skin.


    A loud chorus of shouting and chanting came ringing through the street. It grew louder by the second, voices crying and screaming. Landyn knitted his brows together and jumped from his seat. Despite my previous embarrassment, I followed suit, and together we went to the window and peered into the clustered street.


    Commoners lined the road, distressed and in tears as one of the king’s knights rode by on a horse, a long post in one hand and reins in the other. At the end of the post was a severed, scruffy-faced human head covered in tattoos. The troublemaker from market.


    The knight shouted over the wailing citizens, “Let this be a warning to those of you that dare blaspheme the king! Long live the Odsbys!”


    Landyn’s face fell as if bewildered by the atrocity. His shoulders stiffened, and he appeared frozen in thought for a moment before turning away and heading towards his chair.


    I had to find Taryn. The streets were never any place for a child, especially not during the knight’s brutal display.


    I was only a breath away from telling my customer his visit would have to be cut short when my hands were grabbed forcefully from behind. Landyn pulled me against him.


    “Hey!” I shouted, the heat and scent of his body devouring me. Sandalwood and pine and warm skin. My hands were bound tightly with rope as I kicked forward and back, his long legs dodging each blow rhythmically as if he abducted women every day. Maybe he did. Maybe I was about to be auctioned off.


    “Sorry, love. With all the commotion in the street, this was the perfect opportunity. I figured you’d be a screamer, too,” he whispered against my ear as he tied a strip of cloth over my mouth, gagging me and silencing the shriek climbing my throat.


    Opportunity for what? Panic flooded me, my heart pounding in my ears. My world went dark, and he clasped one mighty arm over my chest, holding me tight against him as the cloth over my lips absorbed my cry.


    “Let’s see what else you can do blindfolded.”