Ever since he and every other man, woman, child, and beast alike had heard the strange shout come from the mountain peak a month earlier, Bishop had been on edge. Absently, Bishop cast his eyes up to the Throat of the World, the towering mountain that loomed over Whiterun Hold. The wolf fell into step beside Bishop as they headed west out of town. Karnwyr was waiting for Bishop patiently outside the inn as if he knew his companion was on his way. He didn’t answer but grinned at her before going out the door into the icy morning. I didn’t know until this morning.”Īs he made his way to the door, Lynly narrowed her eyes at him, “if she’d told you last night, would you still be slinking out of here now?” Lynly frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but Bishop waved a hand, “relax. She nodded towards the door, “will your lady friend be joining you on your hunt?”īishop shook his head as he pulled on his boots, “I very much doubt it. “Just a little friendly honesty,” Lynly said, a genuine smile on her face now. “Have I done something to annoy you especially, Lynly, or are you just feeling particularly feisty this morning?” Bishop teased. The only difference is that Karnwyr is housetrained.”
She was shaking her head, a little smile on her lips, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you and he were littermates, born to the same she-wolf. Wouldn’t come in with me last night, so I assume he had business elsewhere. “Speaking of which,” Lynly said, glancing around, “where’s your wolf?”īishop shrugged, “he’s around. Would you like some breakfast before you begin your daily walk of shame?”īishop laughed, “who’s ashamed? No thanks, songstress, I’ll be hunting today.” He leaned on the counter and gave her a wolfish smile, “jealous?” Lynly snorted, “you’re one to talk, Bishop.” “Just thinking about how fickle women are,” he said with a smirk. Lynly, who had risen early to bake bread for the day, caught his eye from behind the counter and raised a curious eyebrow. He shut the door behind him, chuckling to himself. “Right,” said Bishop as he left the room, “I’ll get on that.” “Snowberries, please,” she said, sounding as though she were drifting off again. “What a lucky man,” Bishop said dryly as he opened the door, no longer concerned with stealth. “Mhm,” she rolled over and covered her head with the blanket, “he’s a bard. “Mmm, I’m to be married today,” she muttered, “fetch me snowberries for my hair, will you?”īishop raised his eyebrows, “married, hm?” The woman murmured something suddenly and Bishop froze, his hand on the brass door handle. He pulled on the rest of his clothes and gathered up his gear and his boots, then moved on silent feet to the door. She wasn’t quite as ravishing as she’d seemed a few hours before, but she was pretty, in that provincial, peasant girl kind of way. Had she told him her name? He couldn’t remember. He looked down at her as he retrieved his pants from the floor and pulled them on. He moved quietly as he searched for his clothes in the dim candlelight, careful not to wake the woman who slept soundly in the bed. It was still dark when Bishop rose the next morning. “It’s so cold outside, Ranger,” she purred as she traced his lips with her fingertips, “why don’t you come to my room? I’ll keep you warm tonight.”īishop caught one of her fingers gently between his teeth and grinned at her sharp intake of breath. He realized the dark haired woman had stopped talking and was now gazing at him with an unmistakable hunger in her eyes. He tilted his head, trying to pick up more of their conversation, but was distracted by slender fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. Bishop overheard the words “legend” and “dragons”. He was accustomed to sleeping in the woods, beneath the stars, and in the elements…but sometimes a soft bed and a warm body were a nice respite.Īt the counter, a local man by the name of Rowan was talking animatedly with Johan, the innkeeper of Vilemyr Inn.
She had paid for his dinner and drinks, and he knew from the way she’d found any excuse to touch him from the moment she’d sat down beside him, that she’d be sharing her bed with him tonight as well. Bishop had to admit, however, that he quite liked the sensation of her silky hair against his bare forearm and her scent had drawn him to her from the moment he’d walked into the tavern, more intoxicating than the cheap ale he’d been drinking all night. He grunted now and then in acknowledgment, but he had the feeling that he could fall asleep right there on the bench and she would go on talking anyway. Bishop gazed drowsily into his tankard of ale, only half listening to the raven-haired woman beside him as she recounted an adventure from her youth.
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