A muffled noise that might have been shocked laughter emanated from the room behind him. The guard — the same guard, in fact — guided him not to the tower Summer had immured herself in before, but to a fantastic, glass room built out into the castle courtyard. Despite the season, it was pleasantly warm, and filled with flourishing greenery.
Summer was ensconced near the centre of the room, red dress flowing about her. A little girl knelt near her feet, chattering happily and sharing a plateful of finger foods with her. Her face was still marked with the melancholy of the past months, but even as Isaac entered the room, sunlight poured through the glass and lit up her face.
Sir Isaac bid the guard a kind farewell, too otherwise captivated by the journey to the new room, and then the even more beautiful sight of his wife-to-be, gazing in adoration at her. She was wonderful with children, and he was eager to give her some of her own to care for and raise as a family together, but they had to be married first.
Allowing her a moment longer with the child, he finally announced his presence by stepping in through the doorway and striding across the room, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead.
Summer’s gaze immediately snapped to him, the melancholy instantly erased by a smile. When he kissed her on the forehead, the little girl jumped up and tugged on his arm, pulling him down to whisper in his ear, “She doesn’t like that. Don’t do that.”
Then she gave him an urchin’s grin and shot off like a bolt. Summer watched her go with a softer, fond smile. “Sarai is the head cook’s middle daughter. They’ve all been very concerned about my health of late.”
