The Toll
Authors: Jeanette Lynn
Tags: #romance, #love, #adult, #fantasy, #paranormal, #magic, #dark fantasy, #trolls, #bbw, #curvaceous women
The Toll
By
Jeanette Lynn
Smashwords
Edition
***
Published By:
Jeanette Lynn
on Smashwords
The Toll
Copyright 2015
Jeanette Lynn
Smashwords
Edition,
License Notes
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Thank you for your support and respect
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This book is a work of fiction and any
resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or
locales, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of
the author's imagination and used fictitiously.
The author acknowledges the trademarked
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mentioned in this book
***
Table of
Contents
Pining Isn’t Only For Lowly
Sap
The Bridge Over Kellerman’s
Pond
Warning: Please Read Before
You Proceed
This book contains sexually explicit material, foul language,
and some subjects of questionable nature, which may make some
uncomfortable—such as rape, suicide, and violence—intended for
readers 18 and older.
****
The Toll
No Good Deed
The sun was setting, the crickets
having started up their little song not long ago. I got up from my
comfortable spot in the field, plucking up my basket as I
went.
“
Don’t go yet.” Trystan’s
hand came up and snagged mine, tugging me back down to
him.
With only a small, token protest, I
let him reel me back in, his thick arms wrapping around me
comfortingly, solid and warm, giving me a quick, affectionate
embrace.
Trying hard to keep within
proprieties boundaries—
just in case
someone might stumble across us
—we didn’t
let it linger longer than seen as proper. Not that it would be seen
as proper at all, but it was a compromise we could both agree
on.
It was bad enough I’d let him kiss me
the other day, and in the middle of an open field out in broad
daylight, no less. We didn’t wish to tempt fate any further,
risking the plans we’d made together, staining his reputation, as
well as mine, as far as the community was concerned.
“
I have to go.” Tugging
away from him, I giggled when he pulled me towards him by the back
of my dress and kissed me one last time, plastering his lips to
mine. It wasn’t proper at all, but temptation was calling,
battering at my door, and I gave in.
His lips were soft and thick against
mine, the taste of the mint he liked to chew still fresh on his
breath.
“
I’m going to ask him
tomorrow,” Trystan said easily, tracing my lower lip with his index
finger longingly as he eventually pulled back.
I smiled slowly, my bowed lips
creasing teasingly, blue eyes peeking up at him as I shook out the
skirts of my gown.
“
Oh?” My voice implied I
understood, maybe a little
too
well, just a hint of disbelief bleeding out to
catch his notice.
And notice it he did.
My smile went crooked, kicking up at
just the one corner at the sharp look on his face.
Clearing my throat, as if unaffected,
I ran my fingers over my hair, meticulously tracing along the thick
orangey-red lengths pulled back into the prim bun I’d put it up in
this morning, making sure it was still intact. It was, and,
satisfied with its state, I gave it a quick pat before I dropped my
hands.
Trystan nodded, opting to ignore my
hinted sarcasm at hearing him say the same exact thing for the
umpteenth time since we’d begun our secret courtship.
“
I am,” he promised, and I
gave him a speculative once over. He caught it and stood up taller,
chest puffed out as my perusal went from skeptical to appreciative
in two seconds flat.
His lips pulled back and he chuckled,
grinning knowingly when I flushed and my eyes danced away, his dark
brown eyes alight.
“
Yes,” Trystan stated
confidently, “and when he says yes, you owe me a kiss.”
“
So bold, sir. Are you sure
he’ll even let me accept?”
“
He will. And maybe I’ll
steal another. Or two…”
Cocky, but adorable. I loved this side
of him—the confidence I saw blooming in him daily.
Maybe it had to do with him
being with me
—always being told how
wonderful I think he is giving him a tiny bit of a puffed up ego,
like a peacock
—or maybe it was just
him—
something he’d always naturally
possessed that I hadn’t noticed before
.
Either way, I enjoyed it.
He winked when I snorted at him, my
grin matching his.
A kiss, then, he says?
Okay. I can do that.
The thought brought
little excited flutters to my stomach. I wasn’t going to deny him
that. Trystan was, after all, quite the talented kisser. Not that
I’d had much experience at it, but I enjoyed his attentions, all
the same.
He straightened his own clothes out,
noting the darkening sky, picking the odd bit of stray grass or
greenery off his otherwise pristine grey shirt and dark brown
trousers. Readjusting the ties to his billowing grey garment, he
put his black vest back on and shoved his wide brimmed hat down on
his head.
I almost mourned the loss of all those
tousled onyx locks, itching to yank the hat back off and shove my
fingers through the short, tangled mass.
“
Hmm… I wonder…” I teased,
already managing to put several feet of distance between us,
standing up on tip toe as I prepared, anticipation flitting about
inside me.
His eyes darted towards me, and his
hat—as if willed to do my bidding—fell off. Black, full head of
hair bobbing up in his wake, flapping heavily into his eyes from
his currently bent over position, he finished buttoning his last
button.
“
What’s that?” From the
leery expression on his face, I knew he knew I was up to
something.
I held back a mischievous grin, but
barely. “I wonder… how do you get anything done at all around here
if you’re spending all your time in the fields in the evenings...
fooling around?”
“
Fooling,” he barked on a
startled laugh, incredulous. “Is that what we’ve been doing, then?
Fooling?” Smile dipping, his hands sat heavily on his hips as he
cocked a questioning brow.
My grin was cheeky, and maybe a bit
cocksure, but I let it loose.
He knew what I’d
meant—
the tease.
The mirth in his voice confirmed it when he tried to say
something but could no longer contain his chuckle.
“
Yes.” I nodded, a loose
wisp of hair falling over my eye. “With me.”
He paused and stood up taller,
towering in his height, a stern expression on his face.
“
Why, milady,” he huffed,
his thick face bunching up as he scowled down at me in mock
consternation, “and to what, exactly, are you implying?”
I grinned, lips pulling back so wide I
thought my cheeks might split. His black look might have scared
other women, but not me.
Trystan wasn’t the finest
looking man in the village—in fact, he wouldn’t even make it to the
top ten,
or even
twenty—
but he was a good man. He was sweet
and genuinely likeable, and best of all, he liked me just as I am.
He’s
my
good
man.
Tall, he was, towering over me by
quite a bit, intimidating the other ladies beyond reason, but I
rather liked it. He was thick, my Trystan, maybe a little thicker
than most of the strapping young men his age, but not all, and he
had a thick thatch of jet black hair atop his head that stuck up at
wild angles—untamable. I liked to run my fingers through it on
evenings like this, the both of us teasing and laughing together in
the field freely, lazily laying in the tall grass that shaded us
from others.
