Simple Missteps
Chapter Six
Lillian K. Rockmore

She was alone when she awoke, the shadow of the setting sun casting the chamber into darkness. Instinctively, Tiara rolled onto Scott's side of the bed, sighing as his scent enfolded her in its musk. She stretched pleasurably, only wincing slightly when her sore muscles twitched in retribution. The memory of how she'd become sore made heat suffuse across her cheeks.

She impishly frolicked on the bed for a while, clasping the pillows to her chest with a medley of sighs. She’d begun to accept it – love was blossoming in her heart. She loved Scott, more than she loved any other being in the world. The man might be a brute – a charming one at that – but her love was unconditional, stemming from the time that they’d spent together. And now, they’d created a life, a combination of him and herself. She sighed as she rolled out of bed, deciding that she should probably start dressing for supper.

It was nearly ten minutes later when she slinked out the door, her footfalls echoing hollowly through the large castle. The servants had not bothered to light a taper anywhere down the halls, and so Tiara had to make do with whatever light that filtered inside from the dusk-cast sky.

The floorboards creaked under her weight as she followed a vague glow in the distance, possibly one from a fire. She never knew what Scott did at this time of the day, for she'd never spent much time with him after their ritual noontime fun. Tiara quickened her pace toward the light, thinking to give him a surprise by appearing in his ‘secret room’. Her hands reached out to close over the knob on the door just as a loud creak emanated from the plank under her. She let out a rather unladylike curse, knowing that her elfin plans had been ruined.

"Come in, princess," she heard him call. Heaving a deflated sigh, she pushed the door open and stepped in.

The chamber was a beauty. Tiara stood rooted to the spot at the unexpected richness of decor of the room. Long, red, satin curtains adorned the large windows and plush velvet carpets lined the floors. The walls were decked with what could only be pinewood shelves, the thickness of the wood similar to the desk that Scott sat behind. A soft fire kindled in the background, giving the room a rather inviting glow.

The thing that dominated the room, however, was the exquisiteness of the painting that hung above the mantel of the fireplace. It portrayed a young family – an adoring husband, a comely wife and two young sons. Tiara started when she recognized Scott's youth-etched features on the painting.

"This is your family?" she asked, moving closer to it.

"Was," he corrected her softly. Tiara wondered how one word could convey so much hurt and loss.

"You've never told me much