And when he did forget and let them linger, he always woke on the edge
of the mattress with his back turned.
The difference was, he supposed, that back home he had
already got what he wanted from those women. That was far from the case with
Eloise. Not, he reminded himself, that there was any chance of swiving anyone
until he was back in Ystria, so he had better grin and bear the situation.
He was glad for the hard work. It helped take his mind off
his body’s demands. When Eloise’s feet were healed and they took leave of Ruda
and set off on the road, he was equally grateful for the long miles.
The traveling was not as bad as Severin had feared. The girl
didn’t complain, no matter how far they walked in a day or how little they had
to eat. She threw herself with determination into the work they did to earn
their keep at farmsteads, whether it was mucking out pigs or wringing laundry.
She was admirably stoic, he thought, surprised. He kept expecting her pride to
rankle at his command, or her courage to fail at what was demanded of her. She
was an earl’s daughter, after all, and he was only a baron. She should by
rights throw some sort of temper tantrum at some point.
But she didn’t. It wasn’t for lack of spirit; he sometimes
saw the exhaustion or frustration or fear burning in her eyes. But always she
bit down on it grimly and kept going. He rather admired that. It took courage.
She let him take the lead. When she did question him—and she
did, often—it was to understand his intentions better, with the presumption
that she had something to learn from him. She had cast herself instantly in the
role of eager pupil to his teacher, and that was something he liked too. He was
a man who throve upon responsibility. He had to laugh at himself then,
realizing that a naïve girl had instinctively managed to undermine all his
bitter defenses.
They were crossing a marshy patch in a river-valley when he
discovered just how crumbled his fortifications were. From behind a patch of
willow two swans flew low overhead, white wings beating, with a noise like the
thrumming of a windmill’s sails. Eloise turned to him then with a smile so
guileless and joyful that without thinking he responded with one of his own. He
clamped down on it in a moment, but he was too late. Through that chink in his
armor her smile flew to burst warmly in his heart.
Severin stopped in his tracks then, unable to walk for a
moment. His stomach lurched. Eloise walked on ahead, unaware of the effect
she’d had.
Oh no no no! he told himself, horrified but utterly
in vain. Not now, after all these years. Not now, and not her . Not
the King’s betrothed!
Chapter Three
Another farmstead, another night after a long day’s work.
They were bedded down in the common hall with the other servants, on straw
pallets laid behind the benches, and that night Eloise found it impossible to
sleep despite her exhaustion. Maybe it was the aching in her feet and
shoulders, or maybe the intrusive sounds of those others nearby. Someone was
snoring. One couple was taking advantage of the dark to get some swiving in—she
could hear a muted rustling, a rhythmic grunting coming from farther down the
room. It made her feel strangely restless and lonely.
She had Severin there at her back, of course. He never left
her on her own after the candles were blown out, for fear of what some bored
and horny laborer might attempt on her. He was lying silently, his back to
hers, a warm hard wall of protection. She wondered if he was still awake. His
breathing was inaudible. She wondered if he could hear those soft giggles and
gasps of desire and—if he could—what he thought of them.
Her body roiled inwardly. A familiar itch licked between her
legs. Her eyes burned in her head, but she couldn’t sleep.
She knew what she needed, of course. At home in her old room
all she would have to do was finger herself to a solitary climax and then slide
down the afterwash into sleep. But
of the mattress with his back turned.
The difference was, he supposed, that back home he had
already got what he wanted from those women. That was far from the case with
Eloise. Not, he reminded himself, that there was any chance of swiving anyone
until he was back in Ystria, so he had better grin and bear the situation.
He was glad for the hard work. It helped take his mind off
his body’s demands. When Eloise’s feet were healed and they took leave of Ruda
and set off on the road, he was equally grateful for the long miles.
The traveling was not as bad as Severin had feared. The girl
didn’t complain, no matter how far they walked in a day or how little they had
to eat. She threw herself with determination into the work they did to earn
their keep at farmsteads, whether it was mucking out pigs or wringing laundry.
She was admirably stoic, he thought, surprised. He kept expecting her pride to
rankle at his command, or her courage to fail at what was demanded of her. She
was an earl’s daughter, after all, and he was only a baron. She should by
rights throw some sort of temper tantrum at some point.
But she didn’t. It wasn’t for lack of spirit; he sometimes
saw the exhaustion or frustration or fear burning in her eyes. But always she
bit down on it grimly and kept going. He rather admired that. It took courage.
She let him take the lead. When she did question him—and she
did, often—it was to understand his intentions better, with the presumption
that she had something to learn from him. She had cast herself instantly in the
role of eager pupil to his teacher, and that was something he liked too. He was
a man who throve upon responsibility. He had to laugh at himself then,
realizing that a naïve girl had instinctively managed to undermine all his
bitter defenses.
They were crossing a marshy patch in a river-valley when he
discovered just how crumbled his fortifications were. From behind a patch of
willow two swans flew low overhead, white wings beating, with a noise like the
thrumming of a windmill’s sails. Eloise turned to him then with a smile so
guileless and joyful that without thinking he responded with one of his own. He
clamped down on it in a moment, but he was too late. Through that chink in his
armor her smile flew to burst warmly in his heart.
Severin stopped in his tracks then, unable to walk for a
moment. His stomach lurched. Eloise walked on ahead, unaware of the effect
she’d had.
Oh no no no! he told himself, horrified but utterly
in vain. Not now, after all these years. Not now, and not her . Not
the King’s betrothed!
Chapter Three
Another farmstead, another night after a long day’s work.
They were bedded down in the common hall with the other servants, on straw
pallets laid behind the benches, and that night Eloise found it impossible to
sleep despite her exhaustion. Maybe it was the aching in her feet and
shoulders, or maybe the intrusive sounds of those others nearby. Someone was
snoring. One couple was taking advantage of the dark to get some swiving in—she
could hear a muted rustling, a rhythmic grunting coming from farther down the
room. It made her feel strangely restless and lonely.
She had Severin there at her back, of course. He never left
her on her own after the candles were blown out, for fear of what some bored
and horny laborer might attempt on her. He was lying silently, his back to
hers, a warm hard wall of protection. She wondered if he was still awake. His
breathing was inaudible. She wondered if he could hear those soft giggles and
gasps of desire and—if he could—what he thought of them.
Her body roiled inwardly. A familiar itch licked between her
legs. Her eyes burned in her head, but she couldn’t sleep.
She knew what she needed, of course. At home in her old room
all she would have to do was finger herself to a solitary climax and then slide
down the afterwash into sleep. But
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