Arrows of Time - Kim Falconer [77]
Jarrod followed her lead, loosening his shoulders and lifting his face, his expression light and pleasant. She did the same. ‘Where are we going next?’ he asked, keeping his voice cheery.
‘To the market streets.’
‘Something we need to acquire?’
‘You could say that.’ She waved and called out a greeting to several women as they passed. Jarrod shot her a quick look. The smile transformed her face—she became strikingly beautiful.
‘You’re a stunning woman,’ he said, before turning his eyes forward again.
She kept her face light, but her voice was stern.
‘I meant pretend you didn’t have a care, not actually be that way.’
‘Is there a difference?’
She turned to him. ‘Between pretending and being? Of course there is.’
‘If you say so, but you become what you pretend to be.’ Jarrod shrugged. ‘Selene, can you tell me what’s going on?’ He said the words frivolously, as if discussing the best vendor for spicy fruit rolls.
‘Things aren’t what they seem,’ she said as they turned down a busy thoroughfare.
He laughed at that. ‘Things haven’t been what they seem since I stepped out of my hardware.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Only that they haven’t been what they seem for quite some time.’
He brushed against her shoulder as a cluster of pedestrians forced them together. She didn’t move away when the group passed. The contact thrilled him; the rush of energy was like fire in his veins. ‘Where to now?’ he asked, his palms sweating. They had come to an open square and it took discipline not to scan the surroundings. He suddenly felt vulnerable. It was a curious sensation.
She smiled at him, projecting her voice. ‘I need to buy some beetroots and check on the horses. Will you join me? I’d love your opinion.’
‘On beetroots?’
She chuckled, pulling his sleeve as they dodged an oncoming oxcart. ‘On the horses, silly one.’
‘We have horses?’ he whispered, his hand cupping his mouth.
She ignored the question, continuing to chat in her lightest tone. ‘Your gelding’s thrown a shoe, again, remember? I’m thinking he needs toe-clips this time.’
‘How did you know I was a blacksmith?’ He leaned in close as he spoke, brushing his lips across her ear.
‘Didn’t,’ she whispered back. ‘But I was hoping.’ She grabbed his arm and stopped to face him. The intensity of her eyes was startling. His head automatically pulled back as if blasted by a floodlight. When he relaxed, she kissed him. It was unexpected, and quick as a new lover might kiss, more a question than a statement. Her eyes searched his face for a moment after, then she hurried on across the square. He touched his lips, the sensations lingering. She was headed down the street, and he ran to catch up.
She didn’t look up when he was shoulder to shoulder again. His heart was pounding double time. He wondered if her actions were part of the act or something else. His curiosity rose further. There was nothing to do but play along, and he didn’t mind in the least. ‘The gelding will need a toe-clip, I think, if we plan on crossing rugged terrain,’ he said, continuing the conversation.
She didn’t respond.
‘Will it be rugged, Selene?’
‘Partially.’
‘In that case, a toe-clip—possibly two.’
‘I’m glad you think so,’ she said.
Jarrod made sure his face did not look as confused as he felt. She guided him through a maze of streets, passing by fruit markets, vegetable stands and colourful clothing stalls. At a stock feed vendor’s stall, she purchased a sack of grain and compressed hay, and a bag of beet pulp.
Jarrod grabbed the burlap sack and hoisted it over his shoulder. ‘This is more than a few beetroots,’ he said, shifting the weight of the sack.
She smiled at him for a moment and shrugged. It was a casual gesture, one that made her bodice strap slip off her shoulder to reveal smooth freckly skin. ‘So it is.’ She led him to other stalls, buying more supplies—flat bread, dried fruits, seeds and nuts, and several new waterskins. After leaving the market area, they turned down a narrowing side street and entered a large, two-storey horse barn.
‘We’re off on a bit of a journey?