Lion's Bride - Iris Johansen [45]
“It should not. Laughter is good.” He gestured to the men below. “They lost family and friends. Do you think they no longer remember their loss because they found something to laugh about today? Laughter heals.” He added almost inaudibly, “I had forgotten….”
She stared at him in fascination. He was a different man from the one she had come to know. The lines of bitterness and cynicism had smoothed from his face, leaving only weariness and a little wistfulness. The softness wouldn’t stay; it was already changing. But she had seen it, she had shared his laughter, and she knew she would always remember.
His gaze shifted back to her face, and any hint of softness vanished. “Why do you always stare at me as if I were some odd breed of camel?”
She was immediately on the defensive. “I don’t stare—” She stopped as she abruptly realized that antagonism was what he wanted of her. Why should she give him that satisfaction when she was feeling more mellow than combative? “In truth you do remind me of a camel. It is the eyelashes, I think.”
He frowned. “Eyelashes?”
“Camels have long eyelashes too. Many women would envy them.”
His eyes widened with outrage before his expression became even more forbidding. “Are you saying I have eyelashes like a woman?”
“Woman?” She gazed at him with bland innocence. “I thought we were speaking of camels.”
“You know very well—” He broke off and a grudging smile touched his lips. “I begin to feel sorry for Nicholas.”
“And you’re also as bad-tempered as a camel.” She pretended to think. “Though I’ve never seen you spit at anyone.”
“I may start any minute.”
“Then I’d better go down and help pick my leaves.” She started down the incline. “Your soldiers don’t seem to be very good at it.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I think you should train them in—” She forgot what she had been going to say when she saw how he was looking at her. Warmth. Amusement. Respect. From Ware such emotions were far more incomprehensible and disconcerting than lust or anger. She hurriedly glanced away and her pace quickened.
An hour later the baskets were filled and loaded in the wagon, and Thea climbed back to Ware.
“We’re finished,” she said. “Though not with any help from you.”
“A knight should never compromise his dignity. My men would never respect me again if they saw me tumbling from a tree.”
She made a derogatory noise.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I think you have too much pride. But we’ve prevailed without you. We can leave now.”
“Not yet.”
“We have more than enough leaves.”
“Did you find any young trees suitable for replanting?”
She stared at him, puzzled. “I suppose there were three or four. I paid little attention.”
“Get them.” He motioned to Abdul, who was standing by the wagon. “Go with her and obey her instructions.”
Abdul looked alarmed. “I thought we were done with climbing trees, my lord.”
“Digging, not climbing.”
A brilliant smile lit Abdul’s face. “That is good.”
“I don’t need any trees,” Thea protested. “They would have to be replanted immediately and would not be of any use for a few years.”
“I want the trees.”
“There’s no place to plant them at the castle.”
“The green on the north side overlooking the cliff.”
He had clearly thought about this, she realized. “But it would be wasted effort. I’ll be gone long before they even take firm root.”
“Silk is a profitable business. Perhaps I’ll have Jasmine tend the trees and grow silk for the trade.” He smiled. “If you’ll spare us some of your valuable worms?”
“Of course,” she said doubtfully. “And I’ll teach Jasmine how to care for them and gather the strands. You really wish this?”
“I really wish it. Perhaps someday I’ll grow weary of crunching heads and want a more peaceful occupation. It’s not completely beyond possib—” He broke off and went still.
“What is it?”
His head lifted, and his gaze turned to the rocks on the hill.
Danger. The threat vibrated from every muscle in his body. It could not have been clearer if he had spoken the word.
“What