Once Upon a Castle - Jill Gregory [122]
“I wonder how Trev has fared at his labors,” he remarked to Brand as they dismounted.
The rebel leader glanced at him. “You seem much taken with the lad. That’s the third time you’ve mentioned him this day.”
Cador was grateful that the lurid sunset hid his flush. “It’s only that I feel guilty for saddling him with the women’s chores so long, when I didn’t intend for it to go more than a day or two: I’m sure they’ve worked him long and hard. And the brawl was mainly Nidd’s doing.”
His intention had been only to hasten the moment that the princess would confide her identity to him. He had been certain that she would crumble under the unaccustomed work and reveal the truth rather than continue at such menial chores. Perhaps she’d found some ruse to get out of them. She was a most resourceful young woman.
And, underneath the dirt and unkempt garments, a very pretty one.
Cador pushed the unwelcome thought out of his mind. Under the circumstances, he couldn’t afford any entanglements. But his thoughts had been full of her during the long nights away from camp. Yes, dirty and disheveled as she was, she had managed to get under his skin.
He made a point not to look for Tressalara until after he had taken his evening meal and the campfires burned low. He didn’t refuse when Brand pulled out a bottle of the best Kildoran brandy, which he’d bought as a surprise on their travels. Finally, when he could put it off no longer, Cador decided it was time to turn in.
Pulling the curtained opening aside, he had to admit to a good deal of anticipation at seeing the princess. The tent was dark. She must have retired early. Sparking a flint, he touched it to the lantern that hung from the center pole. Everything was in good military order, polished till it shone, and in its proper place.
Except for Tressalara. Frowning, Cador set out to find her. One of the women walked past the tent as he was exiting. “Where is young Trev? Playing the truant?”
“Not that one! More likely worked to death, the way Kegi has kept the lad hopping from morn till midnight.”
“The devil you say!”
“You might find him down at the river. He usually bathes after his chores, although the other lads tease him for it.”
Thanking the woman, Cador set off toward the river in the rapidly failing light. He would talk to Kegi later.
There was no sound except the pleasant rushing of water over the rocks upstream, and the sigh of a gentle wind through the treetops. Overhead, a silvery moon sailed on a cloud-tossed sea. Cador stepped down to the edge of the river, where the mossy ground was soft underfoot, muffling his footsteps. There was no sign of the errant princess.
Then his eyes adjusted to the deeper gloom of the heavy tree cover. A pale form glided beneath the moon-spangled waters, like a mermaid from some ancient legend. Then the sleek shape broke the surface, and he saw Tressalara, her bare shoulders white as pearl beneath the velvety cloak of her wet hair. His pulse quickened.
She tipped back her head to wring the water from her hair and began to plait it. Her arms were graceful, her hands quick and sure. Thoughts of water nymphs and magic spells drifted through Cador’s head. He was bewitched by her beauty, unable to move as she finished her task and splashed toward the shallows.
With great effort he wrenched himself free of her enchantment just in time to step into the blacker shadows of an ancient pine and avoid being seen. He was still standing there when she finished dressing and came around the clump of trees. Her disreputable cap was pulled down over her hair, but the clothes clung to her damp body, showing its lush curves.
Cador wondered how he had ever thought, even for a single moment, that she was a boy. Too many years on the run, he thought wryly. Too many years spent planning his revenge and trying to forget the pain of his losses, his needs as a man. His terrible and abiding loneliness. The pain, the need, the loneliness melded into a desire so urgent it overruled his iron will.
He stepped out into her path.