“I haven’t.” She stood up and untied her cloak, folding it and setting it down near the entrance. The sudden look of shock on the prince’s face made it worthwhile.
“What in God’s name are you wearing?”
“My new dress.” She started to walk down the hill, but he caught her arm.
“If you haven’t noticed, it’s on backwards.”
Serena shrugged. “I’m well aware of that. But, as you pointed out, we’re going to live as commoners. And since there was no one to help me dress myself this morning, I did it as best I could.”
His expression was incredulous. “You’re not wearing a corset. And what you are wearing is indecent.”
“My cloak covers most of it. And how was I expected to put on a corset with no one to help?” she demanded. “Many of the poor women don’t wear them.”
She kept her tone even, not letting him see how embarrassed she was. He was right; the gown fitted too tightly, and if she forgot about her posture and kept her shoulders back, it revealed bits of her chemise.
“Put the cloak back on,” he ordered. “You cannot walk around in such a state of undress.” His iron gaze was arrogant and unyielding, but she saw the interest in his eyes.
“In a moment. The sun is warm and—”
Karl picked up her fallen cloak and strode forward. Without another word, he tied it around her neck, arranging it so it covered every inch of her gown. “I’ll return in a few hours. In themeantime, you should get better acquainted with the abbey and prepare our chambers. Unless you want to leave sooner than the three days.”
“Or unless you do,” she reminded him.
Though he behaved as if it didn’t bother him to live this way, she was convinced it was a façade. Karl was a man accustomed to issuing orders and living like a prince. She brightened, wondering if he would give up by the end of this night.
The prince ignored her remark. “Father Durin left the fortress in quite a state. I’ll expect it to be clean upon my return.”
From the look in his eyes, she fully expected that the priest had sabotaged the interior. But she was made of stronger stuff than anyone could imagine. “I’ll see you later,” she said. “Happy hunting.”
And when she continued down the pathway, she untied her red cloak again, letting it fall to the ground behind her.
Karl hadn’t managed to get a deer or rabbit, despite hunting for hours. His shirt was filthy from crawling around in the underbrush, and eventually he’d conceded defeat and bought fish from a local fisherman. It was better than returning empty-handed.
Outside, it was growing dark, and he wondered how he would find the princess when he returned. A heaviness hung in the air, like an impending rain. And he knew for a fact that Durin’s roof leaked, which would make the night uncomfortable.
He refused to feel any guilt over it. Serena would change her mind before the three days were up. After he made it clear that she would never again suffer from her father’s abuse, they would marry, and he could return to the life he’d known. Hewould claim the role of prince consort, helping Serena to govern Badenstein.
Though her father would want to interfere, once Karl wed her, there was little the king could do about it.
Karl brought the fish around to the back of the fortress. The kitchen was enclosed in a smaller stone building, farther away from the main Hall. The ruins had once been an abbey, made up of smaller enclosures and the large space. To his surprise, he smelled something…sweet?
He set the fish down upon a stone table and washed his hands, using a dipper of water. “Princess?” he called out. He searched inside the fortress but couldn’t find her in the large Hall or even upstairs.
Eventually, he found her within the priests’ quarters. She was seated near a bright fire, reading a book, and upon the hearth, he saw small biscuits baking. The fire cast a soft glow over her features, and her long blonde hair was pinned away from her face beneath her bonnet.
She’d discarded the red cloak again, and he was drawn to the curves revealed by the tight taffeta. She was slender, but her breasts strained against the fabric, tempting him with the hidden flesh.
“I brought a book of cooking receipts with me,” she said, holding up the bound volume. “And I made these from flour, sugar, and a little butter that I found.”
Wincing at his appearance, she remarked, “My, but your shirt looks as if you rolled in the dirt.”
Karl unbuttoned it and lifted it over his head, handing it to her. “Then you’ll have to wash it, won’t you?”
Her face grew pink at the prospect, but she pointed toward the table, gesturing for him to set it down. “How does one wash a shirt?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t your book tell you?”
Serena pursed her lips together. “Not quite. It has wonderful instructions on how to cook—everything from the herbs to use and how long to prepare the food. But I don’t think there’s anything about washing clothes.”
