As she studied the instructions for cooking fish, using the book to guide her, Serena heard the sound of falling rain. Oh no. She moved closer to the fire, praying it would stop before she had to venture out with the food.
But the weather only worsened. Serena looked down at her hands, and wrinkled her nose at the fish smell. On impulse, she held them out in the rain to cleanse them. It had grown warmer, thankfully, and the water felt good against her fingertips.
The fish needed a few more minutes before it was done, and as she stared out at the falling rain, a strange impulse came over her. As if she were under a spell, Serena took one step, then another, until she stood in the rain, letting the water spill over her.
It was something she’d never been allowed to do. And though she’d regret it later, right now, she wanted to feel the immense freedom of doing something foolish.
The rain soaked through her gown, wetting her hair against her neck. She closed her eyes, lifting her head back, and smiling to herself.
“Have you gone mad?” a voice demanded. Serena opened her eyes. At first instinct, she nearly darted back into the outdoor kitchen. But then, what could the prince do to her?
“I believe I have.” She walked forward, along the cobbled path, until she saw an enormous puddle. With her foot, she stomped within it, sending a splash of water upwards. “I always wanted to do that,” she laughed aloud, wondering what had come over her. “Even as a child I couldn’t step in puddles.”
“You’ve ruined your gown,” he said.
“I don’t care.” She held out her hands, as if she could embrace the rain. The feeling of breaking the rules, of doing something inappropriate, left her feeling wild. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
“It’s wet.” He stepped beneath the shelter of the kitchen, his own hair dripping from the rain. “And you should come inside.”
Rebellion swelled inside her, and she let the rain soak through her tangled hair. “I don’t want to.”
For a few more moments, she reveled in the storm, well aware that he was watching her. And that he didn’t approve.
She stopped and watched him, never minding the water pooling over her skin. “Haven’t you ever wanted to do anything foolish in your life?”
He shook his head. “It’s not the sort of man I am.” With that, he retreated back into the abbey ruins.
After their meal, Serena stood by the fire in the Great Hall, drying her hair. Although rain fell through sections of the broken roof, the area by the hearth remained dry.
Karl pushed his plate aside, unable to take his eyes off her. He’d expected her to cry or complain about having to do everything alone; instead, she’d reveled in her freedom.
He’d expected her cooking to be disastrous, but once again she’d proved him wrong. The fish had been perfectly seasoned and cooked tender, after she’d diligently followed the instructions in the cook book. His princess, it seemed, was more resourceful than he’d expected. It worried him, for he’d counted on her surrender.
Against the firelight, the wet gown outlined every inch of her corsetless form. He could see the rise of her nipples, and theslender dip of her waist. She had closed her eyes, as if she could absorb the heat from the fire into herself.
“Are you regretting your dance in the rain?” he mused, standing from the table and dodging water that poured from the leaking roof, forming puddles on the floor.
“No.” She stretched and let out a sigh. “I may be wet and cold now, but I enjoyed every moment of it. I suppose I should go and check the laundry pot. Your shirt and my cloak will be clean by now, if I haven’t cooked them.”
He crossed the hall, noticing the weariness on her face. Not a single complaint had she voiced, but the evidence of the grueling day lay within her green eyes. When she left, he sat back and stared at the stone walls. She had succeeded living amid the hardships better than he’d ever imagined.
A quarter of an hour passed, and when she entered the Hall at last, her face looked worried. “There was…a problem with your shirt.”
“Did it shrink?”
“No.” She bit her lip, as if she didn’t know how to tell him what had happened. With a dismissive shake of her head, she explained, “It’s very wet, and I couldn’t wring it out well. I hung it to dry in the kitchen. I hope you don’t mind.” She glanced downward as if expecting him to get angry. He thought of the bruises on her throat and the way she was shielding herself now.
“I won’t need it while I’m sleeping,” he said. “In the morning will be fine.” She seemed relieved to hear it. “You could find one of the priest’s shirts, if you’re cold.”
“I never get cold.” He crossed his arms over his bare chest, and noted how her gaze was fixed upon him. “But I imagine you are, in that wet gown.”
Her face softened into a smile. “I enjoyed myself.”
“It was foolish.”
“Do you not know how to have any fun?” she countered. “Or were you always this serious?”
“I had fun as a boy, but there’s no place for it as a prince. Duty matters most.”
