“Here.” He handed her a cup of wine and the bread, not entirely certain how old it was. While she ate and drank, he turned his attention to her feet, lifting the hem of her gown to her ankles.
She froze at the touch of his hands and pulled her feet away. “You needn’t bother. They’ll be fine in the morning.”
He ignored her and dipped a cloth in the water, washing away the dried blood from her ankle. She gave a slight gasp at the cold water, but held still. Her feet were dirty, and when he started to wash them, she winced.
“I’m sorry,” she managed. “It tickled.” She reached for the cloth from him, but he wouldn’t relinquish it yet. Instead, he rested her bare foot upon his knee and washed the top of her foot and ankle, moving down to the sole. Her feet were delicate and bruised, the ankles reddened from where her captors had bound her.
She stared at him in silence, as if she couldn’t understand why he was doing this.
“It was my fault they took you,” he said quietly. His hands moved over her other foot, washing the dirt away, and he felt the rise of goosebumps over her skin. “I won’t let it happen again.”
She acknowledged his promise with a nod and said, “I’ve stayed here too long. It’s not safe, and I need to leave in the morning.”
“Not yet. We have our wager to finish.” He handed her the shoes he’d borrowed. They were too large, but she put them on without complaint.
“Karl, I don’t think—”
“You gave your word. Just as I gave mine,” he reminded her. “One more day, and at the end of it, you’ll wed me. Or I’ll take you away myself.”
Her gaze turned serious, and she tucked her feet beneath her skirts. “I never know what to expect from you.” She gripped her hands together, adding, “You’re not like the other princes I’ve met.”
“Spoiled and arrogant?”
“Not spoiled. But arrogant, sometimes.” From her tone it almost sounded like a compliment. “And ruthless.”
Karl reached out to touch the curve of her cheek. He let his hand rest upon her face, staring into her green eyes. “When I decide I want something, I don’t stop until it’s mine.”
Her lips parted and she moved her hand on top of his. “I can’t be yours,” she whispered.
“Can’t you?” He lowered her hand and dipped his cloth in the water again. Her wrist was abraded from the ropes, and he washed it gently. “Or are you too afraid of the way I make you feel?”
“I don’t feel anything,” she insisted.
“Liar,” He drew his hands to her shoulders, sliding them over her sensitive arms. In the faded light, she allured him with her emerald eyes and her soft lips. “You weren’t pushing me away when I kissed you last night.”
She lowered her gaze, guilt flushing her cheeks. As a distraction, she poured wine into the cup and passed it to him. “You didn’t eat or drink tonight either, did you?”
“Between finding Father Durin, hiring men, and rescuing you?” He lifted the cup and drank from it. “No.”
She tore off a piece of bread and handed it to him. He ate, studying her in the light. Her blonde hair had fallen around her cheeks, the tousled locks making her look as if she’d just awakened from sleep.
“I caused a lot of trouble by leaving the palace, didn’t I?” She stared into the fire, her face disconsolate.
“Marry me, and I’ll take you home,” he said. “I imagine your father would be grateful to see you safe again.”
Immediately, she shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Why? Surely your family would be glad to have you home safely.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “The night you helped me unlace my corset,” she whispered, “I know you saw the bruises.”
He gave a slight nod. “And you wouldn’t tell me who was responsible.”
Her gaze grew distant. “Just after Christmas, he broke my ribs. Because I dared to give him a chess set made of silver instead of gold. Though he thanked me in front of my mother and sister, he punished me later. I never told them.”
A sickening suspicion made the room seem colder. “Who punished you, Serena?”
She stared into the flames. “The king.”
