“You speak of honor as if you were a man.”
“Why would a woman not have honor as well?”
“My experience is more with woman who display their wiles and prefer to have their whims seen to than rather than to behave with dignity and go without hesitation as they are bid. You surprise me.”
“Perhaps if I were able to reveal my heart, you would not be so surprised.”
She had enjoyed the dancing, accepted the gift of a flower, and now sat in resolute determination to see her family bestowed with the honor of a grateful daughter who reveres her father’s wishes rather than stating her personal desires even when questioned. “I have much admiration for your stalwart attitude. I will see you arrive at the Priory unharmed and unmolested.”
Mort’s sudden arrival made Peter’s suspicious that the man had been listening.
“Ah, shall we see our ward gets a good night’s rest, my lord?” He stood off to one side, as if waiting to assure he had chosen his moment correctly.
Peter rose with a heavy sigh. “Of course.”
“I have acquired a small blanket for your comfort, my lady. Let us return.”
“Thank you, Mort. You are very good to me.”
She rested her hand on the little man’s arm and they headed up the hill.
“It is my pleasure to see you comfortably settled for the night.”
They continued on the road but Peter remained where he was, watching them. Had she just professed that she would prefer to not be taking vows at the Priory? It did seem so. Did he have any other choice for her? No. She was indeed a determined, virginal sacrifice for her family and would wear the mantle until the very end of her days no doubt.
The idea somehow managed to enflame his desire rather than quench it. Pulling the small jar from his pocket, he swallowed down the rest of the tincture before following them to their camp. His need for sleep would go unmet again this night he’d wager.
A short time later, Mort snored where he was curled up beside Peter, his two hands tucked between his knees for warmth. It was going to be a long night. His own stomach growled loud enough for everyone within a mile to hear. He didn’t realize the Monk’s pepper would take his appetite for food and make him forget to see to his evening meal.
Covered with a blanket, Brighit lay a short distance beyond. She lay on her back, her hand tucked beneath her head. It made her appear not as one in sleep but one who lay patiently waiting for her lover. Peter turned away. His imagination was running amuck. Perhaps the pepper was not fresh. That must be it.
At some point, hopefully sooner rather than later, he would acquire the fresher weed and would no longer be racked with lustful longings he could not satisfy. As long as it didn’t lessen his fighting ability or stamina on the battlefield, the herb could easily become a mainstay in his diet. It would keep his focus where it needed to be. He just needed to remember to eat.
His stomach growled again.
“Your stomach seems to have a mind of its own.” Brighit’s quiet comment surprised him.
“I believed you to be asleep.”
“I am very sensitive to the noises around me. Between your stomach and Mort’s snoring, I am unable to sleep.”
Mort mumbled and shifted. Peter leaned in closer to see if he was awake as well.
“I’d say he sleeps like the dead,” Brighit said.
Peter laughed quietly. “And so he did when we were traveling alone. I thought perhaps with you nearby to guard, it would be less so.”
She sat up and the blanket fell to her waist. He quickly looked away since he didn’t know whether she slept in her newly acquired gown or her sleep chemise. He didn’t need to know.
“Would you like to take a walk?” Peter wanted to slap himself. Why would he ask her to come away from the only protection she actually had, when he had such a strong desire to seduce her?
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
No, Peter didn’t mind getting her alone. He shoved his urges back into his gut and rose. “Of course I wouldn’t mind.”
She was again clothed in her night shift but sensibly kept her blanket pulled tight around her and joined him.
“I appreciate that you are a light sleeper as well.”
