“Is it a fair?” Nia pressed her face against the window, keeping her back straight and her knees pressed together.
“Must be. Have you been to one recently?”
“Oh, no. Father would never allow it,” she answered automatically.
But she was away from Crossings now.
Jasper watched her as she stared out at the cacophony. Eyes wide, every inch of her body vibrated with delightful curiosity. Feeling an unusual tug, he found himself wanting to satisfy it.
“After we’ve secured our rooms, I’ll take you.” No one would recognize her up here, and they both could use a little entertainment—entertainment, that was, that didn’t involve removing their clothing.
“That would be marvelous.” She twisted around, and her expression stole his breath.
He’d seen her frightened, exhausted, proud, and overcome with pleasure. He’d not seen her… just happy. The smile turned her eyes that brilliant cobalt blue, and her plump, kissable lips turned up into a slightly crooked smile. Still perfect.
His heart skipped a beat and then lightened.
Because the combined effect, along with the roses in her cheeks, achieved what he’d considered to be impossible. They made her look even more beautiful.
Not quite an hour later, Nia stepped out of the Rooster Run Inn, her hand tucked in Jasper’s arm. She hardly knew where to look first. Colorful tents lined the road, along with high wires, strange contraptions, small corrals filled with animals, and almost anything a person could imagine.
A week ago, she might have been afraid. She might have preferred to hide in the small chamber Jasper arranged. The inn had been booked full, with the annual Samson Festival taking place, but the innkeeper had promised the first one to come open would go to Jasper. And rather than take dinner in a private dining room, the two of them were going to buy food from one of the vendors. They were going to explore.
The innkeeper had informed them that the festival’s main draw was the strong man’s competition, and although most of the strength contests had taken place earlier in the day, the champion wouldn’t emerge until much later.
“Have to get through the fighting challenges,” he added. “Winner moves on, and the last man standing at the end of the day gets to kiss the miss of his choice.”
“What if she doesn’t want him to kiss her?” Nia had asked.
“He kisses her anyway.”
“But that’s—”
“Thank you, Mr. Thatch.” Jasper turned Nia toward the door and swept her outside and onto the street.
“Once a year,” Jasper said. “As a reward for their labors.”
“That doesn’t make it fair.” She bristled, remembering how she’d felt at the prospect of kissing Dewberry. “The lady ought to have a say in the matter.”
“I’m not arguing with you, but is it worth ruining your afternoon?” Jasper shot her a glance she’d become familiar with—challenging, but also knowing. And he was right. Which was admirable, but also a little annoying. So she shoved her umbrage to the back of her mind and determined to enjoy the other aspects of the festival.
“I can’t remember the last time I went anywhere without a hat or bonnet.” She tilted her head back and rays of sun warmed her face. Her mother would have apoplexy if she saw her, warning that her skin was going to turn red and uneven.
But Nia didn’t care. Because it felt warm, with just a hint of a breeze. Was this what it would feel like to fly? Was this what freedom felt like?
She inhaled and noticed that even the aromas were unfamiliar. She marveled that her decision to flee Dewberry was resulting in what was fast becoming the greatest adventure of her life.
And none of it would have been possible if not for the man beside her.
“What would you like to see first?” Jasper spoke just above her ear. The heat of his breath warmed her in other ways. He managed to make her feel feminine. Beautiful. Precious and protected.
But he’d asked her a question. She glanced down the street at the myriad of vendors and tents and had no idea how to answer it. “You pick,” she said.
“I’ll assist. But what is your preference? Shopping, eating, spectating, playing, or theatricals?”
Playing?
“But playing is for children.”
