CHAPTER 11
Erica lay awake longerthan sense allowed, eyes fixed on the low ceiling, counting blemishes to keep her mind from circling back.
It circled anyway.
Every night since her kiss with Alex, she could not go to bed without thinking about it. She couldn’t stop feeling his hand on her jaw or the breath between them. She had pulled back first and had managed to tell herself over and over since that night that it meant control.
But if that was control, it was very weak.
She pressed her fingers to her mouth and let them fall. If she closed her eyes, the picture would sharpen instead of fading.
His lips close to hers.
The warmth of his skin against hers.
Now it was a bright morning, and the only thing on her mind was still that kiss. The weight of being wanted and the risk were sewn in the same thread, and she hated that one needed to bow for the other.
Before she could go even further down that road, her door clicked open. Leah came in with a basket and the brisk step of a woman who was excited about what the day would bring. She set towels on the chest and a small jar beside the basin.
“Good morning, me Lady,” she said. “Shall I run ye a bath?”
“Aye,” Erica said. “Thank ye.”
Leah moved through the room with quiet care. She checked the coals, added a small stick, and went to the door that led to the little fireplace in the antechamber. While water hissed into the copper tub, Erica sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Another day. A few more to go.
Her shift fell to her calves. She pushed her hair from her face and looked out the window. The sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon. Soon, the sky will be flooded with light.
Leah came back, tested the water with two fingers, and added a splash from a kettle.
“I brought rosemary,” she said, tapping the jar. “Plain is there if ye prefer.”
“I hope ye didnae go to the market to find it? I would hate to have been the one to put ye through the trouble,” Erica said.
Leah laughed. “Nae at all, me Lady. As I said, some are still available in the stillroom.”
Erica nodded. “Good.”
Leah set a fresh cloth by the tub and folded the old one for the laundry. “Would ye like to have breakfast in here or downstairs?”
“In here,” Erica said. “There’s nay problem with that, is there?”
“Nae at all,” Leah said. No comment, no look. She curtsied and slipped out.
Erica took a quick bath. The heat steadied her, while the scent of rosemary cut through the muddle and gave her hands something clean to smell.Somethingpresent.
She dried herself off, put on a simple gown, and braided her hair. Then she ate the bread and eggs Leah brought, barely tasting either. After, she went to the window because standing still made her think too hard. The yard lay square below, bordered by stone and the line of the well path.
Alex was there. He stood at the center with his men in a loose ring. Sword in hand, movements spare. He worked through drills with a focus that made the rest of the yard fade away.
She recognized some of the moves, as she had seen her father and brother practice them back in Bryden. She could almost hear her father shouting out orders to her brother on how and when to move when under attack.
Turn. Parry. Cut. Nay waste.
She swallowed and pushed the thoughts down as fast as she could and kept her focus on Alex. The sun caught his blade, then his shoulder, then the point as it fell and rose. He moved as if the missing eye had never existed. He never lost measure. The men matched him as they could, chins tucked, feet where he probably taught them to plant them.
Her breath caught before she could stop it. She did not think of the other night. She thought of the man he was when he did not speak. His grace looked like certainty, not show. He shifted to a left-hand guard and drove a thrust that would have ended any man slow to read it.
