“Neither would I,” another agrees.
There is silence for a while. It feels heavy.
“I’m stuffed.” Someone belches.
The others laugh.
“Pour me some more wine,” another says.
“You’ve had plenty.”
“It’s excellent, but you’re right, I’ll regret it once I’m back out there.”
“Perhaps some water instead?” Julienne asks.
“Yes, why not?” The guard sounds bored at the thought of water instead of wine.
“Are you still marrying that fine young female from the northern swine farm?”
“Yes…next week. I am looking forward to it.” He sounds wistful. “Sara is more than I could have hoped for.”
“I’d hate to be tied down like that,” another says.
“No worries there, since no one will have you.”
They all laugh again.
I listen for a while longer, but exhaustion is pulling at me. The mattress isn’t large, but it’s better than the floor. I carefully lie down, keeping as much space between Isla and me as possible. My right shoulder presses against the wall.
It shouldn’t be long now before the guards move on. I’ll rest for just a short while. Just until they leave.
My eyes drift closed, and when I wake, it is to the sensation of warmth against my side.
For a moment, I’m disoriented. Then I remember where I am and look down. I’m flat on my back on the mattress.
Isla is resting on my shoulder, her head tucked against my neck. Her blond hair spills across my chest in soft waves. In sleep, her face is peaceful. The worry lines that creased her forehead earlier have smoothed away. The tension in her jaw has eased. For a few moments, I just look at her.
She’s quite beautiful.
The thought comes unbidden, but I can’t deny it. Even dirty and exhausted, she’s something to look at.
Not my normal type. Isla has flared hips and rounded, plump breasts. Her freckles are very evident across her nose and cheeks. Her ears are completely rounded.
I find myself wanting to trace my fingers along the curve of them. Wanting to take a handful of her hip. I glance at her chest, quickly looking away.
No, not my type and yet…I can’t stop looking at her, even though I should.
I pull in another breath. Her scent is of wildflowers and rain. A combination I didn’t know could smell so good.
I lie there, uncertain of what to do.
I look up when there are soft footsteps above us. Just one set. They move across the floor slowly, methodically. It’s Julienne, I’m certain of it.
I wait, tracking her movement. There’s the soft chink of dishes. The scrape of a chair being pushed back into place.
After a while, I notice something else. The rug has been removed from above the trapdoor.
I wait just a little longer to be certain, but I think it’s safe to go up. Holding my breath, I shift Isla from my shoulder onto the mattress. She stirs, her brow furrowing. A small sound escapes her lips. Then she moans softly and turns over.
