She closed her eyes, wishing Guy would magically disappearand thus solve her miserable predicament when she heard his berth creak and hisboots scrape on the floor. She jumped at the sharp pop of a stopper beingpulled from a bottle.
"Care for some wine, my lady? I also have freshbaked bread, soft ripened cheese, hmmm, some roasted chicken . . ." Hepaused, smiling broadly at her when she peeked over her shoulder, then began tomake a great show of rummaging in a large cloth sack and placing the nameditems on the table.
Leila's nostrils flared, the savory smell of foodmaking her mouth water and her stomach growl noisily. She winced inembarrassment and looked back at the wall.
"I'm not hungry."
"What a pity," he said nonchalantly. "Ohwell, that just leaves all the more for me. This constant traveling has givenme quite an appetite. I'm surprised you don'tfeetthe same."
Leila listened, licking her lips, as he poured himselfa goblet of wine. In truth she was terribly thirsty and her stomach was sohollow it hurt. It had been a long time since she had eaten a full meal. Shewas just about to relent when he suddenly inhaled with great vigor, and sheturned over to find him sniffing the contents of a small basket.
"What's in there?" she asked, curiositygetting the better of her.
Guy held the basket lower so she might see, his lipstwitching with humor. "The baker assured me these were the sweetestconfections in his shop. I believe you have something like this in the HolyLand . . . almond pastries. I also bought some apple fritters dusted withcinnamon sugar, one of my favorites. There are three of each, all baked freshthis morning."
The fragrant pastries proved too much for Leila. "MayI have one?" she asked, beginning to think she would faint if she didn'teat something.
"By all means, my lady," Guy said, offeringher the basket. "I purchased them especially for you."
She took a pastry and eagerly bit into it, the almond pastethe most glorious thing she had ever tasted, even sweeter than she rememberedfrom home. She quickly finished the confection, licking her fingers, and wenton to another. All the while Guy watched her with a pleased expression on hisface.
"Aren't you . . . going to eat?" she asked,knowing it was ill mannered to talk with her mouth full but not caring. "Orare you just going to keep staring at me?"
Helaughed,a deep burst ofsound that made Leila giggle in return. It felt so wonderful to eat again andnot to feel she was going to lose her meal as soon as she swallowed. Or perhapsit was the sugar making her giddy. Who could say?
Guy took a long draft of wine, thinking he could stareat her for the rest of his life. To see her smiling and laughing was like adream come true. He wished her laughter would never end, so much so that he wasafraid if he said the wrong thing or made the wrong move she would stop.
So he said nothing, only cut into thebreadand offered her a thick slice with a generous slatherof soft cheese on top. They ate in companionable silence until nothing butcrumbs and chicken bones remained on the table and a second bottle of wine wasempty.
"Is there no more?" Leila asked rathertipsily, upturning her empty goblet and giggling.
"No, my lady, the wine is gone," Guy lied,using his foot to push a bag filled with more provisions further under hisberth.
"Oh."
He had to stifle a chuckle. Leila had drunk only threegoblets of wine to his many, but he guessed from the pretty flush on her cheeksand her occasional hiccoughs that she had had little experience with thelibation, or at least in imbibing so much of it. It looked to him as if whatshe could really use was some fresh air.
"Would you like to take a walk on the deck, Leila?It's going to be a lovely evening. I'm sure the sunset will be spectacular."
"Could we?" she asked, her eyes brighteningwith excitement as she rose eagerly from her berth. She swayed slightly. "Ilove sunsets."
Guy's heart seemed to leap in his chest, and he groanedinwardly, longing to crush her in his arms. God in heaven, what this womancould do to him with the simplest glance, the merest smile! It was beyond hisunderstanding, her effect on him.
"Come with me." He took her hand, exulting inthe warm pressure of her palm against his own. Keeping his head down, he ledher from the cabin, through a narrow hall, then up steep stairs and out intothe early autumn sunshine.
His guard went up immediately when he found that otherpassengers had entertained the same idea, and he was glad he was wearing hissword belt. He didn't think this assorted group of peasants and merchantstraveling to Lyons would cause any trouble, but one could never be sure. Hecarefully steered Leila across the deck toward the portside railing where theycould be alone.
"How green this country is . . . the trees, thegrass . . . like an oasis," she murmured, leaning against the railing.
Guy braced his arms on both sides of her, his chestagainst her slender back, his chin just above her head, fearing she mightstagger and fall if he did not confine her movements. Reveling in theircloseness, he followed her gaze to the shoreline. "Yes, but you'll find nodesert beyond those trees, nor are there any deserts in England."
The minute the words were out he regretted them, for hefelt her body tense. Yet she did not turn upon him with angry eyes and bitingwords, as he might have expected, leading him to believe the wine had softenedher temper. She only shook her head slowly.
"'Tisso different frommy home. So different."
"Tell me about your life in Damascus, Leila,"Guy urged her gently, taking advantage of her relaxed mood. He yearned to knowmore about this exotic woman. His fascination for her was like a raging thirstthat could not be slaked. "What did you do when you weren't working at thehospital or visiting your patients in the harems?"
"Oh, many things," Leila replied wistfully,staring out over the river. She was surprised Guy would be so interested in aworld he seemed to disdain. She was also disconcerted by how closely they werestanding together, his body warm against her back, yet she was not inclined tomove. She felt a little dizzy, a pleasant sensation. And strangely enough, shefound their conversation pleasant, too. It was nice not to be shouting anddisagreeing for once. "I would read or play the lute," she continued,"or practice my calligraphy—"
