He stepped closer. “I did not realize this would take a week.”
I held up my right hand to shade my eyes, his person only shielding me somewhat from the sun. I tried to better see his face, but yet again, the light was behind him and shining on me. He smelled like he had only just bathed. His shortsleeved tunic was a fresh one. It was tucked into what looked like new breeches. This reminded me I had been wearing the same black cotton dress and shift for ten days. I stepped back to unbuckle the small satchel I had taken with me, containing Gareth Pope’s journal, my copper comb and chew sticks. “Good morning to you too,” I teased, holding the bag to my chest.
“You did not tell me this would take ten days and nights, Edith.”
I could never read his words. Was he angry or had he missed me? Was he angry that he had missed me? I found myself not caring. Love him, I surely did, but I wanted a bath, to soak my beleaguered muscles in warm water. I wanted to wash my hair. “Is that thinking before we speak, husband?”
He gave me a quizzical look.
“I could not know how long the task,” I explained. “Could you not greet me instead?”
There was a minute quirk on one side of that dreadfully kissable mouth. “I apologize.”
“You are forgiven. And yes, it was a long trip, but a successful one.” I waved farewell to Tuck and started to walk toward one of the keep’s entrances, pulling away, shaking my head when Alric offered to take the bag. I needed to hold on to something.
“Let us deposit your things in our room and we can walk down to the city—”
I laughed. “No. I am bathing, washing my hair and soaking my tired bones.”
“Oh,” he said, his tone almost dejected.
I turned to him. “Was your week a good one?”
He did not answer me until we reached the stairwell closest to our room. “It was fine.” He opened our door for me and I entered. “We are now in the second phase of the trials. No more man-to-man combat.”
“That is good,” I said brightly, setting the bag on the desk, fishing out the comb. I opened up the top drawer of the desk where I had left the skeleton key. It was empty.
“Here,” he said, stepping next to me, key in his extended hand. “I hope you do not mind. I used the bath while you were gone. I replaced the linens and the soap.”
I turned to him to take it, surprised. “Why would I mind?”
“Well. It is your room. And you did not seem to want to show it to me the first time.”
“I worried you would scold me for having stumbled upon something I should not.”
He shook his head, his eyes on my face. “I know you do not like to be told you look tired, but you look tired, Edith. Cian works you too hard and I do not like to see it.”
I smiled up at him. “Firstly, I had a truly productive week. I will tell you of it, if you wish. Secondly, the bath can be our room. We’ll keep the key in the drawer and if one of us sees it gone, we know why. I am sure you, like me, would wish for some privacy. Us neither have had to share a room with anyone in some time.”
“I do wish,” he said, over my last words. “I do wish you to tell me.”
I moved around him to collect a fresh shift and stays and my teal green fall dress with its long sleeves to shield against the cooler breezes that began and ended the days. It was thin enough to weather the sun at the height of the day and I knew the color brought out the auburn in my hair and made my gray eyes bluer. I moved towards the door with these over my left arm. I turned to him and said, “Perhaps I will see you tonight?”
“Can I come with you?” he said, quickly for him as his words were usually so measured.
“To the bath?” I was taken aback.
He blinked and then said, “I will turn my back. I just want to talk to— I am tired of speaking to men and boys and talking about either card games or how we are on the brink of war. I am particularly tired of talk of war.”
The words ‘I missed you’ went unsaid, but I heard them. I fought down the fluttering in my breast. “Alright.” I considered telling him he was not allowed any peeking, but I felt that to be flirtation and I knew it was safer to engage in nothing but friendship.
He sat with his back to me, forearms resting on his knees, in Gareth’s Pope bath, at the bottom of the steps. I soaked for an hour, washing my hair and body, languidly telling him of our conquering the vines.
69. Sighs
As the days grew cooler in the evenings, everyone around me in the keep was happy in either love or lust, everyone but me. I prayed continuously, pondering my own unrequited wishes. I tried not to be jealous and I nearly succeeded. What I did not succeed in was avoiding my husband, who had now decided conversation with me was all he wanted. He would retire earlier to the rooms now, pouring himself a whiskey and leaning against our fireplace, asking me how my day went, giving me short answers when I asked in return. I would be forced to sit in the desk chair, sipping at water and lightleaf oil, speaking of farming taxes and property disputes. I found myself sitting with a candle in Gareth Pope’s bath more than once, reading the man’s journal to avoid going back to the room to endure a full hour of that penetrating hazel gaze. Apparently, he had missed me while I had been with the orchardists.
But Gareth Pope only added to my surroundings of romance. I was nearing the end of the journal and he was now in the throes of a forever love with then Prince Hinnom. Hinnom was obsessed with not only Gareth’s body but his magic. It seemed to be the only thing Gareth recorded was how proud his lover was of his blessings from the goddess.
