“Nothing, sweetheart.” He was over by the window, peering out of the oilcloth. “Go back to sleep.”
She sat up. “Did you hear something?”
His eyes were riveted to the street below the inn. He didn’t say anything for a moment. “I heard horses,” he let the oilcloth fall back. “Just a merchant. I doubt your father and his horde would be in disguise.”
She heard his words, but her focus was centered on the sight before her; frankly, she’d never seen a nude man before. Garren’s shoulders were impossibly wide, his neck thick and his chest muscular and broad. His torso was narrow and rippled with muscles. As he turned to look for his breeches and weapon, she noticed the perfect roundness of his buttocks and the defined muscles of his legs. She felt her cheeks grow hot and her heart race, slightly embarrassed but wildly attracted at the same time.
Garren noticed she was staring at him. He picked up his broadsword and leaned it against the wall, grinning. “Is there something I can help you with, Lady le Mon?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you are staring at me as if I am a prized bull. Is there something I can do for you?”
She blushed furiously. “No.”
His grin widened as he made his way over to the bed, breeches in hand. “Are you sure? I would be happy to….”
“No!”
She flopped back down on the bed and pulled the covers over her head. Garren laughed softly, tugging at the covers she was holding so tightly.
“Are you sure?” he teased. “Do you require my services again, perhaps? Or maybe you would like me to parade around so that you may stare at me until you have had your fill.”
She growled at him. “Go away.”
“You can touch, you know. Anything you want.”
She shrieked softly in frustration and he continued to laugh at her. He finally stopped trying to pull the covers off of her and, instead, bundled them up all around her and gave her a massive hug. She squealed like a child, with delight, and yanked the covers off of her head. Her hair was wild over her face and they grinned at each other, playfully.
“I am thinking on going down and getting us some food,” he said. “What say you?”
“I am famished.”
“Then I shall return shortly.”
“Can I come?”
“You don’t want to rest here, in bed, and have a man serve you?”
She made a face at him and tossed off the coverlet. Garren helped her cinch up the peasant bodice, not so much helping her as stealing a touch of her skin now and again. Their entire world now was filled with discovery, laughter, and new sensations. Derica grabbed the comb and tamed her hair, securing it at the nape of her neck with a piece of cloth the sisters had packed for her. Garren stood behind her as she groomed, running his hands down her torso, around her waist. He watched her face as she fumbled with her hair. He was completely fascinated by her.
He left her long enough to put on his tunic, boots, and strap the sword to his waist. With his wife in hand, he quit the room and descended the stairs in to the loud, smoky hall.
It was more crowded than when they had first arrived. People were laughing, eating, and becoming riotously drunk. Garren kept hold of Derica as he ordered food from the barkeep and went in search of a table for the two of them. Derica wanted to eat in the hall, since she had never been to a tavern before. Garren hoped that one meal in such a place would cure her of any further curiosity. He couldn’t see any charm to it, but she did.
The only table they could find was a small one by the hearth. Garren sat with his back to the wall, facing the room, and Derica within arm’s length. She was chatting on about something, but he was only half-listening. His attention was on two knights on the far side of the room. Knights tended to have a special sense around each other, always knowing another knight, another potential enemy or ally. But Garren’s circumstances were slightly different in that his knightly duties took on a more subversive role. It was essential he be completely aware of his surroundings at all times.
“Did you hear me?”
Derica was asking him a question. Garren looked away from the men in the corner and smiled at her. “I am sorry, I did not. What did you say, sweetheart?”
“I asked you if you’d ever been to Rome. Surely coming back from the Holy Land, you must have passed through?”
He shook his head. “I have not been to Rome.” It wasn’t the time to tell her, yet, that he’d never been to the Holy Land. “Is that some place you wish to go?”
She nodded. “I hear they have all manner of ancient buildings, built by the gods of some olden race. And there is a huge theatre where men fight to the death.”
“I have heard of this also,” he said. “Perhaps we will go there some day, if it would make you happy.”
