When she was riding behind him, she couldn’thelp but marvel at the breadth of his shoulders and how his backtapered down to a trim waist and taut backside.How he rode withsuch a sure, smooth seat.How he kept sneaking glances at her too,and smiling at her with those rain eyes, and that slow, easy grinof his that could melt glaciers.
At noon, they stopped along the riverside towater the horses and give them a rest.After tying them off tograze, and without a single word, they walked straight into eachother’s arms and kissed, hard and hungry.
Alina moaned.She couldn’t get close enoughto him, couldn’t get enough of him, and then as suddenly as they’dcome together, Roark broke their kiss, their embrace, and turnedaround and walked fully clothed to the river and dove in headfirst.
Alina, still panting, followed him in.Shecame up gasping and spitting water as she pushed her sopping wetbraid back to find Roark standing waist deep in the water, grinningdown at her.
“Keep grinning at me like that,” she toldhim, “and I’ll never make it out of this freezing water.”
“Keep kissing me like that,” he said, “andI’ll be growing gills.”
She laughed and dipped her chin and filledher cheeks with river water that she spit at him through her twofront teeth.Roark dove at her, splashing water in her face, andthen submerged and grabbed her by the ankle and the next thingAlina knew, her leg was in the air and she was on her backunderwater.Roark let go of her ankle and she came up splashing andsputtering.
“Your feathers are all wet, my lady owl,” heteased.
“As is your hide, sir stag.”
Her teeth began to chatter, and she startedto unplait her braid, figuring since she was already wet, she mightas well give her hair a good rinse.But her fingers were numb andclumsy and her thick plait wasn’t cooperating.
“Here,” Roark said, stepping behind her.“Letme.”
She shivered as he deftly untangled herbraid, and when he was done, she dropped down into the water andlaid her head back, closing her eyes and letting the current flowthrough her loose hair.When she lifted her head, Roark wasemerging from the water bare chested, his soaking wet tunic in hishand.Alina gaped at the muscled breadth of his lightly furred andheavily freckled chest, and then swallowed hard at the ridgedmuscles of his belly and the line of darker auburn fur leading tothe waist of his breeches and below, which was thankfullyunderwater.
He held a hand down to her and pulled her up,his own jaw dropping as he stared at her wet tunic clinging to herbreasts and frozen nipples, which grew harder at his intentgaze.
“We, ah, we should change into dry clothesand get a move on,” he said, his voice deeper than usual.“I wantto make the Yew Tree by tonight.”
Alina crossed her arms over her chest.“TheYew tree?”
“It’s said to be the oldest living tree inall of the Green Isles,” Roark told her, “and is the land of mymother’s ancestral home.”
***
They turned west with the river in the lateafternoon and made the yew tree by dark, where they staked out thehorses and set up a cold camp under the canopy of the ancient yew,which sat sentry in the graveyard where generations of Roark’sfamily were laid to rest.
“This is the last of the bread,” he said,tearing it in half and handing the larger piece to Alina, whohanded it back to him and took the smaller piece.“Tomorrow eve weshould be far enough away from any keep or village to stop and fishfor salmon we can cook over a fire.”
“Fresh salmon sounds good,” Alina said.“Ican gather greens while you fish.”
Roark cut her a slice of cheese.“There’s acherry orchard on the north side of the village.If we leave earlyenough, we can pick some on our way out.”
Alina’s eyes lit up.“I love cherries.”
“I know.”Roark grinned.“You smelled likecherry blossoms that day in your greenhouse.”
Her eyes widened and her cheeks pinked.“I’dbeen picking them earlier that morning.”
An image of her in a sheer night shift, hairdown and barefoot, tripping down a path of fallen cherry blossoms,came to Roark unbidden.He groaned.
“Roark?Are you ill?”
“No.Not exactly.”
Alina tilted her head and blinked.“How doyou mean?”
The horses nickered and pricked their earsforward.Roark held his hand up, stood, and pulled his short sword.Alina was on her feet too, waist blade in hand.He motioned for herto follow him and they took cover behind the yew’s thick trunk.They waited, silent and at the ready, when a robin trilled.Roarklooked at Alina and grinned.Robins didn’t sing at night.Hereturned the bird call, which was answered in kind, and he motionedfor Alina to stay and stepped out from behind the yew as a manstepped out of the dark beyond the edge of their camp.
“Uncle Bryce.”Roark clasped his uncle’shand.
