Page 13 of Beguiled
But somehow the words stuck, and I knew if I forced them, I’d sound even more like an awkward lad.
“You are hungry, are you not?” She reached into one of the baskets and removed a small crock.
“Very.”
She lifted the lid and held it close to my face, letting the waft of steam rise beneath my nose.
I attempted to raise my hands to take the bowl from her, only to remember they were securely fastened to the floor. Her eyes lit, almost as if she was smiling in enjoyment at my helplessness.
She rose, crossed to Gregor, and handed him the bowl. Since his hands were free, he took the soup eagerly and began to drink it. Surely she wouldn’t be so cruel as to make me watch Gregor eat without giving me anything.
As she returned to the basket and retrieved a second crock, she caught me watching her. “You did not suppose I would let you go hungry, did you?”
“Alas, I confess, it crossed my mind.”
“I am not so heartless as that.”
“If you’re not heartless, then you will unshackle my hands so I might eat like a man and not an animal.”
“I would never allow you to eat like an animal, my lord.” Her voice was low, and her stunning green eyes captured and held mine as she walked over and knelt next to me. She situated herself, her knees brushing against me. And then she lifted the bowl to my lips, never once averting her eyes. Instead, the green turned dark and seemed to beckon me.
My heart began to thud an unsteady rhythm. When the bowl tipped higher and our connection was lost, I sipped but didn’t taste anything. I could only ponder how pretty and expressive her eyes were.
When I finished drinking the last of the soup, she set the bowl on the cave floor and then lifted her hand. Her fingers hovered above my mouth for an eternal second before she dabbed at the corner with her thumb. “You have a drop of soup...”
At her touch, something warm streamed into my veins, reminding me of drinking hot glogg on a snowy winter day. The sensation was new, even pleasurable, and something I could welcome.
She retracted her hand, as if stroking my mouth wasn’t something she’d planned. And she ducked her head almost shyly before she reached back into the basket and took out another item. A wedge of cheese.
“Would you like more to eat, my lord?”
Was she planning to feed me every meal all week long? How would I endure such sweet torture? And yet how could I say no?
In answer to her question, I opened my mouth.
She broke off a piece of cheese and set it inside, careful not to touch my mouth again. As I chewed, she tore off another portion. “Why is a young man like you yet unmarried? Surely you have had many women vying after you.”
“I have been waiting for my father to choose my bride.”
“And he has yet to find someone suitable?”
“He’s considering several options.”
Her brows arched. “Several?”
I smiled. “Is that so surprising, my lady, that several women might be interested in me?”
“Of course not. You are a handsome and brave man.”
Her words sent warmth through my middle again, especially when she dropped her gaze, as if her admission embarrassed her.
I swallowed the cheese, and when she offered another piece, she was again careful not to let her fingers brush my mouth. “Will you get a say in your bride? Or must you accept whomever your father chooses?”
The Lagting and my father were in the process of arranging brides for my brothers and me. They would assign us our marriage partners based on the outcome of the Testing, and we would have no input into the matter. Whoever was awarded the honor of becoming the next king would likely wed the eldest daughter of the King of the Danes—at least that was my speculation. The union would be advantageous for Scania. And the two who weren’t chosen as king would marry other princesses.
But I could say none of this. “’Tis of no consequence to me who is chosen for my bride. I trust my father and shall marry the woman he selects for me.”
“Then you need not love her?”
