Page 14 of Besotted
I was relieved when she returned and placed her hand back in mine. And soon I swept her up in another dance, this one more complicated. We practiced the steps several times, the sun growing warm and bright with the passing of morn.
As though recognizing the same, she broke away, heading for her basket. “I must go. My aunts will be wondering where I am.”
I began following her but then stopped. I had to let her go, even though I wanted to spend the rest of the day with her. “Will you meet me here again on the morrow?”
She picked up her basket and darted to the woods with such haste I feared she wouldn’t answer me. But as she pushed aside brush, she cast a look over her shoulder. “Yes.”
Then she was gone.
I watched her trail long after she disappeared. Finally, at the crackling of branches behind me, I crossed to Jorg where he still hid in the brush. His gaze was full of censure, likely because I’d taken so long. He opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head, cutting him off.
Without a word, we started on our way, hurrying through the woodland. Not until we exited the secret passageway into the opposite side of the ravine did we slow down. Jorg led the way, his sharp eyes always scanning the landscape and his senses ever alert for danger.
“You’re angry with me,” I called from behind, breaking our silence.
He didn’t answer, the sure sign I’d peeved him.
“Don’t worry. We shall get the work done. I’ll labor hard enough for two men the rest of the day. If I don’t, I’ll give you my coin next payday.”
“That’s not the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“The girl.”
I stopped, a wayward hawthorn branch slapping me in the chest.
Jorg continued for several more paces before he realized I was no longer on his heels. He halted and slowly pivoted.
Overhead, the thick leaves of yew, oak, and pine blocked the sunlight from reaching us, leaving Jorg’s face in shadow. But the tautness of his body was easy enough to see.
“What about the girl?” I asked.
“Leave her be.”
I bristled at his command. At times Jorg forgot I was the prince and he, my servant. Like now. Nevertheless, I blew out a breath and forced myself to remain congenial. “I like her, and I plan to see her again. What’s wrong with that?”
“A girl like her doesn’t deserve for you to toy with her.”
“I’m not toying—”
“Spare me. I was there. I saw and heard everything.”
“I treated her with the utmost respect. How can you say otherwise?”
Jorg shook his head, his body radiating frustration. “It’s not about respect, Kresten. It’s about the fact that you are a prince and she is a pauper. You will reside in a different country, and she lives here. You are worldly wise, and she is as innocent as a dove. Need I go on?”
“What harm is there in spending a few hours with her? I do so with Walter’s daughters, and you feel no need to chastise me for it.”
“That’s different. They’re simple and uncomplicated and amusing. But this woman... she’s not like them. You’ve never met anyone like her before.”
He was right. Rory was unlike any other woman I’d met—peasant or noblewoman.
“I saw the way she looks at you, the same way all women look at you. And it isn’t fair to allow her to think there could ever be anything between you.”
“I’m not leading her on.”
“Then what are you doing?”
