Page 15 of Besotted
“Enjoying a friendship.”
Jorg released a humorless laugh. “If you witnessed what I did, you’d realize a great deal more than friendship was happening.”
If I was completely truthful with myself, I would have to agree with him. The feelings I had around Rory were intense and the pull to her strong. Even now, my pulse pounded with the need to spend time with her again, to watch sunlight glisten in her hair, to witness her eyes light up with joy, and to bring roses to her cheeks.
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be mere friendship,” I said more somberly.
“And what hope do you have of anything more than that?”
I honestly didn’t know. Likely none. Rory and I hailed from two different worlds. Worlds that could never mesh. Even if by some chance, a peasant woman could wed a prince—which was impossible—my father and the Lagting had already entered into negotiations with kings of other nations with regards to spousal matches.
From what I’d heard during my last days in Scania, three royal women from various countries had already been selected. Mikkel and Vilmar would wed the princesses of most importance. I would get the leftover, the one who didn’t have quite as many advantages to offer Scania.
I’d have no choice in the matter and had always accepted that fact. I understood I must do my duty, and what did one strange woman matter over another? Except now, something inside shifted. Why must I marry a woman by default? Why could I not have some say? Perhaps I might suggest someone like Rory.
She was beautiful enough to be a princess, as well as poised, gentle of spirit, and a quick learner. Surely she could adjust to life at court.
I shook my head. I’d known Rory a total of two days. Why was I even thinking of marriage? “For the love of the saints, Jorg. Let’s not make this more complicated than it needs to be. I want to spend time with a comely girl. You’ve never had a problem with me doing that before. Don’t read more into this than exists.”
“Be careful, then. I can tell she’s special.”
Rorywasspecial. I sensed it too. Maybe it was because she wasn’t fawning over me like the women at court. Maybe because she held an air of innocence that was so fresh. Or maybe because she was so alive and vibrant. Whatever the case, I wanted—no needed—to see her again.
“I’m going back on the morrow.” I started forward, leaving Jorg little choice but to do the same, but not without an exasperated sigh. “I promise I shall be careful with her.”
He tossed up his hands as though in defeat.
Misgivings rose to make me second-guess my decision, but I hastened to stuff them away. I would be careful. I vowed that I would.
Chapter
5
Aurora
I threw awaycautionand continued meeting with Kresten. One morn we picked blackberries. Another, we searched for wild elderberries. The next, I led him to a plum tree, and we filled my basket with ripe fruit, making sure I had enough for Aunt Elspeth so she could make all the baked goodies she desired. Every day, I insisted on giving Kresten a portion of the harvest, sensing his hunger—or at least witnessing his proclivity to eat more than he placed in the basket.
And always, he made every task enjoyable, and I loved how full of life he was. He taught me more about woodcutting, showed me how to throw an axe, and even performed more of his daring blindfolded chops. Sometimes we sat in the grass and just talked, and at other times we hiked. Once he even hung a rope in a tall oak, formed a swing, and pushed me on it for a short while before he attempted to repeat childhood tricks he’d once been able to do while swinging—flipping and twirling and other perilous feats.
For the most part, I’d been content with my simple life in Inglewood Forest. But hearing him speak of the outside world made me realize how much I still had to do and see and learn. His tales of his adventures sparked a longing inside me to experience more of the world the way he had.
On the day before Chester was due to return home, I tried not to dwell on the fact that this would be my last time with Kresten. I didn’t want to spoil the day with gloomy thoughts, so I simply savored the hours we had together. As we finished the morn by picking crab apples, I went slower than usual, not ready for the time to come to an end.
“Watch this.” He plucked a particularly high cluster. He waited for me to focus on him, and then he twisted his arm behind his back and tossed an apple toward the basket. It landed squarely on top of the others.
“’Tis only a matter of good fortune,” I teased. “Not skill.”
“I beg to differ.” With bright eyes and a wide grin, he performed his trick again. Strands of his light-brown hair had come loose, and he raked them back, as charming and handsome as he’d been every other morn.
“’Twould seem you are a woodcutter of many talents. After all, not many men can claim to weave flower crowns and pick crab apples the way you do.”
He chuckled. “I should say not.”
I loved how easily we could banter. I’d never done so with Chester. He’d always been so serious and purposeful about everything he did. By contrast, Kresten’s playful nature was unexpected and refreshing.
And I would sorely miss it... miss him... even though I’d known him less than a week.
Quietly, I plucked a final cluster and placed the fruit in my basket. ’Twas past time for me to return to the cottage. That meant it was also time to say farewell to Kresten.
