Linnea Sinclair Wintert

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stretched her arms up over her head as the warmth from the fire relaxed the
tension in her body.
"And some people complain about their relatives," the Tinker quipped as he
pressed the required coins into the innkeeper s soft palm. He was handed a
heavy key in exchange.
"Just one room?" Khamsin stood before the large door as the Tinker fit the
key into the lock.
"It s all they have, m Lady, and at this hour we re not about to go traipsing
around the city in search for another. Besides, the price is reasonable, the
food won t kill you. And I trust Master Verney not to rob me blind if I happen
to fall into a drunken stupor at one of his ale-room tables downstairs."
She followed him hesitantly into the room. There was a four-postered bed
along the back wall with the smaller trundle adjacent to it. They camped
together for night after night but that was different. She was secure in her
bedroll and he, in his. Though there were times she longed for a warmth that
couldn t be provided by their small stone-ringed fire.
But the openness of their outdoor encampments kept her from pursuing her
foolish whims, for that was all she considered them to be. Yet here, here was
a room with walls. And a door that locked. She d never been in a bedroom
before with anyone other than her husband.
"Do you do that often, fall into a drunken stupor, that is?" It would make
his presence more worrisome if he were in an inebriated condition.
He crossed to the window, drew back the curtains and shoved the wooden panes
outward. " Bout once in a blue moon, only."
She waited until he turned and was involved in unpacking his satchel before
she sauntered by the open window and, with a quick glance upwards, checked on
the condition of the twin luminaries of the night sky. Both were half-full.
And neither was blue.
She had little to unpack and found all she had, including her sword, fit
nicely in a small cupboard in the corner. She hung her cloak on a nearby hook.
Then, while th Tinker went in search of a pitcher of fresh water, she touched
all four corners of the cupboard door with a warding spell. She worried less
about her meager wardrobe then she did about her sword.
They returned downstairs for a light supper. Khamsin said little, content
just to listen to the Tinker s recitation of various legends about Noviiya.
She found his manner of speech fascinating, his precise choice of words
enlivening his descriptions. She giggled unashamedly at his recounting of the
antics of Noviiya s miserly merchants. Then stared, wide-eyed, when his deep
voice dropped to a whisper as he described the secret treasure supposedly lost
forever in the icy depths of the Great North Sea. She felt she could listen to
the sound of his voice forever and she forgot for awhile her real purpose in
the City. She let herself get lost in the fantasies he wove before her.
But reality was thrust upon her all too soon when, shortly after supper, she
found herself back in their room with the Tinker making preparations for the
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night. She placed her cloak and vest carefully over the back of a chair. Then
clutched the front of her half-unbuttoned shirt self-consciously.
The Tinker regarded her with undisguised amusement from where he sat on the
higher bed, tugging off his boots. "Would you prefer if I were to close my
eyes?"
"Would be more proper," she murmured, hearing the foolishness in her
statement. This was the man who tended to the bruises left on her body by the
grief-maddened Covemen.
"Proper?" His voice was unexpectedly soft. She turned, surprised at the
sound. "Nay, little one, would be more proper if I were to take you in my arms
and... but I don t know if you re ready for that."
She felt her face grow hot. Was he aware of her attraction to him? Or did he
expect her to be willing in repayment for his aid? "Sirrah! Surely you know
I m a widow and recently so. It s cruel of you to take advantage of& "
"But you re also a woman. There s much I could teach you, much we could
share."
"I don t care for lessons of that sort!" She snatched at the vest she had
discarded only moments before. "I thank you for your assistance, but it
seems& "
"It seems we re both overly tired and wont to misconstrue. I mean no
disrespect in my words." He leaned forward, his eyes dark with concern. "Have
I hurt you in any way to this point, Lady Khamsin? Have I broken your faith in
me?"
She fingered the softness of the vest distractedly and avoided looking at
him. "No," she admitted.
"Then have faith that now and forever, I mean you no harm. Judge me by your
heart, my Lady. It s wiser than you think." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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