Suddenly, the room felt stifling and cramped.
“Sainte?”
“Hmm?”
My hands grew clammy and butterflies fluttered through my belly with frenzied abandon. “Have you… ever kissed a woman?”
“Can’t say I have.”
Hunger swirled in those blue depths as he swallowed, his throat bobbing with the motion.
I licked my lips and mustered my courage. “Do you want to?”
What a stupid question, Elspeth.
“I would.”
My heart stuttered before it took off like a rabbit, and my breathing drew shallow.
He met my gaze. “Yet, I would save that for my wife.”
A rush of coldness swept over me, as if I had fallen into a pit of icy water, leaving me breathless. When he smirked and pulled away to kick off his boots, I choked on my gasp.
I froze, lips parted, grappling with what just transpired. Had I imagined the spell? Did he even want to kiss me—or was that a creation of my sleep-deprived mind?
He glanced my way with a low chuckle.
Curse men. The whole lot of them.
Chapter 21
We journeyed to Wynterborne Castle, savoring the exceptional weather. The sun beamed, casting a radiant glow on the glistening snow, illuminating our path as we headed north. Kaen suggested we ease our pace, immersing ourselves in the surroundings and allow the locals to see me as their princess.
I relished my moments with Sainte and the other men; even Kaen was surprisingly pleasant company. Laughter filled our conversations, often centering on the whimsical wool hat he wore, complete with flaps over his ears and a playful yarn tassel atop. Despite Kaen’s maturity, the sight of him riding a horse in that hat added a touch of youthful comedy to his demeanor.
As the days passed, the soldiers relaxed, sharing stories of their families over steaming dinners at various inns. They confided their fears and aspirations, creating a bond of camaraderie. We learned about Sole, a young man with a deft hand for blades, who, after much probing and prying, revealed the name of his beloved—Millie. Amid laughter and jests, the men teased me for insights on how to win a lady’s heart. In those moments, Sainte’s gaze would shift to mine with a careful intensity.
Each night, he shared my bed. I made no comment, fearing to break the spell. He stayed silent in the face of my taunts, maintaining his aloof demeanor. Yet, a spark of hunger ignited in his eyes when his gaze lingered too long.
He was more intoxicating than any vat of spirits.
Laughter rang out at a joke about Valen’s backside as we rode two abreast across a bridge to Wynterborne Castle. A smile tugged at my lips.
“You complain about the saddle, but forget about Dane’s training,” Sole jeered.
The men groaned, their chuckles trailing off. Dane, the rigorous training officer, kept the guards in top shape. His dedication bordered on legend.
“What of Jorgeson?” I asked, recalling the general who escorted Sainte and I when we first arrived.
Hanek barked a laugh. “Nah, he’s all bark and no bite.”
“He leads by example,” Sainte cut in. “He doesn’t ask his men to do something he wouldn’t.”
“Like you, Your Highness,” Sole said. “The general would have done exactly as you did if he had the power to do so.”
Pride warmed my heart. “I couldn’t send another ambassador to Gladier without going myself. Their life would be forfeit.”
A boy darted through the courtyard as we reached the castle grounds. “Princess!” he called, waving his arms. “Your Highness! Princess!”
