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With anxious haste, I dressed, re-braided my hair and tied the end with my favorite dark green ribbon, before making my way softly and carefully into the kitchen with only a slight limp now. My father was sound asleep in his room and wouldn’t wake for hours.
It gave me time to do something nice for Randal without my father questioning me. I could not have him knowing anything about Randal. I had never been courted by anybody, but I’d been through enough with my father to know that the prospect of losing me—his prize ox, in a manner of speaking—to a royal carpenter, would bring out his worst and most awful cruelty.
Was I being courted? Or was it just wishful thinking?
I didn’t want Randal knowing about my father, either. I was embarrassed by his nastiness, laziness, and drunken ways. If Randal knew my father, I was sure he wouldn’t look at me the way he did yesterday.
As though I was special. I so wanted to be special.
For him.
From the larder, I gathered an extra-wide bit of Gouda and put in a generous portion of that day’s loaf of wholemeal bread for us to share, along with a small pot of butter and a small jar of raspberry preserve.
It wasn’t much, but it was the best of what we had. With my basket in hand, I limped through the back door to head for the stables.
It was much earlier than I usually left, but I couldn’t wait. My early departure was rewarded by dozens of ripe cherries hanging low on the cherry tree, still untouched by the birds. These I picked quickly and added them to my basket, and then hurried toward the stable, allowing myself to dream for a little while that Randal and I would someday rise on these precious mornings together...
To my surprise, I found him already hard at work when I arrived, lugging two big bales of hay, one on each shoulder.
His hulking frame was sweaty and shirtless, and I clutched my basket, a quivering hand drifting to my chest lest my heart beat straight out of my body. My thoughts turned wild, wanting to see more. So much more. Wondering what a man like this would have between his legs…
God, why are you sending me such wicked thoughts?
He was enormous, his shoulder muscles so defined I could actually see the sinews ripple even under the angry, thickened skin of his scars. As he moved in and out of the barn, he made the massive door look tiny. My entire being responded to him with a thrumming excitement.
Even from a distance, I could see that the scars covering his face also covered a great deal of his body. They were terrible. And only in nightmares could I image what could cause so much damage.
Had he been a warrior? A guard? A prisoner somewhere? In a horrible accident?
I’d never felt like this about anyone before. There was a connection between us, much deeper than simple gratitude for the man who’d rescued me from thieves.
He tossed one bail up into the loft, one-armed, and then turned to grab the second, so that he was facing me across the yard. His eyes widened, then he raised his hand and waved, his gaze fixed on me.
In that moment, I could swear there was a new light behind his eyes. Some of the heaviness I sensed in him lifted and he smiled, only making my heart thump harder against my palm. In that moment, I only saw the man, not the scars, and the shiver that traced through me defied the heat gathering in the air.
“How are you feeling?” He called out to me, shielding his face from the rising sun with one massive hand.
“I’m fine!” I shouted back, maneuvering around a muddy puddle. “It’s getting better! Brought us something to eat.”
He set down the second of the two bails and splashed a bucket of water over his head. Water glistened down the deeply-defined borders of his carved muscles, rippling through the curls of hair across his wide chest and running through the thickly-scarred skin. As I closed the space between us, his jaw set, looking down at his wet torso as he snatched up his shirt.
“You don’t need to cover yourself on my account.”
Randal looked at me for a long moment, searching my face for a hint of horror or fear. There was none to be found, I could guarantee it. But it didn’t seem like enough. He shook his head, lifting his shirt and draping it over his head, pulling it down and tucking the front under the wide leather belt of his trousers.
A shiver rippled over my skin as the remnants of a dream I had last night returned. It was Randal, yes, wonderful and brooding with a gleaming desire in his strange silver-flecked green eyes…
