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Chapter 19
The next day, Samantha walked toward the village with a basket covered by a thin blanket. The weather was beautiful, sunny and occasionally breezy.
She found her husband in the fields this time. He was helping farmers, shoveling dirt, and planting seeds. Sam smiled as she saw him. John wore fawn-colored riding breeches, black riding boots, and a wide-brimmed black hat. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled on his forearms, the collar gaping open. Although calling his shirt white would be a stretch, since it was mud-streaked and covered with flecks of dirt.
Standing there among the farmers, one hand on the shovel, muscles rippling under the sweat-soaked clothes that were clinging to his body like a second skin, he looked absolutely delicious. She wanted to run her hands along his body and bury her nose in the hollow beneath his throat. The thought brought on giggles, and she had to swallow a laugh before she approached him.
The minute she came up to him, the conversations around him ceased, as everybody started greeting her exuberantly. John turned around and regarded her with a frown. He waited until she finished with her greetings, then made their excuses, took her by the arm, and led her in the direction of the nearby woods. He didn’t seem pleased to see her at all, and for a moment, she started having second thoughts about her plan.
“I thought I told you not to come here alone,” he said when he stopped just by the line of the trees. He dropped her arm and watched her, still scowling.
“And good day to you too,” she muttered and shifted the basket from one hand to another. She massaged her arm where he’d held her while dragging her toward the woods. He hadn’t exactly hurt her, but he hadn’t been gentle with her either.
John noticed her gesture and his frown deepened. “Did I hurt you?” he asked gruffly.
“It’s all right,” she said, lowering her arm and not looking at him.
“It is never all right if I hurt you.” He looked angry now. And then, noticing her basket, he took it from her hand. “This is too heavy for you. Why are you walking here alone with heavy loads? I thought I told you to always have someone with you?”
“Will you stop snapping at me? I brought you lunch!” she said, finally fed up with his attitude. “You don’t have to be this surly with me. I wanted to spend some time alone with you, so I didn’t bring a chaperone. Besides, I came right to you, so now you can act as the guard dog.” She stubbornly tilted her chin and dug her heels into the ground. If he wanted her gone, he’d have to drag her out of there himself.
“You brought me lunch?” He sounded so surprised, she wanted to laugh.
“Yes, lunch. You have to eat, don’t you?” She shrugged. “And I wanted to talk with you. So I decided we could combine these two activities and have a little picnic.”
“You made me a picnic.” He still looked dazed, staring at the basket in his hand.
“Well, the cook made the picnic, I just brought the basket here.”
He finally looked at her. “I’ve got work.” He gestured to the farmers.
“They can go on without you for half an hour, can’t they?”
He looked as though he was about to protest, and Sam’s heart sank. Then he nodded and turned to the farmers.
“I’m taking lunch,” he called out. “You can relax for the next half hour if you like.”
Sam smiled brightly at him. “Should we go to the stream?”
“Yes, I am filthy, I need to clean up.” John looked at his clothes and hands and shook his head.
With that, they set out toward the stream through the woods. He held the basket in one hand and offered his other arm. They walked in complete silence until they reached the stream. Then he headed toward it to wash off the sweat and grime that had accumulated on his body since morning, and she set out to prepare their picnic area.
Sam spread out the blanket, set the basket in the middle of it, and settled on one side, taking out the bread, cold meats and cheeses, a couple of game pies, some fruit, and a bottle of wine. The cook had done excellent work assembling the basket. No wonder her arms ached from carrying it all the way to the field.
She turned and froze at the sight before her. John was standing in the water, knee-deep, in only his breeches. His bare torso gleamed in the sun, and his back muscles shifted with his every movement. He was extremely gorgeous, his body reminding her of a Greek statue. Her mouth went dry just looking at him. She had an inexplicable urge to lick the rivulets of water from his skin. She licked her lips. He turned then, his gaze heating with some unknown emotion. Sam swallowed but continued staring at him unashamedly. John gave her a salute and turned away to continue his ablutions.
After a few more moments, John joined her on the blanket opposite her. He’d dried himself near the stream and put his shirt back on, but his clothing still clung to his muscled back and Sam couldn’t keep her gaze away. John took a bite of a game pie and regarded her curiously.
“I haven’t had a picnic in… Well, let’s just say a long time. Unless, of course, you count the cold, dried-up pieces of bread and spoiled cheese we ate during campaigns. We ate mostly outside too,” he said between taking bites of food.
“The soldiers weren’t fed very well, were you?” she asked, studying him. He rarely about his war experience with her. She didn’t want to spook him. Usually, he avoided the subject like a plague.
He shook his head. “Sometimes we would go days without eating. It was worse if someone was injured. With no clean water or food, they were doomed to die.” His face took on a faraway look as he talked, as if he’d quite forgotten she was even there. “We slept on the ground too. At first, it was uncomfortable…” He shook his head again and gave a tiny smirk but didn’t continue his train of thought.
She was curious about what he was about to say but didn’t want to push him. Instead, she changed the subject.
“How is Christopher working out?”
