Страница 41 из 86
“Seeing as how you are doing your best to maintain some distance from me—” I noted the press of his body against mine. His chest and stomach were solid and hot. My backside filled his entire lap. “—it feels unwise to relax into this position.”
“Is it really that difficult for you to focus on our task rather than our bodies?”
“Excuse me?” I craned to scowl at him over my shoulder. “What are you implying?”
“Nothing,” he said, quickly. “Just focus on the damned horse.”
I faced forward again in a huff. “Asshole.”
He spoke near my ear in a low, rumbling voice. “Sit straight. Let your hips find neutral. You need to balance and feel the horse.”
I blew out an a
He gave an approving grunt. “Better.” The encouragement was breathy and low, and an unbidden thrill fell through me. I slammed my eyes closed in a
The road grew uneven, and he tapped my hip twice, a reminder to feel the horse’s shifting. I obeyed with my tongue between my teeth. “That’s good.” When he picked up the horse’s pace and I began to lose my balance, he clamped an arm around my waist. “Got you.”
He kept us like that, bodies pressed tightly together in a bumping trot, with his strong arm around me. My heart hammered at our nearness, and I wondered after all the loathsome thoughts that must have been ru
“Take the reins.” Theodore pressed them into my hand, and I led us through a curving dirt road lined with small yellow flowers. They swayed and bounced in the wind, as if dancing to some gusting melody I could not hear. The corner of my mouth lifted as I watched them, entranced.
“They’re so pretty,” I said softly, letting the thought slip past my lips.
“They’re weeds.”
“Bloody Gods.” A shot of anger rang though me. “They’re still beautiful.”
He was silent as we wound away from the flowers into a green swaying field. I wished I’d held my temper, though it was not my fault that the man was a maddening, close-minded snob. Finally, and to my surprise, he leaned in close. His cheek pressed to my hair. “You’re right.” He sounded apologetic. “They are.”
I wanted to see his face, his eyes. I wanted to see how they changed when his voice sounded like that. I kept my gaze ahead, but that single moment drained all the remaining strain from my body. Despite myself, I rested against him fully, and we moved atop the horse as if we had fused.
Halfway through the field, Theodore pulled hard on the horse’s reins. We stopped and I sucked in a silent breath when I realized why. I could feel him, long and hard, straining against my backside.
Neither of us moved for a beat. My entire body rushed with fire, but I did my very best to douse it. Neither of us spoke as I ungracefully dismounted. When my feet were finally on the ground, I glanced up at him. His face was flushed, his lips pinched, and a part of me wanted to leave him alone with his mortification, but I shook my head in mock disappointment instead, and said, “You should have just focused on the horse.”
He dropped my horse’s reins and spurred his own down the road.
I couldn’t help but grin. “Aren’t you going to wait for me?” The bond was starting to stretch with nauseating discomfort. “It was a jest!” I clambered into my saddle and by some miracle got my horse to follow.
It wasn’t long before my body began to ache. My mind, too, grew troubled. It filled with a maelstrom of worries and questions and thoughts, one circling the next, dragging me down and down. Not even the arresting beauty of Varya could soothe me.
Theodore rode ahead of me, our horses close. “Have you been to the Mage Seer before?” I finally asked.
He scrubbed a hand through his windblown hair. “Only once.” The words were clipped. Final. He didn’t want to talk, but the festering silence between us was eating me alive.
“And? Is it as awful as Agatha says?”
He adjusted in his saddle. Let the quiet stretch and stretch until I was certain he wouldn’t answer. Then, “Yes.”
Cold, choking dread overcame me. My fingers gripped the reins so tightly they locked up. I asked no more questions. I only watched his tense shoulders and cursed beneath my breath, hating that Agatha was always, always right. The thought that Agatha might also be right about us, that whatever simmered between Theodore and me might leave me permanently marred, was too dismal a thought. I wanted to be free of him entirely. And days spent with him like this, terror-riddled and unspeaking, would drive me mad.
“Let’s have it out, then, shall we?” I waited for his reaction. Finally, he glanced at me over his shoulder, a question in his hard gaze. “Let’s get it all out of our systems. Everything that’s got you in a piss-poor mood. Everything we hate about each other, every grievance, so that when our bond is severed, we’ll be properly purged of each other.”
Theodore let out a low whistle and rode for a few more paces. “That sounds like an awful idea.”
We’d crossed into a vineyard and a warm sea breeze rolled through the wide grape leaves. I spoke loud enough for him to hear me over their rustling. “You scared?”
That did it. He pulled in a deep breath, then slowed his horse until we were ambling side by side. He eyed me sidelong. “I’ll go first.”
I rolled my shoulders, readying myself for the blow.
“Your lack of responsibility astounds me,” he said. “I’ve struggled to understand how someone so entrancing—the daughter of such a stu
I tried to blow out my hurt and embarrassment, my shame, but my throat had grown too thick.
He dragged a hand over his brow. “I used to stare up at that statue of Ligea as a boy. Lit candles at her feet and asked for the kind of courage the stories and songs about her told. Then I saw you, her very image, and I—I wanted… It’s been a disappointment to learn that you are a beautiful shell of her.”
The horses clomped over the dirt road as I tried to steady myself. My tight chest only let through short, shallow breaths. It was a long moment before Theodore finally looked at me. I kept my eyes on the road ahead.
“My turn,” I said, when I was finally able to speak. “You’re a pompous ass. You’re so self-righteous that it’s made you callous and closed off. You lack empathy. For me. For anyone who wasn’t given choice and power and gold from their cradle, like you were. Your ridiculous sense of duty does not make you better than me. It makes you see in simple shapes, in black and white, and so it’s made you see only pieces of me. And I hate that even though you are sanctimonious, and stubborn, and have treated me unkindly, I desperately want you to see me as I truly am. To see that just because my courage does not look like yours, or Ligea’s, does not mean I lack it. You wish to control me, and you’re hardly better than Nemea for it.” My voice became wobbly, and I spoke in a rush. “I’ve heard you laugh once, and it was to scoff at me. I’ve only seen you smile genuinely at your dressmaker. For fuck’s sake, you think that simply thinking me beautiful might besmirch your hallowed name. And Gods forbid the paeans that will no doubt be written about you might mention you being virile. No, the great God-king Theodore was unplagued by evil desire. He made beautiful women wear sacks—”
“All right.” Theodore’s voice was desolate.
“No, I’m not done. You could use a Godsdamned fuck. A good, long one. Hopefully your new wife will enjoy your chaste kisses and rigid embraces and the fireworks you shoot off for her in the bay, because that’s the most warmth she’ll get.”
My anger was vivid and beating and I wanted him to know it, but I’d spewed a half truth. I’d felt his warmth before, many times. Even now, the memory of his strong hand against the plane of my stomach filled me with a heavy, fiery ache.
Sullen, Theodore moved back into the lead. We rode through vineyard after vineyard without speaking a word. The sun curved in its wide arc over the sky, and as it fell back toward the horizon, Theodore pulled us off to the side of the road.
Jaw tight, he dismounted and rummaged through the saddlebag. He pulled out a bottle of wine. Wrestled the cork free. “Did that make you feel better?” He took a long swig.
“No.” I threw my leg over my horse and winced as I fell to my feet. I groaned and met his glare. “I feel worse. You were right, it was an awful idea.”
He huffed an agreement. Took another deep drink. He came closer, too close, and I stiffened. “Here.” He stared down at me with heated, narrowed eyes as he waited for me to take the wine.
I took a long drink, my gaze stuck to his as I did. It was the same wine I’d drunk at the table in the Garden Room. Sparkling and sweet. I took another drink. “It’s good.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you make it?”
He nodded. “The grapes came from two vineyards back. I tend to them.”
I smirked. “You garden?”
“I do.” He gave me a smile, though hurt still swam in his gaze. “Maybe they’ll add that to those paeans they’ll write about me,” he said in a glum tease. “King Theodore, the gardening prude.”
I returned a smile. “Lachlan told me you weren’t always.” His dark brow quirked. “He told me about your nights on your ship filled with women.”
Theodore gave a deep laugh. It was husky and dark and I stilled at the sound of it. “I thought he might have. Fucking Lachlan.” His cheeks were full of color, and an errant smirk curled his lips. He checked the deepening sky, the small clouds starting to grow over it like scales. “About a mile up there’s a caretaker’s cottage. They’re open for travelers and land workers.” His gaze locked with mine. “We can sleep there tonight.”