Besotted (The Fairest Maidens #3) - Jody Hedlund Page 0,17

continued meeting with Kresten. One morn we picked blackberries. Another, we searched for wild elderberries. The next, I led him to a plum tree, and we filled my basket with ripe fruit, making sure I had enough for Aunt Elspeth so she could make all the baked goodies she desired. Every day, I insisted on giving Kresten a portion of the harvest, sensing his hunger—or at least witnessing his proclivity to eat more than he placed in the basket.

And always, he made every task enjoyable, and I loved how full of life he was. He taught me more about woodcutting, showed me how to throw an axe, and even performed more of his daring blindfolded chops. Sometimes we sat in the grass and just talked, and at other times we hiked. Once he even hung a rope in a tall oak, formed a swing, and pushed me on it for a short while before he attempted to repeat childhood tricks he’d once been able to do while swinging—flipping and twirling and other perilous feats.

For the most part, I’d been content with my simple life in Inglewood Forest. But hearing him speak of the outside world made me realize how much I still had to do and see and learn. His tales of his adventures sparked a longing inside me to experience more of the world the way he had.

On the day before Chester was due to return home, I tried not to dwell on the fact that this would be my last time with Kresten. I didn’t want to spoil the day with gloomy thoughts, so I simply savored the hours we had together. As we finished the morn by picking crab apples, I went slower than usual, not ready for the time to come to an end.

“Watch this.” He plucked a particularly high cluster. He waited for me to focus on him, and then he twisted his arm behind his back and tossed an apple toward the basket. It landed squarely on top of the others.

“’Tis only a matter of good fortune,” I teased. “Not skill.”

“I beg to differ.” With bright eyes and a wide grin, he performed his trick again. Strands of his light-brown hair had come loose, and he raked them back, as charming and handsome as he’d been every other morn.

“’Twould seem you are a woodcutter of many talents. After all, not many men can claim to weave flower crowns and pick crab apples the way you do.”

He chuckled. “I should say not.”

I loved how easily we could banter. I’d never done so with Chester. He’d always been so serious and purposeful about everything he did. By contrast, Kresten’s playful nature was unexpected and refreshing.

And I would sorely miss it . . . miss him . . . even though I’d known him less than a week.

Quietly, I plucked a final cluster and placed the fruit in my basket. ’Twas past time for me to return to the cottage. That meant it was also time to say farewell to Kresten.

All last night I’d tossed and turned in my bed, trying to figure out a way to continue seeing him without Chester or my aunts knowing about it. But I always arrived at the same conclusion—I couldn’t sneak off and deceive them any longer.

I also couldn’t tell them about Kresten. Not even if I tried to reassure them he was nothing more than a friend. Because that wouldn’t be the truth either. Although I’d never interacted with a man the way I had with Kresten, I knew well enough that my attraction toward him wasn’t mere friendship.

As I’d arisen in the morn, I’d decided there was only one thing I could do—put an end to our relationship. We needed to go our separate ways and not see each other again, and I couldn’t allow him to persuade me otherwise.

“Is everything alright?” Kresten dropped a last handful of crab apples into the basket.

I could no longer hide my melancholy. “I must be on my way.”

He nodded, his expression growing somber as though he, too, dreaded the end of our time together. “I’ll walk you to the clearing.”

We ambled through the woods, talking of small things. And when we reached the clearing a short while later, I forced myself to keep going.

Kresten

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked, holding myself back from chasing her.

I’d sensed her growing more comfortable in my presence with each passing day. She’d talked more about her aunts who’d raised her, giving me vivid descriptions of