Besotted (The Fairest Maidens #3) - Jody Hedlund Page 0,35

me suspected it was too late.

I rose and exited the room. I didn’t want to talk to Chester, but he followed me outside the cottage into the cool afternoon.

“Be more careful, Rory,” he said quietly as the door closed behind him.

I lowered myself to the bench underneath the window and retrieved the wreath I’d been creating from the variety of flowers I’d dried over the summer.

“Please, Rory,” Chester said again after a minute.

I inhaled a deep breath, taking in the aroma of wood smoke from the kilns mixed with the dampness of fallen leaves. The distant trill of a weasel echoed in the soft stillness of the air. Aunt Idony, on her knees in one of her herb beds, paused to study us before she resumed her pruning.

Chester folded his arms and propped a shoulder against the door frame. Apparently, he had no intention of leaving me in peace until I replied.

I let the wreath fall idle in my lap. “I had hoped by now you could accept Kresten and see that we have naught to fear from him.”

“And I had hoped by now you’d recognize that something about him doesn’t match up with who he claims to be.” Chester had mentioned his suspicion on several other occasions. And I’d reassured him that while Kresten may have had an unusual upbringing, there was no denying his skill with an axe or the brawny muscles and thick calluses of a woodcutter.

Perhaps I, too, found it unusual for a pauper to be so well versed about so many subjects. But I didn’t question him for fear he might be wondering the same of me. If I remained silent on the matter, I hoped he would too.

“You’re allowing yourself to get too close to him.”

I’d already admonished myself to cease from giving him my heart. And my pulse already pattered with a strange foreboding. Nevertheless, I couldn’t make myself cut things off with him yet.

Maybe a stronger queen like my mother would have been able to do so. I needed only to envision her portrait hanging in my father’s chamber at Huntwell Fortress to be reminded of my own shortcomings. She’d been regal, her eyes alight with purpose and her chin high with determination. She’d accomplished everything she set out to do. Aunt Idony and my father had always spoken highly of her, lauding her many feats.

How could I manage ruling a country when I could hardly manage my emotions? Surely once I arrived in Delsworth, everyone would be disappointed that I wasn’t as strong and purposeful as my mother. They’d view me as plain, simple, and ignorant, unfit to rule. What if they decided they didn’t like me or want me as queen?

Maybe I ought to consider staying at the cottage after all. For several seconds, my insecurities seemed to join forces with the desire to stay here with Kresten.

But as Chester released an exasperated breath, I released the idea, letting it float away on the breeze. “You need not worry.” I spoke the words expected of me. “As Aunt Elspeth said, the time with him will be over erelong. And then I shall never see him again.”

If only I could convince my heart that’s what I really wanted.

Chapter

11

Kresten

I sighed for the hundredth time, earning another raised brow from Jorg. Sitting on the stool by the window for light, he paused in writing in his journal where he kept record of our daily activities. “Do you need another book?”

The history book lay open on the blanket covering my outstretched legs. Though I’d found the history of Mercia fascinating and appreciated Saint Bede’s tales of the early settlement of the Great Isle, today I took no pleasure in reading. Every time I tried, the words blended together, and all I saw was Rory’s earnest face, the desire in her eyes, and the readiness in her open lips.

I could have kissed her. I would have kissed her, and she would have let me . . . if not for Chester’s return.

Part of me longed to finish the moment, to press my lips to hers and savor the sweetness of a kiss. But another part of me was relieved Chester had arrived when he did, preventing me from carrying through with it.

We had to remain friends. And until yesterday, I’d maintained the boundaries—or at least I thought I had. If Aunt Elspeth hadn’t fallen asleep . . . But even as I blamed the older woman, I could only place the responsibility upon myself. First