Besotted (The Fairest Maidens #3) - Jody Hedlund Page 0,8

very good teacher. Much better than my aunts.”

“Your aunts?”

The moment he repeated me, I realized I’d said too much, and I tugged away from him. “I must be on my way.” I couldn’t allow him to touch me again, or I would be helpless but to continue dancing. If it were possible, I would dance with him all day long.

He angled his head, almost as if he were reading my thoughts. “If you’d like, we could meet and dance again on the morrow.”

I could think of nothing I wanted to do more. In fact, waiting until the morrow would seem like an eternity. Even so, I hesitated.

“I shall teach you another dance.”

“I cannot.”

I expected him to try to convince me otherwise. Instead, he backed up, letting his gaze sweep over me. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

My heartbeat stilled at his high praise, only to start tapping again at double speed with the pleasure of knowing he found me beautiful. “I still cannot meet again.” I spoke the words Chester would want me to.

Kresten nodded. “Very well. I did promise that if you danced with me, I would do as you wished and go away and never come back.”

“And tell no one of my presence.”

“I would never do that, for I would keep you to myself.”

“You would?”

“Very much so.”

I forced myself to retreat one step, then two. He remained in his spot, unmoving, without pursuing me. When I bumped into my basket and shoes, I realized he truly intended to keep his promise and let me go. If I departed now, I’d never see him again. And that thought filled me with a strange emptiness.

I grabbed my belongings and hurried to the path that would lead me home. I couldn’t resist a glance over my shoulder. Kresten stood where I’d left him, solemnly watching my departure.

What harm could come of meeting him one more time? After all, I hadn’t even told him my name. “I might return to this clearing on the morrow to pick more berries.”

His smile broke free like a burst of sunbeams. “And I might just happen to be fishing near here again.”

I tucked my chin and hurried onward. But I couldn’t contain a smile of my own.

Chapter

3

Aurora

“There you are, my sweeting.” Aunt Elspeth didn’t pause in her weaving as I entered the cottage. While her feet were pressing both pedals of the loom, her fingers flew between alternating threads, slipping the shuttle with its bobbin in and out.

Her plump frame spilled over a three-legged stool. Even with the cushion she’d fashioned for the stout little chair, I couldn’t imagine sitting on it for hours a day as Aunt Elspeth did. I had a hard enough time staying still for just an hour or two focusing on my myriad of lessons.

I crossed to her and looped the wild cyclamen garland over her head so that it hung like a necklace. The silvery-pink flowers grew in profusion in the shade on the forest floor and were amongst Aunt Elspeth’s favorites.

“Oh my!” She stopped her weaving and lifted the floral necklace to her nose, breathing in the delicate scent. “Just what I was hoping you’d bring me.”

I smiled at her typical reaction to the flowers I gave her almost daily in one form or another. The jar filled with pale-peach begonias graced a nearby windowsill. An arrangement of snowdrops sat in a pot at the base of the loom. And a display of gladioli decorated the fireplace mantel.

“You’re such a dear heart.” Aunt Elspeth patted my cheek, her eyes shining with love.

“No, you are the dear heart.” I bent and kissed the top of her head covered by a simple scarf. Although I tried, I couldn’t express to my caretakers just how much I loved and appreciated them for the many ways they nurtured me.

As Aunt Elspeth returned her attention to the loom, I carried my basket to the table, woefully low on berries. After my hours away, how would I explain picking so few? “I am heartily sorry to be gone so long.”

“Oh, you have naught to worry about.” Aunt Elspeth’s rounded cheeks were rosy and her smile was as ready as always. “You may as well get all the berries you can before they’re gone.”

With a sinking heart, I skimmed a hand across the scant layer hardly covering the bottom. My conscience nudged me to tell this sweet woman the truth about my encounter with the young woodcutter. But at the same time, there was