“Caleb?” she asked him with her head bent to her chest.
He bent his body and inclined his ear to her, swaddling her in silky sheets of gold and orange and bronze as his hair fell over her cheek.
She wanted to bask in the impossibly woodsy scent of him and the feel of his strong, safe arms for the rest of her days.
“Why are you angry with me?” she asked. “What have I done?” Why did she have to care what this man of all men thought? Her father’s enemy?
He drew in a slow breath that lifted her up on his chest and lowered his arms to steer his horse.
Willow’s arms came around herself when his fell away.
“You haven’t done anything but want to go home, Willow. I’m…just a fool.” His voice was so tender when he spoke that it made her want to cry harder. No one had ever treated her with such disdain—or with such affection—in her life.
“Why are you a fool?” She looked up into his moonlit eyes. But he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was set ahead, toward the west. Was he longing for home? He seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment, torn over some deep yearning. Willow imagined he denied himself much.
She had the most insane thought to reach up and touch his face, run her fingertips over the rugged line of his jaw.
“I don’t usually…” he stopped for an instant then continued, “…think…with my, ehm….with my heart.”
She almost smiled at him through her tears. My, but he fought that one hard. Was he thinking with his heart when it came to her? And if he was, what did it mean? She didn’t know, especially because she was thinking with her heart, as well.
“What is so bad about that?” she asked him, wiping her face.
She pulled his attention to her again and he gave her a curious look. “What about your mother’s tragedy and its influence on your stand on love?”
“My mother influenced me in many ways. You don’t know everything about me after one conversation, Commander. She taught me that the heart doesn’t care about the head. It loves whom it loves.”
“Love,” he asked, lowering his lips closer to her ear. “Is that what this is?”
“Oh!” She blurted out a laugh. She hadn’t meant to mention love. “No! Of course not! That would be mad! You are my father’s sworn enemy. And even if that weren’t so, we live completely different lives.”
“Yes. You’re a princess,” he reminded her, then sighed. “I promise, Willow, I won’t stand in your way. I have no right to want to keep you with me. You’re right, you and I are from different worlds.”
“You want to keep me with you?” Her breathy voice barely reached his ears. Somewhere inside her, Willow shouted to herself to wake up. He had pillaged her home and dragged her off into this sunbaked hell. He had gone to Silvergard to kill her father! And here she was gaping at him like a lovesick fool.
“You see? I told you I was foolish.” He shook his head, quieting her when she tried to interrupt him. “We will part as friends, Your Highness. And because of you, I’ll spare your father’s life. But he must pay for what he’s done.” His eyes were alive with powerful feeling while he spoke. “And that will make you my enemy. You will hate me for what I do to him. I wish with all my heart that it could be different.”
“You do?” What was he telling her? What should she say?
“Predaria is in my blood,” he continued, “and its fate is in my hands. It has always been. Riches and finery can’t mean anything to me while my home is being destroyed. Do you understand?” He ran the back of his fingers along her cheek and closed his eyes at the silky feel of her skin.
“Let’s camp here,” Jonas called out ahead before she had a chance to answer.
He dismounted first and then turned to help her.
“Caleb. Why didn’t you take these to trade?” She held up her hands to show him the gold rings on her fingers. “I know you saw them.”
“We had enough. And besides,” His eyes danced lightly over her face, “every princess needs to have some jewelry.”
She eyed him narrowly. “I thought you stripped me of my title.”
“Titles mean nothing,” he said like he meant it. “It’s what’s inside your heart that makes you who you are.”