Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
I ride across the fields under a slightly cloudy sky and admit to myself that he makes me curious.
He does not do things in the usual way, and I find it frustrating.
I should feel the same way about him as I did about all the other princes, but I don’t. I wanted him to speak to me. I wanted to look into his eyes and see what thoughts I could discern there. I wanted him to pay attention to me.
That is quite a change.
I ride to a small pavilion by the stream and wait for my guards to catch up with me. One of them takes my horse to graze, and the other opens the woven picnic basket the kitchens have sent for me. He lays out the various dishes and utensils they’ve packed, then takes up a post a short distance away so I may have solitude. Which I am grateful for.
I do not feel like eating roast chicken and sugar-glazed sweets off silverware. I came out here to escape the castle and escape the long wait until tea tomorrow, so I pull an apple out of the basket. I don’t slice it with a knife. I just bite into it. The skin breaks crisply under my teeth.
“You could have come riding with me, if you were already in your riding clothes,” I comment to the prince, though he’s not here to bear my snide remark guised as an invitation. Perhaps I will say so at tea tomorrow. Or perhaps I will be too ashamed.
I’ve been trying to ignore the shame. Beside the burbling stream, I close my eyes and try my best to accept the truth.
The truth is I have a secret lover. I have had a secret lover, at least once. I spend my days wondering where he has gone and why he does not come to me. It has not been so long since that night in my rooms, only days, but it feels like months.
By meeting with all these suitors, am I betraying myself, or am I betraying him?
Is there even anything to betray, when I am the only one who spoke, and he did not make any promises?
“I feel that it should count as a promise, to come to a princess’s bed and fuck her simply because she said she wanted it,” I mention to the stream. The bubbling hum of the water continues undeterred by my statement.
The stream doesn’t judge me, but it also doesn’t provide me with any answers. I finish the apple and toss the core into the trees nearby.
By then, of course, I am hungry, so I eat the roast chicken and the glazed sweets after all.
They’re very good. But still I am unsettled.
Isabel waits for me when I return to the castle. Her pale blue cotton sundress flows in the breeze. She’s a vision of a maiden with her dark hair pinned back and a sun-kissed glow. She comes out of a sitting room and looks wide-eyed at me. My dear friend is a sight to see. Instantly my heart collapses. As if I needed more guilt to weigh me down.
She will not understand. I know it so. She’s spoken so fondly of Philip and her first time. How special it was. I swallow thickly.
“Cora! I did not realize you were out riding for a competition,” she scolds and yet I diminish it by pretending I did not hear her harsh tone.
“I wasn’t,” I say. “I was only getting some air.”
“And having a picnic, I heard.” She states with her fists on her hips. Surely something has gotten into her, and I don’t appreciate it.
“Yes, well, it is not forbidden,” I inform her while wrestling with my own unease.
She blinks at me, clearly surprised at my tone. “Did something happen on your ride?”
“No, it was lovely. I rode out to the stream and ate a lovely dinner. I walked a bit, and then I rode back. I did not think there was any hurry.”
“Not on my account, there wasn’t. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go back out? I will ride with you, if you do.” Her eyes are prying and they force my gaze away, lest she sees too much.
Licking my lips I wonder what all she surmises as I undress my boots. I know I’m being unfair to her. I tell myself it is because I have been riding, and I am sore, and I need fresh clothes.
“I just need to change.” I offer her a warm smile, though I think we both know it is not genuine. “Will you wait downstairs, or do you want to come up?”
“You’ll need a quick bath,” Alice states from a few feet away. It appears she accompanied Isabel. I nod, understanding and at the same time wipe a bit of mud, partially dried, from my arm.