Page 37 of The Pumpkin Bride

“Oh, that’s awful.” Marigold furrowed her brow. “Why would the prince schedule a wedding against such a popular event?”

“According to one of his knights in the Laughing Gourd, the Thornwick princess insisted on a fall wedding under a full moon. Sounds like the prince has his hands full with that one.”

Marigold’s face reddened. “That’s the most irredeemable piece of gossip I—”

“Keep me posted, Alfred,” Bram cut in, lest she lose her grip on her secret. “You’d best be on your way before dark.”

Sunset wasn’t the drawn-out love affair they enjoyed in the height of summer. No, at this time of year, the sun’s dip below the horizon was fast and determined, like a newlywed diving into bed.

“Agreed.” Alfred blew smoke rings over their heads, then tipped his cap. “Pleasure meeting you, Miss Meg.”

“Likewise,” she said.

As Alfred disappeared around the bend, Marigold turned to him. “You don’t own a horse.”

The sudden change of topic caused his brain to bump against his skull. “That’s correct.”

“So, is it that you can’t go into town or you won’t go into town?”

If he shared the truth—that he couldn’t leave this farm—she wouldn’t stop asking questions. Marigold was tenacious when things didn’t add up. Easy to see she’d unravel the rest quickly. Dishonesty rankled. It ran rough against his training and the code to which he swore an oath.

But her death would rankle more, so to protect her, he told a plausible lie.

“Won’t. I got tired of the looks from the city folk.” He picked up the egg basket.

“I know that feeling.” Marigold walked with him to the coop, her tone softened. “Like you’re an animal in a menagerie. When I was younger, I disguised myself so I could walk among my people without notice. Isn’t that strange? Royals are supposed to shepherd their kingdoms, and yet we’re divided from our citizens.”

“Doesn’t have to be that way,” he said.

“I agree.” She pinched her chin and stared in the distance.

Uh-oh. That gesture meant she was about to lob an amazing and terrible idea at him. Diving from Piney Falls into Amberglen Lake, for example. Or trying dreamleaf in the castle’s hedgerow maze and giggling like idiots looking for the very simple escape.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“I’m always thinking about something, Jask.” She blinked and was present with him again. “Are you not?”

Eventually, she’d spill it. Another Marigold habit—she couldn’t keep her amazing/terrible ideas to herself for long. He doubt she’d last twenty-four hours before telling him all about it.

“I had an idea for your bath.” He hung the basket outside the coop. “Would you like to take one after supper?”

She clapped. “Oh, yes, please.”

His heart warmed at the sparkle in her eyes.

Chapter 10

“Tell me about this brilliant idea for a bath.” Marigold walked through the door Jask held open. Inside the cottage, she toed off her shoes, then asked, “Do you need help with your boots?”

“No, I’ll manage.” He sat on the bench by the door.

With his left hand, he managed to coax one boot halfway off before cursing under his breath. She pressed her fist to her mouth to suppress a giggle. Men were always so reluctant to ask for help, as though the world didn’t operate on mutual support networks.

“Are you sure?” She pumped water onto her hands and washed up with the pine-scented soap.

“I’m fine.”

His grunts said otherwise, but she respected his determination. At the stove, she stirred the pottage. They’d left it on a low heat so it would be warm for supper, and its heavenly aroma made her stomach rumble.