Page 84 of Crown of the Courtesan

I don’t argue this time, wondering what he’s planning. My legs rise, and he shoves the bench up against my seat, making the belly of the boat twice as deep. With a ripple of fabric, he unfastens and unfurls his cloak, laying it on the bottom of the expanded footboard.

Realization dawns on me that I’m expected to lie with him, and my stomach flips. I haven’t even fully processed what happened between us the night before, and now⁠—

Peering upward, I watch as Ashland struggles to take off his chest and shoulder armor. He sees me looking and turns away, his ears turning red.

I stand up and softly offer, “Here, let me help.”

“There’s no need.”

Ashland struggles again for a moment before wordlessly dipping down for our height difference. I begin to unlatch his armor for him, piling the metal pieces under the bench seat as best I can.

He then removes his gambeson and undershirt. The dark hair on his muscled chest takes me by surprise, and it’s my turn to look away, cheeks heated.

His frown deepens before he says, “Let’s not make this into something it’s not. Valora said to get undressed, and I won’t risk losing my bannermen over prudish pride.”

I swallow, hesitating for only a second before attempting to reach the laces of my bodice in the back of my gown. With the exception of my first night as his courtesan, I can usually figure a way out of my more difficult clothing in the privacy of my chambers. Standing on a precariously rocking rowboat is another matter entirely, however.

Our eyes meet, and I sheepishly whisper, “Your turn.”

Ashland clears his throat as I turn around. I feel his breath on my neck while his fingers gingerly pull my green velvet gown loose. The fabric slips off my shoulders, and he grazes my back with his hand.

“Ah, my apologies.” Ashland clears his throat again.

“Never mind that.” I slip out of my clothing until only my petticoats and stays remain. I stand there not knowing what to do, feeling exposed.

But he pays me no mind as he removes his leg armor, leaving only his padded chausses before lowering himself to lie down on the cloak. A few moments pass, and then he says, “Now hand me that gown.”

My brow quirks up, but I hand it to him as I lower myself to sit on my knees beside his sprawling form.

He proceeds to crumple it beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. “Not exactly comfortable down here,” he grumbles.

I scrunch up my face at the thought of one of my favorite gowns smelling like fish guts and seaweed.

Ashland places his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. He looks almost peaceful, as if he’s asleep. One eye squints open.

“What?”

Just then, a choppy wave sends a chilly spray against my back, making my face scrunch up as I arch my spine. Ashland lets out a hearty chuckle. “That’s what you get for trying to set my back ablaze last night.”

My eyes flash at him.

I cross my arms, but he pulls me down onto him—an awkward shuffling of our bodies, one of the least romantic encounters I’ve ever had. At last, my head is comfortably positioned in the nook of his arm. I tilt my neck to see his face. We are so close that I can see his raven hair shine, each wavy strand curling around the nape of his neck.

“Hopefully, they hurry,” I murmur, shifting so that I’m not putting too much weight on him. Though with my damp stays, this embrace is preferable to sitting out in the cold wind.

“The men around here seldom hurry once they’ve returned from the battlefield. Time slows down when you’re in your homeland again, surrounded by normalcy. It’s hard to rush life when you’ve bargained with the quickness of death.”

I take a breath. “I’m not well-versed in such matters, but what you say seems reasonable enough.” There’s a moment’s pause before I ask, “Have you been in many battles?”

“More than I care to count.” Ashland almost seems to scoff but thinks better of it. “Once I learned to ride a horse, my father kept me close in the battle encampments. By the time I was sixteen, I was leading a charge into battle.”

“Sixteen is but a child!”

“My father thought otherwise. He had some very old-fashioned views.” I’m surprised when he continues, “I was at the battle before last, but I had to take some time for an unexpected injury.”

“What happened?”

“I was wounded, but that doesn’t matter. As you can see, I’m healed enough.”