Page 15 of Lord of the Forest

Nothing, sadly. “I was going to tickle you, as a punishment for that clove.”

“Oh.” There was a long silence. So, his words had at least had the desired effect. They had quieted her.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been tickled.”

“It wouldn’t have been a good idea.” He gave her a sideways look. “You’d probably have screamed all the louder.”

He started absentmindedly combing his fingers through his hair. He’d let it get tangled, and it would become caught on twigs if he wasn’t careful, or be pulled out by the holly leaves.

“Aye, I daresay I would. We’ll never know, will we?” There was a note in her voice that sent an intriguing heat through his body. Perhaps a kiss would not be folly, after all.

She held his gaze. “I could cut your hair for you. It would be far less trouble if it were shorter. I’ve a sharp knife in my basket which I use for thick stems.”

It would do no harm that he could think of. Unless she meant to cut his throat with it, then hack her way out of the clearing. He measured the length of the tree’s shadow. Aye, there was time enough, before his afternoon rest. If he dared have it in her presence, of course. Curse it—if she hadn’t tricked him with that clove, he might have been less distrustful.

Turning, he held her gaze for a long time, but it didn’t waver. He narrowed his eyes. “Have you a steady hand?”

“That’s to be seen, isn’t it?”

She was teasing him, the little Jezebel. How infuriating that he couldn’t even the score! He was no longer sure how to flirt, flatter, or jest—all the social graces were lost to him. And he’d never had cause to regret their loss—until now.

He remained where he was, pondering the wisdom of his actions, while she collected her basket. She showed him the knife—he’d seen something similar to it, he was sure. Used by a cordwainer or a cobbler mayhap, to cut thick leather? What a day for memories it was turning out to be.

His head was tugged back, and he could feel her sawing away at his tail of hair. Suddenly, everything felt a good deal lighter.

He felt behind him. “How much did you cut off?”

“Not too much.” She waved the hank of hair at him. “What shall I do with this?”

“Whatever you wish.” He fanned his locks around his face. They were just above shoulder-length now—still long, but less likely to catch on things.

Wearing an expression of triumph, Clemence placed the knife back in her basket. “Much better. Only slightly uneven.” She contemplated him, her head a little on one side. He smiled, enjoying her scrutiny.

“I’d need to get my snips to cut it straight, and your beard is still quite horrid. But I’m not accustomed to those, and would make a hog’s dinner of things.”

“Why would you care what I look like?”

Her grey eyes were serious. He discovered that, in the sunlight, they looked more blue than grey. Aye—she was, indeed, a fine-looking wench. It would be a shame to lose her, but let her go he must. She didn’t belong in his world of hardship and uncertainty.

“I don’t like broken things. I have a powerful urge to mend them.”

So, he was broken, was he? He leaped up, lifted her, tossed her a couple of feet in the air, and caught her again. “Broken, am I? Could a broken man do this?”

She giggled as he held her, a delightful sound, like the brook in full spate after a heavy spring rain. He set her down quickly—she was making him yearn for things he couldn’t, shouldn’t have. She was temptation incarnate, a beam of light shining into his dark world, showing him what he’d missed all these years. And she was female, fragile, and too precious to sully with his lustful thoughts.

He released her. “We should go.”

“What, now? Did you not want to wait until nightfall?”

He turned his back and pretended to be tying the drawstring of his shirt. “I’ve changed my mind. You’ve been absent long enough.”

As he strode toward the oak tree, he could hear her coming after him, her skirts whispering over the grasses and last year’s fallen leaves.

“What’s amiss? Are we leaving now? Why so sudden?”

The disappointment in her voice tugged at him, but he’d made up his mind. The greater danger did not lie beyond the holly boughs. It was here, right behind him, and he’d been a fool to get involved in her affairs.

“Shall you tell me the way?” She spoke so quietly, he barely heard her.