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“Good.”
Chapter 12
Wynthea
I entered the changing area of the booth, my arms overflowing with clothing. Frilda followed behind, placing down three pairs of boots and two pairs of shoes to try on before smiling and ducking back out, fastening a flap of fabric across the space so that I had some privacy. I noticed with grateful relief that there was a small iron grate squatting in the corner of the space, filled with heated coals, so that I wouldn’t be uncomfortably cold while undressing. A spindly wooden rack occupied another corner, as well as a small table to presumably place clothing or items upon without soiling them by putting them on the ground.
I removed my cloak swiftly, hanging it up, then decided I’d try the shoes and boots first. I couldn’t stand barefoot on the freezing ground and I didn’t want the nice new clothing brushing my filthy boots as I tried them on.
Neither of the first two pairs of boots was right, but the third was silken heaven on my feet. The boots fit perfectly, as did the second pair of shoes I tried on. All of the foot coverings were impressively made – true quality, with strong, structured soles and gorgeous leather.
I kept on the new shoes as I shimmied out of my old dress. I cast a look back at the fastened flap that served as a wall, making sure there was no way Sigwulf could see me.
My belly churned with magma at the thought of his gaze on me now, dressed only in panties and shoes.
I tugged on the first dress, both loving and hating how perfectly the soft cream-coloured wool fit. Loving it, because it was comfortable and beautiful and the nicest piece of clothing I’d ever worn. And hating it because it meant Sigwulf would definitely buy it for me.
Stubborn doesn’t even begin to cover that dragon-orc, I thought to myself, miffed. The fists of two feelings sparred inside me. The feeling that I needed to prove myself, to show that I was worthy and strong and could buy my own clothing. That I wasn’t a burden.
And the feeling of absolutely adoring the nearly possessive way that someone – a powerful male at that – could take care of me.
This ambivalence only intensified as every garment fit me better than the last. Frilda clearly had a keen eye for guessing someone’s size.
He’s probably going to want to buy it all.
Then, I realized I hadn’t shown him any of the items on me as he’d requested. Or rather, as he’d demanded.
I sighed, knowing I wouldn’t be able to wiggle out of it. If I refused to show him which ones fit, he’d probably buy the entire booth’s contents and drag it all home on a cart.
I glanced down at the new dress I currently wore. It was a lovely garment, its fabric a greyish blue that spoke of storms on a wide sea. Its sleeves were slightly loose but cuffed tightly at the wrists, creating a blousing effect. The neckline had a pleasing heart-shaped curve to it, and the waist of the dress was comfortably snug. The pleated fabric of the long skirt fell away from my hips in a graceful sway.
I grabbed the cloak that Frilda had given me, too, figuring I’d show him both at the same time.
A flutter in my chest made me stop just before I pulled the fabric of the tent wall aside.
A flutter of nerves about what he might think of me.
And not as his employee.
What he’d think of me as a woman in a lovely dress.
Before I could get too gloomy over the fact that our relationship was strictly a working one, I forced myself out into the cold air of the booth.
Sigwulf, who’d been in conversation with Frilda, stopped speaking instantly. His incinerating gaze raked over me so hard that I was surprised it didn’t leave trails of charred fabric in its wake. My breath caught, and I fought the urge to press my fists together in front of my chest to hide myself.
“It fits,” I said, too anxious to ask him what he thought of how I looked.
“So it does,” he said, the words roughened with something I couldn’t identify.
“What about the cloak, dear?” asked Frilda, pointing a knobby green finger towards the crimson wool I’d tossed over my arm.
“Oh! Yes,” I said, lifting it and tossing it over my shoulders. I shivered with pleasure at the feel of the thick, red fabric draping over me. It was easily twice as warm as my old brown cloak, finely crafted to the point of luxury, especially considering the colour.
“We’ll take them both,” Sigwulf said. He said it to Frilda but looked at me the entire time. An odd thrill ran through me when he said, “We.”
“What of the other items?” he asked.
I already knew I couldn’t get away with trying to deceive him.
