Chapter 5 #2
She followed, rushing to keep up with his longer strides. "But what shall we use for shelter?"
"The trees are our shelter." He shook out a blanket with a snap, dropped it, and stretched out on the ground, crossing his boots at the ankle.
She stood nearby, hugging two pillows and looking at the sky as if she expected it to fall on her at any time. "But what if it rains?"
"It is not going to rain." He locked his hands behind his head.
"Oh." She sat down next to him and began to arrange a bed. "You sound certain."
"I am certain."
“If you are certain,” she said with a shrug, then proceeded to lay every blanket stop her pillow pallet and lastly topped it off with the feather coverlet.
He'd sweat to death under all that, he thought.
She finally crawled underneath the covers. After a minute of peaceful silence, she asked, "William?"
"Hmm?"
"Would you like some of these pillows?"
"No."
"I have plenty."
He grunted.
"Perhaps only one? On which to rest your head?"
He turned over and looked at her. She was holding out a pillow. He took it, stuffed it under his head, and closed his eyes.
She shifted around for a few more minutes, then finally lay down.
He resisted the urge to applaud.
"William?"
"Aye?"
"I have more blankets too."
"I'm fine."
"You'll freeze with only one blanket. And you did fall into the river. It must have been icy. You could become ill, especially sleeping on the ground."
"I've slept more often on the ground in the past few years than in a bed." He turned over and looked at her. He felt suddenly very foolish. "You have never slept anywhere but in a bed, have you?"
"I slept in a hammock once. ‘Twas quite interesting.
Took me four attempts before I managed not to spill out of it.
‘Twas the only time I have ever bloodied my nose.
" She laughed at herself, then pulled the covers over and around her and huddled under them.
With only her face showing she looked like a spring cabbage.
He called himself all kinds of an idiot.
Again. He should have planned a place for her to stay.
Somewhere warm and with some comforts for a lady, just as he should have planned for more elaborate food than meager meals of bread and cheese.
He hadn't thought about what she would need.
He had been too determined to get her alone.
Too ready to be with her. Too desperate to think clearly.
Now he was with her, alone, and his time was passing quickly, like water leaking from the jar of a water clock. He felt each droplet was a lost moment.
"This is rather nice," she said with a sigh. "Look at all those stars." She sounded surprised and pleased. "I don't think I've ever seen the sky like this. It's as if above us is a canopy full of stars." She paused. "So very interesting . . ."
"What is so interesting?"
"Somehow seeing the sky like this makes the night less dark and frightening."
He stared up at the night sky, wondering how someone could think it frightening. The lack of sunlight gave him a sense of privacy. The air was still. Cold. And it was quiet. To him there was a strange power in the darkness of the night. A peace. Battles were not fought at night.
"Do you think the tales are true?"
"What tales?"
"That all the stars are angels."
He looked at the sky and wondered at such fanciful nonsense. "Men use the stars to guide them home," he said quietly.
"Did you?"
"Aye. I sailed home on a ship. A ship's crew uses the stars to keep on course."
"I didn't know that."
"See that bright star directly above us? That's what is called a mariner's star."
"It's very beautiful." She paused. "What is it like to sail on a ship?"
He turned, frowning.
She must have read his puzzlement because she added, "I mean, how does it feel?"
He stared at the night sky and wondered when he had stopped noticing things—the vast numbers of stars, the sweet taste of a honeyed fig, the feel of the sea. He sat up a little and rested his head on his hand while he looked down at her.
Her hands were folded prayerlike beneath the pillow and she just lay there, calmly, looking at him with expectant eagerness.
"The sea is unpredictable. There are times when a ship can glide smoothly over the water, and other times where the sea can pound so much water into the ship that one is certain it will sink at any moment.
" He paused thoughtfully. "I suppose sailing is like war in a way, a battle of the elements—wind and weather and the massive seas—things, powerful things, that one cannot control. "
She was quiet, then she cocked her head. "I think perhaps I'd be frightened to death. Yet I can hear in your voice that you find pleasure in danger, don't you?"
He shrugged, uncomfortable at speaking so plainly of his thoughts, but he fought to keep his expression impassive. ‘Tis a challenge."
She said nothing, just wiggled under her covers.
He wished she would go to sleep. Then he could watch her freely, watch her sleep.
Her scent drifted to him in the midsummer air, making him aware of her in ways he'd just as soon forget.
He took a deep breath and found her scent as soul cleansing as fresh sea air.
He stared up into the night sky, before he took one last look at her.
She was watching him.
He would kiss her, at any moment. He knew he would. He started to move toward her.
"William?" She spoke his name gently, as if it were natural to her.
He froze.
"Thank you," she whispered sleepily, and closed her eyes.