13
CECILY
Cecily woke slowly, aware first of warmth.
Her head rested on Finn’s shoulder. His chin lay just above her hairline, and when she shifted, she felt the faint scratch of his beard against her forehead. One of his arms lay across her waist, loose and unguarded.
She lay still. The room was quiet. Too quiet. The bed beneath them was narrow, the blanket barely wide enough for two, and during the night she must have turned toward him without thinking. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder. He was solid and warm beneath her.
She did not move. It was better not to wake him. She noticed the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. That he had not pulled away.
When she finally shifted, his arm tightened for a moment, as if even in sleep he was reluctant to let her go.
Then he stirred. His eyes blinked open, unfocused at first. His gaze dropped to her hair against his shoulder, then to his arm around her waist. He drew a breath and released her at once, rolling away from her.
“I… I didn’t realize,” he began.
“Nor I,” she said quickly.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “We should get up.”
“Yes,” she said, rolling away and standing. Finn was out of bed just as quickly.
For a moment, neither of them moved. They stood on opposite sides of the tiny bed, looking at each other. Then, without a word, Cecily combed her hair with her fingers and tied it back with her new ribbon.
Better to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
∞∞∞
They ate in the inn’s common room, bread and a little cheese. Cecily finished her portion before she realized she’d begun.
Finn leaned back in his chair. “So. What do you want to do, Cecily—Lady Cecily?” He smiled as he emphasized her title.
“We haven’t had it easy here, but with time and the right tools, I think I could repair the machine.
I’ve watched Anton work on it for months.
Do you want to go home? Back to our time? ”
She stared at the table. “Home,” she repeated. Then she looked up, fire in her eyes. “I would rather die here than go back and marry Lord Alard.”
Finn nearly choked on his ale.
“I mean it,” she said.
“I believe you,” he said. “Just keep your voice down.”
She huffed. “You asked.”
He studied her for a moment. “Then I need to make some money. I need work so we can eat and have a place to live.”
“I could work too,” she said.
He snorted. “Doubtful.”
She leaned toward him, eyes sharp. “I could. I could be a lady’s maid. What kind of work did you do before?”
He hesitated, then said, “I was a blacksmith’s apprentice.”
“I bet I could find work quicker than you.”
He laughed. “Is that so?”
“I’ll have work by midday,” she said. “You’ll see.”
They both stood.
“You’re on,” Finn said. “Whoever finds work first, wins.”
“Wins what?”
He shrugged. “The satisfaction of being right.”
“I already have that,” she said, laughing.
∞∞∞
They walked together into the heart of town, then parted with a few words that sounded more confident than Cecily felt.
She entered a small shop selling household goods, linen, wooden bowls, lengths of twine. The air smelled faintly of soap and tallow. A woman stood behind the counter, counting coins.
“I beg your pardon,” Cecily said. “Might you know where I could find work? I’m looking for a place as a maid.”
The woman behind the counter shook her head. “No work here, girl.”
Another voice, calm and measured, cut in from the back of the shop.
“Perhaps I can help.” A well-dressed woman stepped forward.
She looked Cecily over, her gaze lingering on her clean hands and straight posture.
“My maid is leaving my service. The position is not yet spoken for. It is difficult work.”
Cecily met her gaze. “I am a hard worker.”
The woman considered her for a long moment. “My household is at the edge of town. Come this evening, and we will see if you are suitable.”
Moments later Cecily stepped back into the street, feeling as though the world was righting itself. She had agreed to go to the woman’s house at the edge of town later that day.
She found Finn near a forge not long after. He was speaking with a broad-shouldered man streaked with soot.
“I have work,” she said, grinning despite herself.
Finn turned, admiration flashing across his face before he laughed. “I’m not surprised.”
She lifted her chin. “That means I win.”
He studied her for a moment. “I underestimated you,” he said.
“Oh,” she added with a grin, “and I mentioned I had a strong brother in need of work. The lady said her steward might have need for a grounds worker. You’re to speak with him this evening.”