She was purpose-fully intent on her work, for if she allowed her thoughts to range freely she would be overtaken by the knowledge and the hope that he still might come. Stems and crushed blooms littered the coarse yellow gown she wore and damp earth stained the garment, but she paid it no mind. Carefully she twined purple summer flowers into her single dark brown braid, and dabbled bare feet in the rushing water. She sat by the creek, half-hidden in lush grasses. The animal reacted to her unexpected appearance with alacrity. I did not think you would come, she said, pitching her voice to carry over the noisy horse. So, you wish to see Homana's prince take an unexpected bath, he said menacingly, but she saw the amusement in his eyes. If she allowed him to see it she would be no different from anyone else to him, and therefore of no account. She felt the familiar leap of excitement, anticipation and wonder within her breast, and quickly tried to dismiss it.
She drew her knees up and clasped her arms around them, resting her chin on their tops. What have you been doing harvesting all the flowers? You are fair covered with them. The prince stared down at her quizzically, one tawny eyebrow rose.
Then her attention was caught by an approaching rider, and she let fall the flowered braid from limp fingers. My lord.Ī songbird called from the forest behind and she glanced up, smiling at the delicate melody.
She tried to draw her hands from his large weapon-callused ones.
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