Mirror Sight
Page 180
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“Yes?” Luke asked.
“A guest cottage, rather more exclusive and usually reserved for the Preferred.”
“How much?” Luke asked in a resigned voice.
The innkeeper named his price in imperial terms Karigan was unfamiliar with, not having been allowed to handle currency. But from Cade’s gasp, she guessed it was an exorbitant sum.
He turned to Luke. “Sir, we can try someplace else.”
“Just a moment, Harley. Innkeeper, you promised me that bunkhouse, and have now gone back on your word. It is on you to make good.”
The innkeeper scratched his chin, named another price, and after some haggling an agreement was reached, followed by the clinking of coins as they passed from Luke’s hand to the innkeeper’s. Cade was given the key to the cottage, and he lifted Karigan into his arms. With the audience present, she dared not protest. She could feel his silent laughter through his chest. Only when they reached the little cottage, without their audience, did he set her down. She poked him in the ribs, eliciting a chuckle.
Though the bunkhouse had looked nice, the cottage had a sweet demeanor, set in the midst of gardens smelling of sea roses and honeysuckle. Intricately carved gingerbread curled beneath the eaves. Inside it was light and airy. There were two beds, larger than the usual bunks, and thicker looking, with down quilts. There were even rugs on the floor and curtains pulled aside from the windows. Upon further investigation, she discovered an actual bathing room with running water. It was not as ostentatious as the one at the professor’s house, but it possessed all the plumbing and mechanics with which she had become familiar, and, most importantly, an enormous tub. What had initially appeared to be bad luck with their bunkhouse, had turned into something far better. She could barely contain herself and came bouncing out into the main room.
“You are feeling better,” Cade said.
“I shall have a hot bath tonight,” she informed him.
“Good. Now you won’t have to kill anyone.” She must have given him a quizzical look because he added, “Last night you said you would kill for a hot bath.”
“I will if anyone gets in my way.” She gave him a playful pat on his cheek.
The bath was as blissful as she could have wished. She washed away days of travel and illness, scrubbed her skin with a lavender-scented soap, and washed her hair. She settled into languor as she soaked, steam billowing up from the water, and thought about how perfect a setting this cottage was. A setting for her and Cade.
They had been dancing around each other for so long now, and it left her confused. He’d declared his celibacy as a Weapon, yet seemed to signal the opposite by expressing his desire to travel back in time with her, presumably to be with her, and asking if she had a suitor back home, so he could “know the lay of the land.” In other words, he wanted to find out what competition he might have to face for her attentions.
So which was it? she wondered. He could not have it both ways. Was he celibate or not? If the latter, she could not imagine wanting to share her most intimate self with anyone else but Cade.
Well, there was one other, but he was so far away and so inaccessible even when within physical reach. He could not be hers. Cade could.
Except for the fact he was a Weapon. She slapped the water in aggravation. Why was she always reaching for the impossible?
Would he consider breaking his declaration of chastity to . . . to be with her? No matter what she might wish, she could not, would not, ask it of him. She respected him too much, admired the honor of all Black Shields. He would have to make the decision on his own.
She shifted in the tub, sending wavelets rippling across the surface of the water and against her skin. If, by chance, he had a change of heart, she was ready, a conclusion she’d come to only recently. After years of internalizing the teachings of her four strong-willed and conservative aunts who ensured she knew, in no uncertain terms, that an unmarried woman bedding a man was unacceptable, her expedition to Blackveil had given her occasion to reassess her beliefs. On the eve of entering the forest, lonely and realizing she might never return from her perilous mission, she had desired nothing more than the comforting touch of another. As fate would have it, she’d begun her journey without it.
In addition to her aunts espousing their morals as they raised her, she’d grown up wanting to emulate her parents, thinking it honorable to wait for that one true heart mate, only to find out her father had consorted with prostitutes. Not necessarily while he was married, but it had still dashed her illusions about his perfect love for her mother.
Could Cade be her heart mate? She did not know, but thought she’d like to find out.
As for honor? She had challenged that notion, as well. Some of her friends among the Green Riders had placed no restrictions on their personal lives, and were they any less honorable for seeking human companionship during respites in their otherwise hazardous lives? No. They were the most courageous, honorable people she knew. They were the ones to emulate, though, being particular in her attachments, she could not give so freely of herself as some of them.
Karigan was an adult now. She did not have to answer to her father, her aunts, or anyone. She’d watch out for her own honor.
She soaked till she wrinkled and the water cooled. She pulled the plug and, as the water drained from the tub, she felt as though the last of the morphia whirled away with it. She was once more whole and herself and ready to take on anything life flung at her.
Wearing only one of her oversized shirts, she peered out of the bathing room. She did not see Cade anywhere, so she entered the main room, sat on her bed, and engaged in battle with the tangles in her hair.
“A guest cottage, rather more exclusive and usually reserved for the Preferred.”
“How much?” Luke asked in a resigned voice.
The innkeeper named his price in imperial terms Karigan was unfamiliar with, not having been allowed to handle currency. But from Cade’s gasp, she guessed it was an exorbitant sum.
He turned to Luke. “Sir, we can try someplace else.”
“Just a moment, Harley. Innkeeper, you promised me that bunkhouse, and have now gone back on your word. It is on you to make good.”
The innkeeper scratched his chin, named another price, and after some haggling an agreement was reached, followed by the clinking of coins as they passed from Luke’s hand to the innkeeper’s. Cade was given the key to the cottage, and he lifted Karigan into his arms. With the audience present, she dared not protest. She could feel his silent laughter through his chest. Only when they reached the little cottage, without their audience, did he set her down. She poked him in the ribs, eliciting a chuckle.
Though the bunkhouse had looked nice, the cottage had a sweet demeanor, set in the midst of gardens smelling of sea roses and honeysuckle. Intricately carved gingerbread curled beneath the eaves. Inside it was light and airy. There were two beds, larger than the usual bunks, and thicker looking, with down quilts. There were even rugs on the floor and curtains pulled aside from the windows. Upon further investigation, she discovered an actual bathing room with running water. It was not as ostentatious as the one at the professor’s house, but it possessed all the plumbing and mechanics with which she had become familiar, and, most importantly, an enormous tub. What had initially appeared to be bad luck with their bunkhouse, had turned into something far better. She could barely contain herself and came bouncing out into the main room.
“You are feeling better,” Cade said.
“I shall have a hot bath tonight,” she informed him.
“Good. Now you won’t have to kill anyone.” She must have given him a quizzical look because he added, “Last night you said you would kill for a hot bath.”
“I will if anyone gets in my way.” She gave him a playful pat on his cheek.
The bath was as blissful as she could have wished. She washed away days of travel and illness, scrubbed her skin with a lavender-scented soap, and washed her hair. She settled into languor as she soaked, steam billowing up from the water, and thought about how perfect a setting this cottage was. A setting for her and Cade.
They had been dancing around each other for so long now, and it left her confused. He’d declared his celibacy as a Weapon, yet seemed to signal the opposite by expressing his desire to travel back in time with her, presumably to be with her, and asking if she had a suitor back home, so he could “know the lay of the land.” In other words, he wanted to find out what competition he might have to face for her attentions.
So which was it? she wondered. He could not have it both ways. Was he celibate or not? If the latter, she could not imagine wanting to share her most intimate self with anyone else but Cade.
Well, there was one other, but he was so far away and so inaccessible even when within physical reach. He could not be hers. Cade could.
Except for the fact he was a Weapon. She slapped the water in aggravation. Why was she always reaching for the impossible?
Would he consider breaking his declaration of chastity to . . . to be with her? No matter what she might wish, she could not, would not, ask it of him. She respected him too much, admired the honor of all Black Shields. He would have to make the decision on his own.
She shifted in the tub, sending wavelets rippling across the surface of the water and against her skin. If, by chance, he had a change of heart, she was ready, a conclusion she’d come to only recently. After years of internalizing the teachings of her four strong-willed and conservative aunts who ensured she knew, in no uncertain terms, that an unmarried woman bedding a man was unacceptable, her expedition to Blackveil had given her occasion to reassess her beliefs. On the eve of entering the forest, lonely and realizing she might never return from her perilous mission, she had desired nothing more than the comforting touch of another. As fate would have it, she’d begun her journey without it.
In addition to her aunts espousing their morals as they raised her, she’d grown up wanting to emulate her parents, thinking it honorable to wait for that one true heart mate, only to find out her father had consorted with prostitutes. Not necessarily while he was married, but it had still dashed her illusions about his perfect love for her mother.
Could Cade be her heart mate? She did not know, but thought she’d like to find out.
As for honor? She had challenged that notion, as well. Some of her friends among the Green Riders had placed no restrictions on their personal lives, and were they any less honorable for seeking human companionship during respites in their otherwise hazardous lives? No. They were the most courageous, honorable people she knew. They were the ones to emulate, though, being particular in her attachments, she could not give so freely of herself as some of them.
Karigan was an adult now. She did not have to answer to her father, her aunts, or anyone. She’d watch out for her own honor.
She soaked till she wrinkled and the water cooled. She pulled the plug and, as the water drained from the tub, she felt as though the last of the morphia whirled away with it. She was once more whole and herself and ready to take on anything life flung at her.
Wearing only one of her oversized shirts, she peered out of the bathing room. She did not see Cade anywhere, so she entered the main room, sat on her bed, and engaged in battle with the tangles in her hair.
