“You feel different,” she said, rubbing her arms. “You’re harder.”
Every muscle jerked tight at that. “What?”
“You’re chest. It feels hard.”
“Irregular meals and heavy labor,” he managed.
“Your sword hand is scarred now.”
She’d noticed. “Yes.”
“Does the scar go up your arm?”
He looked at it, mostly covered by his sleeve. “Superficial, but yes, up my forearm.”
“What else is there?”
“And here you wanted me to think you’d been ignoring me for a fortnight.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I saw you almost every day, whether I wanted to or not. How close did you come to joining Edward?”
“We all came close. John took an arrow in his left shoulder. We were glad it wasn’t his heart.”
She shook herself as if the thought of losing John too was more than she could bear. To be honest, it was for him as well.
“And you?” she asked.
“All superficial.”
Her brows arched as if she didn’t believe him. It was the truth; he’d been one of the lucky ones. He wanted to ask her if she’d like to examine him herself. It took him a moment to tuck the dream away. It would come back later, he was sure. Probably in his sleep when there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He cleared his throat. “Jammed the fingers on my left hand, broke all of them. Healed up, eventually. They still hurt sometimes.” He flexed them. “Woke up next to a snake once. John cut off its head and we ate it.”
Her nose scrunched up.
“All in all, I was fortunate. Anything else you wanted to know, my lady?”
She eyed him.
“I thought about you.”
She picked up a stone and threw it into the water, effectively avoiding that. “I have some decisions to make. With my father incapacitated, I need to make them soon.”
Referring to whom she would marry? That she felt the need to weigh possible suitors cut. “I’ll be at Havendell as often as possible,” he told her anyway. “You can always send for me at any time.”
“Peter don’t start this.”
“I won’t let Gilburn hurt you.”
She twisted the end of her braid. “I’m not your responsibility.”
“To hell you’re not.”
She jerked, dropping her braid.
He found himself standing over her without knowing how he’d gotten there. “The day you’re not my responsibility is the day I’m laid out in a grave. Maybe not even then.”
The blood drained from her face.
He softened his voice at that. “This is no game. Gilburn is not the sort of man you should be playing games with anyway.”
She walked away. He looked after her, sighing. If he could manage just once not to come at her like a charging destrier.
Zipporah made her way into the forest, undergrowth snapping under her boots. Peter followed as she went to gather her horse.
She wrenched her skirts out of the way as she mounted her white gelding, flashing more leg than she’d probably intended. Zipporah reined around to face him. Metal on the bridle clanked in an otherwise quiet forest.
“Don’t follow me,” she said. “Sir Gilburn’s men are vigilant. We cannot be seen alone together.”
“Wait.” He took a hold of the reins.
“There’s nothing more to say.”
“I just want to know one thing.”
“Let go of my horse.”
“Not until you answer me.”
“Fine. What?”
“Why did you come here?”
“I told you. To be alone.”
“But why here?”
“Because…” She floundered. “You didn’t go to the clearing, did you?”
“The clearing?” The flash of a memory forced itself into his awareness. Zipporah in a gown the color of ripe apricots, lying on her back in the grass, the laces undone and her face flushed. She’d wanted him badly, had told him as much. He had to force himself to speak. “What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing. Just don’t go there.”
His temples were pounding and he was getting an ache between his eyes. “I’ve been home for a fortnight,” he gritted, “and you think I came here for a dalliance?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“And neither did you answer mine.”
“Promise me that you won’t go there. Swear to it by your knighthood.”
“Zipporah.”
“Swear it!”
His tongue felt like lead. “I swear it.”
Peter let her horse free. She kicked him into a canter, weaving through trees. He watched her for a moment, then decided not to leave her alone.
Peter never had trusted Gilburn. He’d trained with the man and had competed against him at the mêlée. Gilburn didn’t have the sort of control for his current position of authority. He was an arrow in a bow, cocked back and ready to fly. The last thing Peter wanted, was for Zipporah to get in the way.
Darcy Branwyn 
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