“Do you intend to peel the skin away?”
“What?” said Sabrina, crouching beside the stream.
“Your face,” returned Anthony. “You’ve been scrubbing it for the last five minutes.”
Had she? She glanced down at her wet hands. He must be exaggerating. It didn’t seem like five minutes had passed. Lifting the bottom of her skirt, she patted her face dry and cast one final look at her distorted reflection in the rippled water before moving away from the shoreline.
She turned around to find Anthony kneeling a little ways off, Shadow’s hoof in his lap. He was digging out the pebbles that had caught between the metal shoe. Her heart fairly tripped at the sight of him. It had been doing that all morning. Memory of the night she and Anthony had shared—or almost shared—went through her mind even now, sending color into her cheeks.
It didn’t help matters that Anthony looked so dashing. His formal eveningwear tucked away in his valise, he’d replaced the elegant garments with dark britches and a riding coat, though the snug fit of leather over hard muscled thighs was anything but ordinary in her mind.
Shadow snorted when his hoof was released. After a pat on the rump from his master, the horse stepped toward the bank and dipped his muzzle into the icy stream.
Anthony’s gaze then settled on her. The sunlight danced in his eyes, the pools flashing like emerald gems, winking in full brilliancy.
He moved toward her.
Her stomach knotted.
“Should we reach your camp by tomorrow, do you think?”
She struggled for words. “Tomorrow night, perhaps, or the morning after.”
“And you’re sure the caravan will still be there?”
“My people wouldn’t leave without me,” she insisted.
“I only want to be sure you have a home to go to.”
The softness of his voice increased her pulse. She released a weary sigh as he sauntered over to the animal. It was hard being so close to Anthony, feeling his intense gaze on her, wanting to reach out and stroke his face, press her fingertips over his soft lips. Lips that had given her so much pleasure the night before . . .
She curled her hands into fists, just in case she was daft enough to try anything so absurd. Anthony stood beside Shadow and waited for the animal to have its fill of water. When the horse reared his head and nuzzled his chin over his master’s unruly curls, Anthony let out a hearty chuckle, patting the great beast’s neck in return for the affectionate gesture.
Sabrina’s eyes never wavered from the pair.
First to mount, Anthony nudged the horse forward and extended his hand for her to climb up behind him. “Are you sure you’d rather not ride upfront?”
She just stared at the open palm. What was the matter with her? She’d ridden all morning behind Anthony with no catastrophic results. Why now, all of a sudden, was she so hesitant?
“I’ll walk,” she said and headed for the main road.
Shadow’s muzzle veered over her shoulder as the animal fell in step behind her.
“You’re not walking all the way back to your camp,” Anthony objected. “You’ve been laid up for days and are still too weak.”
“I don’t intend to walk all the way home, just a few miles. I feel fine.”
She heard a snort behind her and was sure it hadn’t come from the horse. She was right. Anthony dismounted and took Shadow by the reins. He was at her side, so close, they bumped arms, and she took one giant step sideways to avoid bumping into him again. She peeked at him askance, caught his slow-forming smile. Damn that rogue! He found her anxiety amusing. What’s worse, his smile was always the most disarming of all his qualities. She wanted to ignore him, but she wanted him back on his horse even more.
“What are you doing?” she finally demanded.
“Walking alongside you.”
At that hedging response, she said with impatience, “Why?”
“If you insist on being stubborn, then I’ll prove equally as headstrong. What if you faint? Someone has to catch you.”
“Catch me—?”
Her indignant thoughts shifted as she spotted what appeared to be a cluster of knotted vines. She walked over to the bush for a closer inspection. It was!
“Sabrina, what’s the matter with you?”
It did look rather odd, her tugging and tugging, and the willful branches refusing to give way. But she didn’t care. She ignored his question and bent each of the stems until they snapped, the intersecting vines falling into her palm.
With a triumphant smile, she looked up to find a perplexed Anthony watching her with interest. “Did you just battle with a bush?”
“More like battle with the faeries,” she clarified.
“I beg your pardon?”
She held up the tangled vines. “See how they’re knotted?”
Narrowing on the interwoven mess, he nodded. “So?”
“It means the faeries have tied them.” Her bag was fastened to the horse, so she walked over to the animal and tucked the bundle of vines inside. “It’s a powerful charm.”
He gave her an odd look. “I think you’ve gone too long without food. Perhaps we should break for luncheon before moving on.”
Since she was rather hungry, she readily agreed, though not before she gave him an annoyed look for his dry remark.
Anthony tethered his horse to a nearby tree and retrieved the food, wrapped in white linen, from the saddle bag. He had purchased the fare from the inn before they’d departed.
Settling onto the mossy grass, sheltered by a canopy of trees, they broke their fast, dividing the smoked ham and bread between them. Neither said a word to the other for the first little while, content with their meal and the peaceful surroundings, but that all changed soon enough.
“Do you often see faeries?”
His voice was smooth, rich, but she couldn’t tell by his tone if he was really curious or if he was mocking her.
“The faeries don’t show themselves to Gypsies, or to anyone else for that matter. They like to cause mischief when no one’s looking.”
“Where do they live?”
“Some live in the forest, others in the fields, and there are those that live in the water.”
A blond brow arched. “Nymphs, you mean?”
She nodded.
“Ah, then they do show themselves to man, for I have seen one.”
He was smiling. She’d seen that smile before. It was a boyish grin, charming, with the strength to knock the very breath from her lungs. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You’ve seen one?”
Anthony halved his bread, the crumbs raining down on his black leather boots. “Some time ago, I was walking through the woods when I came upon a water nymph bathing in a stream.”
He sounded sincere, like a boy with a secret he wanted desperately to share. She forgot all about her food as she leaned in to better hear him. “What did the nymph look like?”
“Droplets glistened all over her body like a torrent of jewels. Her long, flowing hair was black as soot, her eyes as blue as the sea.”
There was an unexpected jolt in the pit of her stomach, followed by a heat creeping into her cheeks. He was talking about her. No one had ever said such . . . nice things about her.
Slowly his hand came up to her cheek. It was a tender touch, and her skin prickled all over. “The nymph was every bit as enchanting as legend claims.” His fingers moved to brush over her mouth. “I’ve never come across anyone so lovely. She will haunt my memory for some time to come.”
Sabrina realized then she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Anthony and be happy, and deep down in her heart she knew she could be—if only there was a place on earth where they could be together.
But there wasn’t.
She could no more break with the traditions of her world than he could break with his, and short of creating their own world, they could never be together.
The truth and sadness of it all was overpowering, like a weight crushing her ribs. The fear of growing too fond of a man she could never be with, caused her to pull away from him. She scrambled to her feet.
But the bond between them remained strong. She wondered if it would ever be broken. A small part of her hoped not.
“I think we should keep going,” she said after a tense pause.
He nodded and lifted to his feet, his gaze never wavering from her.