In the Veins of the Drowning(50)

Sullen, Theodore moved back into the lead. We rode through vineyard after vineyard without speaking a word. The sun curved in its wide arc over the sky, and as it fell back toward the horizon, Theodore pulled us off to the side of the road.

Jaw tight, he dismounted and rummaged through the saddlebag. He pulled out a bottle of wine. Wrestled the cork free. “Did that make you feel better?” He took a long swig.

“No.” I threw my leg over my horse and winced as I fell to my feet. I groaned and met his glare. “I feel worse. You were right, it was an awful idea.”

He huffed an agreement. Took another deep drink. He came closer, too close, and I stiffened. “Here.” He stared down at me with heated, narrowed eyes as he waited for me to take the wine.

I took a long drink, my gaze stuck to his as I did. It was the same wine I’d drunk at the table in the Garden Room. Sparkling and sweet. I took another drink. “It’s good.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you make it?”

He nodded. “The grapes came from two vineyards back. I tend to them.”

I smirked. “You garden?”

“I do.” He gave me a smile, though hurt still swam in his gaze. “Maybe they’ll add that to those paeans they’ll write about me,” he said in a glum tease. “King Theodore, the gardening prude.”

I returned a smile. “Lachlan told me you weren’t always.” His dark brow quirked. “He told me about your nights on your ship filled with women.”

Theodore gave a deep laugh. It was husky and dark and I stilled at the sound of it. “I thought he might have. Fucking Lachlan.” His cheeks were full of color, and an errant smirk curled his lips. He checked the deepening sky, the small clouds starting to grow over it like scales. “About a mile up there’s a caretaker’s cottage. They’re open for travelers and land workers.” His gaze locked with mine. “We can sleep there tonight.”

I nodded and a peal of anticipation rang through me. When I tried to lift my aching leg into the stirrup, it slipped, and I nearly stumbled. A pained groan filled my chest, but Theodore was at my back, hands encircling my waist. He tightened his grip like he was readying to lift me, but he leaned in instead. His hand traveled up so his knuckles just grazed the underside of my breast.

His lips were at my ear. “If I had known you then…”

Heart on a rampage, I looked up into his eyes. “Yes?”

I couldn’t breathe. He furrowed his brow, pressed his mouth shut, like he’d thought better than to speak the words that sat on his tongue.

“Tell me.”

Slowly, he spread his fingers wide and dug into my ribs, as if he wanted to touch as much of me as possible. “I would have worshipped you,” he said, husky and slow. “Laid you out over my bed like a goddess on her altar and gotten on my knees before you. And when we were done, after a very long time…” He brought me tighter to his chest, and I all but melted into him. My nose brushed his chin. “… I’d thank you for tearing me to ribbons with those pretty talons of yours.”

Abruptly, he pulled away. He lifted me up into the saddle so quickly that my head spun. A protesting, throaty moan slipped past my lips, forcing an embarrassed flush to my cheeks. He looked up at me with a cocky smile.

“You’re an ass.”

“Yes, I know,” he said through a chuckle. He mounted and clicked his tongue and both horses started down the road. For the first time, his body had relaxed, strong shoulders sloping with an easiness I’d never seen him wear.

“You’re looking very self-satisfied,” I snipped.

“Easy to do when you get a woman to make that sound.”

Theodore kept the horses at a slow walk, and thank the Gods, because every muscle in my body hurt. As did my ego. But the air between us was clearer, less charged.

“I wouldn’t have torn you to ribbons,” I finally said, coyly. “I’m not that wasteful.”

“Oh no?” That chuckle again. “What would you have done?”

“What any Goddess worthy of devotion would.” He looked over his shoulder expectantly, heat and amusement in his gaze. “I’d have demanded you worship me a second time. And a third.”

A grin spread over his face as he turned away from me. He tipped his head back toward the sky like he’d been swept into a pleasant daydream. I thought I heard a low, satisfied hum fill his chest.

I spent the rest of the short ride lost in a daydream of my own.

We turned off the main road for the caretaker’s cottage and found three horses tied to the watering trough. A small, worn-down cart with packs and provisions sat in the small clearing. The little thatch-roofed building beyond it had no door, no glass in the windows. The floor through the entryway was made of the same packed dirt as the road. A small stone well sat beside it.

Low voices and laughter rose from the cottage’s opening.

Theodore pulled on his horse’s reins and dismounted. His hand hovered over the dagger at his hip. “Stay here.” His unease swept away all the dreamy heat I’d been basking in.

Before he could duck into the cottage, three young men came out. Two looked like brothers, small and reedy. They reminded me of Serafi arrowheads with their black hair and sharp noses. The third was tall and handsome, with gold-streaked locks, warm brown skin, and mirthful eyes in the palest shade of green. All of them smiled. “There’s room inside,” one of the brothers said to Theodore. “We’ll sleep outside. Weather’s nice.”