“I want to stay, Wil. I want us to be together. I want to see where this takes us.” He froze, his eyes on my shoulder, his features revealing no reaction whatsoever.
Had he heard me? Oh no…maybe he’d changed his mind. “If—if that’s what you still want, of course....” I added, hating how my voice squeaked when I said it.
He let loose a gruff laugh. “You have to ask me that?”
I shrugged, self-conscious. “People change their minds…”
“I don’t,” he said, his voice as hard as the granite rocks in the hills around us. “But I need to be sure that you are certain.”
I nodded. “I am…I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.” Nonstop, obsessive thought at that.
Slowly, tenderly, he kissed me on the cheek. “And your job?”
“I plan on asking for it back.”
He kissed my chin. “And what about school?”
“I want to finish, once I’ve saved up the money.”
He kissed my nose. “And what about the Renaissance Faire?”
“I’ll tell them they need to find someone else to read—” I was cut off by his mouth landing on mine again, his strong hands pulling me to him. As our bodies pressed together, my breath hissed out of my chest. And when he finished the kiss, he pulled away, only to lay his forehead against mine. “You’ve made me very happy, Jenna. Very happy. But that’s not even a fraction of the way I want to make you feel.”
I smiled. “Wil, you already do…”
We hugged and then I excused myself, reminding him that I could hardly contain my excitement to wear the beautiful blue dress. He reluctantly let me go with still more kisses to punctuate our breathless sentences.
Caitlyn snatched up the hairbrush the minute I entered the tent. “There you are. You weren’t answering your text messages!”
“Sorry, I was, um…tied up.”
She smirked. “Funny. Come on, Ann and I are going to braid your hair.”
And that’s exactly what they did. They braided my hair along my crown, threading in the matching ribbon that had come in the box from Agnes. After that, Ann helped me put on the dress and carefully laced my corset up my back. It was definitely one instance where I wished I had a full-length mirror to admire myself.
Because I felt like a princess. Papa once told me that I was a princess—and that someday I’d be a queen. Now it wasn’t a lie. He’d been right. I was the May Queen.
And William was my king. Every time I thought of him, pictured him, remembered the taste of him on my lips, my stomach fluttered. And with each minute that passed until I could see him again, that excitement grew.
The evening started with the feast. Roasted chicken and bread with boiled vegetables by candlelight—the one exception to our open-flame rule, and only because the candles were all covered by glass lanterns. We did not eat with our hands.
Picnic benches had been lined up, and I sat at one end and William at the other in our places of honor. We talked to our neighbors, occasionally catching each other’s eye before William’s gaze stole away like an elusive ninja. It became somewhat of a game, to try and catch his eyes on mine. He caught onto me, I think, because he started to smile whenever I caught him watching at me.
And then he turned the game around on me, piercing me with his dark stare that reflected the golden candlelight. When our eyes locked, everything else around us seemed to vanish. It was only us.
My throat tightened and I swallowed, admiring him in his fine new tunic, which—not coincidentally, I’m sure—matched my dress. Despite everything going on around me, I could only think of later tonight when I hoped that we’d have time to spend together.
Alone.
Chapter 28
William
After leaving Jenna, I dress quickly, return to the clearing to wait…and wait. Almost an hour. Late again, Mistress Kovac!
One of the clanswomen tells me to be patient, that Jenna is busy “prettying herself up.” Completely unnecessary, in my opinion. How can you improve on perfection? The features and hair of an angel, the glowing skin and body of a goddess. And a heart of pure gold.
My heart speeds up as those thoughts lead where they usually do. What if I’m not enough for her? What if I can’t get her heirloom back tomorrow? What if I’m not …worthy?
I’m dressed in my new tunic, finely crafted by Agnes. Our clan seamstress has done an excellent job with the stitching on the sleeves, especially. And the embroidery itself is a work of art. Knowing what kind of effort it takes to produce an item of beauty, I’m always appreciative of these efforts in others.
My tunic matches the beautiful gown that Agnes made for Jenna. When she finally enters the clearing, all heads turn in her direction. It’s not difficult to understand why. The shades of blue next to her pale skin look as beautiful as I knew they would. In fact, they look better. And she walks in like the queen that she is, graceful, her chin tilted up a little—probably conscious of the crown of flowers in her golden hair. Beautiful.