“No.” She stood up with the basket on her arm. “They will not do it as well as I can.”
Primrose faced him, intending to tell him as firmly as possible that there would be no talk of leaving the puppy somewhere. Then her gaze settled on his chest. She was a countrybred woman and she had seen men’s chests before, she told herself, yet his had her heart skipping around in her chest in a way that made her a little breathless. Her palms itched to touch that smooth, warm skin. When the thought of pressing her lips to it, maybe tracing those ribbed muscles on his stomach, popped into her head, she startled herself so much she was finally able to turn her mind back to the matter of the little dog.
“Rose,” he began.
“I know puppies are a lot of care, but I will do it. I saved the poor creature. I will care for her. It has been a long time since I have had a dog and I have decided I will have this one.” She turned and went to get her stockings and boots.
Shaking his head, Bened knew that was the end of it. He had seen that look in his mother’s eyes from time to time when she wanted something and his father had protested. Once that look had settled on his mother’s face, his father had just stopped arguing. Most of the time, his mother had proven correct in what she had wanted for it had made life better, cooking easier, and any number of other improvements in the crowded house. Bened was not sure a tiny one-eyed dog would prove of any value, but he had no intention of arguing anymore. He went and got his shirt, hose, and boots.
Once back at the camp, while Bened was donning his shirt and getting out new hose before he put his boots back on, Primrose sought out a sheltered area to put on clean stockings and her own boots. She then stood and wrung out her skirts. Already they were drying but she feared the dress might be ruined. Then she sneezed.
Bened was at her side in a moment. “You sneezed.”
“I am not surprised. We are out in the wild and I was just in the water. Between the two there are a lot of good reasons for me to sneeze.”
“You could be growing ill.”
“Of course, I could but I sincerely doubt that I am. The water was not cold and today is quite warm.”
“We will stop at an inn in the village.”
“Bened, I will not fall into a fever just because I went into the water.”
“You can never be sure of such a thing. Rivers are not the cleanest of places.”
“That one looked very clean.”
“We will stop at an inn so that you do not add the chill of the night to everything else.”
He went to tend to the horses and she sighed. Stopping at inns was not only expensive, but they also put them inside a building and away from their horses. She knew he preferred to remain outside as often as possible. Shaking her head, she went and got some food out of her bags.
Bened found her carefully tearing up some chicken to feed the dog. As it had dried, it had actually begun to look less like a rat and more like a dog. Nothing would ever make it a real dog, though. It was one of those women liked, keeping them on their lap or toting them around in fancy baskets and bags everywhere the woman went. He could admit the dog had charm but he did not understand women’s fascination with the creatures.
“Hope you left enough for us,” he said, and chuckled when she glared at him.
“Bread, cheese, and more chicken are right over there.” She pointed to a bag set only a few feet away. “I am never certain about what to bring along on a journey as I am not sure what holds up well for long carriage or horse rides. There is some ale and a little cider as well but I suspect they are quite warm.”
“Those three things do well enough. And warm drink is better than no drink. Cider is more tolerable warm than ale, though.”
Primrose smiled in agreement and then stroked the little dog’s head. It gave her a timid lick and her heart melted. She took a moment to check the animal’s sex and was certain she had a female dog. A name was needed but she knew it would be a while before she came up with one. She was very slow whenever asked to name something. It was probably foolish, but she considered the name very important and wanted it to suit the thing, plant, or animal perfectly, to actually say something about it.
Bened handed her a tankard of cider and sat down beside her to enjoy his light meal. She felt her stomach cramp a little in demand and went to get herself some food. When she sat back down beside him, it was to find him and the puppy staring at each other. The puppy had the remains of a little snarl on her face.
“What are you doing?” she asked Bened in a near whisper, not wishing to disturb the puppy in case it had the idiot notion to attack.
“Determining who is the head of the pack,” he replied in an equally quiet voice.
“What pack?”
“The one you just formed by bringing this little dog into it. Dogs need to know who is the head of the pack from the start or you will have a very hard time training them to do anything.”