As they stared, Aerity felt a sudden nudge at her back from the opening door. The princess jumped and saw Mrs. Rathbrook. Paxton uncrossed his arms and stood straight. Aerity’s cheeks heated and she pressed a hand to her chest. This must have looked bad, but the woman smiled at them both with apparent delight.
“My apologies, Mrs. Rathbrook,” Aerity said. “I heard Mr. Seabolt was injured so I came to check on him, but he’s already in perfect condition, thanks to you. I was just leaving.”
Mrs. Rathbrook reached out and took Aerity’s clammy hand, squeezing it as if to calm her. In the woman’s other hand was a man’s tunic. Paxton looked back and forth between the woman and girl, seeming almost confused or surprised about something. The older woman tossed the shirt at his face and he caught it.
“It’s not proper to go around shirtless in front of a royal lass,” she gently admonished, “no matter how beautiful she might be.”
She winked at Aerity, who blushed all over again.
“Please don’t tell my father or mother,” Aerity began, but the woman only chuckled and shook her head.
“There is nothing to tell. Two people talking.”
Aerity, beyond thankful, embraced the woman and kissed her cheek.
She felt Paxton watching her with a keen awareness, but she refused to acknowledge him or say good-bye. She peered around the door and slipped into the empty infirmary hall, gulping breaths of cool air. Her hands shook and she curled her fingers into tight fists to fight the trembling.
She didn’t doubt that Paxton had felt her attraction. It’s surely what gave him the confidence to be as forward as he pleased. But she couldn’t allow another moment like that to happen between them. In his eyes lived something deep, dark, and untold. Something that frightened her.
But it didn’t scare her enough to make her want to stay away from him. Not nearly enough.
Chapter
19
Lady Wyneth stood at the gates of the west commons, peering through at the quiet hunters milling about. Most of them appeared to be finishing their morning meals and heading toward the tents for rest. No sign of her cousin anywhere.
Wyneth turned and strode along the cobblestones back to the castle. She wondered where Aerity could be. She’d caught wind of the night’s events from two castle maids, and wondered if the princess had heard that Paxton Seabolt had been injured.
As the lady rounded the corner she heard low male voices and nearly crashed into several men.
“Whoa there!” Harrison took her by the forearms to steady her, chuckling. The other men walked around them, except Lord Alvi, who stopped.
“So sorry, Har—um, Lieutenant. I was looking for Aerity.”
“Haven’t seen her. We’ve just returned from scouting for signs of the beast. No luck.”
Wyneth nodded. She hoped with all her heart that Harrison would kill the thing to avenge Breckon and marry her cousin. She’d always wanted him and Aerity together . . . though the princess seemed to have taken an interest in the daring skirt raiser, Paxton. She supposed she couldn’t fault her, though Harrison would be the safer bet.
Harrison watched her with fondness in his light brown eyes. “I’d better go wash up.”
“Good to see you, Lieutenant,” she said.
Harrison began to leave her, but Lord Alvi remained. When Harrison stopped, the Ascomannian lord waved him on with a smile. “I’ll be along momentarily.” Harrison’s face hardened, and he made no move to exit. He looked to Wyneth, who felt unease at the awkwardness.
Wanting to defuse the tension, she said, “It’s fine, Lieutenant. I shall see you this afternoon.” He hesitated, looking displeased before he finally strode away.
“Walk with me?” Lord Alvi held out his elbow, and Wyneth took it, letting him lead her off the path and into a nearby grassy area with a smattering of trees. “How are you this morning, lady?”
His voice was as low as the deep blue sea. Wyneth swallowed hard. Something about this man was disarming. He made her incredibly nervous. His attention was flattering, but Wyneth did not take it to heart. They stopped behind a wide tree, and he turned to face her. His dominating presence was flustering.
“I’m well,” Wyneth said. Her eyes darted this way and that, attempting not to look into the cool arctic blue of his. “How goes the hunt?”
He peered out at the glistening ocean beyond. “The beast still eludes us in the day. They watched it enter the water, but we can’t find where it might’ve come back out.”
Wyneth’s clutched the gray fabric at her chest. “The beast took to the water?” Sudden fear gripped her like fingers of icicles, and she felt dizzy.
Lief moved closer, took both her elbows. “You look faint.”
“I’m all right,” she whispered. He slowly let her go.
She blinked, eyes burning. She hadn’t cried in two whole days. But hearing that the beast could swim—that it could have followed her into the creek that night . . .
Wyneth covered her mouth, breathing deeply through her nose as she closed her eyes. How easily she could have been killed. Just like Breckon.
Breckon.