“Aye,” the nurse sighed solemnly. “Cozy.”
Gareth studied his home, tilting his head to look at it from a different angle.
“It needs a few things, that’s all,” Tanon pressed on. “I simply expected something a bit larger. You’re a prince, after all.”
“A fortress separates you from your people. I prefer to live as they do.” He sounded somewhat apologetic before he picked up his steps again.
To live as they do.Tanon chewed her lip. That had to mean no vassals, no handmaidens, no cooks. “That’s very noble of you,” she told him, hurrying to catch up, and aware of his sudden brooding mood. If she’d married Roger, she would be the lady of a fine castle, complete with every comfort…and so miserable she would probably have tossed herself off the highest battlements by now. She sighed silently. Gareth’s home wasn’t a mighty stronghold, but it was where he ate, slept, and returned after battling his enemies. She envisioned him walking about inside, sitting in a comfortable chair by the hearth, chopping wood for his fire. A sense of warmth settled over her. With some colorful drapes and pretty flowers planted around the outside wall, his cottage would be pleasant, indeed.
“I like it,” she said, this time with a convincing enough smile to make Gareth stare at her.
When they reached the cottage, he gave the door a slight shove, then stepped inside, followed by Hereward and the two men hefting the other trunk.
Tanon and Rebecca stood in the doorway, peering into the darkness. Something smelled foul. Tanon wrinkled her nose while Gareth dismissed his men and lit a few candles. When the interior illuminated in the soft amber glow, Tanon wanted to race to the flames and blow them out again.
“I’m afraid it has suffered neglect in my long absence,” Gareth said as Tanon braved the task of entering. “But once it’s cleaned, it won’t be so bad.”
Tanon’s nose itched from the musty rushes on the floor. The windows didn’t need drapes after all. They were already covered with fur pelts, which accounted for the darkness. A small bed with moldy straw poking out of tears in the mattress was pushed up against a corner wall. Against the opposite wall, a hand-carved, heavy oak wardrobe reached halfway up to the ceiling. Beside it, various sized daggers, swords, and axes hung from a wooden shelf. A trivet for cooking blocked her path to the hearth where Gareth was now squatting and peering up into the chimney chute. Other than a table and a single chair, there was nothing else in the house.
Tanon bit her lower lip. This was going to take a much firmer resolve than she believed she possessed.
“Is there a garderobe?” she asked her husband.
“Through there.” He pointed to a door at the far end of the cottage. Tanon went to it, opened it, and then returned, pale.
“It’s a stream.”
Hereward suppressed a smile. He felt sorry for the girl. This place was as different from Avarloch as he was from…Brand Risande. His gaze slid to Rebecca, who looked away from him when their eyes met, and his smile faded.
“There’s only one bed.” Rebecca stalled, still huddled in the doorway. “And no walls to separate our sleeping chambers.”
Gareth swore an oath under his breath at the chute, then straightened and walked toward the nurse. “You won’t be staying here. I’ll go and find a place for you.” He gave her a reassuring nod when she looked about to protest. “Not too far from your lady, I know.”
He passed Hereward on his way out. “You coming?”
The hulking Saxon shook his head. “Nay, I’ll wait here for your return. I promised your wife’s father I’d keep my eye on her.”
Gareth cut a knowing glance toward Rebecca, then left the cottage.
“Gareth,” Tanon followed him outside. “I need Rebecca here to…”
He stopped and turned to face her, and suddenly Tanon couldn’t think straight. Streaks of golden light spilled around him, glinting off his golden armbands and torc, making him look like some invincible god of legend. Beneath the thick sweep of his lashes, his eyes probed hers, waiting for her to go on.
“Um…to help me dress.”
An intimate smile teased his lips, coaxing memories of how his fingers felt on her legs when he helped her into her hose. She drew in a shuddering breath and forbade herself to step closer to him.
“I need her to tie up my hair in the mornings.”
His gaze swept over the long, wild curls draping her shoulders. “Your hair is perfect the way it is.”
She brought her fingers to it and smiled. “But it is unkempt. I look—”
“Ravishing.”
Tanon sighed, thoroughly enchanted. Did he truly think her ravishing without even a single hour of work?
“Tanon,” He closed the distance between them by slipping his finger beneath the neckline of her gown and pulling her to him, “I’ll help you dress. I’ll brush your hair. But if I don’t have you alone very soon, I’m afraid I’m going to become the savage you fear.”