Page 29 of Once Upon an Enchanted Kiss

“So, you hunt?” She gave him a sideways glance.

“Sometimes.”

She noticed he, too, kept his gaze on the door. He seemed to be on edge, like her. Perhaps seeing the soldiers had spooked him as well.

“What do you hunt?” She was making small talk, she knew, and was merely trying to keep the conversation alive.

“Wild boar. Sometimes pheasant. Sometimes deer.”

“Oh,” the word shuddered out of her.

He leaned toward her then and dropped his voice. “Do you want to know a secret?”

She nodded.

“I don’t really hunt.” His face lit up in a wide smile.

“What do you do then?” she wanted to know.

“Sit in taverns and drink ale with my friends.”

With a twinkle in his eye and a sly smile playing on his lips, he exuded an irresistible charm that made it impossible not to be drawn into the mischievous energy surrounding him. Delight shifted through her as a soft chuckle escaped her lips, her fingers wrapping around the handle of the tankard with a sense of contentment.

“You don’t actually kill anything?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Never. Sometimes we camp under the stars and pretend we’re going to hunt at dawn. But we never do.”

“Camping under the stars sounds nice.” Her tone was wistful as she thought about the freedom he had.

She picked up the tankard and sniffed the ale. It smelled sour but she took a healthy swig anyway. The taste was awful as she swallowed it, then immediately grabbed the bread and tore off a hunk. She popped it into her mouth.

Edward chuckled. “Not used to drinking ale, are you?”

“I’ve never had ale.” It was an admission she didn’t want to make.

In her many formal dinners, she’d had wine certainly. But never the dark, heady ale or whiskey her father seemed to enjoy. After their dinners, the men went off to their own sitting room to smoke cigars and drink more ale while the ladies spent the evening in silence either reading or sewing.

Thinking of that now bored her.

She took another swig of ale as the beef stew arrived. The tavern maid dropped two large bowls on the table in front of them, then scurried off to take care of more patrons.

Rosamund peered down at the thick stew with chunks of beef, carrots, and potatoes. Her mouth watered. She took up the spoon and dug in with alacrity. When she’d polished off the bowl, she sat back in the chair with a sigh of contentment. Then realized he was only halfway through his.

A wave of scorching heat pounded through her, piercing her cheeks.

He laughed.

“I see the beef stew was good,” he said.

As she was about to answer, the door to the tavern flung open. Four soldiers in armor stormed in. She sat a little straighter in her chair, her contentment wiped away and replaced with a stabbing fear. These had to be the men she saw on the trail behind them. They had caught up and now they were here looking for her.

She pulled her hood up and slunk down in her chair.

Edward, meanwhile, noticed the men and gave her a sideways glance as she tried to hide under the material of the hood.

He dropped his spoon. “Are they looking for you?”

She merely shook her head, keeping her eye on the men who spoke with the man behind the bar. Thankfully, they hadn’t talked to him when they arrived. She hoped to hide in the corner of the shadows. But then the man who appeared to be the leader turned from the bar and scanned the large room, his eyes alighting on each patron.

---