Page 34 of Once Upon an Enchanted Kiss

“Well, it matters to me,” he said, sounding cheerful. “When is it? We should celebrate.”

She laughed. “I think not.”

“Why not? Birthdays are important,” he prodded, hoping to get her to tell him.

Rosamund huffed out a breath. “It’s in three days.”

Three days. He had three days to be on his guard and make sure she didn’t go anywhere near roses with thorns.

“Well, then, in three days we’ll celebrate.”

She cast him an annoyed glance at his cheerful exuberance that made him stifle a chuckle.

As they rode farther into the forest, the day began to wane. He realized they would have to make camp for the night. He doubted she was accustomed to sleeping outside, but if she were to become an adventurer instead of a princess, then it was something she’d have to get used to.

They arrived in a small clearing with a felled tree. The log had moss growing on one side. Tall trees surrounded the small area, shrouding it in shadows. He halted a moment, his keen eyes taking in their surroundings. Then he gave a quick nod.

“I think we should camp here for the night,” he said.

“Here?” Her frown of dismay was evident.

“Yes.” He dismounted and tied up his horse. “I’ll gather wood for a fire.”

“Don’t go too far,” she said, sounding uneasy.

As he scanned the area for wood, she dismounted and tied up her horse next to his. He caught a glimpse of her patting the animal’s neck with affection.

“Perhaps there is water nearby,” she said to the mare, continuing to stroke her neck. “You deserve a big bag of oats for all of this, don’t you?”

The mare replied with a snort, as though she understood.

When he had an armload of wood, he stepped back into the small clearing and began building the fire. She watched with great interest as he placed the wood into a pyramid. Then he tossed dried leaves around it and in between the logs. Returning to his saddle bags, he retrieved his matches and lit one of the leaves. It caught fire immediately and moments later they had a warm blaze.

He stepped back, grinning, clearly pleased with his handiwork.

“How do you know how to do that?” she asked.

“My father and I used to hunt when I was a child,” he said. “He taught me.”

Rosamund sat on the ground by the log, drawing up her knees. The firelight flickered over her features. She had a pensive look about her as she wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees.

“Is hunting fun?”

He returned once again to his saddlebags and drew out the wrapped food he had swiped from the castle kitchen before he left. It had only just occurred to him he still had the wheel of cheese and the loaf of bread. He sat down next to her and unwrapped the food.

“I suppose it is. When he was too busy to take me, I went with friends.”

He thought of Charles and Jeffrey—the friends he hunted and hawked with. He wondered how furious Jeffrey was when he discovered he was gone from the keep without him.

Taking out his dagger, he sliced off pieces of cheese and then bread and handed them to her. She took them with a grateful smile.

“I suppose that means you won’t be hunting us any dinner other than this.” She lifted the piece of bread.

Phillip sliced more cheese for himself. “You don’t like my cooking?” He couldn’t resist the barb.

“I like your cooking fine,” she replied. “Especially since it means we won’t starve. I’m grateful for it, really.”

“You’re welcome.”

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