Page 88 of The Cornish Princess
“Did you eat?” she dared to ask, after a while, only hoping the miserable cold hadn’t stolen her voice.
“Not yet,” he said, and by the way he spoke, Gwendolyn knew he didn’t intend to. He was saving whatever food there was for her, and though she wished to reprove him, they were only a half a day’s ride from home. If she must herself, she could go without, and empty the larders when she returned. And no matter what anyone said, she would sit Málik down at the lord’s table, and would command him to be fed—anything his heart so desired.
He deserved that, and more.
Eventually, her teeth stopped chattering.
Málik’s heat was enough to keep her toasty. Up above, the moon was scarcely a sliver in the sky. Judging by its shape, only a few more days till she must take her vows.
For Gwendolyn’s people, a new moon represented a time for rebirth. Whatever was wrong before that moon was reborn, it could be undone by the new cycle. And yet, here and now, she feared there were mistakes to come.
Unwittingly, her hand moved to her bare throat, where the torc no longer rested, and, for this, there would be a consequence to pay.
Tomorrow.
Tonight, she didn’t wish to think about that.
She snuggled closer to Málik, sighing.
Tonight, she was safe.
Alas, everything she’d ever believed of this man was true. He was arrogant and cold—not to mention overbearing—when he hadn’t any right to be. He spoke to her as though he thought himself a prince above all, and Gwendolyn only a poor servant. And yet…
She shivered anew, this time not because of the cold… but with a sudden, intense awareness of the man beside her. After a while, the rain stopped, though Gwendolyn still didn’t stir. She could pretend to be overjoyed by the prospect of wedding Prince Loc.
But she was not.
A sob tore from her throat.
A tear slipped past her lashes.
Instinctively, Málik drew her closer.
“Hush,” he whispered. “All may seem lost, but the daylight will bring you clarity.”
Gwendolyn nodded gratefully.
He shifted suddenly, turning to face her. “You aren’t alone,” he said, reaching up to brush a hand across her brow and then back to tangle his long fingers through her hair. “You were never alone, Princess, and I will not leave you.”
More tears slid past Gwendolyn’s lashes, and, not for the first time over these past few days, she dared to lay her damp cheek against Málik’s chest to weep, so grateful for his soothing words, trusting in her heart that he spoke true.
She wasn’t alone.
Gwendolyn had never been alone, not even when it felt as though she was. She had her mother. She had her father. And now she had Málik.
“Tomorrow will be brighter,” he promised, and Gwendolyn’s throat tightened as she shook her head, more tears dampening his leathers. “Not for my cousins,” she said. “Not for Cunedda.”
“I know,” he said. “I know.” And his voice was deep and hoarse as his hand petted her hair. “You are not the spoiled princess I once believed.”
Gwendolyn strangled on a bit of laughter. “Neither are you the hideous creature I once conceived.” And yet, and yet…
Giving lie to her words, she saw the moon glint on the sharpest of his teeth as he smiled, and the smile was as intimate and minacious as… a kiss.
The moment was rife with tension, filled with anticipation, tender, but bittersweet.
Longing and sadness.
Málik tapped a finger beneath Gwendolyn’s chin, lifting her face to his gaze, although she couldn’t actually see him so well as he likely saw her. “You needn’t do it,” he said.
