Page 26 of The Tempest
“Back to Tarragona, I suppose.”
“What is there for ye?”
“My home,” she said, though her manner was softening at the turn of subject. “I lived there for ten years.”
“And yer children?”
“I have no children.”
He nodded. “I see,” he said. “So ye’re simply returning tae the place where ye live.”
“Aye.”
He averted his gaze, clearly thinking about something. He almost looked as if he disbelieved her. “Yer grace, forgive me if this is a blunt question, but people usually dunna fight so hard tae escape simply tae return tae the place where they live, especially if there are no children,” he said. “Do ye have a lover waiting for ye?”
She sighed. “Sometimes I wish I did,” she said. “But there is no lover. There is no one. I am alone.”
It was his turn to smile without humor. “A lass as beautiful as ye?” he said. “I find that hard tae believe.”
“Do you think I am lying, then?”
“Nay,” he said. “I just find it hard tae believe that every man in yer village is not pining away for a lock of yer hair.”
She frowned. “Do things like that happen in England?”
He grinned. “I wouldna know,” he said. “I’ve never done it before and I’ve never had any lass follow me around enough tae care, but I’ve heard that such things happen. It might be nice if someone thought enough of me tae beg for a snip of my hair.”
She peered at him as if he were suggesting something ridiculous, but the smile on his face was infectious.
He had the most marvelous smile.
“Do you think so?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I dunna know,” he said. “No one ever has.”
“If they did, would you give it to them?”
He ran his fingers through his softly mussed hair. “And ruin my comely locks?” he scoffed. “I wouldna do it no matter how much they begged.”
Astria was fighting off a smile. “Then why did you say it might be nice if they did?”
“Because I could boast about it. Why do ye think?”
That made her laugh. Just the way he said it actually made her laugh. Astria wasn’t sure she’d smiled in the entire time she’d been in captivity, but there was something liberating about it. A conversation with this big, arrogant Scotsman had done something to her soul. The fear, the rage she’d felt for all of those months, was somehow eased by his manner and by the food and bath. Everything that he had been responsible for.
She was starting to feel human again.
But her defenses weren’t down entirely.
“I am sorry to say that I’ll not give you anything to boast about,” she said. “Mayhap one of the serving wenches will.”
He grunted unhappily, waving a hand in the general direction of the common room. “That lot?” he said. “Nice lasses, all of them, but not women I’d boast about.”
“You have my sympathy, then.”
He snorted, his eyes twinkling at her in the firelight. “Can I tell ye something?”
“What is it?”
