Page 13 of Peregrine's Call
“Everyone has a weakness,” he said.
Such as an ideal, incredibly gorgeous knight.
“The cut isn’t very deep,” she said as she opened a jar of Cecily’s ointment.
He looked skeptically at the substance. “You’re certain you took the correct jar?”
She glared at him. “I worked with Cecily many times when people around the manor needed help. This is what we use for any wound that breaks the skin.”
“Very well.” He shifted a little, holding his arm up so she could anoint the wound.
Robin put one hand on his arm to steady it, fearing she’d accidentally jostle the already painful spot. She carefully applied the sticky, strongly scented ointment to the wound, trying not to notice anything else. But it was impossible not to notice Octavian when he was only inches away without anything on above the waist.
His dark skin looked smooth to the touch, and she did indeed want to touch him. Beneath the skin, sleek muscles rippled, drawing her eye to his shoulders and the bulk of his arms. He was so strong, she thought. What was she doing staring at him?
“I…need…a bandage,” she said, feeling as if she’d drunk far too much rich wine.
“Please,” Tav said, his voice even. “Before I get any colder.”
“Right.” She grabbed the long strips of cloth bandage and quickly wrapped it around his arm, aware that her cheeks were on fire now. She tied the ends with shaky fingers, but thankfully, she knew what she was doing, and the bandage would hold until it was time to change it.
“There you are,” she said at last, not daring to look at him. “We’ll need to change the dressing tomorrow, or sooner if it bleeds too much.”
He leaned over to examine the bandage. “This was very well done.”
“I told you I had practice.” Robin felt the need to defend herself despite the compliment. “You needn’t sound so…” She trailed off when she realized that her face was only inches away from his own.If he wanted to, he could kiss me, she thought.
For a moment, she thought he would. His eyes roamed her face, and lingered on her mouth, a small sign of interest that made her breath catch in her throat. His right hand drifted up toward her, and she wanted so badly to feel his fingers on her face and her neck.
She always thought Octavian was resistant to such impulses. He never flirted with any women in Robin’s memory, and his piety seemed to suggest that his mind rarely wandered to baser things.
Before, when he’d found Robin while she was running away, he’d been furious with her for acting so rashly, and he treated her with an icy reserve that made her feel like the lowest, most common creature. He barely looked at her that whole time he was escorting her back. Robin had been so embarrassed that she’d annoyed the one person she idolized that it was difficult to even speak with him along the way, at least for the first part of the journey. She spent hours wishing he’d relent, and show her a little mercy. And he did, at the very end, which only made her more mortified because she realized how much worry she had caused him.
But back then, he never hinted that he had any interest in her. Now, she could read a few signs, and her heart leapt in her chest at the thought that he might…that the strange almost-kiss he gave her at Cleobury meant something after all, or that the look in his eyes right now signaled a new feeling.
Then he pulled back. “We need to keep riding north,” he said, reaching for his clothing. “I can’t lose any time. With luck, I’ll find a safe place to leave you.”
Robin hated the way he suggested leaving her behind, and felt stung by his dismissal. As they rode onward, she pled her case.
“You should understand, of all people,” she said. “You know what it’s like to see the world. You’ve seen Jerusalem and Rome and the sea and how many mountains, so don’t try to speak to me of being content in one spot. What would you know of how that feels?”
“I wouldn’t. I grant you that.”
Robin seized on his words. “If you grant me that, then you must also grant me the chance to go somewhere because it’s my choice.”
“This isn’t a friendly visit, Robin. This is going to be dangerous.”
“I canhelpyou, though.”
“How? It’s been years since you were in the Ardenwood.”
“How quickly can the paths change?” she retorted. “Even if things are different, I know more than you. And I’m less noticeable than you.” She reached over and tapped the back of his hand meaningfully.
He just shook his head. “You’re more noticeable than you think, Robin. You can’t get away with what you did years ago.”
“I could.”
“No, you couldn’t. Then you could—barely—pass for a boy. You were young enough, and you had short hair.”
