Page 26 of Peregrine's Call
Granted, no one had ever kissed her like this before, and she loved every moment of it, but that was no excuse to behave like an animal in rutting season.
“Stop,” she gasped out.
He froze and pulled back, watching her with concern.
This kind of behavior, wonderful as it felt, would quickly lead to something less innocent. Robin pulled away, inhaling nervously. “This was a mistake. I didn’t know what I was asking. I’m sorry.”
Tav also looked as though he needed to catch his breath. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine,” he said, very gently extracting himself from her arms. “I’m responsible for you. You’re the ward of my friends and a young girl I’ve…”
“I’m nineteen,” she pointed out, running her hands along her sleeves and the body of the tunic, as if straightening out some rumpled fabric was all she needed to do. “I’m not a child anymore, Tav. Many women are married by this age. I am a woman.”
“I noticed,” he said. “Believe me.”
He took a breath and then stood up, holding his hand out to help her up as well. “You need to go to bed. You need sleep as much as Ada does.”
Standing right in front of him didn’t help her forget the kiss. It only highlighted how much bigger he was, how strong compared to her own slight frame. “You need sleep too.”
He indicated the spot in front of the hearth. “I’ll be comfortable right here. And I’ll wake up if I hear anything.”
And tomorrow, they’d both behave as if this encounter never happened. Robin knew it was the best choice, the only choice. Octavian had a mission to carry out, and she had to help him accomplish it. Any entanglement would hamper that goal.
“Good night,” she whispered. She went to the bed, where the sleeping girl was hardly a bump under the blanket. Robin slid in beside her, thinking that a week ago, she never could have guessed she’d be in a stranger’s home with Octavian and a little girl who was the shadow of her younger self.
What would tomorrow bring?
Chapter 10
Tav saw Robin climb intothe bed next to Ada, then put out his own blanket near the hearth. Though only coals remained, it was almost too warm, considering the state he was in.
It had been a few months since he had slept with anyone. The last had been a woman named Colette, who lived on Lord Denis’s main estate. He first met Colette on the journey from Jerusalem to France, for she’d been in Denis’s retinue as a lady in waiting to his wife. She took a liking to Tav and somewhere along the way, they’d fallen into an easy intimacy that often included sex. Tav never thought himself in love with her, and she admitted that the loneliness of widowhood was too much to bear—she’d lost her husband after only a few years of marriage. Colette was several years older than Tav, and he learned quite a lot from her in terms of how to please a woman. His earlier experiences in Aleppo and Jerusalem, as it turned out, hardly distinguished him from any other lustful young man. Over the years of their intermittent affair, Tav improved.
She wasn’t the only woman he had slept with, and he knew Colette had taken other lovers while he was away. It didn’t matter to him. He had no claim on Colette, and no reason to be jealous. He’d always assumed he wasn’t susceptible to lust as a sin.
But ever since he saw Robin this time, every day—and night—he remained near her grew more challenging. Robin should not be so alluring to him. She was inexperienced, naive, and the ward of his comrade. She was also unlike any other woman he had known. Robin’s disregard for rules was maddening, but he had to admire the fact that when she wanted something, she simply charged through all opposition to attain it. Though this time, her boldness was going to get her killed or shunned. And Tav still didn’t have a good idea for how he could save her.
He stared at the coals until he fell asleep.
In the morning, Tav woke first. He added logs to the fire before he went outside to see to the animals in the barn. The air was crystalline, hinting of snow to come. The heavens stretched above the trees, a luminous, steely blue in the predawn. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with winter. The cold hit him like an arrow.Why am I still here?he thought. The weather alone should have driven him back the first year. Cold and sleet and freezing rain.
“Rain shouldn’t freeze,” he muttered as he slid the barn door open. It was an affront to the natural order of things. Rain was meant to fall in its own season, as it did in his homeland. In England, rain fell whenever it pleased, and half the time turned to ice. Not right at all.
And yet you’re here, you fool.
Tav heard his own thought in the voice of his old friend Septimus. Where was he now? Septimus and Octavian had been inseparable growing up. They sat next to each other for lessons with Brother Petrus, they ran through the streets together from the market to the city gate, getting into trouble every chance they found.
Once Tav began to train with Brother Benuic though, Septimus grew more independent and distant, running off on his own mischief. And a year or so later, Tav ended up working for Lord Denis, which led him to leaving the Holy Land entirely. He sent word to Septimus before he left, but he never heard back. The thought of that broken thread nagged at him more and more. He owed Septimus an account.
He shrugged off the memories. He had to think of the present moment. He gathered supplies to mend the broken fences. He was no carpenter, but soldiers often had to learn bits of other trades. Tav had built and repaired shelters while on campaign, and the fence was simpler than that.
Tav chopped down a few saplings, then cut them and tied them to the posts where the former rails had been destroyed. The whole task took perhaps two hours, and Tav sang under his breath as he worked.
When he was done, he stepped back to survey his work. The fence appeared sturdy enough now. It would keep in Ada’s animals, at any rate.
The sound of footsteps made him turn to the house. Robin approached. Her hair gleamed with red undertones in the morning light, and her gaze was steady. She wore the boy’s clothes she preferred—the monk’s robe put away until she needed to hide her identity once more.
“Did you break your fast yet?” she asked.
“No. I wanted to get the fence repaired so the animals could use the yard again.”
