The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court, #1)(102)

I looked him over. Like me, he was dirty and disarrayed, his workman’s clothes a far cry from the brocade vest and amber pin.

“You saved my life,” I told him. “And I don’t need silk.” I pulled him toward me, and we met in a kiss. The world around me was golden. I was warmed by the sun, his embrace, and the joy building up within me. There was no dirt or fear or complication—only this perfect moment with him. “Now,” I said. “Show me around your house.”



His house consisted of one room. A battered, tiny stove in the corner provided both heat and cooking, though he didn’t have much in the way of food. There were two chairs and a table about the width of a bookshelf. His bed was a hay-stuffed mattress on the floor—which was packed dirt, just like the Marshalls’. I tapped my foot on it.

“I know how to sweep this if you need help.”

He shook his head. “This whole place needs help. Do you want to see the rest of the property? I can even show you the basics of panning. I haven’t been able to do much with it while working on this place.”

I hesitated. I did want to jump in and start earning the money to pay back Warren. And desolate or not, this claim and its view were beautiful. I wouldn’t have minded exploring them.

“Mostly I just want a bath,” I blurted out. When he started laughing, I put my hands on my hips and attempted an affronted look. “Hey, some of us haven’t been able to sleep out in the rain. Apparently baths are only for Saturdays at the Marshall house.”

It was worth the teasing in his eyes to see the old, genuine smile back. He caught my hand again. “Come on. I think that can be arranged.”

“Is there a luxury bathhouse on your property?” I asked hopefully.

There wasn’t, but there was a small pool—more of a pond, really—not far from a bend in the Mathias River. It appeared to be fed by some underground source, which wasn’t surprising given the river’s meandering and branching nature. A few trees grew around the pond, offering a little shade on the increasingly hot day.

“I know it’s not what you’re used to,” Cedric said apologetically. “But given the circumstances, I figured—wait, what are you doing?”

What I was doing was stripping off my clothes. I didn’t care that I couldn’t see the bottom of the pond. I didn’t care that I had no soap. I didn’t care if the neighborly prospector came strolling by and saw. And I certainly didn’t care if Cedric saw.

I left my clothes in a pile on the thin grass and waded into the pond. The afternoon might be warm, but the water was still cool and welcome after days of grime and sweat. I didn’t stop until the water was just below my shoulders, and then I dunked my head under in a feeble effort to clean my hair. When I emerged, I pushed the tangled mess back and looked around. Cedric still stood on the grass, his back to me.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “Come in here.”

“Adelaide! You’re—”

“—perfectly respectable, I swear.”

“Is that a creative definition of respectable?” But he dared a peek back, looking relieved that I was mostly submerged.

“Come in here,” I said again. “You could use a bath too. Besides, didn’t you see all this that day in the conservatory? Look, I’ll even turn around.” I did and waited until I heard the sound of splashing as he too entered the water.

“You know,” he said, “you keep bringing that up, but I actually didn’t see anything that day. I was so terrified that I pretty much looked everywhere but at you.”

I turned around and grinned, seeing him just a couple of feet from me. “And here I thought I’d been feeding your imagination for months.”

“Oh, it’s had plenty to feed on, don’t you worry.” He dunked his head too and then brought it back up, scrubbing at his hair with his hands.

“For my last bath back at Wisteria Hollow, I used lavender cream soap from Lorandy. If I’d had any idea what I’d be facing here, I would’ve smuggled it with me.”

“I’ll be sure and pick some up for you the next time I’m in White Rock,” Cedric said. “I think they sell it between the jerky stand and the ammunition tent.” I moved toward him, and he took a step back. “Adelaide . . .”

“We can’t kiss? I thought we established you can’t see anything.”

“I can feel plenty.”

I stepped toward him again, and this time he didn’t retreat. “I thought you were the dark, wild rebel who leads maidens into unspeakable acts in moonlit groves.”

“That sounds like me,” he agreed. “But only if one of the aforementioned maidens is my wife.”

Mira’s words came back to me. “The Alanzans do have morals.”

“Of course. Some do. Some don’t. That, and I want to maintain something honorable and . . . I don’t know . . . exalted with you.”

“I want that too.” I moved closer again. “But I also want to kiss you now.”

Cedric shook his head. “You don’t make it easy. But then, you never have.”

He leaned down and cupped my face, kissing me without any more fear or hesitation. There was only the scantest breath of distance between us, a distance I knew we were both acutely aware of and struggling to maintain. Despite my bold words, I found myself shaking. I no longer felt cold in the water. I had that sense I always did with him, that the two of us were standing on some kind of precipice, always on the verge of some drastic outcome. I knew if I closed the space between us and wrapped myself in him, all his honorable and exalted intentions would fall away—probably landing right beside my fine words about going to my wedding bed a virgin.