45
Cecilia closed the curtains as swiftly as she could. She must not be seen at all costs. Their lives could be in great peril if they were caught. She heard shuffling behind her and turned to the source.
Her mysterious stranger was sitting on the bed with his hair tousled beyond repair. Cecilia was suddenly jealous of the amount of hair on his head. Her own while plentiful was never that wonderful a texture or thickness.
"Who was making all that noise?" He asked hoarsely while rubbing his eyes.
"I can only guess," She whispered back.
The girl was suddenly aware her dressing gown was draped on her side of the bed but the man either seemed too drowsy to notice or was too polite to stare. She quickly tiptoed back to her bedside behind the hanging curtain between their beds.
"Wasn't there a curfew?" She sensed the man was lying down again as the shoddy bed creaked under his weight.
"I believe the curfew is to protect the townsfolk from the men outside. Anyone who has business at this time of the night cannot possibly be good."
The man hummed in response and it seemed he was once again falling asleep. His breath evened out instantly.
Cecilia sat on her own bed with a sigh. Beth besides her was not particularly bothered by the sounds and neither was Simon who was snoring away on the floor.
Her mind turned to her nightmare.
It was him.
And the pain of his betrayal hit her all over again.
She could never forgive him for forsaking her during her time of need. She never expected him to sit at her bedside to share her fate. Love did not mean being suicidal. It was afterwards when she had ventured back into polite society that his coldness had struck a dagger to her heart.
Their eyes had met and he had looked at her as if she was a stranger.
They had been in love. He had promised he would marry her as soon as possible. None of it had mattered to him when he had shunned her publicly.
She loathed every fibre of his being. At least that's what she told herself as tears silently slid down her face.
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Cecilia in her hooded garb did not blend in no matter how common her clothes and how good her acting. It was a fact that she stood out if not because of her pretty face but then by her mannerisms. She walked far too confidently for her to be a mousy village girl.
She wandered around the town in Beth's clothes trying to look the part but it was all in vain. The shopkeeper at the clothes shop she had stopped at jumped to assist her the moment she entered it.
"What will it be, my Lady!" The youngish girl at the counter eagerly eyed up the stranger in too short clothes.
"I need a wardrobe for me and my guests. You see we lost a bit of our luggage," Cecilia tried to sound meek and sad.
"Travelling far?" The girl asked curiously.
"No, not much. We come from Thorton. It's not far from here."
"Well, we have many outfits for you to see..." Cecilia took her fill of the outfits presented to her and chose something or the other for both herself and her companion that was durable but utterly unremarkable. She did not want to stand out in the slightest.
"I heard about the curfew. I've never heard of anything like this," Cecilia probed casually.
"Miss, I live here and even I'm lost. It's very baffling.They say it's for our protection. But from what? The East has been peaceful for as long as I've been alive."
"I know! Exactly! I've never heard of any skirmishes happening out here. What about the riders?" Cecilia couldn't keep her curiousity at bay.
"They look different, not homegrown folks, but I honestly can't tell," The girl leaned in closer and whispered, "I'm the person to gossip with but no one else, miss. Some of them are friendly with those folk. I would not be asking too many questions if I were you."
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"I come back bearing more clothes then you know what to do with them," The redhead barged into the room without any warning. Her companions were all engaged in various tasks. Beth was sweeping the room while Simon was washing his clothes.
"I wish you could learn what to do with your hands instead. Curl them up and go knock, knock, knock," The muscular stranger who was laying on his stomach arched a brow. He was apparently reading one of her novels. It was just her luck he had picked up a frilly romantic one rather than the heroic ones at his disposal.
"I should have gone with you miss," Simon washed his hands in the clean pot of water.
"No need. I come from a village. I need no protection."
"You?" The injured man was sceptical of her claims.
"I was born and bred in Thorton. It's a very small village. Barely visible on the map," Cecilia was indignant.
"I'm sure," Her opponent coughed.
"Hey, hey, hey! I am a village girl at heart. It runs in my veins. I am sure you can even smell the village breeze in my being," The redhead was ready for a fight.
"The village breeze? You mean the manure that's stuck to your gown. Why yes, I can smell it."
Cecilia shrieked in dismay while Beth hurried to rinse it off using Simon's water.
"You just seem very capital in the way you walk and talk. I am having a hard time believing seeing you being raised in a village," The man explained himself as he stood up.
"My father is of noble blood that is true but I only came to the capital when my cousin was getting married to a prince..My mother thought it a brilliant idea for me to capture a Prince for myself," Cecilia explained.
"Capture a Prince? Did she send with you a spear and a net?" The dark haired man laughed.
"Hah! She would have if it was acceptable in polite society. I think I have enough looks and charm for the hunt even though I'm prone to blemishes. One cannot be perfect, not even me," The girl curled her hair on her finger in a fetching manner.
"That's true," The man replied, blandly.
"One would think with your form of address you would know when a lady is charmingly negative about her appearance a man should immediately tell her off for minimising her own beauty," Cecilia had not realised she was pouting. She just wasn't used to handsome men ignoring her.
"If I remember correctly you were never up for any light flirtations despite my looks. Besides I have no use for such foolish endeavours. I refuse to play such insipid games," The tall man declared with a decisive look. He had already surmised Cecilia was trying to steal compliments from him.
"Must be popular with the ladies," Cecilia muttered sarcastically.
"I bet the ladies are running after you," Beth gushed, "You wouldn't need to follow them about. They would follow you."
Cecilia rolled her eyes as Simon agreed. They were both far too taken with the beautiful stranger.
"Anyway, take your shirt off. We have work to do," The readhead clapped her hands.
"Excuse me?" The man was far too indignant for someone who was assumed to have many admirers.
"I brought this yellow paste thingy. My cousin likes to treat wounds with this...what ever it is," Cecilia said while pulling a bottle out of a pouch. The lettering on it was stained yellow.
"Turmeric." The stranger knew what it was, of course, not his own name but he could identify a random herb.
"Is it? I never paid attention but I'm glad I remembered what it looked by sight and smell. We should put it on your wounds," The girl began fumbling with the open in an effort to open it.
"Are you sure that's a good idea, my Lady," Beth looked nervous as if she held the poison rather than something health giving.
"No, it's alright. I know of its uses. Herbal medicine is fairly common in my country," The man explained. He took the bottle from her hand in his own and closed the curtain dividing the room without pause.
"You cannot be thinking of putting it on yourself. I should see to it. As my guest it is my duty to see to you comfort," Cecilia felt indignation all over again.
"Thank you, but your curiosity is unwelcome. Simon some assistance please," The man beckoned her guard from behind the curtain and the guard instantly obeyed.
"It's not like I've not seen you in a state of undress." Cecilia couldn't help but say her parting shot but received no response from the stranger who wouldn't treat her with the appropriate amount of deference due to her.
