Return to Caer Lon (8 page)

“Get out Derek!”

Crouched in the tub with water up to her chin, she didn’t dare moving one lash.

“I need to tell-”

His
sentence
floated toward her, muffled by the sound of her heart racing and thudding blood in her ears.

“
How dared
you!”

She shut up immediately, fighting to retrieve her composure. She refused to sound like a terrified little girl. There was nothing to be afraid of… It was nothing but
Derek
acting like an oaf! Taking a deep breath she
spat
, words angrily banging out of her mouth.

“
Close your eyes while I dress.”

“Don’t worry. Your virtue has nothing to fear with me.”

Oh, really.
If she had not been so mad at him, she would have
loved
proving him wrong and ador
ed
every
single minut
e of it.
Arrogant, vulgar, ignominious...

Sacha
risked a glimpse out of her hiding. Her change of clothes was on her bed.
Derek
was facing the door, hands crossed in his back. If he had heard the boil of water when she climbed out of the tub, it did not show in his nonchalant posture. She tiptoed to the bed and snatched her clothes before she retreated behind the screen in a flash. It took her less than a minute to vest despite the resistance of the fabric on her humid skin.

“You can turn around now.”

Her voice was regal, and perfectly icy.
Derek
stayed immobile for a few more seconds. When he finally decided to grant her one look, she was seated on the bed, working her brush through her mane. The surprise on his face annoyed her even more.

“You are wearing a dress.”

The brush stopped midway in her damp locks.

“Yes, I am. Is that a problem?”

“No, of course not.”

She was not sure she liked the glint that sparkled in his eyes. The taunting smile was even more hassling.
Sacha
continued arranging her hair, falsely unconcerned.

“The water is still hot, if by any chance you feel like cleaning up.”

His smirk disappeared at the insult. Excellent.

Derek
put off his jacket and started unlacing his shirt.
Sacha
narrowed her eyes on him, unable to chase away the warmth spreading up her throat.

“The screen is over there,
Derek
.”

His boots landed on the floor.
Sacha
turned to face the opposite side of the room but she refused to close her eyes. Her locks were already tangling,
she had no reason to wait for him to discover the
sense of the word ‘modesty’
.

“You really splashed water everywhere…”

God
,
was
he
insufferable
!
What need had he to
always tr
y and
make her feel addled or futile!

“I am not use
d
to have someone entering my chambers while I am bathing.”

“This is reassuring… Hum, this is good.”

The appreciative murmur when he entered the tub
tore away a
smile.
Sacha
focused on
one particularly difficult knot; like certain prince
. The sound of
water
caught her attention again. The knot gave in with a vigorous pull that echoed down to her arm and she could not stop a whimper to escape her lips.

“I
asked a couple of questions
of
the barman. He was able to buy some cider from Camelot last winter.”

She
chocked
.
He hadn’t intrude
d
her privacy to talk about alcohol, had he? If this was an excuse for ill behaviour, t
his was the lousiest she had ever
been served
. And
Elwyn
had a bottomless stock of them. She put her brush away without a reply and started arranging her hair
, wincing every time she pulled too hard at the
wavy
mass
.

“
I suspect beverages are not the only thing that came across. Apparently,
bad things
did too. Whatever they are.
So, are you ready?”

Sacha
looked up to find him dressed fresh, his hair shining a dark gold from the bath.
Irritated
at liking
the image
, she took her time to clip her
braid
up
with a
beautiful
ly carved
hazel comb Agnes had thoughtfully added to her packing. Then she stood gracefully, a perfectly composed smile on her lips.
Derek
’s expression flinched, yet it was still too bold for her taste.

“Good. Let’s go explain to the innkeeper why a lady dresses as a
page
and why said lady and her knight need to find the church…”

Chapter 8

Derek
decided the furious embarrassment in
Sacha
’s eyes when he served his story to their hostess was worth every second. She had no idea what her shriek had done to his heart
rate.
Especially given
that
he was still recovering from his encounter with one of her t
wo
admirers in the main room.
What the hell was she thinking, screaming like that? He
thought... No, he had just stopped thinking for a split second.

Afterward, t
he effort of calming the beast raging inside his chest had nearly made
it
easy
to ignore
her shadow playing on the wall as she dressed
; well,
quite easy. She had taken her sweet time
vest
ing
. Did she think he was made of stone? Good God
,
he was only human
and she
was
beautiful
…

“I cannot believe you told her we eloped!”

Her outrage cut through his distracting thoughts
.
Caught off guard,
Derek
managed a sneer
.

“I did not recall using that particular word. I told only the truth. We did leave without your father’s approval.”

Derek
paused
to observe their surroundings and find the general direction the innkeeper had indicated for the
church
.

“But you
implied
we eloped. And you asked for the church! Now she is convinced we need a priest to… To… To marry us!”

Finding the church would automatically lead them to the monastery, as he was about to explain to the enraged lady before she started fustigating him.
Then
Sacha was so far gone he didn’t bother.
Derek
continued to walk, his progression slowed down by the various spreads of market.

“We will not stay long enough for her to offer you a wedding crown, if that is your concern.”

He avoided one cart offering flowers
,
before he half-turned to make sure she
followed
him
despite
the garish crowd. It was nearly noon, and the market was i
n
full swing. Markets always made him nervous,
teeming
with noises and bustling tenants. The crowd was the perfect hideout for ruffians and cutpurses.

“One conversation with the librarian should suffice to convince you Caer Lon does not exist anymore and tomorrow, we will ride north.”

He chose to consider her glower was due to the reek coming from the next shop
, t
he
acrid smell of
stale f
ruits
assaulting his nose.
Sacha
fumed more than ever.

“You have planned this ridiculous exit all along.”

Derek
glanced at her quickly while they reached the packed place.
Sacha
was looking around with a beguiled expression in her eyes
. Her irritation was slowly easing
. He grabbed her hand to take her away from a baker. They were not here to stroll.

“Every woman falls for a romantic story, especially
one in which
the young lovers need to fight to be together.”

“We are not lovers.
In love. Whatever.
”

She pouted, pulling her hand free from his. The haughty
L
ady of
Haven
thoroughly refused to be associated with him in any romantic way. His smile deepened as
Derek
thought about teasing her about it. Then he decided to hold his tongue. It was probably not a good idea to seed the notion in her lovely head. In addition, her repulsion at the idea was
strangely
disturbing. He was a prince after all, a fair knight and reasonably good looking. She should be… at least flattered.

Derek
tried to focus on the matter at hand. While she got steamed up about their pseudo-pairing, she
did
not tak
e
notice of his den
ial
over
the mythic city of
Caer Lon
. He forced a short laugh out. He should be relieved
that
she was not interested. Whatever his mother and his friends insinuated, he was absolutely not ready to have marital knots tied around their wrists. She crawled under his skin too easily.

Derek
jarred when
Sacha
touched his elbow slightly, forcing his attention toward the high shadow on their left. A four-storey building was visible behind the bell
tower.
He had been right about the monastery flanking the church.
They would not need to go inside to
ask the sacristan
for
directions.
He regretted it, at least a little. Just to see Sacha jittering...
Given her current state of mind,
it was
better to avoid the place entirely.

The monastery was not secluded and the monks allowed them inside
. The presence of a woman into their walls
made two of the older friars frown
while
three of the youngest skitter
ed
like rabbits
.
However, t
he friar librarian who joined them in the chapter
room was pretty happy to have young people querying his expertise. He guided them toward the scriptorium, chatting openly about his devoted life.

“We acquire books as often as we can; we are lucky enough to produce honey and cheese so our resources are comfortable. Of course donations are always welcome…”

The allusion was crystal clear.
Derek
extracted a little purse from his jacket to present it to the plump little man trotting by their side.

“I trust this will secure future purchases.”

“This is very generous,
m
y
l
ord; very generous indeed…”

The purse disappeared quickly into the large sleeves as
t
he
monk
bowed, never slowing down.
Sacha
used his pause in front of a large double
panel
ed
door to explain bashfully.

“Friar Johan, we are passionate
about
h
istory, and your library is so well
known… We hoped we could use your extensive collection.”

Derek
recognized the suave inflection of her voice
. She added just the right
glint
of innocence in her
admiring
stare
. When did she begin to use charm to have her way with
the male population around
? He repressed a
smirk
. Her feminine tricks might have worked on him
-
once
-
she could not think it was going to be effective here, could she?

“Of course, my child, but only with my supervision.”

The prince’s
narrowing stare went unnoticed.

“Oh thank you so much… You see,
Derek
and I had this little argument and maybe you can help me prove him wrong...”

Baffled, the prince shot a deadly glance at her over the tonsured head
,
but
Sacha
was smiling at her new friend, ignoring him. The monk patted her arm gently.

“I will do my best, of course. What is it about?”

She blushed slightly.
Derek
growled internally.
Blushing!
As if this was going to win the day! Baiting him
-
only once
!
-
was one thing, but a monk
!

“Well, we disagree about Caer Lon.
Derek
’s family originated from
Camelot
, so he thinks he knows all about it.”

Another blazing glare got lost. Her tone was deceitfully soft.

“He pretends the city is in the
n
orthern part of the
k
ingdom, but I always heard it was in the
s
outh…”

He had never said north; he had said it did not exist! She would put
the patience of a saint
to the test!

They had entered a large square room with small writing
desks covered with scrolls, some rolled and others flattened under stones. Ink bottles and quills were dispatched on each table. Friar Johan motioned at the entire room.

“This is the scriptorium. We copy our manuscripts here.
You will wait for me here.
Visitors are not allowed in the
l
ibrary
itself
.”

Sacha
looked at her new admirer with reproachful eyes. Her little moue was clearly designed to show her disappointment.
Derek
would have laughed, but he was too angry with her to do that. Oblivious of their respective turmoil, Friar Johan showed them to another larger table.

“Please
have a seat
. We have several documents about the Old City, at least two treaties and some poetry book, I think. The hours of Caer Lon’s court, when the High Kings reigned over
Camelot
, were certainly a golden age.” He sighed heavily, as if remember
ing
times he was too young to have lived himself
.
“I
think
another book…”

The rest of his sentence rebounded on the closing door when he disappeared into the
l
ibrary. The nice little man, engrossed in his lecture, had probably forgotten he had ordered them to stay put.

Sacha
sat and exhaled slowly, visibly annoyed not to be allowed to venture between the bookshelves herself.
Derek
ignored her arranging the folds of her skirt to check the documents spread on the table. The two bibles were uninteresting. There was a treaty of some sort. His mother would have loved it. The leaves of various plants were beautifully drawn.

The young woman started playing her fingers on the hard surface, impatient.
Derek
jumped on the occasion for a little payback.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,
Sacha
. Flirting with a monk, really…”

“I was not flirting.”

She frowned while his smile grew.

“Oh no?
What
do you call the flutter
ing
of lashes and the simpering?”

“I certainly did not simper!”

Boy, he enjoyed seeing her temper rising. Her eyes shone like
green gemstones
when she was unable to control her emotions and passion overpowered her.
Derek
dismissed her protest with a flip of his hand.

“Anything you say. Your little act is providing us the information to get back on the right tracks so I am not complaining.”

Maybe he was a masochist; he suffered the tantrum, just for the pleasure of cracking that shell of perfection she erected around her like a shield.

“I
know
I am right about this
Derek
! Why do you refuse to believe me?”

Her
voice
shattered
slightly. That, and her
forceful reaction confounded him
.
Derek
took a proper look at her. She was fisting her skirt so hard her knuckles were white. Her eyes
glittered
with tears more than
rage
. He bit back a retort and glanced away
,
vaguely
ashamed
. He just
wanted to tease her. Upsetting each
other was never part of their games, as far as he was concerned. He was not
that
insensible, whatever she thought of him.

The silence lengthened awkwardly.
Derek
rolled his shoulders backward, vaguely wondering how long Friar Johan would be. Staying inactive never suited him. Even in the heart of winter, he needed something to do. If there was too much snow to access the training yard, he would use the vast ‘Salle d’armes’ for sparing with
Sebastian
or
Elwyn
, or helped the blacksmith to check on the weapons and shields in the armoury.