which had such
strange heroes and grim stories of corrupt leaders and destruction for fairy
tales. Eliza reflected that even stories of the Norse gods were less ruthless
than the tale he’d told.
She traced the soft line of his cheek and was startled when
he gently grasped her fingers. Without a word, he reached for her shoulders and
pulled her down onto his chest and wrapped his arms tight around her. She could
hear his heart pounding hard under her ear. He seemed to want her warmth and
weight as a kind of comfort. Eliza longed to caress him. More than once she
lifted her hand, and had to chide herself for a wanton.
He stroked her hair. He did not deepen his own caresses but
seemed content to have her lie across his chest, a surprisingly cozy position.
Eliza had only slept fitfully for months. Now she felt so soothed and heavy-limbed
she soon dozed off, and slept comforted for the first time since her father
left her in the cave.
* * * * *
They could travel again. Even Jas, who plotted their route,
grumbled as he impatiently tapped the wood, which lay across his palm. “I
wonder how far off the direct trail we have to go today. If we could have
managed to go as straight as that thing you said.” He raised his brows and
looked at her, waiting.
“As a crow flies,” she said.
“That, yes. If we could go as the crow flies, we’d have reached
Lisbon days ago.”
Then the landscape changed again and they wearily climbed
tall hills and cautiously slithered down them. Sometimes at the top of the
near-mountains, Eliza sank down to her heels and paused for a moment to scan
the breathtaking views for signs of movement. A few times she caught sight of a
far off shepherd and his flock, or another poignant reminder of life in
peaceful times. Once she grabbed Jas’ wrist and pointed out the vision of a
dramatic tower on a crumbling castle.
“Huh.” Jas squinted around at the sweeping landscape. “It is
a beautiful place, Spain. That’s consolation for all of this hiking.”
As they made their way down the steep hill, Eliza tried to
catch another glimpse of the castle. She stood on her tiptoes and found herself
waving her arms for balance. She skidded, then fell. Jas deftly grabbed her
before she plunged down the hill.
He dropped onto a rock and hauled her tight against him. Jas
stared down the steep incline and sucked in an audible breath. She leaned her
head against his neck and felt as much as heard him gasp his words. “Liza.
Don’t scare me like that, woman.”
“Thank you,” Eliza whispered. “I shall be fine in a moment.”
She closed her eyes and inhaled the pleasant fragrance of his skin. She knew he
was more shaken by her fall than she, and felt a thorough cheat when she used
the incident as a chance to cling to him. But she enjoyed the feel of the warm
iron of his arms and chest surrounding her too much to inform him she was just
fine and they could continue on their way. She pushed her face hard against his
woolen shirt, so she could hear his quick heartbeat and ragged breath.
At last she reluctantly pulled away from his grip. She stood
and started her more careful climb down the hill again.
“No.” He grabbed her upper arm. “Stay behind me. From now on
when we head downhill, I’m in front.”
She giggled. “Perhaps I shall collapse on you. We’ll be Jack
and Jill and roll down the hill together.”
He didn’t seem particularly amused. “Could be. At least I’ll
cushion your fall.” After a moment he added, “Jack and Jill? Why does that
sound familiar?”
She tried not to, but ended up laughing heartily at his
ignorance as she recited the nursery rhyme to him. “How can you know English
and not know these?”
“I think I heard a few, long ago. Tell me more of them.” For
much of the rest of the day, she recited rhymes to him. Occasionally he’d chime
in. He had learned some of them before. As they tramped up another hill, they
chanted the Grand Old Duke of York , a ditty from
strange heroes and grim stories of corrupt leaders and destruction for fairy
tales. Eliza reflected that even stories of the Norse gods were less ruthless
than the tale he’d told.
She traced the soft line of his cheek and was startled when
he gently grasped her fingers. Without a word, he reached for her shoulders and
pulled her down onto his chest and wrapped his arms tight around her. She could
hear his heart pounding hard under her ear. He seemed to want her warmth and
weight as a kind of comfort. Eliza longed to caress him. More than once she
lifted her hand, and had to chide herself for a wanton.
He stroked her hair. He did not deepen his own caresses but
seemed content to have her lie across his chest, a surprisingly cozy position.
Eliza had only slept fitfully for months. Now she felt so soothed and heavy-limbed
she soon dozed off, and slept comforted for the first time since her father
left her in the cave.
* * * * *
They could travel again. Even Jas, who plotted their route,
grumbled as he impatiently tapped the wood, which lay across his palm. “I
wonder how far off the direct trail we have to go today. If we could have
managed to go as straight as that thing you said.” He raised his brows and
looked at her, waiting.
“As a crow flies,” she said.
“That, yes. If we could go as the crow flies, we’d have reached
Lisbon days ago.”
Then the landscape changed again and they wearily climbed
tall hills and cautiously slithered down them. Sometimes at the top of the
near-mountains, Eliza sank down to her heels and paused for a moment to scan
the breathtaking views for signs of movement. A few times she caught sight of a
far off shepherd and his flock, or another poignant reminder of life in
peaceful times. Once she grabbed Jas’ wrist and pointed out the vision of a
dramatic tower on a crumbling castle.
“Huh.” Jas squinted around at the sweeping landscape. “It is
a beautiful place, Spain. That’s consolation for all of this hiking.”
As they made their way down the steep hill, Eliza tried to
catch another glimpse of the castle. She stood on her tiptoes and found herself
waving her arms for balance. She skidded, then fell. Jas deftly grabbed her
before she plunged down the hill.
He dropped onto a rock and hauled her tight against him. Jas
stared down the steep incline and sucked in an audible breath. She leaned her
head against his neck and felt as much as heard him gasp his words. “Liza.
Don’t scare me like that, woman.”
“Thank you,” Eliza whispered. “I shall be fine in a moment.”
She closed her eyes and inhaled the pleasant fragrance of his skin. She knew he
was more shaken by her fall than she, and felt a thorough cheat when she used
the incident as a chance to cling to him. But she enjoyed the feel of the warm
iron of his arms and chest surrounding her too much to inform him she was just
fine and they could continue on their way. She pushed her face hard against his
woolen shirt, so she could hear his quick heartbeat and ragged breath.
At last she reluctantly pulled away from his grip. She stood
and started her more careful climb down the hill again.
“No.” He grabbed her upper arm. “Stay behind me. From now on
when we head downhill, I’m in front.”
She giggled. “Perhaps I shall collapse on you. We’ll be Jack
and Jill and roll down the hill together.”
He didn’t seem particularly amused. “Could be. At least I’ll
cushion your fall.” After a moment he added, “Jack and Jill? Why does that
sound familiar?”
She tried not to, but ended up laughing heartily at his
ignorance as she recited the nursery rhyme to him. “How can you know English
and not know these?”
“I think I heard a few, long ago. Tell me more of them.” For
much of the rest of the day, she recited rhymes to him. Occasionally he’d chime
in. He had learned some of them before. As they tramped up another hill, they
chanted the Grand Old Duke of York , a ditty from
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