need.
“Have some bannock while I’m gone to satisfy yer hunger. But save room in yer belly—for tonight, we feast.” He smiled, grabbing the bow and quiver of arrows. Then he turned on his heel, scrambled up the coastal rocks and disappeared from sight. She chewed her bottom lip as she scanned the shore. Quinn had asked her to ready their camp, an easy enough task. He had already carried their few supplies into the small cave where they would sleep. She marched into the cave. If she could run a castle with dozens of inhabitants, she could ready a simple camp.
She dusted off two rock surfaces that would have to serve as stools. Then she remembered the sea grass and purple primrose they had sailed past. Smiling, she sat on one of the clean rocks and slid off her slippers. Then she gathered up the hem of her tunic and tucked it into her belt before leaving the cave. Her body tensed when the first frigid wave lapped her toes, but she fisted her hands against the shock and picked her way down the coast to where the long grasses had staked its claim on the land, despite how the ebbing waters longed to drag the sand out to sea. Filling her arms, she carried a bushel of grass back to the cave and spread it on the ground. After several trips, the cave floor was fully lined and soft to tread upon. She piled more of the long grasses near the rear of the cave where they would rest. Then she scattered flower petals over her makeshift rushes and breathed in the perfumed air. Smiling, she headed back outside and gathered seashells and smooth white stones, which she arranged in a pleasing circle where she imagined Quinn would build their cooking fire. Finally, she unfolded their blankets and laid them out on top of the soft grasses—far enough apart to satisfy her need for propriety but close enough to hear Quinn were he so inclined to tell more bedtime stories. Stepping back, she admired her hard work. It wasn’t Ravensworth Castle, but for a cave, she was satisfied with the results.
“There,” she said out loud.
She knew Quinn would be pleased with her efforts. Anticipating his timely return, she took her seat on one of the make-shift stools. Dirt clung to her slippers, which she brushed away along with some wayward grasses clinging to her skirts. At last feeling like their camp and her attire were presentable enough, she straightened her back and watched the cave entrance.
What felt like hours to Catarina passed, and shadow crept toward the cave. Her stomach cramped with hunger. The wind had changed. Now a cool breeze, blowing off the sea, tunneled inside to greet her. She could not remember ever being so hungry. And then she realized that was because she had never actually known true hunger. Her whole life, if she had wished for a bite to eat, all she would have done was ask any number of servants whose duty had been to do her bidding. She looked around the small, empty cave. Never had she felt so alone.
“I have never been alone,” she whispered aloud. Just as she had never known hunger, she had always lived in a castle or fortress, bustling with people whose purpose would have been to contribute in some way to her well-being. She had been Lady Ravensworth. Her stomach rumbled. The noise seemed to echo off the cave walls, mocking her fall from grace. Terror so great stole her breath. She had been born the daughter of a lord. She always knew she would marry a lord. But now she no longer could count on the protection of status and wealth. Her husband was dead. Her father was a criminal, stripped of title. Her hand flew to her lips. It had taken a desolate beach cave and a ravenous belly for her to realize the true significance of her lost nobility.
She jumped to her feet and peered out of the cave. What if something happened to Quinn? What would become of her? What would become of James? She gripped the sides of her head with her hands, panic setting her heart to race when a shadowed figure jumped from above, filling
“Have some bannock while I’m gone to satisfy yer hunger. But save room in yer belly—for tonight, we feast.” He smiled, grabbing the bow and quiver of arrows. Then he turned on his heel, scrambled up the coastal rocks and disappeared from sight. She chewed her bottom lip as she scanned the shore. Quinn had asked her to ready their camp, an easy enough task. He had already carried their few supplies into the small cave where they would sleep. She marched into the cave. If she could run a castle with dozens of inhabitants, she could ready a simple camp.
She dusted off two rock surfaces that would have to serve as stools. Then she remembered the sea grass and purple primrose they had sailed past. Smiling, she sat on one of the clean rocks and slid off her slippers. Then she gathered up the hem of her tunic and tucked it into her belt before leaving the cave. Her body tensed when the first frigid wave lapped her toes, but she fisted her hands against the shock and picked her way down the coast to where the long grasses had staked its claim on the land, despite how the ebbing waters longed to drag the sand out to sea. Filling her arms, she carried a bushel of grass back to the cave and spread it on the ground. After several trips, the cave floor was fully lined and soft to tread upon. She piled more of the long grasses near the rear of the cave where they would rest. Then she scattered flower petals over her makeshift rushes and breathed in the perfumed air. Smiling, she headed back outside and gathered seashells and smooth white stones, which she arranged in a pleasing circle where she imagined Quinn would build their cooking fire. Finally, she unfolded their blankets and laid them out on top of the soft grasses—far enough apart to satisfy her need for propriety but close enough to hear Quinn were he so inclined to tell more bedtime stories. Stepping back, she admired her hard work. It wasn’t Ravensworth Castle, but for a cave, she was satisfied with the results.
“There,” she said out loud.
She knew Quinn would be pleased with her efforts. Anticipating his timely return, she took her seat on one of the make-shift stools. Dirt clung to her slippers, which she brushed away along with some wayward grasses clinging to her skirts. At last feeling like their camp and her attire were presentable enough, she straightened her back and watched the cave entrance.
What felt like hours to Catarina passed, and shadow crept toward the cave. Her stomach cramped with hunger. The wind had changed. Now a cool breeze, blowing off the sea, tunneled inside to greet her. She could not remember ever being so hungry. And then she realized that was because she had never actually known true hunger. Her whole life, if she had wished for a bite to eat, all she would have done was ask any number of servants whose duty had been to do her bidding. She looked around the small, empty cave. Never had she felt so alone.
“I have never been alone,” she whispered aloud. Just as she had never known hunger, she had always lived in a castle or fortress, bustling with people whose purpose would have been to contribute in some way to her well-being. She had been Lady Ravensworth. Her stomach rumbled. The noise seemed to echo off the cave walls, mocking her fall from grace. Terror so great stole her breath. She had been born the daughter of a lord. She always knew she would marry a lord. But now she no longer could count on the protection of status and wealth. Her husband was dead. Her father was a criminal, stripped of title. Her hand flew to her lips. It had taken a desolate beach cave and a ravenous belly for her to realize the true significance of her lost nobility.
She jumped to her feet and peered out of the cave. What if something happened to Quinn? What would become of her? What would become of James? She gripped the sides of her head with her hands, panic setting her heart to race when a shadowed figure jumped from above, filling
Similar Books
