and her breasts swelled the longer he stared at her with his intense pale blue eyes.
“What about other family? Sisters or brothers?” She could hear a tinge of annoyance in Garrik’s voice and turned her attention back to him.
“No sisters.” She picked at the fabric of her woven dress. When she’d redressed, she’d slipped her chemise back under it to help keep the rough fabric from chafing her skin. Before Jarmon had joined her, she’d washed her two thin chemises in the river, hanging them over some bushes to let the heat from the sun dry them. She’d had to scrub for a long time to remove most of the bloodstains that had soaked into them from the wounds on her back. Those wounds were all but healed now, and for that she was thankful.
It hadn’t escaped her that Jarmon had been very careful of her back when they’d had sex. She wished she could have said they’d made love, but they hadn’t known each other long enough to know if they loved each other. Certainly they desired one another.
Besides which, she didn’t want to fall in love with them or have them fall in love with her. It would make leaving them that much harder.
“Brothers?” Jarmon prompted her.
“I do have brothers,” she hesitantly replied. She had to proceed very carefully here.
The last thing she wanted to do was make them suspicious about her. She knew that both men had doubts about her story, but so far neither of them had voiced them in her presence.
“How many?” Garrik was still seated in his relaxed pose beneath the tree, but Genny sensed a tenseness about him that hadn’t existed a few moments before. Even the muscles in his face had tightened and she could see a vein in his temple throbbing.
“Ah,” she stumbled. “Too many.” That was better than giving an exact number.
“Two of them died.” She hoped that little tidbit of information would distract them.
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t doubt the sincerity of Garrik’s words, but he was making her uncomfortable with the way he was staring so intently at her. She half expected him to jump to his feet and declare her a liar.
Hanging her head so they couldn’t see the guilt that she knew had to be stamped across her face, she nodded. With any luck, they would think her overcome by the memory of her brothers’ loss. Truthfully, their deaths had not affected her life in the slightest. She certainly didn’t miss either of them. They’d taken too much pleasure in her misery. She hadn’t really known them all that well. That fact saddened her more than their loss.
“What did you do back in your world?”
54
Her head jerked up and she found both brothers watching her intently. She was growing increasingly uncomfortable beneath their scrutiny. Think, Genita, she scolded herself. They think the tapestry brought you from another time and place. “I create threads and weave cloth.” That was the best she could come up with. She couldn’t tell them that she ran a small castle for her miserable, cruel brothers.
“Do you like your work?” Garrik queried.
Sensing his genuine interest, she smiled and nodded. “Absolutely.” This was one topic she could talk about for hours. By the time she was finished they would be sorry that they’d asked her. “There is an art to mixing the right amounts of dying agents to achieve specific colors.”
She spent the next twenty minutes waxing enthusiastic about every aspect of spinning and dying threads and weaving different grades of cloth—she even threw in some detailed descriptions on embroidery techniques. She took pity and stopped when Garrik’s eyes looked as if they were about to cross.
When she fell silent, it took them a moment to realize she’d actually stopped. Garrik cleared his throat. “I’m glad you enjoy your work.” He hurried on before she could break into another long explanation. “Would you like to go hunting with me?” His offer surprised her, but the more she thought about it, the more
“What about other family? Sisters or brothers?” She could hear a tinge of annoyance in Garrik’s voice and turned her attention back to him.
“No sisters.” She picked at the fabric of her woven dress. When she’d redressed, she’d slipped her chemise back under it to help keep the rough fabric from chafing her skin. Before Jarmon had joined her, she’d washed her two thin chemises in the river, hanging them over some bushes to let the heat from the sun dry them. She’d had to scrub for a long time to remove most of the bloodstains that had soaked into them from the wounds on her back. Those wounds were all but healed now, and for that she was thankful.
It hadn’t escaped her that Jarmon had been very careful of her back when they’d had sex. She wished she could have said they’d made love, but they hadn’t known each other long enough to know if they loved each other. Certainly they desired one another.
Besides which, she didn’t want to fall in love with them or have them fall in love with her. It would make leaving them that much harder.
“Brothers?” Jarmon prompted her.
“I do have brothers,” she hesitantly replied. She had to proceed very carefully here.
The last thing she wanted to do was make them suspicious about her. She knew that both men had doubts about her story, but so far neither of them had voiced them in her presence.
“How many?” Garrik was still seated in his relaxed pose beneath the tree, but Genny sensed a tenseness about him that hadn’t existed a few moments before. Even the muscles in his face had tightened and she could see a vein in his temple throbbing.
“Ah,” she stumbled. “Too many.” That was better than giving an exact number.
“Two of them died.” She hoped that little tidbit of information would distract them.
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t doubt the sincerity of Garrik’s words, but he was making her uncomfortable with the way he was staring so intently at her. She half expected him to jump to his feet and declare her a liar.
Hanging her head so they couldn’t see the guilt that she knew had to be stamped across her face, she nodded. With any luck, they would think her overcome by the memory of her brothers’ loss. Truthfully, their deaths had not affected her life in the slightest. She certainly didn’t miss either of them. They’d taken too much pleasure in her misery. She hadn’t really known them all that well. That fact saddened her more than their loss.
“What did you do back in your world?”
54
Her head jerked up and she found both brothers watching her intently. She was growing increasingly uncomfortable beneath their scrutiny. Think, Genita, she scolded herself. They think the tapestry brought you from another time and place. “I create threads and weave cloth.” That was the best she could come up with. She couldn’t tell them that she ran a small castle for her miserable, cruel brothers.
“Do you like your work?” Garrik queried.
Sensing his genuine interest, she smiled and nodded. “Absolutely.” This was one topic she could talk about for hours. By the time she was finished they would be sorry that they’d asked her. “There is an art to mixing the right amounts of dying agents to achieve specific colors.”
She spent the next twenty minutes waxing enthusiastic about every aspect of spinning and dying threads and weaving different grades of cloth—she even threw in some detailed descriptions on embroidery techniques. She took pity and stopped when Garrik’s eyes looked as if they were about to cross.
When she fell silent, it took them a moment to realize she’d actually stopped. Garrik cleared his throat. “I’m glad you enjoy your work.” He hurried on before she could break into another long explanation. “Would you like to go hunting with me?” His offer surprised her, but the more she thought about it, the more
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