The Wizard's Ward (Queen's Quests Trilogy Book 1) by Deborah Hale

Author:Deborah Hale [Hale, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

“See that?” Rath whispered, pointing toward a faint path in the grass that ran from a small stand of trees down to the lake.

Maura edged closer to him. “What did you say?”

The warm spring light played over her hair, until a scattering of strands shimmered like sunbeams.

Rath tried to ignore it but the subtle pungency of new growth all around stirred his senses, making them far too responsive to everything about Maura Woodbury.

A good thing she had stopped him from taking that kiss he would surely have regretted. He knew she was not the kind of woman to embark on a casual, passing frolic with a fellow like him. Though he had flirted with the notion of settling down to a dull but honest life, he had since thought better of it.

If he was not careful, the solitude and tranquility of the lake would lull his deeply ingrained caution. For the past several days, he and Maura had been constantly on the move during their waking hours, with the pack pony providing a safe buffer between them. Their new activities kept him closer to her than was good for his self-control.

“There, where the grass is worn down.” He forced his thoughts to the task at hand. Never had they rebelled so stubbornly to his will. “That is a way small creatures come to the water at night. It is where we must set our snare.”

He scratched away a clump of grass, then scooped out a handful of soft brown dirt, which he rubbed on his hands.

“What are you doing?” Maura shot him a suspicious look.

“Masking my scent so it will not ward our prey away from the snare.” He offered her some dirt. “Rub this onto the string.”

Understanding glimmered in her gaze along with something Rath had seen so seldom he did not trust himself to recognize it. Admiration? No, it could not be.

As he set the snare, Maura hovered close, watching his every move, whispering questions. Rath did his best to answer and to explain each step, though part of him felt daft for bothering.

Once he delivered the lady to Prum, he doubted she would ever need to snare small game. Yet she fixed her attention upon him with the air of a person whose survival might depend upon mastering these skills of rough living.

After the snare was set to his satisfaction, Rath fetched a bit of waxed string from his pack, along with a hook carved from bone. Then he cut a long supple stick to make a fishing rod.

On a narrow finger of land that thrust some distance into the lake, he sank onto the grass and pried off his boots, then rolled his breeches up to his knees. Maura followed his lead, pulling off her walking boots and hitching up her skirts.

When Rath caught a glimpse of her slender bare feet and shapely calves, the April sun seemed to shine hot upon his face. He forced himself to concentrate on assembling the fishing rod and showing Maura how to cast the line out into the water.

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