Chapter Four

A fter an hour of riding astride with Athaulf, Placidia was beginning to regret her stubborn refusal to get in the wagon. She was crammed into the saddle in front of him, skirts bunched up around her legs. Every stride of the horse jostled her against him, stirring up strange tendrils of heat despite the chill of her soaked clothes.

The feel of her wet clothing reminded her of how he'd looked at her earlier. She'd recognized the desire that darkened his eyes; she'd seen it on the faces of other men as they watched dancers at dinner parties. But no man had ever dared to look that way at her before. She could have lifted her arms to cover herself. It was indecent, to have let him look at her like that. But somehow, she couldn't summon any outrage.

She was relieved when they reached their stopping point for the day. Athaulf kept casting her dark looks as he oversaw the setup of their camp for the night. She wondered if he'd felt it too, or maybe he was just peeved at her defiance.

In the evening, they shared another paltry meal and then sat together by the campfire as had become their custom, enjoying the warmth as the nighttime chill set in. Around them, others did the same, eating and talking beside their own fires. In the early days of her captivity, she'd been the subject of near-constant curious glances and whispered mutterings. But now, after three weeks with the Goths, they paid her no mind.

Placidia stared into the leaping flames. Now that her mind had a chance to rest after the activity of the day, her thoughts returned to those terrifying moments on the wagon. She could still feel the bite of the rope on her ankle, the panicked pressure in her chest as she tried in vain to free herself. She had felt entirely helpless, as she'd been feeling too often these days. She'd been helpless against the siege that had crippled her city, helpless to save the citizens from starvation. And today, helpless even to save herself from a sinking wagon.

She glanced over at Athaulf, who gazed into the fire in contemplative silence. If not for his quick intervention today, her body would now be at the bottom of the river.

She shivered, despite the warmth of the fire. The movement, subtle as it was, attracted Athaulf's attention. "You are cold, princess?"

She shook her head. "Not cold."

He surveyed her for a moment. "You are still frightened, from earlier."

"I'm not frightened," she protested.

He ignored her remark. "A brush with death will do that." He sounded as if he were speaking from experience. For a moment, Placidia wanted to ask, but refrained. If he told her a story of how he nearly died doing something heroic, she doubted she'd be able to help feeling admiration or sympathy. And after his gallant actions earlier today, she was already feeling altogether too charitably toward him. She had to remind herself that he was not her brave rescuer, but her captor, responsible for destroying her city and uprooting her life.

"I have something that may help," he continued, then rose, disappeared into their tent, and returned a moment later with something cupped in his hand. She squinted as he approached the fire. It appeared to be a handful of small seeds. He leaned over the fire and scattered them. They hissed and popped as the flames claimed them. Moments later, an unpleasant, skunky smell filled the air.

Placidia wrinkled her nose. "What is that?"

"Hemp," he said, as if that explained anything. "Inhale the smoke. It will make you feel calmer." He leaned close to the fire and took a lungful of the foul-smelling smoke, exhaling in a long puff.

Curious despite herself, Placidia followed his lead, taking several deep breaths of the smoke and trying not to cough. She sat back, looping her arms around her bent knees. It was probably just the suggestion, but she did feel a trifle calmer. A feeling of peace washed over her as she gazed into the fire, and though she still remembered the river incident, it now seemed like a distant memory rather than something that had happened mere hours ago.

She leaned back, wanting to look at the stars. Something warm and firm appeared beneath her neck before her body reached the ground, and she realized Athaulf had lain back also, extending his arm to serve as a very muscular pillow for her head. She allowed her head to relax against his arm and gazed up at the stars.

When he spoke, his voice sounded so close to her ear that she felt it as a rumble throughout her entire body. "If I could arrange a horse for you to ride, would that make you happy?"

"Why should you care what makes me happy?" The words came out lazily, belying the flutter in her chest.

He was silent for a long moment. "Because in truth, when I dove into that river, it was not for worry about your ransom."

She took a breath, letting the warm weight of his confession settle over her. "I know," she finally said.

He turned his head to look at her. "How?"

"Because you wouldn't have brought me a blanket to cover myself if you only cared whether I was alive or dead."

He made a sound low in his throat, as if considering what she'd said. She turned her head to meet his gaze. Lying together on the ground as they were, their faces were only a handspan apart. She stared into his dark eyes. An expression she didn't recognize filled his gaze. It looked almost like…confusion?

That look in his eyes tugged at something deep within her, and she found her chin tilting forward until their lips brushed. He inhaled sharply but didn't pull away. She had never kissed a man before, but it seemed the most natural thing in the world for her lips to move against his.

His arm beneath her curled up to cradle her shoulders, and his other hand slid into her hair, still damp from the river. His lips were gentle on hers, but she found herself pressing harder against him, wanting more, more . Her breathing turned to pants, his to gasps. His arms tightened around her, and suddenly she was on her back, his weight pinning her to the ground. His thigh found its way between her legs, and a shivery sensation sparked, similar to what she'd felt when they were on horseback together. She arched against him, her hands exploring the muscled expanse of his chest and stomach.

A moment later, he was gone, his weight vanished. Placidia squinted in the dark to see him disappearing into the shadows of his tent. She let out a long breath, her body already missing his warmth. Dimly, she knew she should be appalled by what had just happened, but her mind was too disoriented and fuzzy both from the kiss as well as the lingering effects of the hemp. In the morning, she could chastise herself, but for now, all she could do was gaze up at the stars and allow the warmth of the campfire to lull her to sleep.