Chapter Nine
They rode single file, picking their way down the gully, the stream leaping and splashing alongside them. Larkspur kept her eyes on Cadoc, on his broad back and strong shoulders and bruised neck. My Cadoc. They left the gully behind and rode half a mile, and then Cadoc halted in a little glade, with a brook and a swath of grass studded with bright buttercups. “We should eat. We’ve a couple more hours ahead of us.”
This time, Cadoc didn’t unsaddle the horses; he let them graze at the brook’s edge. He laid out bread and cheese, and spread the blanket on the grass for them to sit on.
Larkspur sat as close to him as she could, and felt the warmth and solidness of his thigh pressing against hers, and ate hungrily. She hadn’t tasted the food properly yesterday, but today she did.
