“It was at night and—”
“At night!” he half shouted in her ear.
Abruptly, Callie put her hands over her face. “Oh, Tally,” she said, “it is horrible. All the boys and most of the men are in love with me. They talk of nothing but kissing my beautiful slender feet, my delicate hands. They fight to give me the most exquisite of presents. They write poems about my hair and the heavenly color of my eyes. One man said my eyes are like the sky just before a storm. And my hair! I blush to repeat what they say about it. They—”
She could feel the tension leave his body with each word she spoke, and finally, he squeezed her until she stopped talking. “You have had your fun with me. Now be still and look at the moon.”
Leaning back against him, her arms holding his, she looked up at the moon and wished the night would never end. A large part of her wished they had never left Meg and Will. “Do you think Meg and Will think of us?”
“As often as we think of them,” he answered, and she knew that part of him also wished they’d not left home. There were things happening at Hadley Hall that neither of them understood. How could a man dislike his own children as John Hadley did? The sons said they loved their mother, but Philip once said they were fearful of her.
“I am afraid,” Callie said. “I am afraid of what goes on here. It does not feel good.”
He knew what she meant and he often felt the same fear, but Talis wanted to reassure her. “It is just different here. They are rich.”
“It is more than that. It is something else. I am afraid for us.”
“For us? What could happen to us? Do you worry that beautiful women will fall in love with me and carry me off?”
“Ha! You would run after them; no woman would have to carry you.”
Talis knew that he never looked—well, maybe looked at other women—but none but Callie interested him, but it was nice for her to believe that he was so desirable. In his eyes, of the two of them, Callie was the beauty. She was the most gorgeous, most splendid creature on earth. “What do you worry about?”
“I don’t know. Does it not concern you that no one questions our existence? Or, rather, your existence. According to the story, after we were born, a fire burned us. I heard that the bodies of two babies were found in the fire. If we were burned, how are we alive? And what happened to my mother? Dorothy said she was small and dark, with black hair and eyes. If that is so, then why do I have brows and lashes like a rabbit’s?”
“I am not a storyteller like you. Perhaps there are things those women do not know. They were babies themselves then—I think. They are not old enough to remember then, are they?”
“No,” she said tentatively. “It is all a puzzlement. But, whatever the truth, there is a feeling here that frightens me.”
“What do you fear will happen?”
She turned in his arms, her face to his. “I am afraid of losing you. I would die if I lost you. I do not want to live without you.”
Talis thought it was unmanly to say the same things to her, but he felt them. Holding her tightly, he said against her lips, “No one can take us away from each other. We are one, do you not know that? Do you not sense it?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, oh yes, but I am afraid. I am afraid people will not allow us to stay together.”
“Callie, my love, why would anyone want to separate us? Do either of us have great estates? Are either of us the child of a king and stand to inherit a country?”
“No,” she said, smiling. “We are not important.”
“True,” he said, holding her close to him. “We are not important at all and tomorrow I shall tell this man my father that you will stay with me always. If he tells me you cannot be with me, then we will go back to the farm.” Sometimes Talis had trouble thinking of John as his father; Will Watkins was his father and always would be.
For a moment Callie held her breath because she knew that Talis would keep this promise, and she knew what he would be giving up if he left this rich house for her. Talis hated farming. He did his chores but he had no interest in growing the best turnips in the county as Will hoped to do. Market days bored him. Talis was born to ride a horse and wear armor and he had always known that is what he was meant to do.
She could not, could not, allow him to give up what he was meant to do on earth. She had no doubt that, given the chance, Talis would become the greatest knight who ever lived.
“Why do you look at me like that?” he asked, his voice husky.
He didn’t wait for an answer; if she didn’t quit looking at him that way, they’d be on the stone floor in another minute. His head knew they should get back to Hadley Hall, but there were a few more hours until daylight and he couldn’t bear to leave her. It had been so very, very, very long since he had last seen her.
“Act as though you have some manners and turn round,” he said firmly, and when she was facing away from him, he said, “Tell me a story. I have not heard one of your silly old stories in a long time.”
“If they are silly, I will not bother.”
“All right then.” He didn’t say anything for a moment. “Did you know that there is a man who lives here who does nothing but tell stories? I have been told that he is very good. Very interesting stories.”
Immediately, Callie began to talk. “There was once a princess with five very jealous sisters. They were all very ugly but the princess was so beautiful. She had long golden hair, glorious golden hair. The most beautiful hair ever put on a human being.”