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times."
Wynter snatched her hand from under his and just sat there staring at him. Her heart was
pounding so hard she could hear the blood pushing against her eardrums and she felt chills
WINDS THROUGH TIME Charlotte Boyett-Compo 44
prickling along her sides. At last she shook her head to clear the strange thoughts that were
suddenly flitting through it.
"So," he said as though realizing she wanted to change the course of the conversation.
"What did you think about last night's Fringe episode?"
WINDS THROUGH TIME Charlotte Boyett-Compo 45
Chapter Seven
"I love crème brûlé," Wynter said wistfully. "I could eat my weight in crème brûlé."
Kaegan laughed. "You could have had another."
"And gained another five pounds?" She shook her head. "No, thanks. I'll stick to my
nice, round one hundred and ...." She coughed. "Whatever pounds."
"You're not overweight, Wynnie," he told her.
"I have no illusions about how I look, Kaegan. I'm a borderline fatty," she stated.
"You know there are men who like Rubinesque figures," he reminded her.
"Yeah, well any more junk in my trunk and I won't be able to keep the lid shut," she
complained.
He chuckled at that and she liked the sound. In the darkness of the car, his face was
illuminated by the dashboard lights but she could imagine the twinkle in his amber eyes.
"Are you ready for more of Lady Deborah's tale?" he asked.
She almost told him no but her curiosity and the interest of her evil little muse who was
straddling her shoulder replied she was.
He flipped on the turn signal as he eased around a minivan. The traffic on the interstate
was heavier than it had been on the way over to Iowa City and there was lightning in the west.
They rode for a while longer until he heard her stomach rumbling ....
He shook her gently. "There's an inn about a mile down the road," he said. "We'll stop
there and get a room. He looked up at the sky where storm clouds were beginning to build.
"As you wish, milord," she said, yawning. She sat up straighter, realizing she must have
fallen asleep against his chest. "I truly apologize. I didn't get much sleep last eve."
"Understandable," he replied, knowing her thoughts had been on her impending
execution.
"I must look like a fright," she said and gathered her long hair over one shoulder. She
began to braid it.
Realizing her appearance concerned her, he reined in the stallion and dismounted. He
held his arms up to help her down.
"Why are we stopping?" she asked, clasping his arms as she slid from the horse.
Kaegan nudged his chin toward a copse of trees. "There's a stream there. I've soap in my
saddlebag."
She wrinkled her nose. "Do I smell that bad?"
"Nay," he was quick to reply. "I just thought you would like a bath."
Her eyes lit up. "I would!"
"Let me go check for varmints, first," he told her.
When he returned, he told her he would wait where he was until she was finished. He
fished in his saddlebags for the soap and handed it to her.
Looking down at the tattered gown, she hunched her shoulders. "I hate putting this back
on but ...."
"You won't have to," he said. "I've left you a towel and a gown as well as under things
and a pair of new shoes at the water's edge."
WINDS THROUGH TIME Charlotte Boyett-Compo 46
She blinked. "Where, pray tell, did you procure such things, milord?"
Thunder boomed overhead and she flinched.
"Be quick with your bath, milady," he warned. "The storm will be here in half an hour."
She opened her mouth as though she would protest but then she shook her head and
hurried away, glancing back at him over her shoulder with a look that amused him. He soon
heard her splashing in the water and found a log to sit on while he waited.
Overhead the wind picked up and the smell of approaching rain filled the air. He turned
his gaze toward the stream. "Best hurry, milady!"
When she returned, her hair was wet but she had plaited it into a tight braid then tucked it
in a bun beneath the mesh snood he had provided for her. The pale green gown he had fashioned
for her from the powers at his command fit her like a glove, the bodice showing off the lush
swell of her bosoms. The leather shoes were just visible at the scalloped hem.
She came to stand in front of him, smoothing her hand down the skirt. Her verdant gaze
locked on his. "I'll not ask you how you came by the gown, milord." She cocked her head to one
side. "I've a feeling such knowledge would be dangerous in the wrong hands."
Unable to speak, he stared at her for to him she was a vision of loveliness. The drawing
in the pocket of his coat did not do her justice. Her full figure was a mouthwatering temptation
he longed to wrap his arms around. The cupid's bow of her lips drew his gaze like iron filings to
a magnet.
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