She lay her head back, happy to wait.
“You can come out now,” he called after a few minutes. “Do not fret. I will not look at you. Meet me by the big beech.” His robe billowed as he headed back toward the tall tree.
She scrambled to get out, still uncertain of the way. Not bothering to wring out her hair, she pulled on the blue tunic, grabbed the scarf, and dashed after him.
Chapter 5
“Oh, you are ready?”
Her hair dripped on the blue tunic, and he did his best to ignore the outline of her peaked nipples under the damp cloth. “Come then, Sparrow, it is time you led us home.”
She gulped, then glanced about her with widened eyes. A tremble shook her chin. She caught her lip between her teeth.
He waited for her questions, refusal, or anything.
She grasped his hand firmly in hers and yanked him forward. “All right, come on.”
The last thing he’d expected was the edge of determination in her voice. Her bravado pleased him, and his smile grew as she let his hand go. He sensed her certainty as she led him back through the dense part of the forest. Satisfied by her attention to his earlier instructions, he noted when she checked for the markers of their path. “You can talk to me, if you wish.”
“Not now, I need to concentrate.”
He almost laughed and clamped a palm over his mouth to stop any sound, lest he hurt her feelings.
“Here then, we’ve got this far!” She pointed to the top branch of the tall ash tree where he found her last night. Triumph lit her expression when she twirled to face him.
He swallowed hard. Her joyful loveliness caught him. She shimmered with pride. The enchanting smile came from her heart. He could be lost for eternity to her elation if he didn’t control the situation. “Indeed, Sparrow, now the rest.”
Slightly less certain, walking slower, she set off, but she was right, and he followed her lead. Before long, they were in sight of the huge clump of nettles at the base of the old oak tree.
“Very good. I am most impressed.” Doffing his hat, he inclined his head. Her smile spread wide, a glow shining in her eyes. “Now, home,” he said.
Confident in the direction, she strode off, and he admired her self-assured gait. She liked freedom, but more important, she appeared to enjoy the taste of knowledge. Both boded well. Once she’d learned a little of the art, he might be able to teach her to brew the easier simples he used to medicate the villagers.
Once they arrived back by the small well in the yard, her smile beamed in obvious expectation of praise.
He nodded. “Yes, you have done well. Now, I need to work, and you need to remember the path for next time when you will be alone.”
Her smile grew wider still. He went into the tower, dumped the hat on the table in the kitchen, and picked up the small cauldron. She’d polished the copper pot until it gleamed as it had when he first acquired it. He took it up to the workshop.
The messenger from the castle had made it certain he would need the mushroom brew.
A song, not his, hummed loud through his thoughts as he set out his knives. She would have to stop that racket. He strode to the window, yanked the curtain aside, opened the catch, and yelled in the direction of the vegetable patch, “Be quiet.”
No reply came. He was about to slice the mushrooms, when the jumble of sounds returned. Irritation nipped at his calm. The noise grew louder, and his ire rose. He fumed as his worst expectations were fulfilled, his peace shattered. This was exactly the kind of nonsense an apprentice brought. No matter this wench had not yet learned enough to be worthy to claim such a role, still she disturbed him.
The noise grew in intensity, and he dropped the knife onto the board. He’d have to shut her up, one way or another. The door banged against the wall as he slammed it open. She needed a lesson in the obedience she had promised. He hurried down the stairs.
Bent at the hearth, Nin stirred a large long-handled spoon in the black pot. She turned to look up with a guileless smile, the spoon in her hand. Silence filled the room.
No, it wasn’t possible. “I told you to be quiet.”
She arched an eyebrow in question over the smile. “I am. Quiet as a mouse.”
“No, you were singing. I heard it, out of tune, loud, and very distracting.”
She lifted a hand to her mouth and shook her head.
“By the gods of the waters.” The whisper broke from him. He dragged up a stool and sat. Half of what he’d heard since she arrived was thought.
“Are you angry?” Her mouth quivered before she jerked out her chin.
“No, Sparrow. Come here.”
“Oh, the hand is all right. The water helped. I put the bandage back on after we swam.” She held up her palm. The bindings were twisted but that didn’t matter.
“No, it is not the bandage, Nin. Come and sit with me, I want to speak with you.”
Her expression solemn, she sat opposite him. Minutes passed before she looked up.
“Has anyone else ever overheard you when you were quiet?” Looking into her eyes, he knew, for her face flushed a delicate pink, soft and rosy as the rare coral fragments he kept in a jar. “Who heard you, Sparrow?”
“My friend Alicia, we often played the game. I’d sing when she worked in the cowshed or somewhere else, and she’d tell me the song.”
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, for what she described was no chance communication. “How did she tell you? Was it with the silent words?”
“No, she’d come to me later to tell me. She nearly always got the right one. Did I do wrong? Was it bad?”
He smiled in reassurance. “No, Sparrow, rather unexpected, though. And this happened before the witch’s mark came?”
This, perhaps, explained yesterday’s massive build up of tension. Maybe his disquiet of the previous day, when he had fretted half the afternoon for no reason, was linked to her pain and fear.
The girl was a natural telepath.
For those who could hear, her words rang raw as the shriek of a gull in a stormy dawn. He rested his chin on his hand. How could she have remained hidden so long?
“Sparrow, tomorrow I need to teach you how to keep the songs to yourself. I’ll also teach you ways to keep yourself safe. You will have to study hard to avoid being so loud as to drive me to madness.”
She nodded, a light of interest in her eyes. “Yes, please. I’ll try my best. I don’t want you to become mad.”
The soft, fading pink blush on her cheek fascinated, for it was in perfect contrast to her down-swept, brown lashes. An urge to caress her smooth cheek with his fingers, or to feel her face against his, shook his other thoughts like a breeze among the sweetest apple blossoms. He was familiar with the rising sensation she provoked, even if it were something he infrequently succumbed to, yet, with her as the cause, the desire was unpleasant.
This wench was a mere babe, no matter what her appearance, she was as unlearned as a child in all things, and he would not have his work interrupted by such nonsense, or his life turned upside down by her smiles.
His breath caught in his throat when she looked up. Her brilliant, tremulous smile snapped his resolve like a north wind might blast through a cobweb. He was not the first to be beguiled by a smile, though he doubted there were many as sweet as hers. He must do something about her, even if only to keep her out of harm’s way. The decision made, the rest would wait until the morning. He would leave