“Thank you.” The box was too large for any of his pockets, so he zipped up his jacket and slid it inside.
“Good luck! Oh—” Elsa raised a hand to stop him. “I wanted to let you know. We’ll be moving the mummy Tuesday morning, so it will be in the chapel for the tour that afternoon.”
“All right.” Zoltan nodded. “Good evening.” His heart started pounding. Would Neona be waiting for him? He didn’t want to materialize in front of her, so he would teleport a short distance away and walk to the clearing.
Neona smoothed the clean sheets on the bed, then took one final look around the cabin. A fire was burning in the hearth. The kettle was full of water and ready to heat up over the flames. The old English tea set had been washed and placed on the table, along with a bowl of fresh berries she’d picked earlier in the day.
She adjusted the sash around her tunic. These were her finest clothes, an embroidered silk tunic and pants. She’d told the other women that she was hunting tonight with Zhan, so she’d left wearing her usual green and brown linen, with her good clothes, a towel, and some soap stashed in the bag she wore on her back.
She’d washed up in her favorite place, where the stream from Beyul-La jetted out into the neighboring valley. Then she’d dressed in Frederic’s cabin and readied it for Zoltan’s visit. The cat kept getting underfoot, as if he didn’t think he was getting enough attention.
She patted Zhan’s head. “I know I cannot continue to see him. But if I could just have a daughter . . .” She tensed as the fear of having a son crept into her thoughts. No, she would have to think positively. She would have a daughter, a beautiful daughter with Zoltan’s hair and eyes. Then she would have someone to love. And she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of her life with a broken heart.
Zhan curled up in front of the hearth to take a nap. She took a deep breath, then started for the clearing. With each step, her heart pounded louder in her ears. Remember to stay in charge, she warned herself. Take his seed if he is willing, then send him on his way. Do not become attached to him.
She stopped, her breath catching when she saw him. He was contemplating the night sky, his head tilted back and the moonlight illuminating his profile. The sharply defined line of his jaw, the shape of his cheekbones and nose, the strong length of his neck. How could he be even more handsome than she’d remembered? His shoulder-length brown hair was brushed back from a wide brow. The wound on his temple was completely healed.
He turned toward her, and she froze under the intensity of his stare. It had been a mistake to ever question this man’s intelligence. His sharp eyes cut through her as if he wanted to peel back her skin to examine her soul. His gaze lowered to her clothes, then returned to her face. “I’m glad you came.”
She drew in a deep breath, steeling her nerves. “Zhan found your note.”
He stepped toward her. “You look beautiful tonight.” He smiled. “But then you would look beautiful every night.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of his smile. Who was this man, that he could affect her so easily? “Where do you come from? Are you staying at the nearby village?”
After a pause, he replied, “I have passed through there.” He removed a box from his jacket. “I have a gift for you.”
She blinked in surprise. First he’d used flattery, and now he had a gift? Hadn’t she made it clear that she wanted to mate with him? There was no need for him to act so gallantly. As if he were . . . courting her.
Her nerves tensed. Why would he court her unless he wanted to win her affections? She couldn’t allow that to happen. After tonight, she’d refuse to see him again.
She glanced at the shiny gold box. “That was not necessary, but thank you.”
“Do you not like chocolate?”
She searched her memory of all the books she’d read from Frederic’s small library. “Hot chocolate?”
“Not the drink.” Zoltan gave her a curious look. “Have you never eaten chocolate?”
She felt heat warming her cheeks. When Frederic had returned to England, they’d lost their only contact with the outside world, and now she felt woefully ignorant. “Come with me, and we shall have some tea.” She turned and headed down the hill.
Zoltan walked beside her. “Are you taking me to your home?”
“No.” She shook her head. “That is not allowed. I am taking you to Frederic’s cabin.”
“Is he a friend of yours?”
“He’s Freddie’s and Freya’s father. He taught us English.”
“He’s the one who went back to England?”
Neona nodded, remembering how distraught Freddie and Freya had been. And their mother, Calliope, had been devastated. Queen Nima had declared that it was just further proof that men could not be trusted. They always betrayed you in the end.
She wouldn’t let that happen. Zoltan couldn’t hurt her if she refused to let him into her heart.
“The cabin is this way.” She pointed to a clearing downstream where the stone house was situated.
He followed her inside and looked around. “Is your home similar to this one? No running water or electricity?”
She wasn’t sure what electricity was. “There is running water in the stream outside.” She hesitated, wondering if she should suggest he lie down on the bed. Perhaps she should give him time to get comfortable. He’d said the other night that he needed to be in the mood.
She set the kettle over the fire. “It will take a moment for the water to boil.”
“That’s fine.” He placed the gold box on the table in front of the hearth.
Zhan looked up from his nap and hissed.
“Ssh.” She hushed the cat. “Why don’t you go outside? You can warn me if someone comes.”
Zhan stalked toward the door, snarling at her guest. Zoltan followed the cat, chuckling as the cat gave him one last hiss.
“So long, cat.” He shut the door, then strolled around the perimeter of the room. “This is nice.” He stopped to admire a white silk banner embroidered with red and pink blossoms.
“Frederic’s wife made it.”
“Does she live here?”
“She . . . passed away.”
Zoltan turned to face her. “I’m sorry. Were you close to her?”
Neona tossed a few more sticks onto the fire to increase the heat. “There is no need to discuss anything personal. Once we have had our tea, we can . . . proceed.” She motioned toward the bed.
He glanced at the bed, then back at her, his eyes narrowing as he looked her over. “What you’re wearing is very pretty. Did you make it?”
“Yes.” She adjusted the sash. Why did she feel like he was imagining her without her clothes? “We do quite a bit of sewing in the winter. We can be snowed in for months.”
“You don’t get lonesome?”
She swallowed hard. The next winter would seem endless without her sister. “We keep busy. We make our clothes and shoes. A new supply of arrows. I make ointments and medicine. Some of the women make pottery. And of course, we practice our fighting skills every day.”
His mouth twitched. “I’m sure you do. I’ve been told more than once that you beat the crap out of me.”
She lifted her chin. “You were told correctly.” His answering smile caused an odd fluttering sensation in her stomach. He didn’t seem intimidated or angered by her show of strength. On the contrary, he acted like he enjoyed it. And that only served to make him more appealing.
Don’t fall for him, she reminded herself. She straightened the teacups and saucers on the table.
He wandered over to a wooden chest that was topped with a stack of books. “These are in English.”
She sighed. He seemed determined to pry into her personal life. “Those belonged to Frederic.”
Zoltan rummaged through them. “A world atlas. A Bible. Some novels—Ivanhoe and A Tale of Two Cities.”
“Those were his favorites.”
“They all look well read. This one is falling apart.” He picked up a book and studied the faded lettering on the spine. “Pride and Prejudice.”
She selected a plump wild berry from the bowl on the table. “That one is my favorite. I read it every winter.”