Wyneth’s eyebrows scrunched as she pulled her hands back. “Nothing. Just chapped.”
“You’re too trusting, Princess,” said Caitrin, shifting Aerity’s attention off her cousin. “And Paxton Seabolt is likely not accustomed to sweet lasses such as yourself. His reputation precedes him.”
The princess nearly gave herself whiplash turning to her maid. “You’ve heard of him? What is his reputation?”
Caitrin’s eyes sparkled with gossip. “Well, it’s said that he’s known in Cape Creek for being the most eligible bachelor, but to everyone’s dismay he’s sworn off marriage.”
Had he? Curiosity and reservation swirled inside Aerity.
“Whatever for?” asked Wyneth.
Caitrin shrugged. “Nobody knows. He’s simply not the marrying type. The women he’s been known to fraternize with are . . . well . . .” She looked back and forth between the royal girls’ waiting faces. “Not exactly innocents. Anunsavory crowd of friends, you might say. And yet, he and his family are well respected.”
She had figured this about Paxton, but hearing it for certain gave her a swoop of sickening dizziness.
Aerity felt herself frowning. She wondered how Paxton viewed her in comparison with the women he was accustomed to. Did he think of her as some naive child? Embarrassment consumed her all over again, followed closely by jealousy at the thought of those other women. Would he tell everyone in Cape Creek how he’d tricked her? She’d be the laughingstock of Lochlanach.
“There, there,” Caitrin said, turning Aerity by the shoulders to continue brushing. “Jesting is the way of commoners. And men don’t tease women they don’t like. I assure you. He was flirting in his own way.”
Aerity didn’t know if she believed that. It felt more like he was making a fool of her for his own mysterious reasons.
“But why would he be here if he doesn’t want to marry?” she asked.
Caitrin blinked at her as if it were obvious. “Marrying a princess is something different altogether.” The maid gave the princess’s hand a brief, consoling pat, and left her to put away the brush.
“Hm.” Aerity looked out of the window, suddenly sad.
Together the cousins stared down at the men in the commons, tending to their weapons and bending over maps. When Paxton entered through the gates, Aerity held her breath. Hestill wore the leather strap in his hair, but some shorter strands had escaped and now framed his face. She felt Wyneth look up at her, but she kept her eyes on the man below—a stranger by all accounts. How could he cause so many emotions to tumble through her?
“I know Paxton is your first choice,” Wyneth said. “But what of the others? Have any of the other men caught your fancy?” The question felt somehow . . . loaded.
Aerity watched Paxton walk toward the tents, out of sight, and she relaxed. “No.”
“None of them at all?” Wyneth prodded.
“No,” she said again. “None like Paxton.” She felt a fool. She really should not let herself grow attached to the idea of one of these men. If another killed the beast, it would make her future marriage all the harder.
Wyneth chewed her lip. Aerity would have brought up the fact that she suspected one of the hunters fancied Wyneth, but mentioning Lord Lief Alvi could become awkward. Aerity didn’t think Wyneth was ready to consider other men, anyhow. The princess shifted uncomfortably at the idea of marrying a man who liked her cousin better, regardless of whether Wyneth returned the man’s sentiments or not. She couldn’t fathom having that sort of strain in her life.
“I find the younger Seabolt to be quite pleasing to the eye,” Caitrin said. “The two of you would have the sweetest wee ones ever born.”
Aerity smiled a little, but it was fleeting. “Tiern is kind and handsome.”
“And, of course, Harrison,” Wyneth said with a wicked smile.
Aerity gently swatted her knee and sighed. “Yes, he’s a fine man. Perhaps he will kill the beast and your wish will come true for us to be together.”
Wyneth’s smiling face turned serious. “My wish now is only for your happiness, Aer. For a good match.”
Aerity stared down at her hands. She’d prefer to feel passionate about Tiern or Harrison, someone good for her, but apparently life did not work that way. At least not for her. And what did it matter who she fancied? She would not get to choose.
The great beast had stolen that privilege from her.
Chapter
26
A late autumn sun beamed down on the hunters as they peered at the map. All traces of fog and rain had burned away, leaving behind mud and dampness everywhere. Paxton wiped a drip of sweat from his brow and bit his tongue for the umpteenth time as Volgan mentioned separating from Paxton and his men.
