The Thief and Prince

Chapter 17: No Regrets

Done with the washing, we haul the seeping wet clothes back to camp and I'm surprised to see that not only have all five tents been pitched, but Crispin and Amiri have returned with wood and have gotten a fire started.

"Look at these dawdlers," Amiri teases, glancing at Laria with a sultry eyes. "Did you wash my skivvies too?"

Laria smirks and sets the heavy bag down of clothes, getting out a rope to dry them out. "Why? Worried that I'd see your shit stains?"

We all burst out into laughter—including Darko—as Amiri's tanned face falls into a frown, proving that there is some truth to her words which makes it all the more funny. "You drive me crazy, woman," he mutters, sitting down on the ground.

As everyone gets settled in, Laria and I string up the rope by tying each end to a trunk before draping the wet clothes over to dry and then lay out the damp clothes from the rain as well.

"Salted pork?" Crispin offers, handing me a strip.

"Thank you," I say, taking it and making a point to keep space in between us by the fire—a weak attempted that the allotted distance will keep my feelings for him at bay.

As Amiri begins telling us a funny story that occurred in his homeland, I can't help but let my eyes drift to where Crispin sits. He is lounging on his side, bruised and battered, but still remaining handsome. The stubble on his chin casts shadows on his impeccable jaw and I have to admit, he can pull off the rugged look rather easily.

His shirt hangs low, revealing the smooth skin of his chest, and when he leans forward to retrieve another slice of pork, I can see straight down to his navel which is encircled with dark hair. He catches me and my eyes flit back to the fire, but it's too late.

"Why what's this? Little miss I-wish-to-be-friends is stealing glances, hmm?" he teases in a low voice that only I can hear.

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. "I was only making sure you weren't going to catch your shirt on fire," I lie. "You ought to be more careful."

He throws his head back and laughs, "And I turn into a horned turtle every night," he counters. He then smirks and leans over to me, placing his lips only an inch from my ear. "I don't mind if you look Cora. Just remember, all you have to do is make the first move," his whispers in a husky voice. I feel his breath brush against me and my eyes widen, causing me to jerk my neck away.

"How about you don't do that again?" I whisper back, both annoyed and excited by the simple gesture. "You are making things harder than they have to be."

Amiri's story ceases and I feel three pairs of eyes watch the two of us closely.

Sighing, he leans back to his former position and shrugs, now speaking at his normal volume. "Aye, maybe I am. But trust me, I'm hardly trying so don't tempt me to make things even harder," he says, quoting the last bit with his fingers.

Growling, I look over to Laria who simply gives me a half shrug and wags her eyebrows.

"How did things change so quickly between us?" I think, thinking of Crispin's cool emerald eyes. One day he can't stand me, the next we are friends, and then now he fancies me? Scoffing to myself, I shake my head and bite into the salted pork.

"So, I know now might be the best time, but would any of you like some ale?" Darko asks, pulling out a rather large water skin.

Laria frowns, "So you can drug us again? No thank you," she spits.

"If it makes you feel any better, drugging you was not my idea. I only joined the slaving business because it pays rather well—never said I enjoyed it," he explains.