Three days. Three days since they'd managed to stop Princess Medea's wedding to Prince Charmles. Three days since Eight's royal heritage had been revealed and he and the Princess had returned to Castle Trodain as husband and wife.
Three more days than he ought to have had.
Three days he'd wasted like a fool.
Angelo swore quietly, though he imagined his restless pacing around the inn room had already disturbed anyone likely to be disturbed. Come morning, Jessica was boarding a ship and returning home, and with each minute that ticked past he grew less happy with that fact.
It was really quite ridiculous. He hadn't seen her in months, had barely spoken to her on the way here, and he certainly didn't lack for female companionship. Pleasant female companionship, which Jessica assuredly wasn't. And yet...
He couldn't deny -- much as he wanted to -- that his mind had possessed a distressing tendency to turn to her since Rhapthorne had been defeated and the curse on Castle Trodain lifted. Not just when something reminded him of their shared quests, but at inconvenient times, like when he was chatting up a likely young lady at the pub. And he had been far too pleased for his own peace of mind when he saw her again, delighted by her enthusiasm over the four of them temporarily being reunited, even if he wouldn't show it.
And now, she was leaving, and he couldn't think of a single excuse to see her again.
Not that I need to see her again, he reminded himself for the hundredth time. For the hundredth time, it didn't make him feel particularly better.
A part of him almost wished they'd left after delivering the princess, like they were supposed to, except he certainly wasn't cruel enough to wish Prince Charmles on anyone, much less Medea. No, he'd done the right thing convincing Eight to disrupt the wedding, even if it did mean that, instead of leaving together, he, Yangus, and Jessica had been left to make their own arrangements to return home. And while sailing back to Trodain wouldn't have given him much more than three days, it would have given him a much-needed excuse, to spend time with Jessica, to travel to Alexandria with her on his way to Port Prospect.
He had intended to make good use of spending several days on the road, just the two of them.
So, why didn't you make good use of the past three days? he asked himself darkly.
He knew the answer, even if he was loathe to admit it. He hadn't because it would mean admitting -- to himself, if no one else -- that he wanted to spend the time with Jessica, and Jessica specifically. Being forced, however willingly, to travel with her was one thing; seeking her out when there were plenty of other women available was another.
He was a fool. He couldn't decide if it was for wasting time or for wanting to be with Jessica in the first place, but he was definitely a fool.
A fool who was mere hours away from having the decision taken away from him.
"If I had any sense," he began, then fell silent. If he had any sense, this wouldn't even be an issue; he'd be well on his way home, Jessica already a fading memory, anticipating a reunion with that little blonde whose name he could never remember. At the very least, a sensible reaction to Jessica's impending departure would have involved a lovely woman and a good night's sleep.
Well, at least it wasn't too late for a good night's sleep. With any luck, by the time he woke the problem would be resolved.
Clearly, luck had abandoned him around the same time sense had.
That was the only explanation he could come up with, for a mostly-sleepless night that ended with him booking passage on a ship in the thin pre-dawn light.
It occurred to him, as the sun climbed higher and burned off wisps of night fog, that the ultimate irony would be booking passage on the wrong ship. The idea made him laugh at how utterly mad he must be to think he had a prayer of success; this was, after all, Jessica, and where he might have been able to convince another woman that he was being romantic and flattering, Jessica was much more likely to ask what he was up to, all while giving him a look that said she knew the answer and he wasn't going to succeed.
Of course, that was half the fun.
He found an out of the way spot where he could watch the crowds milling on the dock, letting the sun and gentle motion of the ship lull him nearly to sleep. His eyes never quite closed, though, and the sight of Jessica pushing through the mass of people had him straightening before his brain had fully processed that he'd seen her.
She looked troubled, pausing every few steps to look over her shoulder or scan the crowd. Angelo considered going down and making sure no one was bothering her -- her whip would be at a serious disadvantage in those crowds -- but she was nearly to the ship, with no one paying her undue attention, at least, not obviously enough for him to spot. And there was something to be said for watching her when she didn't know she was being watched, with the sea breeze playing with her hair.
Even with her constant searching, she lacked the tension she'd carried -- they'd all carried -- while pursuing Dhoulmagus and, later, Rhapthorne; the difference it made surprised him, though he knew it shouldn't. They'd won, then celebrated and separated in a matter of days; none of them had really had time to know the others when the world wasn't going to hell.
Of course, getting to know her was the point of all this, wasn't it? He smiled a little, watching her board the ship. If she was in a good mood, she might not even take his head off.
Much.
The smile was still on his lips as he strolled toward her, going out of his way so that he could approach her without being seen. She made it easy, her gaze still sweeping the docks, and he realized that she didn't seem worried so much as unhappy.
"Are you all right?" he asked; not what he'd been planning, but more appropriate to the situation.
She jumped a little, surprise and something else replacing the sadness in her eyes. "Angelo? What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to make sure you got home safely. I wouldn't want you to be accosted by any scoundrels on the road to Alexandria, after all."
Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. "Scoundrels? You mean like you?"
He mastered the first three retorts that sprang to mind, opting for a gently chiding, "Surely you know me better than that."
She drew a deep breath, then, to his surprise, let it out. "You're right. I'm sorry."
Angelo raised an eyebrow, studying her carefully before asking, "Which brings us back to my first question. Are you all right?"
"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, you just apologized to me. That's hardly like you."
Her eyes narrowed again, then she smiled. "Don't get used to it. But I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye, so I suppose I'm glad you're here."
"And you're certain you're all right?" Angelo persisted, wondering how far he could push her.
That far, apparently, as she smacked him none-too-lightly on the arm. "Would you stop it?"
"I'm just not used to seeing you this way." He caught the hand which had struck him and kissed it. "I look forward to getting reacquainted, though."
She snatched her hand away with a little huff of annoyance. "You are insufferable," she muttered, but there was no real heat in the words, and he thought he saw the faintest hint of color in her cheeks.
It was, he decided, a good start.
"So tell me something."
They were less than a day out from Trodain, enjoying the late afternoon breeze; Jessica was leaning on the rail, eyes nearly closed against the westerning sun, and to all appearances on the verge of falling asleep. They'd dropped easily into the habit of spending time together without actually talking, and while Angelo suspected that was the only thing which had prevented open warfare within the first twenty-four hours, he was curious enough to break the silence.
"Hmm?"
"I heard you went back home to Alexandria." He waited for her to nod, then continued, "I remember, when we were still after Dhoulmagus, you saying you wanted to travel when things were settled. What happened? Get your fill of it chasing Rhapthorne?"
She shrugged and opened her eyes, staring across the sparkling water. "I suppose after everything it didn't seem as important."
He studied her, she didn't look at him, and silence descended again, though not as comfortably. It was only later, when they'd gone to share the evening meal with the other passengers, that he remembered Jessica had actually said she wanted the four of them to travel.
He watched her chat with the woman on her left, and fend off the wandering hands of the man on her right, and wondered.
The breeze which had kept the temperature pleasant while at sea was absent by the time they reached the top of the path, and Angelo was more than happy to stop when Jessica paused in the shade of a few trees. They couldn't quite see the castle from here -- another hill blocked it -- but he knew that even if they went slowly in deference to the heat, they didn't have even half a day's walk ahead of them.
"I bet the castle's a madhouse, don't you?"
"I don't take sucker bets." He smiled over his shoulder at her. "Still, I suppose there's nothing to do but stop by and hope for the best."
"Don't you want to see them?"
"Frankly, I'd rather wait for the shock of the wedding to wear off. As it is, every available woman in the castle is going to have marriage on the brain." Angelo turned back to the castle. "There are a few I'd rather not re-acquaint myself with, under these circumstances."
"Well, if you hadn't slept with half the staff, you wouldn't have to worry," Jessica said sourly, and before he realized it she was on her way down the path, back stiff with indignation.
"Wonderful. Now she goes back to normal." He shook his head, watching her for a few moments before following at a more reasonable pace. He expected -- hoped, at least -- that she'd burn off her temper and slow down in a few moments; instead, she was nearly to the top of the next hill, flushed and winded, before he caught up to her.
"Feel better?" he asked, knowing it was the wrong thing to say, and the wrong tone to say it in.
"You don't have to come with me, you know. I'm sure if I were to actually need an escort, Eight would see that I got home safely."
"I gave you my word."
"And we all know what that's worth."
"Jessica..." He stopped, because he'd be damned -- more damned than he already was -- before he actually said I want to come with you, and caught her arm. "Is this really necessary?"
She pulled free with a sound suspiciously like a growl. "I should have known you couldn't..." She shook her head. "Leave me alone."
"I suppose that's a yes," he muttered, stepping back. "I hope you have a pleasant journey. Give my regards to Eight and Medea, won't you?"
He heard her breath catch as he turned away, and nearly hesitated to give her an opportunity to say...something...but sense prevailed, and he was striding along the path before he could do anything foolishly optimistic. He could hear her following behind him, not attempting to catch up, but not losing too much ground, either. Their reversed positions would almost have been funny, except he didn't have much of a sense of humor left at the moment.
The road branched ahead, curving north toward Castle Trodain. Angelo made an effort not to let his pace change when he passed the intersection, or when he heard Jessica's footsteps slow, then stop.
It was substantially more difficult not to glance over his shoulder and watch her turn aside.
The western sky was turning golden when Angelo stopped, less from weariness than indecision. It had occurred to him that he could easily shave two days off his journey by leaving the road, bypassing Farebury completely; given that he currently wasn't his own best traveling companion, the idea had a certain appeal. On the other hand, his mood would undoubtedly be improved by a few stiff drinks and willing women, which Farebury could supply.
Jessica will most likely go through Farebury in a day or two. He couldn't decide which side of the equation that weighed on, so he ignored it altogether.
Stopping so early had the disadvantage of giving him time to think, particularly since "making camp" consisted of throwing his bedroll under a tree and, as twilight deepened, building a small fire for light; by the time it was dark, he was in a foul mood which, he assured himself, was entirely due to boredom, and had nothing whatsoever to do with Jessica--or rather, the celebrations undoubtedly still occurring in Trodain--being several hours behind him.
It was almost a relief to hear something moving in the darkness.
He looked toward the sound, silently cursing himself for ruining his night vision by staring at the fire. Whatever it was didn't sound too large, but if it came near enough to be a problem... He slid a hand toward the bow propped beside him.
"Do you mind if I join you?"
He frowned suspiciously, still unable to see the speaker. "Jessica? I thought you were going to Trodain?"
"I changed my mind." She stepped into the light; there was a hint of defensiveness in her posture, even if her voice didn't reflect it. "We were right about the castle being a madhouse. I was barely there ten minutes before I'd had enough, and poor Eight looked ready to make a break for it."
Angelo smirked. "I can imagine."
Jessica shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "So, do you mind if I join you?"
"I never object to the company of a beautiful woman. As I recall, that's one of the things you dislike about me."
Even in the dim light, he could see her flush, and she dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry about earlier. I had no business..."
"Forgotten," he said, surprising himself. Her, too, from the incredulous look she shot him. For a moment, he held her gaze, then he inclined his head to the right. "I'm glad of the company. Now sit down, before I feel the urge to be a gentleman and actually stand up."
"A gentleman? I don't imagine that's an urge you have to fight very often," she said with a smile, stepping around the fire and letting her pack drop to the ground near him.
"Almost never." He flicked a twig at her; it bounced off her skirt and landed beside the pack. "What were you doing on the road after dark?"
"I was only a couple of hours behind you; you'd have noticed me, if you'd been paying attention to anything other than the dirt under your feet," she teased. Her smile brightened with amusement, and Angelo decided she didn't smile nearly enough...at least, not at him. "I saw you leave the road, and when I saw the fire, I figured it had to be you." She settled onto the pack, arms crossed on her knees. "I wasn't that far away when the sun set, so I just kept walking."
"What would you have done if it hadn't been me?"
"Probably been much safer." She reached down to flick the twig back at him; he caught it and twirled it between his fingers. "What made you stop so early, anyway?"
"Couldn't decide if I wanted to go to Farebury or save time and head straight for the checkpoint."
Her smile faltered; she clasped her hands together, staring at the fire. "What did you decide?"
Angelo raised a brow at her tone; she sounded as if she expected them to part ways come sunrise, and didn't seem terribly happy about it. Of course, I'm very likely deluding myself, he thought, and said in carefully-neutral tones, "Doesn't really matter. Now that you're here, we can decide what to do in the morning. After all, any journey is improved by good companions, and we sometimes manage to get along." He aimed carefully. "If nothing else, we won't get bored traveling together."
The twig bounced off her forehead. She swatted at it with seeming annoyance, but her smile was back, and Angelo silently congratulated himself. Sometimes, dealing with Jessica felt like solving a puzzle while blindfolded, and it was always a pleasure to feel one of the pieces slide into place.
"We did manage to survive three days on the ship," she said. "I suppose we can survive a few more days together."
"I thought we did rather better than just survive."
"Well, you were less infuriating than usual."
"As were you." The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he silently cursed himself.
Jessica looked ready to retort, then she laughed softly instead. Like her smiles, it was lovely and, he thought, far too rare.
He wondered how many days he could stretch their journey over without her getting suspicious.
And how many more times he could make her laugh.
