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With the knowledge he’s just outside, I close my eyes and drift.

* * *

The soundsof the men breaking camp wake me. I yawn as I sit up, taking Henrik’s cloak with me.

Early sunlight glows through the canvas tent, and the air is far warmer than it was last night.

Before I step outside, I comb through my hair with my fingers, vowing I’ll buy a brush in the next village we reach.

“Good morning, Lady Clover,” Bartholomew says when I join the others. “Did you sleep all right?”

Self-consciously, I run my hand over my hair. “Well enough for my first time in a tent.”

“Did you stay warm?”

I think of Henrik’s cloak, which I left folded on the bedroll. I didn’t dare wear it in front of the men.

“It was chilly without a blanket, but I managed.” I frown, wondering who created such a miserable thing. Grouchily, I add, “The fabric was a bit scratchy though.”

Bartholomew looks flummoxed. “The fleece was scratchy? Are you perhaps sensitive to wool?”

“Fleece? No, mine was canvas.”

“On the outside, yes, but the inside is soft fleece.”

I stare at him, thinking hard. “Inside?”

Henrik emerges from my tent, busy packing up, and he carries both the bedroll and his cloak. He pauses as he passes me, his eyes glittering with amusement. As if he means to tell me a secret, he leans in a little closer. “You’re supposed to sleepinit—not on top of it.”

As if to demonstrate, he opens the bedroll, revealing the soft, warm lining within.

I flush with embarrassment. As he walks away, I exclaim, “It was dark!”

The soldier has the audacity to laugh.

“You could haveshownme.”

Simon steps up next to me, crossing his arms as he gives me a sideways look. “I’d be happy to tuck you in tonight, Lady Clover.”

Rolling my eyes, I swat his shoulder. “Kind of you to offer.”

“Anytime.” He grins, turning away. “We’re getting ready to leave. Will you ride with me again?”

Henrik tenses from his position by the wagon, and I watch him.

Curious.

“Maybe later,” I say, noting the way the commander’s shoulders relax when I turn down Simon’s offer.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” the captain says lightly as he heads toward the horses.

“Maybe I’ll ride with you,” I tell Henrik lightly when I join him, jerking my head toward the wagon as I carefully gauge his reaction.

If anything, the soldier’s scowl deepens.

So, he doesn’t want me to ride with Simon…but he doesn’t want me in the wagon with him either? Honestly, there’s no making the man happy.

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