Caspian still hadn't found time to speak with Prince Roland about Brenna's spell. After the girl's escape, the settlement had been plunged into temporary chaos. Every spare adult was sent out to search for her, led by the soldiers of Rhone and Klain.
The two who had been in charge of guarding her were treated for headaches. Mayra had guessed that the large amount of pollen on the door frame and one guard's sleeve was likely to blame.
That had now been three days ago. Roland was constantly tied up in one important task or another, and Caspian didn't want to press what might be a non-issue.
If he was completely honest, he also didn't want to admit to himself that he suspected Naomi of being a heartless, manipulating traitor like Brenna.
It was silly, really. He hadn't wanted a wife. He should feel no qualms about investigating whether she was such a creature as that. What was holding him back? Was it shame, since he'd told her he was being honest and straightforward about his intentions, and almost immediately began to suspect her of something heinous?
He swung his sickle. It was a risk, taking another cutting of hay at this point in the autumn, but the signs were that the winter would be late and cold. He was intent on having enough feed to keep the animals well fed should spring tarry.
Naomi was nearby, gathering what he had already cut so that it could be dried and stored. Though she had no experience in this kind of farming, she took to it well and followed instructions easily.
She took to almost everything well and without complaint. He'd caught her secretly tending to blisters, and bought her work gloves the next day. It hadn't occurred to him before that she had none.
He wanted to be annoyed at her for not speaking up about her needs. Any Cetoan woman wouldn't hesitate to do so. Yet, Naomi's sweetness and delight when he noticed her needs dispelled any irritation he would have directed at her.
She seemed to truly think she didn't need anything.
Of course, she was wrong, but there was a certain charm in her contentment... if it was real and not the result of an enchantment.
He sighed, causing her to look up at him from her work. She wore a broad hat woven from grass that Cora had provided to her. It left her face uncovered, unlike her native head covering. That had been woven into their matrimonial rope, leaving her with nothing to keep the sun off her head.
Caspian answered her quizzical glance with a smile, looking at the sun's position. It was late in the day, and they should head back to their home soon. He finished the section he was working on, then set the tool aside to take a deep drink of water from a canteen.
Sitting on the ground, he watched as Naomi twisted another bundle together to be taken back. She joined him, and he laid back on the soft grass with another sigh. A day of hard work almost done, and he was exhausted.
Naomi took a drink as well, and sat next to him with a curious smile on her face.
"What?" He asked, a little out of breath from the exertion.
"You have hay in your hair." She reached forward to lean over him and pluck it away, and he was suddenly reminded of her taking seaweed from his hair in a similar way.
He caught her wrist in his hand, and she paused. He brought her hand to the side of his face, and she began to run the tips of her fingers through his short beard with a contemplative look on her face.
It felt heavenly. Mesmerizing. He closed his eyes and leaned into it slightly, releasing her. She scratched gently under his chin, like one might do for a friendly dog.
His eyes snapped open to find her face brimming with mirth over his reaction.
"Am I a pet now?" He accused with a slight smile.
"You're not quite hairy enough, but perhaps close," She teased, causing his eyebrows to rise.
"Sarcasm? Finally, you use sarcasm, and it is to accuse me of being an animal?" He growled at her, causing her to laugh.
"You told me it could be playful. I was trying it out." She defended herself.
"So it's my fault," He laid his head back against the grass to look at the sky.
"If you did not care for it, I will refrain in the future," She said. He gave her a sidelong glance, unable to judge whether she was continuing in her quest to try out sarcasm, or genuinely responding to him.
The corner of her mouth twitched, giving her away.
"You little minx. One taste of sarcasm and now you're addicted to it." He looked back towards the clouds and she laughed.
"You still have hay in your hair," She reminded, and he ran his hand roughly through his locks to dislodge any stray chaff.
"No," She pointed to her own head, just behind her right temple, "just there."
He tried again to no avail and she giggled. Pursing his lips, he grabbed a handful of grass and tossed it into her hair, causing her to scoot backwards, away from him as she laughed harder.
His first attempt missed, and he grabbed a second handful as they both scrambled to their feet and Naomi took off running. She ducked into the tall grass, and he followed. Glimpses of her dark braid, along with her echoing giggles, guided him as he pursued her deeper into the field.
"How will you find your way back if you get lost in here?" He taunted, pausing for breath. Somehow he'd lost sight of her.
"I'll just follow you," Her voice came from close behind him, and he whirled and grabbed her before she could dance away from his grasp.
One hand on her upper arm, he smothered the handful of grass into her hair as she laughed and tried to wriggle away from him.
"You win! You win!" She conceded, trying to brush the blades of grass away.
"What is my prize?" He demanded, pinning both arms to her sides to prevent her from clearing her hair.
"Dinner, I suppose, if you'll let me free to go make it for you," She replied, stopping her struggle.
"I always get dinner," His eyes narrowed.
"Then what would you have for a prize?" her hands gestured futilely from her sides, showing they were empty.
"A kiss," The words escaped almost before they'd formed in his mind. He watched her eyes widen, and her face become serious. "and an explanation," He added as an afterthought.
She latched onto the word. "An explanation of what?"
"Of how you managed to get behind me like that." He glanced up and down, mentally appraising her abilities.
"It is an old Rhone trick. You run fast, take a few steps to the side as soon as you are out of sight, and then drop to the ground and wait to be overtaken. A pursuer is often more intent on catching up than paying attention to sudden direction changes."
"I see," Caspian said, stepping a little closer. Her eyes followed one of his hands as it released her arm to moved upward, plucking a few bits of grass from her hair. Her eyes twinkled with amusement.
He brushed a stray curl behind her ear, his fingers tingling with the sensation of her soft hair against his skin. Her face began to color, and her breathing became shallower.
Caspian wanted to pull her against him, to overwhelm her senses with his touch and lose himself in the passion that he felt building between them, but his lingering suspicions held him back.
He waited a moment, letting his hand slide behind her neck, and then leaned forward to kiss her gently on the forehead.
As he pulled away, he noted the disappointment on her face.
"Come, isn't there another wedding tonight? We'd better get going." He said. "Mother and Father will be upset if we're late."
"Oh!" She suddenly responded. "I completely forgot! Yes, I'm sorry! I got us a little sidetracked." She looked a combination of flustered and embarrassed that tugged at him.
"We both got a little sidetracked, and for a good cause," He replied, and she tilted her head in curiosity. "I need to know all your tricks for if you ever try to run away for real."
He said it with a serious tone, but she squinted at him in suspicion until he smiled.
"If either of us were going to run away, it would have been better to do before the wedding than after," She said lightly.
"You're probably right," He conceded. He took her hand to lead her back to their gathered bushels to carry home. It was best she didn't know just how hard he had once wished she would run away before their wedding.