He asks her about her plans

"Good, choice." The Verderer's warm baritone sent shivers down her spine, "Jarod cheats." He patted the bench by his side in a silent invitation, and Christine sat by his side demurely pulling the hem of the shirt to her knees as she crossed her legs carefully. In her current agitated state, it was just as well she did not notice the way the man stared at the deepening 'V' between her breasts as she pulled down on the loose-fitting shirt.

"You can spend the night, but you'll have to head out tomorrow." The Verderer spoke softly deliberately watching the boys roughhousing on the straw-covered floor instead of the inviting flesh of her breasts. "Marielle," he sighed softly, "Well, she's protective of her house and home."

"She's a beautiful woman." Christine offered honestly; the Verderer's wife was quite attractive, if in a stern way, and she understood why the woman would be protective of her spouse. If she were married to this handsome man, she'd be hesitant to share her home with any other woman. Luckily, before she slipped too far into the fantasy of living like a commoner in this simple home, and with Werner as her husband, he reminded her that she'd not have that option.

"I'll take you to Gold Street tomorrow." The Verderer meant it as a kindness, but it was also a reminder that she'd have to face the uncertainty of her fate as early as the morning.

"Thank-you." She turned to the Verderer hoping that he would see how grateful she was for his kindness, but the man was already climbing to his feet. Perhaps like her, he remembered what had happened last time she had started to express her gratitude, because he didn't even look back at her as he rounded up his sons and herded them back into the house.

"Sit tight; stay out of trouble." The Verderer stopped by the threshold and caught Christine's eyes with his sharp gaze. "I'll get you food just as soon as I can." Christine nodded in understanding even though her stomach was growling. A quick glance at Erik made her forget her own worries.

As long as he had been with the Verderer's boys, Erik had forgotten their situation. Now alone for the first time since the old forest, she could see her brother suddenly start thinking of their parents and what might happen to them now that they were on their own. Taking Erik into her arms she held him tightly without a word. What could she say? Luckily, ever since their mom started her decline Erik learned to trust her. As long as they were together, they'd be alright.

Sooner than she expected Jorad popped through the door into the stables with a bucket in his hand. "Da said this was for you." Christine did her best to hide her disappointment that it was the elder son and not his father who came with the food, but her mood changed when she saw what was in the bucket. She had been skeptical at first as it looked like the peelings and discards from the kitchen but under the layer of what was clearly meant as discards for the animals, she found a neatly wrapped package of food. Four rolls, stuffed with chunks of cheese and meat, and two juicy apples. As far as they were concerned, this was as fine a feast as they had ever had in their childhood hall.

With his belly full for the first time in a full day, Christine realized that her brother was having trouble keeping his eyes open. "Time to bed, little Squire." she shooed him up the steep steps to the small chamber above the tack room. It was dark, but Erik didn't seem to care as he collapsed in a deep sigh onto the small bed. With all her heart, Christine wanted nothing more than to join him, but she still had washing to do, or she'd be arriving at Merthin the Notary with smears of mud and even worse covering their clothing.

It was a little while later that she was kneeling on the floor with her arms up to her elbows in the water as she scrubbed away the worst of the grime. She had never even once actually washed clothes like this, but she had seen it done often enough and to her surprise she found that she enjoyed the simple chore. The only problem was that the last of the summer evening sun was fading rapidly and it was harder and harder to see what she was doing.

It was just as well that she was alone in the dark barn because this was not in any way lady-like behavior, kneeling on the floor with water splashing all over the old tunic causing the worn linen to cling to her breasts. She was just finished wringing out the last of her under garments when she heard the door to the stable open again.

It was too dark to see clearly, but she could hear the slow footsteps approaching her location.