Victoria's fortunate escape

Simone closed her eyes as Victoria moved away. 

"You let her trick you again, didn't you?" Shayn accused. 

"Trick me?" The woman's eyes flashed. "You've been driving the wagon in the afternoons lately. I thought I was getting off the hook for that!" 

"Kyler–" Shayn turned red. 

"I think you're the one who got tricked, not me," Simone shook her head. "The question is why? Does he enjoy torturing the two of us?" 

"Me, certainly," The man sniffed in derision, "Though not usually to this extent." 

"It's just one morning," Simone lowered her voice. "We can get through it." 

We. As if they were a team. The thought amused her and she almost laughed. Almost. Shayn eyed her, seeming to weigh whether her amusement was at his expense. Simone had come to the reluctant conclusion that he was perfectly pleasant for everyone else to get along with. 

His banter with his brother was lighthearted and mutual. Victoria, he treated with a sort of brotherly care. Even Walter had become slightly less crotchety around the young man.

So why couldn't she get along with him? 

She also fared well with any of the other members of their group. Kyler was pleasant and welcoming, Walter was polite, Victoria was patient and delightful. Surely it wasn't her problem! 

"Can we now?" Shayn emphasized the middle word subtly, but Simone refused to be flustered. 

"We're adults." She asserted. Well, she was, anyway. With how childishly he acted sometimes, she wouldn't exactly call him the most mature member of their group. Very easily the least so. 

"Hm." He responded. She walked away to the front of the wagon, lifting her skirt to climb up. Shayn practically appeared on the other side, already sitting nonchalantly in his seat as if he'd been there the whole time. 

She settled in, modestly arranging her skirts and trying not to think about riding behind him on his horse. He wore the same shirt today that he had that day, made of a coarse fabric that had tickled her hands as she'd clasped them around his waist. 

He flicked the reins, and she remembered how his hand had felt warm, taking hers to have her hold onto him for their ride together. 

Her face colored in spite of her best efforts, and she focused her attention elsewhere. It was so odd a thing. She was incredibly tempted to like him. The way he'd leaped into danger to save her, the small, polite gestures that seemed unconsciously done when he forgot his quest to aggravate her. 

The way his eyes sparked with mischief when he teased his brother, but kindly. It was all more attractive than she wanted to admit… until he opened his mouth. 

She sighed and rubbed her hand across her face, realizing that in her quest to try not to think about him, she was thinking about him very much indeed. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" He asked. "That was quite a heavy sigh." 

She quickly thought of something else so that she could answer honestly without unduly humiliating herself. 

"Right now I'm wishing I could learn to cook a little faster." She decided that was a safe topic, and an honest thought she'd had. She briefly considered ignoring or rejecting his question, but it was the first non-confrontational one he'd asked in days. 

"The oatmeal was passable," A corner of his mouth twitched with suppressed amusement.

"It was probably the first thing that was," Simone grumbled. 

"Last night's dinner was something I'll not soon forget," He didn't bother to hide his grin now. She shot him a glance. 

"I'm glad you enjoyed my fire-roasted venison," She said sarcastically. 

"Oh, 'enjoyed' isn't the word for it!" Shayn exclaimed. 

"I'm sure that doesn't do justice to your feelings on the meal," Simone shook her head. "I suppose I should be grateful you're making fun of me about it instead of seething and lambasting me." 

"This is more fun," He nodded, "and it's good for you. You have excessive pride." 

"I have excessive pride?" She burst out laughing. "Me? Have you met yourself, ever?"

"I'm passingly acquainted with the man. Perhaps you would care to enlighten me on what I'm like?" He watched her from the corner of his eye. Baiting her. 

"I think you'll just have to get to know him on your own," She smiled. "He's indescribable." 

"Indescribable sounds like quite the compliment," Shayn squinted at her. 

"I suppose you may take it however you'd like." Simone refused to look directly at him. In fact, indescribable was exactly the correct word to pick for him. 

She looked out at the landscape, which was slowly changing. The rolling hills had become thick forest, but Simone knew that would change eventually. Still, she enjoyed the dappled sunlight filtering through the lush leaves on the trees. 

The birds twittered back and forth across what constituted a road. According to the maps, there were two more small villages on the way to their destination, each smaller and further than the last. The area of land they meant to survey was four days beyond the last. 

The wagon bumped along. The further they got from Klain, the less traveled the road was, and thus the less comfortable. 

"How long, do you think, before one horse pulls the wagon instead of two?" She asked. 

"On the way home, we'll only need one horse to pull." Shayn predicted. "So sick of my company already? I'm wounded. I've been on my best behavior all day." 

Simone bit back a sniping comment. He really hadn't been nearly as bad as some prior occasions. 

"Sick of the hard wooden seat, if I'm honest." She replied. 

"Saddles aren't much better," He smirked. 

"The change will be nice. Victoria had the idea of sewing cushions to sit on." 

"But why?" Shayn looked at her as if she were dumb. 

"What do you mean, why? This seat hurts! Sometimes I get splinters!" Was the man obtuse? 

"No, I meant why sew anything?" He made a face before turning toward her and leaning closer. 

Alarmed, she slid away, to the very edge of the bench. "What are you doing?" 

"Hold this," He said, putting the reins in her hands. She took them, still quite nervous about what he was planning on doing that required both his hands to be free. 

He gave her a strange look and turned fully backward to lean into the covered space within the wagon. After a bit of rearranging, he emerged with one of the bedrolls. 

Unrolling it and shaking it loose to fold it in half, he motioned for her to move. Unsteadily, she balanced herself up off the seat for a few seconds as he slid one edge of the bedroll under her and laid the rest across the seat for himself to sit on. 

"There we are," He said. "Why didn't you complain about the seat days ago? I could have thought of this then." 

"You mean, the idea that the bench is hard didn't occur to you during the months and years you spent traveling?" Simone asked in wonder. 

He shrugged. "You get used to things, and Kyler mostly drove the wagon anyway. I have to admit, this is more pleasant than the wood by itself." 

"Yes, thank you for this." She gestured to the slightly cushioned seat. 

"I have to say, I don't usually share my bedroll with anyone, but I suppose we're adequately chaperoned." He tilted his chin towards where Victoria and Kyler rode a little ahead of them. 

Simone's face turned crimson. Just as she was beginning to feel a little more softly towards him, he had to make such a vulgar joke! She was tempted to tell him she'd rather set his bedroll on fire than share it with him. 

"Calm down." He rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean anything by it. You look like you're about to explode at me." 

"It was a tasteless thing to say." Simone said through her teeth. 

"Yes, yes, and my mother would be ashamed." He waved her off. "Apologies, Princess, Kyler and I haven't practiced our manners in a few years. I'm rusty." 

"Princess?" She blinked in confusion. 

"Yes, although my niece is actually a princess and not half so prim as you." He supplied his explanation. 

"Prim?" Simone was torn between outrage and bewilderment. 

"Your hair, your posture, your speech. It's all so… priggish. As if you think you're better than others." He shrugged as if describing the weather. 

"What's wrong with my hair?" She put her hand up to it. Her braids were still in place, one along each side of her head, culminating in a twisted bun at the nape of her neck to keep it all out of the way. 

"Nothing," Shayn smirked. "Nothing at all, if you're a straightlaced old maid of a librarian who's never set foot more than ten steps away from a book." 

"How dare you!" Simone felt like she could slap him for the statement. He was so far beyond what was all right, it was absurd!