Summer built up the fire slowly, watching him disarm from under lowered lids. Sir Isaac truly was a fine figure of a man, and she wished they had been able to meet under other circumstances. Or that she had been less cutting. Well, they would be stuck together for at least another day; perhaps she would be able to make it up to him somehow.
Unwrapping a few packages to finally locate a loaf of bread and some cheese, he tore the former in half and handed her portion to her, before setting about slicing the cheese up. “Here,” he murmured and handed her hers, before setting his aside and then wielding a flask. “Would you care for a drink?”
“Thank you.” Summer accepted the food, and then the flask, taking a small swallow before passing it back. After a few bites, she asked, “Where are we going, my l—Sir Isaac?”