Her back was still to him, thank God. He hummed a lilting tune and kept picking, pausing to sample some of the juiciest berries as he went. He knew he should stop eating them. She’d already looked over and caught him at it several times, not to mention the fact that his tasting had made quite a dent in what little he’d managed to accumulate. He paused to peer into the depths of his basket, grimacing at the paltry sight. ’Twas a good thing he’d arranged a back-up plan. By the time the agreed-upon half hour had elapsed, his carefully plotted strategy had borne its expected fruit. Quite literally. He checked the sun’s position to be sure that time was up, then looked at his basket again, gratified to see that it was filled to overflowing. In fact, there were so many berries that several plump gems had spilled over the top edge to form a crimson mound on the ground beneath it. “Time!” he called to Gwynne, who straightened slowly and turned to meet his gaze. She shaded her eyes with her hand, her piercing stare shifting from his face to the abundance of fruit at his feet.
