“To luncheon. I’m famished.”
She did not think she could hold onto her composure during a long meal in the great hall. Her nerves were in tatters and she longed for some time alone.
“You must excuse me.” She cast about in her mind for a reason to flee. “I had forgotten that I am to have a dress fitting ahead of the ball.”
“That was arranged very quickly.” He folded his arms and looked at her searchingly.
But Mirrie found she did not care if he believed her or not. “Aye. These things often are.” She threw him an uncertain smile and turned tail, deploying all her remaining self-control to prevent herself from running headlong down the passageway.
She must put distance between herself and Tristan if she wanted to leave Wolvesley with her virtue intact.
But she was no longer sure if she cared about that.
*
Some hours later,Mirrie had decided, somewhat regretfully, that it would not do to abandon her scruples. As a young woman who had made her life in the country these last years, she was no longer unduly concerned by notions of propriety. But she was very concerned by the condition of her own heart and soul.
Neither would come out of this unscathed, were she not to take steps to protect them, she reflected as she stood by the window in her bedchamber and gazed out over the paddocks. Her eyes kept focusing on the glinting surface of the lake, no matter how determinedly she turned them towards the trees. Itwas impossible for her to stop reliving what had occurred down by the shore.
When I kissed Tristan.
A chaste kiss. Nothing more. But ’twas undoubtedly the forerunner to all that had occurred afterwards, in the school room.
When things grew hot and tempting and decidedly less chaste.
Mirrie dug her nails into her palms and tried to get a hold of her errant thoughts.
Errant thoughts that had got her into this mess.
She wandered over to the dresser, drawn to a pretty vase of cornflowers that must have been placed there whilst she was out. The thoughtful gesture made her smile. Cornflowers had long been a favourite of hers. She loved the intricate detail and deep colour of their petals.
Mayhap because the blue was so close to the colour of Tristan’s eyes.
Mirrie shook her head in frustration. For years she had managed her feelings for Tristan. Building barriers that she thought would last her a lifetime.
They had lasted less than three days.
She put a hand to her warm cheeks and walked purposefully towards her closet. Though she had lied to Tristan about a dress-fitting, it was true that she needed to find something to wear for the midsummer ball. Mayhap Molly could work her magic to update one of her old gowns? There were plenty to choose from.
She opened the door and was immediately assaulted by memories of the past. Long gowns of rippling silk trimmed with lace and fur, smooth to the touch and redolent of her youth. Growing up at Wolvesley meant a regular procession of balls and parties, and as she prepared for each, she would unfailingly think,this is the time he will notice me.
Thisdress.
Thisball.
Thesejewels.Thishairstyle.
So much agonizing hope followed days of devastating disappointment.
All of which had taught her a painful lesson; Tristan would never see her as anything more than a friend.
A good friend, aye. One that he might even profess to loveas a sister. But his heart would never beat for Mirrie, the way her heart pounded for him.
She reached out to stroke the soft fur collar of a particularly beautiful gown of dusky pink silk. She had worn it for Beltane, she recalled. Tristan had danced with her and told her how pretty she looked. In those days long past, she had longed for time alone with him. Now she had such time in abundance, and it was exactly that which had brought her so close to danger.
She could no longer trust herself with him.
Even now, in the midst of her self-chastisement, part of her wondered where he was; what he was doing.
