Confused, Alesone frowned. “’Tis the third time you called him Lord Thomas, why?”
“Because he is the Earl of Kincaid.”
An earl? “I see.” But she didna. How could he have concealed such an important fact from her? Then she understood. His nobility explained everything, damnably so.
You canna be more than a duty. Whatever is between us ends here.
Because of her blood tie to his enemy.
Tears burned in her eyes, but she forced them back, angry she’d allowed herself to nurture a foolish flicker of hope.
The chime of the church bell echoed from outside.
Alesone forced a smile to her lips. “I didna realize ’twas so late. I thank you again. If you will excuse me.”
“I appreciate your help this afternoon.” The healer patted Alesone’s hand. “Go on now.”
On shaky legs, Alesone stood. As she headed toward the entry, the door opened and Thomas entered.
Through sheer will, she forced her breathing to remain even, at odds against the pounding of her heart. “If you will excuse me, I was just leaving.”
Frustrated eyes shifted to the healer and then to her. “I wish to speak with you.”
Why? Hadna he said enough? At least she hadna given herself to him, then her shame would have been complete.
“I canna, I have an important errand to tend to.”
He opened the door wider and motioned her forward. “I will accompany you.”
She glanced back, noted the interest in the healer’s face. Angling her chin, she strode into the corridor, then hurried off. The soft thud of the door closing, and his footfalls, echoed in her wake.
“Alesone.”
At the frustration in his voice, she picked up her pace. She half ran down the turret, through the great hall, and into the windswept baily. Snow, flung within the whip of wind, prickled against her exposed skin. Ignoring the bite of cold, she rushed across the frozen ground.
“Alesone, wait.”
“Go away!” She hurried into the stable, then darted toward the far exit.
Thomas caught her wrist as she ran past the fourth stall.
Alesone rounded on him. “Release me! I have a life ahead of me, one that doesna includeyou.”
Regret shadowed his eyes. “I shouldna have said what I did this morning. I was upset.”
Upset? A pale emotion compared to how pain had lanced her heart.
Hay crunched beneath his boots as he stepped closer. “We need to talk.”
She grabbed a nearby rake, positioned it before her as if a sword. “Need to?” She narrowed her gaze. “Lord to serf.”
A frown lined his brow. “What are you—”
“I know you are the Earl of Kincaid,” she accused. “A fact nae important enough to share with someone who is naught but a duty.”
He gave a rough exhale. “I need to explain.”
“Why? Do you think I am impressed by your title or care?” she attacked, struggling against the hurt. “I was doing just fine before you barged into my life. I assure you,Lord Thomas, when I watch you depart Avalon Castle ’twill be the happiest day of my life.”
