Yet now, this man standing on her threshold—this awkward, tall man with kind eyes—said that Charles, who had barely kept in contact with her, was asking for her?
That she had, at this very moment, a chance to be free?
Toleave?
Siân’s knees weakened, and her entire body flushed with a sticky, cold sweat. She was so stupidly grateful at this gentle man’s offer that she almost grabbed on to him again. Something a little more forceful this time, like launching herself and clinging to his broad shoulders and narrow waist, wrapping all her limbs around him and sinking her nails in as if she was one of the barn kittens.
But the sheer thought of doing it, a temptation heretofore unbeknownst to her, brought her up short.
However, she wasn’t entirely certain that her enormous gratefulness would have been her only motivation in the act. A brief embrace, maybe with some embarrassed apologies afterward, perchance. A wide, beaming smile and some enthusiastically worded gratitude.
But flinging and clinging and embedding her fingers into him so he’d have to pry her off him was a different barnyard animal altogether. And one she wasn’t altogether certain she wanted to look at too closely. After all, she had been promised to Charles Evans.
Although, to be fair, she’d never liked Charles, nor the arranged marriage, and hadn’t pursued the matter fully when he left for war.
Though, in truth, it would have been to her benefit. Because if she’d insisted on the marriage, she would be out of this house and away from a predatory man.
But now…now Charles had actually asked for her? Nothing could be more surprising.
No, that wasn’t true. This visitor surprised her because they never had visitors.
So, when one of the servants, Mary, came rushing to the back garden to tell Siân there was a stranger at their door, and he was specifically asking for her, she’d had her repeat it.
Why would any stranger ask for her? It had been years since even her sister and husband had last received visitors.
It hadn’t always been that way—after all, this was the house where she and her sisters were raised. When she was much younger, this had been a happy home. Her family was always entertaining and helping neighbors.
She was certain it had been easy for Charles’ parents and her own to continue the good will with the arrangement.
However, those early years were but distant memories now. Both her parents were long dead—her father by being thrown from a horse stung by a wasp or bee, and her mother by trying to calm the horse that had done it.
Within a few years, their estate had suffered from their combined grief, and the steward’s greed. All the worse, since her eldest sister, Efa, needed to marry to keep the estate for her inheritance.
Thus, Efa, in desperation, had married the first man who was willing to help their faltering fields, Eryl.
Heledd had quickly followed suit. Fortunately for her, she was happy in her marriage—her husband was helpful when he could be, and they would soon have a child.
It was Heledd’s imminent birthing that had prompted Efa and Eryl’s absence on this particular day. They’d left a sennight ago, and Siân didn’t know when they would return. It could be soon.
Siân loved her sisters to the ends of the Earth, but it wasn’t safe for her here.
Eryl had never been content with only Efa for his affections, and though Efa kept her chin up and maintained a blind eye, Siân couldn’t hold in her scathing words.
And lately, Eryl’s wandering hands and eyes were assessing her.
How much longer could she avoid him? At what point would he catch her alone in a room or a dark part of a barn?
It wasn’t just her own safety—it was for Efa’s sake as well. For as much as she fought it, how was Siân to face her sister afterward?
The only remedy to any of it was to leave immediately, before Eryl returned. She didn’t even care why Charles had asked for her after all these years—she simply knew the opportunity this was!
But she was no fool, and this man with his awkward ways was a stranger. Therefore, she needed to determine if he was a friend, an acquaintance, or an enemy of Charles.
“What does he like to eat?” she said.
His brows drew in over his remarkable blue-green eyes. “Come again?”
“What is Charles’ favorite food?” she said more slowly. She’d thought his blundering ways were simply an uneasiness around people, but now she wondered if he wasn’t a bit less intelligent than most.
