Page 34 of Lord of Loyalty

“You do too much for me—you risk more than you should.”

“Think naught of it. What I did for loyalty to Edward, I now do for you. I will be ever at your service. Now, had I better borrow your locket? It will be proof to Mistress Hollingsworth of my veracity.”

She reached under her pillow and removed the silver jewel. “You’ll take good care of it? If I can’t recover my property, this will be all I have to remember my past.”

“I’ll guard it with my life, I swear.”

Her heart suddenly jerked in her breast. “But what about this? I still have your ring.”

“Have you tried to remove it?”

No, she hadn’t, not after the first couple of attempts. Now, it had become so much a part of her, she’d ceased trying. Guilt washed over her.

“I’m sorry. Not recently, no.”

“Then keep it.” His hand stroked her shoulder once more, and his smile was tender. “I won’t force you to marry me on the grounds that I’ve given you what looks like a betrothal ring. I know you’re averse to the idea.”

He chuckled softly, then eased away, tucked the covers around her, and stood.

“If I’m journeying north tomorrow, I’d best attempt to get some rest. Forgive me if I depart before you wake—I want to be gone as short a time as possible.”

“If it’s raining now, the roads will be treacherous.”

“Jennet is sure-footed, and she’ll carry me a good part of the way before I have to hire another mount. I’ll brook no delay. Your reputation is at stake, my lady, and I’d be no gentleman if I were to let that situation continue.”

He bowed to her, a curiously polite gesture from a man dressed only in his hose and shirt, with his doublet hanging open, and no collar or ruff. He must have been preparing for bed before deciding to come and speak with her. A circumstance that would not be permitted once Cecelia Hollingsworth entered the household. Alas.

It would be far too improper—and provocative, mayhap—to get up and make him a curtsey dressed only in her nightgown, so she blew him a kiss.

Will paused in the open doorway, his bright eyes intense. She half-hoped, half-feared he’d return and kiss her. He did not, though his lips parted as if he would speak. Then he spun on his heel and closed the door quietly behind him.

As the latch snapped into place, a fist of pain squeezed her heart. He wasn’t interested—he didn’t want her the way she now wanted him. He was going to fetch a woman who would put a wedge between them, destroy any affection that had sprung up.

He was her savior, and what she felt for him was gratitude. Anything more needed to be trampled upon and destroyed.

Or she would, once again, be miserable and alone.