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Nor should he be asking Lady Idalia such questions, but he found himself drawn to her, unable to get her out of his mind.
The fact that she’d visited the forge, twice, told him she was different than most noblewomen, who would never dare to risk a gown that way. But that wasn’t the only thing that drove him to her.
Lance had spoken to several people these past days in his quest to gauge the lord’s interest in the order’s cause, and in so doing, he’d learned quite a bit about the man’s daughter. Not just that she’d assumed her mother’s responsibilities, but that she excelled at them.
Kind. Compassionate. Nurturing.
These were the words he’d heard used most often, and from what he could tell, they rang true.
Beautiful. Haunting.
Those were the words he would use, if asked, about the woman who had inadvertently distracted him from his mission.
“Love.”
It took him a moment to realize it was her response to the question he’d so boldly asked. She believed in love.
At times, he thought her timid. But she could be as bold as Guy, who tended to say and do as he pleased, consequences be damned.
“Love,” he repeated, looking back out at that speck of light beyond the outer curtain walls.
“You don’t agree?”
“They are your beliefs, and not for me to agree or disagree with.”
A better answer than “no.” There was no place in his life for love. Not anymore. It was a dangerous emotion anyway.
“They say women like me cannot marry for love,” she said, her voice sadder than he would like it to be. “But both my mother and sister defied such a sentiment.”
It was the first time she’d mentioned her mother.
“Your parents married for love?” He turned toward her again, trying hard not to dip his gaze down to the creamy pale skin of her neck, and below, which beckoned to him in the darkness.
“Of sorts.”
It appeared that was all she intended to say on the matter, and Lance would not push her.
“So,” she said, peering into his eyes, “if not love, or evil spirits, what do you believe in . . . Lance?”
He liked his name spilling from her lips.
More than he should.
He could not answer her honestly. To speak the truth would be to reveal himself in a way he could not. Instead, he found himself saying, “I believe if you were found here, alone with a blacksmith, there would be much for us both to answer to.”
She only shrugged. “My father does not concern himself in the affairs of women.”
“Surely he does so of his daughters?”
“He is a busy man. And while certainly he cares for my reputation, his focus is on ‘keeping the people of Stanton safe,’” she said, quoting her father.
“A noble cause.” And one that could either work for or against the order, depending on what he decided would most benefit his people.
Idalia sighed. “Aye.”
He sensed a sadness about her when she spoke of her father. Although Lance did not know the Earl of Stanton, he’d met many men like him. In some ways, Idalia’s father and Conrad weren’t dissimilar—both felt the keen responsibility of keeping their land free from those who would seize it, whether they be neighbors, distant relatives, or even the king.
By now, nearly all of the activity in the courtyard below them had ceased. Hidden behind the tower as they were, they were tucked out of sight of the sole guard in their area.
