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“Surely you’ll be missed soon?” Lance said, pulling away although he looked reluctant to do so.
“Not at this time. Come morning, always.”
He reached up to a lock of her hair that had fallen forward.
“You are the lady of Stanton in your mother’s stead.”
Lance twirled the hair between his fingers.
“Aye.”
“But you do not mind it.”
She looked at her hair between his fingers out of the corner of her eye. It seemed such an intimate thing for him to do. But surely not as intimate as the kisses they shared.
“Nay. It makes me happy to see Stanton thrive. If it were not for Mother . . .”
He dropped her hair then, but she smiled when his hand returned to her waist to join the other.
“Tell me of her.”
She thought not of the woman lying in bed, but of the mother who had raised her and her sisters. The woman who’d always been so full of life.
“She is the most remarkable woman in the world. Kind. Full of joy and love for all. If she has any faults, I don’t know of them. Everyone is a better person with her near.”
Lance looked at her curiously.
“You do not believe me?”
“Nay, ’tis not that. I believe you all too well. But wonder if you speak of your mother or someone else?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her brow furrowing.
The look in his eyes was her answer. He was telling her that she’d described her own qualities.
“I have many faults,” she argued.
“Name one.”
“Weakness. You are not my husband, yet here I am, standing in your arms. Wishing you would kiss me again.”
He did, but it was only a short kiss this time. When he pulled away, he sighed and said, “I would argue we are all weak to some extent.”
“Even you?”
“Especially me.”
Lance stepped away from her then, and she felt the loss immediately.
“Does that mean we can meet again?”
His gaze never wavered.
“If you were caught with me . . .”
“You’re worried for your position here,” she said, her voice flat. By his expression, Idalia knew her guess was correct. “I would never betray you.”
Lance sighed heavily, looking at her with a combination of longing and regret. His shoulders sagged. “It was wrong of me to come here tonight. You are Lady Idalia—”
