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“We are not in love. And are certainly not getting married.” She said it so adamantly Lance felt a pang at her words.
Of course they were not. Why should her refusal matter to him?
“I see,” was the countess’s only response to her daughter. “You will come back tomorrow,” she said to him. “Idalia, will you send Marina to me?”
He caught Idalia’s frown as he bowed once again, the encounter with her mother one of the strangest he’d ever experienced.
“I am so, so sorry,” Idalia said as soon as they left the room. “I told her nothing except—”
He cut her off with a kiss.
Lance was acting reckless, but he needed just a small taste of her sweetness, her caring. In that chamber, she’d thought only of his feelings. Her mother’s wellness.
Did she ever see to her own well-being?
He pulled away, wanting the answer to that question.
“Who cares for you, Idalia?”
She swallowed. “Cares for me?”
He stared at her lips, still wet from their kiss.
“You worry about offending your mother. And me. But what of yourself? Who worries for you?”
She was utterly perplexed by the question.
“I do not need anyone to worry for me.”
He’d expected her to respond as such. It struck him then that they weren’t in a private place. Anyone could come through this passageway at any time. “Is there anywhere more private that we can talk?”
“I have to find Marina. Meet me at the Small Tower?”
Lance didn’t even bother arguing with himself about it. “Aye. I will be waiting for you.”
Lady Idalia of Stanton was a woman worth waiting for but, despite what her mother had just said, was not, nor would ever be, his.
Chapter 15
Idalia pushed her way into the Small Tower but did not ascend the circular steps in front of her. Instead, she leaned against the inside of the door, breathing heavily. She’d fairly run to find her mother’s maid, and then here.
Was he waiting for her?
More importantly, what in the heavens had her mother just said to them?
Lance had reacted so calmly throughout the whole encounter. Indeed, he’d seemed almost amused when she’d stumbled over that small lie she’d told her mother. Idalia had not wanted to be dishonest, but what else could she have said? That he’d done something more wondrous with his fingers than she’d ever thought possible?
That she ached for him whenever they weren’t together?
Idalia had even dreamed of him. That morning, Leana had remarked on the fact she’d awoken with a smile on her face. How could she not smile? The way he looked at her, and touched her, made her feel like the most beautiful and desirable woman in the world.
But he was troubled.
So much so that Idalia wanted nothing more than to learn the cause. To heal the wounds he so obviously carried with him each day.
But . . . marriage?
Was it her mother’s illness that caused her to say such things? She shoved aside the wicked thought that Father Sica might be right. The devil did not possess her mother.
