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By then he had steered them to the edge of the dancing, and they were closer to the dais and the back of the hall than they were the others.
“I believe . . .”
She did not want to tell him. But Cristane knew him well enough. He would continue asking until he gained an answer.
“I believe they have liked each other, or she has liked him, at least,” Cristane qualified, “for a very long time.”
It was like a punch to his stomach. He had not expected the answer, and yet . . .
“Even when she kissed the blacksmith’s son behind the forge?”
He’d never forget the irrational anger that had consumed him the day he’d come upon them, the journeyman and his sister’s maid. At the time he’d told himself he was reacting as a protective older brother would, and yet it had not rung true. To this day, he couldn’t stand the sight of the man, even though their kiss had led to nothing more.
“Most especially then,” she said, her full lips parting just enough for him to imagine what it would be like to kiss them, to slip his tongue inside. “For it was the very same day Lady Isobel claimed she would become your wife.”
Rory winced at the name of the woman who had broken his brother’s heart and then set her sights on him. Of course, he would never have married such a woman.
As they spun, the sensation becoming headier by the moment, Rory promised himself he would only ask her one final question.
“Did you kiss him before or after you heard Lady Isobel’s foolish claim?”
When she stumbled, Rory caught her. Which was answer enough for him.
When the music ended, Cristane pulled away as quickly as she had earlier that day. Rory did not attempt to stop her, for there was naught to say. Although he was foolishly pleased to learn she’d only pursued the smith’s son out of jealousy, he knew it did not, and could not, matter. Soon she would be gone, to Licheford Castle, to serve his sister. And Rory would be left here with nothing but uncertainty. About his place in the clan with his brother in England. And about what could have been had Cristane been born a noblewoman. But she had not. And Rory, though he’d mastered the role of the cad, the foil for his great brother, was not the kind of man who’d pursue her for the kind of relationship sure to ruin her.
Their delightful dance had been just that, no more or less.
How unfortunate.
