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But what about her other remark, the one about young love? That one he wasn’t sure about.

Nonetheless, all raised their goblets and drank.

The remainder of the meal passed without incident, other than the way his thigh inched closer to Cristane’s until they were once again pressed together. Despite knowing he played a game with no winner, Rory could not seem to help himself. Nor could she. Although she did not pull away, she kept glancing at him, eyes flashing with anger and passion, and it was all he could do not to kiss her right there in his mother’s hall.

Of course he couldn’t. Not ever again. The thought of never tasting her again revolted him, but there was nothing for it.

“A word, son?”

The steward jumped at her question, helping his mother to her feet. With no choice but to follow, Rory excused himself from the others as they finished their meal. He followed his mother from the hall and into the solar chamber. To his surprise, she took him in her arms, hugging him as if he were a young boy rather than a man fully grown.

“I miss you, Mother,” he said, stepping back. “Please come with us. A war is brewing, and I’d not have you here when it happens.”

Frowning, she crossed her arms in a manner that reminded him very much of his sister, Cait. They really were cut from the very same cloth. Both stubborn as mules.

“And how will love bloom with a mother’s shadow hovering over it? I stay here.”

Love? Bloom? How did she know? And why did it sound as if she approved? Surely she knew it was impossible.

“Mother—”

“’Tis about time too. That poor girl has been in love with you for years.”