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“It has nothing to do with Fin,” she snapped.
“Oh, so it’s Fin, now is it?” he said with a laugh. “I had noticed you two seemed to be rather… friendly.”
She rolled her eyes. “He is a nice man. And he also not the reason I desire to remain at York.”
It was, but Ivy was not about to give voice to that fact. The truth was, she wanted to get to know Fin better. He had piqued her interest in ways very few men ever had. But unlike the others, he had held her interest and did not eventually display some horrid personality defect that caused her to back away from them. She was not saying he did not have one, hidden somewhere down deep in those layers of his, but she had not seen any trace of it yet. And so, she remained intrigued by him.
Not that I am about to let Castor know any such thing. He would never stop needling her about it, nor would he ever let her within fifty leagues of Fin again. Ivy knew the last thing she should do if she wanted to keep seeing the Scotsman, would be to make her brother believe her disinterest was genuine.
“He is boorish. A lout. He is nice, as I said, but he is also not somebody I can carry on an intelligent conversation with,” she replied. “And you know how much I value conversation.”
“Yes, Sister. I know how much you love to talk,” he said. “But it matters not. You will not remain at York. You are coming home to Elix with me. Now, you can either sit your horse, or I can tie you up and sling you over the flanks. It is your choice, Ivy.”
The profound sting of disappointment at the idea of not seeing Fin again was second only to the sharp spike of anger that flared inside of her. With her eyes narrowed and her hands balled into fists at her sides, Ivy glared hard at her brother.
“Castor, I--”
“This is not up for discussion, Ivy,” he said. “Go and get yourself ready. We are leaving.”
The anger bubbling up inside of her was dark, and it was deep. But she knew that if she refused, he would order his men to bind her and throw her over the back of his horse. She had seen him do similar things before. Not to her, but to others. She turned and stormed out of his bedchamber, but instead of turning back to her own quarters, she strode down the corridor in the opposite direction.
“My Lady,” Brixton called to her.
She felt a slight pinch of guilt over the way she had treated the old soldier. He had meant no harm, but he had caught her in a terrible mood, and she had lashed out at him. While it was true that she knew his affection for her was more than was proper - and most definitely not reciprocated - she also knew that he was harmless. Ivy knew that Brixton would never do anything to harm her. It would not only be an affront to her honor, but to his as well. And if there was one thing she knew about Brixton from all their years together, he held her honor in higher esteem than his own.
But that did not mean she wanted him trailing after her everywhere she went. It did not mean she wanted him looming over her like some malevolent spirit. She most certainly did not want his never-asked-for advice about her life. And right now, she did not want him following her. She did not want him anywhere around her. Not because she found him objectionable, but because she did not want him seeing where she was going.
Ivy cut sharply around the next corner and found herself in a corridor filled with people. The household staff, as well as the Duke’s personal guard, were thick in the hallway, some of them on their way to or fro, others milling about talking to one another. It was perfect for what she had in mind.
Ivy took a glance behind her and saw Brixton turning the corner, a cross look on his face. A mischievous grin pulling at the corners of her mouth, she took off at a run, nimbly weaving her way around and through the throng of people. She heard Brixton calling after her, his voice tight and angry. A laugh burst from her throat as she ran, drawing strange and outraged looks from those she passed and bumped into.
Ivy turned another corner and quickly darted into a room with an open door, pulling it behind her, leaving it open just a crack. It was dark and smelled of dusty disuse, which told her it was probably a storeroom of some kind. She quickly pressed her eye to the crack in the door, and a few moments later, saw Brixton pass her at a run. She gave it another moment before bursting out of the room and running back the way she’d come, giggling the entire way.
Ivy made her way through the labyrinth of corridors until she came to the door she had set out to find. Clearing her throat and straightening her back, she squared her shoulders, pushed the door open, and stepped into Fin’s office.
