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Tarley nodded, but she needed to get away to think. “Can I get you anything else?”
Keyanna shook her head. “Thank you for the sweetcake.”
Later that evening in her room, Tarley undressed and cleaned her body before slipping into her night shift, but she didn’t get into bed. Rather, she paced, processing what the queen had said. Wishing she could talk to… Lachlan.
She stopped.
That was the truth. Somewhere her point of confidence had shifted from her family to the man who pushed her, needled her, made her both frown and in the next instant smile. And if that wasn’t something to build a marriage on, well, there had been less. He seemed to like her. If she lost her heart to him, maybe he could learn to love her?
Needing to find him, she grabbed her shawl and opened the door.
Lachlan, stood outside, his arm raised as if he’d been about to knock. He looked unsettled, his hair unruly if he’d run his hands through it, his linen shirt open at his neck, the hem haphazardly tucked into his trousers. He swallowed and dropped his arm.
“Oh–” she said. “You’re here?”
“I… I’m sorry to surprise you.” Lachlan took a step closer and put a hand on each side of the doorway as if to keep himself on his side of it. “I just wanted to say thank you, for today.”
Tarley looked at him and nodded, her heart thrumming in her chest. “Of course. No one should miss–”
“Tarley,” Lachlan started, and she loved the way her name sounded on his lips. It made her think of his mouth filled with her. “Where were you going?”
“To–” She stopped, feeling flustered, and considered a lie. “I was coming to see you.”
His eyes took her in, and she could see his assessment, like that day at the meadow when he’d happened upon her and Dr. Rufus. His gaze skimmed her unbound hair, her night shift, her bare feet. “Like that?”
“I guess I hadn’t thought that part through,” she said, looking down at herself before tilting her head back up toward him.
The queen was right. He was handsome. A girl could go a long time having had the attention of this man. But that wasn’t all that was on her mind, even if it seemed to be taking up all the space.
Lachlan dropped his arms and stepped across the threshold. “I gave a kiss to Mrs. Barnwell–”
“I was there.”
“I didn’t want to kiss Mrs. Barnwell,” he admitted and leaned toward her.
“You didn’t?” Tarley heard herself ask, though it sounded more like she’d breathed it. Her heart was beating in her chest so loud she could hear it in her ears, the sensation of it sending ripples to zip across her skin.
He filled her doorway, his hands in his pockets now, but still leaning toward her. She could see the muscles of his arms below the rolled sleeves of his shirt. Heat rushed through her, and she grasped the neck of her nightshift, fluttering it to cool off her suddenly burning skin.
His eyes tracked her movement, and he shook his head. “No. I wanted to kiss you.”
“Why didn’t you?” She licked her lips.
His gaze followed her tongue before finding her eyes again. “I knew that the kind of kiss I wanted to give you—well, that wasn’t the right place.”
She swallowed and realized she was staring at his lips. Her eyes drifted back up to meet his. “What kind of kiss?”
“Tarley?”
“Yes?”
“May I seal my wish?”
“You did.”
“It feels like it should have been with you.” His voice was low, quiet, and somehow demanding.
There was a time when she wouldn’t have even considered it. Except at that moment, standing nearly chest to chest with Lachlan, she didn’t feel powerless. She felt powerful, because she could see he was also affected, his chest rising and falling, his muscles tense, his eyes speaking to her with an emotional intensity that matched what was moving through her body. She didn’t feel weak just then.
