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Unsure why her demeanor had shifted so suddenly, he wasn’t as confident he’d made any of the right choices when it came to her. They shared several more dances, Lachlan as her escort, teasing and cajoling her. But her unguarded smile never returned. In fact, the longer the night wore on, the more tense she became, until he couldn’t take it a moment more.
“Would you like to get out of here?” he asked.
“But the announcement?” she whispered.
The reason for her anxiety.
“Can’t make the announcement if we aren’t here,” he said and offered her another grin.
“Let me tell my sisters,” Tarley said.
When she returned, Lachlan offered his arm, but she took his hand, and they walked out into the night.
26
Lachlan’s hand in hers felt right. Leaving the meeting house for the inn felt right. Everything about the moment felt right, but Tarley still couldn’t bring herself to tell him what she’d decided. She didn’t want to adulterate the rightness of just being with him this way with the pressure of what those words would mean.
“This almost feels like the woods again,” she said instead.
Sevens stretched out in front of them, the dark buildings appearing like shadows. The dirt roadway was a soundtrack to their steps as they walked. The dark windows watched them as they passed.
His hand tightened around hers. “Why do you say that?”
Rather than answer his question directly, she said, “I don’t like dressing up.”
“You look divine, however.”
She smiled. “That’s sweet of you.”
“It isn’t. I always have an ulterior motive.”
She turned her head. “Oh?”
“Yes. I’m hoping it grants me a kiss later.”
Tarley felt the smile in her heart even though she looked away. “When I’m in the woods,” she said, returning to the original subject, “I feel like my most authentic self.”
“And you don’t like this?”
“I do, just a different—not as confident—version of her.”
“I understand.”
“You do?”
“I’ve never felt like a more authentic version of myself since knowing you.”
Her throat closed with emotion, threatening to fill her eyes. She swallowed it but didn’t trust herself to speak for fear of losing control. When she finally could, she asked, “What about before?”
Lachlan walked with her for some time before saying, “I think I was a very different version of Lachlan Nikolas. One you would have hated.”
They passed the green, the shadow of the tree looming large, the church beyond it. Tarley imagined Lachlan standing on the green, wearing a purple coat with white and gold accents. She blinked and watched the shadows as they passed, knowing she’d seen that vision before. It filled her with peace. Rightness.
“Hate is a strong word,” she said.
“I underhandedly sabotaged my father’s choice of bride by assassinating her appearance in court. Hate might be too weak of a word.” He cleared his throat.
“Why did you do it?”
