“Stop nibbling your nails,” he commanded quietly as he entered the room.
Her hands dropped to her lap. “Did Father send you to spank me?”
“He did not. But I should take my hand to your backside at the very least for that insolent spectacle. I do believe Tad de Rydal was in the process of bursting a vein when I left.”
She turned away from him, toward the window. “You should have punched him in the nose when he accused you of cheating. He’s an insufferable, pompous whoreskin.”
“Mind your tongue, lady. I shall not hear those words from your mouth.”
She did not reply to his reprimand and he moved to the chair opposite her. Lowering himself to sit, his gaze never left her beautiful profile. She seemed pensive and distant.
“What is the matter, Riss?” he asked softly. “Do not tell me that Tad de Rydal has upset you so terribly that you would allow him to ruin your birthday?”
She shook her head faintly, her chin resting in her hands as the multi-hued glass cast warm, erratic color across her face. “He’s not upset me,” she sighed heavily. “But I would be lying if I said I was glad he has come.”
Richmond smiled faintly. “As would I. Mayhap he’s suffered enough humiliation from me and will opt to leave before the feast tonight. One can always hope.”
She turned her gaze to him, a smile on her lips. Bright blue eyes blazed upon her and she was suddenly aware that they were alone, far removed from the rest of the household and festivities.
How many times had they sat alone, talking about items both trivial and important? How many times had they been together, just the two of them, laughing or playing or simply sitting in silence? Certainly, more times that she could count. But this time, it was different.
Richmond’s smile faded as she lowered her gaze, staring at her hands. She seemed ill at ease, uncertain somehow. Since his arrival yesterday, their relationship hadn’t been the same and he was deeply perplexed by the situation. He knew that his own confusion and guilt had cast a fog between them, causing her discomfort. Of course she’d been skittish in his presence; he’d given her good reason to be. It was all his fault.
But one thing was clear; he’d always been able to speak to Arissa. Communication between them was an important factor to their relationship and he had always gone to great lengths to preserve their openness. Now, in the heat of his bewilderment, was not the time to sever the lines of contact.
“Is Tad the only item bothering you?” he asked softly. “You have seemed very disturbed since I returned yesterday. Is there something I can do?”
She continued to stare at her hands.Is there something I can do?She had no idea why tears began to sting her eyes. Mayhap it was her own sense of helplessness, the power of a love that refused to die, of a love that would never be nurtured. It was a love that would be forced into obscurity when she was committed to Whitby. If only he could do something; if only he could return that love.
A single hot tear dripped onto her hand. Richmond saw it; immediately, he was out of the chair and kneeling before her.
“Riss, what’s the matter? Won’t you tell me?”
His gentle voice struck deep. The single tear turned into a flood and she dissolved, falling forward against him.
“I…. you cannot help,” she whispered, her voice constricted with sobs. “No one can help.”
He clutched her fiercely; somehow, she managed to fall out of the chair and ended up cradled in his lap as he sat on the floor. Richmond held her as if to never let her go.
“I can help, I promise,” he murmured into her hair. “Tell me and I shall do everything in my power to ease your ache.”
Ease your ache.Sweet St. Jude, if it were only possible! But it was not. And she would rather die than tell him the true reasons behind her tears.
“Tell me,” he urged tenderly, squeezing her. “What is so terrible?”
Arissa knew from experience that he would not let the subject rest until he had received a satisfactory response. Aware that it would be futile to resist or refuse to answer him, she thought carefully on her reply. Certainly, it was not a lie. But it was only a small measure of the truth.
“I….” she coughed, wiping at her eyes. “I do not want to go to the convent.”
He did not say anything for a moment. Arissa swore his embrace tightened. “You have been pledged to the abbey since you were an infant.”
“I know,” she sniffled. “I was never given any say in the matter. I do not want to be shut off from the world for the rest of my life, Richmond. I do not want to go.”
He shifted her in his lap, sliding over a few inches to the hard stone wall. Reclining against it, he cradled her to his chest.
“Why not?”
She blinked thoughtfully at his question, her tears fading somewhat. She couldn’t very well tell him the truth.
