“Liar,” her grandmama said good-naturedly as she swept her hand toward the table and the chairs. “Look at your decorations that you were supposed to hang on the back of the chairs.”
Lillith frowned as her cheeks heated. More decorations were on the floor than on the back of the chairs. “I was only staring because he’s so annoyingly loud,” Lillith said. Her grandmama gave her a disbelieving look, causing Lillith to heighten herprotest. “I hardly care what sort of da Rory Matheson might make!”
“Hmm,” Grandmama Marion said.
Lillith knew that ‘hmm’. She’d gotten it before. “I’m speaking the truth!”
“If you say so, Lillith, dear, but you certainly were staring at the man as if he were a fine silk that you wanted to wear.”
“Grandmama!” Lillith said, embarrassed.
Her grandmama patted Lillith’s hand and gave her a conspiratorial look. “Don’t worry, it will be our little secret.”
“There’s nae a secret to keep!” Lillith sputtered.
Her grandmama smiled at her as if she were a child Grandmama Marion was indulging, then arched her eyebrows at Lillith in an almost-challenging gesture. “I can see you want him but are fighting it.”
Aghast that someone might hear, Lillith glanced behind the dais to check for servants or family, but no one was there, and a quick scan of the great hall showed everyone occupied decorating and not near them anyway. “I am nae fighting anything,” Lillith said.
“Mmm hmm,” Grandmama Marion replied in that same indulgent tone. “Of course not, dear. Just know that I’ll support you no matter what you decide—to be his bride or not.” Lillith opened her mouth to protest, but her grandmama spoke again. “All I’d like to say to you now is that you should not let fear of falling in love guide your choice.”
Lillith’s chest tightened at her grandmama’s words. “I do nae fear falling in—”
“What you should truly fear,” her grandmama said, interrupting Lillith, “is never falling in love and knowing the joy it brings.”
“What about the heartache of loss if ye give yer heart completely to someone and then they break it?” Lillith blurtedout before she thought better of asking a question that might lead her grandmama to conclude she was right and that Lillith was afraid of love. She wasn’t! Of course, she wasn’t, yet the tightness in her chest grew to near-uncomfortable proportions.
Grandmama cocked her head as she studied Lillith as if Grandmama Marion was realizing something for the first time. “I don’t think Rory will break your heart.”
Lillith frowned. “That’s nae what I mean,” she said, unsure exactly what she had meant, but it wasn’t that, or rather it wasn’t about that man.
“Can you explain yourself better?” Grandmama Marion asked in a tone that Lillith recognized as the soothing one her grandmama had often used on Lillith or Lenora when they were young lasses and had trouble expressing that they were sad about their mama’s death or how it had changed their da.
Lillith had no desire whatsoever to examine herself, let alone explain herself, so she waved a dismissive hand and said, “Never mind.” Yet as the words left her mouth, a new memory surfaced like an explosion in her mind.
She was standing before Eolande and the Wishing Tree, and Eolande told her that if she didn’t want her heart broken, she should never give it to a man. She should guard it. God’s blood! Was that what she had been doing, was still doing?
She could not shake the question her grandmama had caused Lillith to ask herself, so she set about trying to do other things that required a great deal of concentration. She aided her da with his books, practiced her archery, and helped the lasses in the kitchen cook intricate recipes for supper. Still, through all the tasks, the question of whether she was guarding her heart because she was afraid of having it broken kept returning to her, until she thought she’d go mad if she did not turn it over and examine it just a bit. So when the work in the kitchen was done, and everything was baking, she found a spot in the garden withMasie to take some time alone before supper. She settled on the bench and absently petted Masie’s head as she considered the memory she’d buried.
Her mama’s death had broken her da because he’d loved her so much, and Lillith could still very much recall his misery and how long it had lasted. The simple task of remembering it made her feel anxious, with her chest tightening and her throat closing. She was afraid. God’s blood, she was scared to give her heart to a man, to love a man, because she was fearful it would get broken. Not necessarily on purpose, but that didn’t matter if it was purposeful or not. It was the pain of having your heart broken that mattered.
It was the fear that she would be broken and like her da had been so long ago, and that she would not know how to put the pieces of her heart back together. Da had been lucky. Eve had come into his life, into theirs, but Lillith might not be so fortunate if her heart was broken someday. So, she’d guarded it and set her sights on something besides love—being a warrior. She nibbled on her lip as she thought of what her grandmama had said earlier in the great hall, that what she should truly fear is never falling in love and knowing the joy it could bring.
Seeing Rory by the fire with the children had tugged at something within her and stirred a surprising longing to someday have a child of her own to love, to hold, to mold and watch laugh. She couldn’t have a child without a husband. Well, she laughed out loud—she could—but she did not want to. Life was hard enough as it was without having to battle prejudices if she did not need to. She inhaled a long breath, coming to a decision.
She didn’t know if she could let her guards down, but she wanted to try and see how she felt. With that in mind, she stood and made her way to the great hall, but Rory was not at the dais, and he did not come to the great hall before Lillith was doneeating and tiredness, as well as disappointment, if she was being honest, had set in. Making her goodnights, she excused herself and made her way to the great hall door. Just as she was exiting the great hall, the door swung open, and there stood Rory and one of his men.
Rory stopped in front of her as he waved his man in. “Are ye leaving?” he asked.
“Aye,” she replied, trying to battle back the excitement that had bubbled up at seeing him. She wanted to test lowering her guard, and the idea that they might drop without her mentally doing it was a frightening prospect indeed. She needed to control it. “I’m off to my bedchamber.”
“May I walk ye?”
“Ye’ll miss supper,” she exclaimed.
“’Tis fine. I’d rather walk ye than eat.” She was at once flattered and fearful, but she forced herself to nod.
“Ye may walk me then.”
