She did not reply for a long moment.
Tristan resisted the urge to lean forward and suss out her expression.
“Have you ever wooed a lady?” she finally asked.
“Pardon?”
“I am practicing my question-asking skills as I have recently been informed they are lacking. Have you ever wooed a lady, Your Grace?”
Tristan blinked. “Uhmm . . . no.”
“I thought not.”
She said nothing more.
What the devil was she getting at?
“Am I to understand that you find my attempts to foster more harmony between us . . . inadequate?”
“Nae,” she replied. “They are unexpected and possibly a wee bit unnerving—”
“Unnerving?”
She leaned forward again. “Ye must admit, ye have been rather churlish with myself throughout the entirety of our acquaintance.This—” She twirled a finger to indicate his person. “—is a welcome reprieve. But the cynic within me has tae wonder at its longevity.”
Tristan had no clue how to respond.
Because she was correct, in a way. Evenhedidn’t know if he could make this change within himself permanent.
But he was determined to try.
“I wish to change,” he said quietly. “And I believe that is where true change begins . . . with a desire to be different.”
“And the wooing?”
“I have never wished to woo a woman.”
“Never?”
Only you. Once upon a time.
“I am a duke.”
“And dukes do notwoo?” Her voice held an ironic lilt.
“Most women are so enamored at the thought of becoming a duchess, they come pre-wooed, as it were.”
“Mmm, that makes a certain sense, I suppose. ThoughIcertainly didn’t marry yourself tae become a duchess.”
That was true.
Isolde couldn’t care less about his title and lands.
She would only ever see him as a man, for good or ill.
“Precisely. Hence the need for—” He mimicked her previous motion, twirling a finger to indicate her person. “—wooing.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “To ensure I am awilling, enthusiasticparticipant?”
