He took a step. A small step, so the rope remained slack. Little Lady watched him—and remained exactly where she was.
As from a great distance, Artemis observed with her arms crossed over her chest. She lifted a single eyebrow.
On the next step, he would run out of slack—and options—if Little Lady decided she was happier where she was. But it was then the miracle occurred—Little Lady decided she would like to walk.
A rueful laugh sounded from Artemis. “Oh, you have surely made a friend.”
Bran gave an indifferent shrug, designed to needle beneath her skin. “Pure animal magnetism.”
She shook her head. “Wiles.”
Only a couple of feet separating them, Bran said, “Here we are, walking down yet another road.”
“It appears to be our fate.”
Fate.
The word seemed to apply to them regarding roads of both the physical and metaphorical varieties.
Hadn’t all their roads, indeed, led them back to one another?
Best not to voice that question now.
Perhaps a time existed in the future—perhaps in the near future—that he could.
“Your sister.” By bringing up Gwyneth, it seemed Artemis wasn’t quite ready to broach the subject of fated roads, either. “She is absolutely lovely.”
“Aye,” he agreed, “she is.”
“She will cause a sensation when she comes out in the spring.”
Bran groaned. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to that aspect of her debut.”
A laugh breezed from Artemis. “She appears to be a young lady of good sense. She will have a wonderful time.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Another laugh from Artemis.
This felt good, the two of them having a laugh together.
In fact, it was better than good.
It was right.
“Oh,” she said of a sudden. “Here’s where we turn for the shortcut through the woods.”
She stepped off the lane and onto a path that only one who knew it would be able to discern. He exchanged a quick glance with Little Lady. Thankfully, she looked inclined to follow him anywhere. “Good girl,” he said, then followed Artemis down the trail, the canopy of trees closing in on them overhead and providing pleasant shade. Though he had to be careful of his step, the path was worn and even.
Above, the breeze soughed through the trees and very little birdsong met his ears. The birds must have settled in for anafternoon nap. With Little Lady docile at his back, and Artemis in silent step at his side, it was restful, this walk. He wasn’t out to prove something to himself or anyone else, neither was he running from emotions of anger or shame. He was simply able to experience this pleasant thing—a walk.
He felt Artemis’s gaze on the side of his face and turned. Uncertainty shone in her eyes. She had something to say. “What is it?” he asked. He wanted her to speak everything that was on her mind.
“What do you think of Rake’s offer?”
Ah …“It’s generous,” he said, slowly, guarded.
Artemis negated his answer with a firm shake of her head. “Rake doesn’t make generous offers, not when it comes to his racing stable.”
