“Aye.” She felt his touch long after he let go. “Thank ye.”
His eyes lingered on her, then flicked to the square. “Stay close. Crowds are foolish.”
“Ye came; that is what matters.”
“We agreed on the hour,” he said, but his voice was not as flat as it had been in the past few days.
They both knew they had spent longer than an hour together, but neither of them was ready to acknowledge it.They simply did not want to.
They drifted toward a stall where a girl was powdering cakes with a sieve held high. Kristen bought one and split it neatly. “Take the larger half.”
“I daenae need the larger half.”
Yet Neil took it and popped it into his mouth, leaving a streak of powdered sugar on his jaw. Immediately, Kristen reached up and brushed it away. Her fingers grazed his skin, and his breath caught. She withdrew her hand as if she had been burned.
“Thank ye,” he said quietly.
“Of course,” she mumbled.
They stood like that for a small eternity while the villagers reveled without them. A cheer rose as a boy landed a clean jump over the steel. The drum thumped so hard that Kristen felt it in her ribs. The torches popped and sent up a new thread of smoke into the air.
“Had we met under different circumstances…” she trailed off.
The thought felt foolish. She took a long breath and tucked it away.
“Never mind.”
“What were ye saying?” Neil asked.
“Nothing that matters.” Kristan forced a smile. “Look at them. Nae a single ankle lost.”
“A miracle,” he agreed.
He shifted closer without meaning to. She leaned toward him to hear a joke that a man shouted to the fiddlers. His hair brushed her temple again.
Every brush of his hand against her back felt deliberate. Every time he dipped his head, she had to hold her breath.
She looked at the ring of light, and then at his profile, which was all sharp lines and shadow, and a thought came as gentle and terrible as rain on a slate roof.
Had they met under different circumstances, this might have been a day in their courtship. A slow evening and shared treats. His hand steady on her back for no reason but care.
She pushed the thought away and decided to change the subject.
“Ye should try one more thing,” she suggested, reaching for a cup at a nearby table. “It is only cider, like the one ye had earlier. I promise it willnae kill ye.”
He took the cup and drank, and a small smile touched his mouth, brief as a flicker. “Fine,” he allowed. “I’ll admit it’s good.”
“Then we have achieved peace.”
He nodded. “For a few moments.”
They stood with the music and the heat of the torches washing over them. The square glowed like a fireplace, and for one tender stretch of time, they let themselves belong to it.
Every step they took fell in time with the music, and every glance felt like a secret. Her hand tightened around the parcel, and she tried to steady her heartbeat.
She couldn’t.
She knew herself well enough to fear how easy it would be to fall in love with a man like Neil Adair.
