Heartsick, Mae stood by the hearth where the coals glowered scarlet. She stirred the ashes, then added several pieces of seasoned hickory. The wood caught and sparked, mirroring the ire she felt over Coralie’s perfidy. She gave the wood a vicious jab with the poker.
“Mae.”
Rhys stood in the kitchen doorway, watching her. Returning the iron poker to its place, she faced him, sparks in her middle now.
“We need to talk.” His voice was low but still heard above the men’s footsteps as they went upstairs to their rooms.
Alone again. “Speak freely, then,” she said quietly.
Would he ask her to marry him?
Her emotions seemed to run ahead of her, leaping over realities, bypassing flags of warning. Something about this moment seemed ... awry.
He came to stand by her at the hearth, much like they’d done at Lowantica Valley. Only he didn’t touch her. She felt the divide almost painfully. Her need of him made her ache. She clasped her hands together to keep from reaching for him.
“I don’t know how to say what needs saying.” His tone, usually tender when he was alone with her, held a determined edge.
She braced herself, sensing something hurtful ahead. He’d brightened her days so much since his coming. His steady, quiet presence. His fiddle music. His wisdom. The way he weighed his words before speaking. Even his wry teasing. She sensed him withdrawing now before he’d uttered a word.
“Mae, you know how I feel about you.” He looked down at her, and she read deep concern and hurt in his own eyes. “Let there be no doubt.”
She swallowed hard. “But...”
“I’m in the midst of a war without any certainty of the outcome. I have a British target on my back. To entangle you in all that is wrong, even foolish, and I’m not a foolish man.”
Nay, he was far from foolish. He was levelheaded. Wise. But ... “Not even a war should keep you from planning or hoping for the future, Rhys. Some would even say that hope keeps them going, keeps them sane.”
“My concern is that it gives you false hope. I’m to march when it thaws. I have my orders...” He hesitated, frustration flaring in his eyes. “But all I can think about is you.”
“Is that wrong?”
“It puts me and my men at a decided disadvantage.”
She understood this too, and she hated that she’d become a distraction.
“After tonight I’m moving to Lowantica Valley, where I’ll be till we break camp.”
After tonight.She bit her lip. Already his absence loomed large. “Wouldn’t continuing here in the comfort and care of a home benefit you for that next foray? Camp conditions are harsh—”
“Being here means being with you—raising your hopes and mine—and that I cannot conscience.”
The pearl heart she’d taken from her dressing table and tucked inside her bodice seemed heavy. “You’re sure?”
“Nay—and aye.”
She sensed his dilemma and vowed not to make it harder forhim. She reached for the broken silk ribbon attached to the heart pendant and pulled it free of her bodice. Taking his hand, she placed it there and folded his fingers about it.
“Mae—” he protested.
“I don’t need a reminder, especially if our tie is broken.” Her voice held no rebuke, just a flat acceptance of what he’d obviously given considerable thought.
“You’re not angry with me?”
“I’m angry with a king and parliament who can’t make peace, who cause good men to suffer and die on both sides when far better things await.”
She took a step back, turning away from him toward the warmth of the fire. He stayed where he was, all their feelings roiling in the silence between them.
“There’s much that you don’t know about me, Mae. You might not hold me in the same regard if you did.”
