“I know.” Ruairc’s voice was soft, and he trailed a thumb over the back of my hand before dropping it. “I’m just a shoemaker, Evera. I’m a simple man. But I’m trying to say the right things, do the right things. For you.”
I let out a breath. “What is it that you remember?” He drew his brows slightly, and I clarified. “From when we were kids.”
His easy smile returned. “I remember your excitement when you first learned what wild plants could be found in the woods. I remember going with you to collect them and how your face lit when you told me of their uses. You so rarely smiled back then.”
I closed my eyes. Ruairc was sweet, and he knew me for who I was; I would give him that. But he was traditional in every sense of the word, and he would expect me as his wife to fit into the image society expected of me.
Ducking under Sorrel’s head, Ruairc came to stand beside me and raised a hand to my cheek. “You still so rarely do.”
He was close,too close.Though his intentions had been clear for many years, his advancements had never surpassed lingering glances or the slight brush of his hand against the back of mine when we walked close together. Never had he touched me like this.
“I smiled yesterday,” I reminded him. “When you greeted us at the wagon.”
Was it the agreement he came to with my brother that emboldened him? Or was it only that he was older now, knew what he wanted, and understood how to pursue a woman?Did his confidence come from experience? Did I care if it did?
“You smiled because you’ve grown up. Because it was the proper thing to do.” He leaned in closer. “I want to see the smile you shared with me when we were just children in the woods. When you found passion.”
Oh. Gods.
His eyes hooded, and he lowered until his breath warmed my face. He wouldn’t kiss me. He would wait, let me close the distance. It was the kind of man he was.But I didn’t want this. And he was dreadful at reading a mood.
I put a hand on his chest and turned my head aside. “I’m sorry, Ruairc.”
Quiet fell between us, even as his breath still warmed the side of my face. “Is this because of your mother?”
I took a step back, raising my guard. My tone sharpened. “Because of my mother?”
Ruairc’s jaw tightened. He exhaled, retreating with carefully chosen words. “Don’t be upset.”
Gods, he sounded just like Aureus. Why did men always feel inclined to tell me not to be upset? Irritation stung, but I held my tongue, waiting for him to tell me what it was I wasn’t supposed to be upset about.
“I know you don’t like to speak of her, but you can’t live your life in fear of relationships because of—”
“Because of her?” My tone was sharp. “Because she was a prostitute?”
I remembered little of Mother. I had memories of hiding with Aureus, waiting for her to return to us. Other times, of watching because the man who bought her was impatient. But I didn’t resent our mother for what she was. She’d done it to keep us fed, to keep us alive.
Ruairc’s eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath. He shook his head. “Evera, that’s not what I meant.”
I leveled my gaze, irritated that the way he said my name brought back memories of when we were children, when we were close. Ruairc’s family came from the western lands, and he had a slight difference of accent, which led him to pronounce my name Ever-ah instead of Ev-air-a.It had been a while, I realized, since he’d said my name.
“When my father died,” he said, “I cried. Do you remember that?”
He’d been ten. “I remember.”
“You asked me why I cried. You said my mother could be free of him finally.” I remembered that too.“When I told you my father was good to her, loved her, loved us both, you told me I was wrong. You were eight. And all you knew of men was what you’d seen them do to your mother.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat and lowered my eyes to my boots. He raised my chin, the notion gentle, intimate. My stomach swirled.
“Not all men are like that,” Ruairc said. “Don’t close your heart to love without giving it a chance.”
15
NEIRIN
When I woke,the first thing I noticed in the early dawn light was a vase of freshly cut flowers on the dresser across from my bed. When Maerel had brought them in, I couldn’t say. There was something uncanny about the realization she’d been in my room while I was sleeping. Something shameful, too, for guards were trained to sleep lightly, remain alert. That an innkeeper crept past me was a slight on my skills. Or a tell of my exhaustion.
Pulling back the quilts, I rose to investigate what else Maerel had brought into my room. Gods, how many trips had she taken?
