It was almost time for the evening meal when Izzie returned to Holyrood from the hospital, but she didn’t feel much like eating. Nor did she feel much like talking to anyone, so she sought out her favorite corner in the small garden, where she could just sit and stare at the plants and flowers and let the sense of peace enfold her.
It didn’t work. She could not seem to stop the occasional tear from slipping beneath her red-rimmed eyes.
“Izzie.”
Her breath caught at the sound of his voice. She turned to see Randolph standing at the gate with his helm tucked under his arm, looking as if he’d run straight from the battlefield. Both his mail and surcoat were stained with mud, and streaks of sweat were still visible on his face in the sandy light of dusk.
He must have seen the tears in her eyes because he said, “You know.”
“That Annie died?” She nodded. “Aye, I just returned from the hospital a few minutes ago.” Her throat was thick, and a fresh stream of tears threatened, but she held them back. It seemed silly that she was this upset by someone she barely knew. But something about the young girl had touched her—touched them both.
Randolph took a seat beside her and took her icy hand in his. She let him, too numb to protest or ascribe meaning.
“There was a message from the prioress when I returned to my tent,” he explained. “I’d hoped it had just arrived so that I could be the one to tell you.”
“You didn’t go to the hospital?”
He frowned. “Nay, I came here first.”
His first instinct had been to find her. That had to mean something. “How did you find me in the garden?”
He shrugged. “You mentioned you liked to come out here to read sometimes. I took a chance on my way to the guesthouse when I didn’t see you in the Hall.”
She’d mentioned it once—only briefly—but he’d remembered. “My cousin prefers the south garden—it is larger with more trees.”
Elizabeth had mentioned it in the same conversation.
“Does she? You said you liked the flowers.”
Don’t read too much into it.But how could she not?
“You shouldn’t be out here alone; it will be dark soon,” Randolph said.
A slight rueful smile broke through the sadness. “It’s an abbey, my lord, I think any threat to my safety is small.”
His face darkened ever so slightly. “There are still soldiers about.”
Apparently, he was serious. She’d never thought of him as the overprotective type.
She shifted her gaze to her lap. To the big hand still wrapped so tenderly around hers. “I shall endeavor to be more careful in the future.”
If he heard her sarcasm, he chose to ignore it. “I’m sorry, Izzie.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I know you cared for the lass. Even though Helen had prepared me, it still came as a shock.”
Izzie nodded. “She seemed so happy yesterday.” Soalive.
“Surely that is a good thing. Her last day on earth was a happy one to prepare her for a better future.”
Izzie wanted to believe that, but tears filled her eyes. “It just feels so wrong.”
Perhaps he realized how close to tears she was because he drew her into his arms to comfort her. And it did—he did. The peace that had eluded her before settled over her like a soft, warm plaid. A soft warm plaid that held the faint hint of cinnamon and leather.
“It is wrong,” he said gravely. “It feels like that whenever someone so young passes.”
There was something in his voice that made her look up at him, as if she knew there was more.
He wiped a tear from her eye, the thumb callused from years of sword fighting achingly gentle. Their eyes met and the pull was nearly overwhelming. Her chest squeezed with something akin to longing.I could love him.It would be so easy to let herself succumb to what felt so right.
What he saw in her gaze must have encouraged him. His voice cracked as if the words were hard to get out. “My older sister died when she was thirteen.”
