An emotion wavered across his face. Want. Or a flicker of regret. “Vis’ pendant is for life, Trisha. Have I given you one?” Blainor nodded toward her chest.
“If that’s the truth, why did you withhold it?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t think you’d be interested. Have you changed your mind?”
Biting her bottom lip, she looked away. Shadows capered across the sand as people moved around the bonfire. The fire’s embers burned an eye-blinding crimson, and thick smoke darkened the twilight.
“You’re a curious songbird, Trisha an Tilia. You want recognition and yet recoil from it.” A glint of a wolfish smile. “Don’t feign surprise if I seek you out after your challenge.”
“Only you would see it that way.”
“Oh? Didn’t want your song to impact me?” He leanedcloser. “You dangled your bait. Don’t accuse me if I decide to bite.”
“You could have any woman you wanted. Why pester me?” The question left her almost against her will.
Blainor stilled. The wind and music swirled around them for a brief moment that felt like an hour.
“You just answered yourself.” He reached to stroke the side of her face. The hotness of his touch stirred a longing inside her. As he pushed a strand of errant hair away, he plucked a wilted rose petal from her hair.
Trisha huffed, crossing her arms. “I hear no answer to my question.”
He toyed with the stray white leaf before letting the wind steal it from his grasp.
“I think you do. No other would dare ask me that.” A pause, and his quiet words, like a stolen confession. “And never before have I wanted to answer.”
Everything faded. The bonfire, the people, the sounds. Trisha couldn’t move, caught in the web of his words and gaze.
A slow smile, sharp with intent, bloomed over his face. Taking a step back, Blainor offered her his hand. “I believe you issued an invitation for a dance. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t heed a lady’s call?”
She lifted her chin. “If a dance is what you wanted, you could have asked back in Moorhafen.”
“I want only one partner, Bard,” he said. “And you were a little engaged at the time.”
A thousand reasons existed why she shouldn’t accept, but in this moment, she remembered none. Before Trisha realized, she had raised her hand. It fit in his palm perfectly.
Blainor’s fingers interlocked with hers, firm yet warm, a ridge of milky scars running over his knuckles. His skin was rough, hardened by years of wielding a bow and sword, but hishold was gentle as he led them toward the light. The fire blazed, the effigy’s contours devoured by red-yellow flames. The violin crooned, with the lute’s melody weaving through the notes. By now, a flute and a tambourine had joined the song. It was a fast-tempoed one, as wild as the night. People passed them by, couples spinning, sand spraying under their feet.
He gripped her hand tight?—
And they joined the dance. The fire heated Trisha’s cheeks; it shone in Blainor’s eyes. They followed the music, circling the bonfire clockwise. Her skirt billowed, the wind tearing the flowers woven through her braid into the fire. Another offering to the ancestors, but she didn’t have a request for them—not this time.
His hands slid to her waist. She barely had time to draw a breath before he lifted her frame, the pointed imprints of his fingertips burning through her dress. His cedar fragrance surrounded as he spun her around. Trisha laughed, wild and delighted. He set her down, and for a beat, they didn’t move. Sparks shot high, the air full of smoke and light. There was wild movement about, couples twirling around, but Blainor’s eyes remained on her, drinking in her expression like a man who didn’t quite believe what he held in his hands.
A feverish memory rose, and she shivered. He’d offered to kindle her fire. If so, she’d burn gladly tonight. Wordless, they fell back into the dance. And she couldn’t help but let go.
When it came to an end, he led her away, toward the shoreline, where twilight awaited. Shadows eclipsed their feet, the air darkening as the sounds of the people, the smoke faded. No, she almost scoffed. It was just the wind. And yet, it felt as though only they remained with the night.
Blainor released her hand and bowed with a touch of southern courtly elegance, a stark contrast to the rugged landhe ruled. The gesture was a reminder of who he was, what she could lose. The burn inside tempered, and she withdrew, even if doing so hurt a little.
“Thank you for the dance, my lord.”
“You know my name,” he said quietly. “I’d like to hear you say it.”
She opened her mouth but didn’t speak. Didn’t dare deny or accept what he was offering. Trisha looked down. “It wouldn’t be wise.”
With a sharp inhale, Blainor stepped closer. “Wise?” A steely undertone edged his low words. “When did you start caring about being wise, Starling?”
It stung. Why was he blaming her for being reckless when his scheming had caused it? He’d wanted her to prove herself in Graystein. He could have told her the truth, and yet he hadn’t.
