Gar nodded. “I do,” he said. “I truly do.”
She continued to sew, pondering his honesty. At least, he thought so. But he was wrong. Something else had been building up in that pretty head and it was about to come flying out at him.
“How kind of you to be concerned only with me,” she said, but she didn’t mean it. “But how manipulative. Do you think I am stupid, Sir Gar? Do you think I cannot see that you are trying to convince me that you are only concerned with my happiness so that I can break this betrothal that you clearly want nothing to do with?”
For such a small woman, she was intimidating when she was angry. Gar wasn’t hard pressed to admit that. “My lady, I am simply being honest with what you are facing,” he said evenly. “You and I were children when we met ten years ago. The situation has changed dramatically. I’m no longer that young man who saved you from de Vries and you are no longer the young woman who needed saving. We are two different souls, lady. Can you not see that?”
Her sewing was growing faster, her movements jerky. At one point, she reached into the sewing kit and pulled forth a pair of shears, cutting some material into strips, which she proceeded to sew onto one end of whatever she was making. She didn’t reply to him, but continued working on her project until, finally, she seemed to be finished. The patches of linen she’d brought with her were now all sewn together and when she stood up abruptly from the stump she’d been sitting on, she held up what it was.
A pair of quickly stitched-together breeches.
“Here,” she said, thrusting them at him. “Since my dog ruined your clothing, you can wear these until you find something more suitable. Burn them when you no longer have a use for them, because I certainly do not want anything to remind you of me.”
He caught the breeches, which were practically thrown at him. Clutching them against his abdomen, he looked down at the garment in shock.
“Youmadea pair of breeches?” he said, astonished. “Right now? As we were speaking?”
She was closing up the sewing kit. “It is not as difficult as you make it sound,” she said. “I just sewed the linen together. They are big pieces, so it was simple enough. There are two sleeves for your legs and the breeches will tie up at the top so you can secure it around your waist. I know it is not very elegant, but as you have pointed out, you are not an elegant man. But mayhap you can get some use out of them.”
Gar didn’t know what to say. As he looked at the breeches, a creeping sense of guilt washed over him. Had he been so cruel to this woman who was trying so hard to make amends with him for what her dog had done? Was he being so stubborn about this marriage that he was overlooking the fact that, perhaps, they weren’t so terribly different?
He simply didn’t know.
“My lady,” he finally said. “I am… humbled. You did not have to do this.”
Mattie closed the top of the sewing kit and faced him. “Aye, I did,” she said. “Your breeches were ruined because of my dog and since you would not let me repair them, I used what I’d brought for the repair to fashion you a new pair. But this conversation has been enlightening. I see now that you only came here out of obligation, but with no real intention of going through with the marriage. And you may deny it all you wish, but you have been trying to manipulate me into breaking the betrothal because you are too much of a coward to do it yourself. Given that I am the only one between us with a sense of decency, I will do as you wish. I will ask my father to break the betrothal. Is there anything else I can do for you to make your life easier, my lord?”
God, but the woman could be vicious when she wanted to. Vicious and utterly, completely in the right. Gar was a knight’s knight, a man who commanded thousands, a man who could keep the raging Scots at bay, but at this moment, he felt completely belittled and beaten down by a woman half his size.
But he absolutely deserved it.
“My lady, I am sorry if you feel slighted,” he said, genuinely meaning what he said. “It was not my intention to offend you. You are a beautiful woman, very accomplished, and any man would feel extremely fortunate to have you.”
“Anyone but you,” she said pointedly. Bending down, she picked up the sewing kit, preparing to take her leave, but her gaze lingered on him. The hurt, the disappointment in her expression, was obvious. “Just so you are aware, from the moment our betrothal was final, I have been completely faithful to you. There have been many men who tried to woo me, but I sent every one of them away. Every single one. You see, I wasbetrothed to the great Gar de Wolfe, son of Lord Braemoor, and a knight with an astonishing reputation even at a young age. I was so proud of that, so I considered it a privilege to be completely faithful to you. I can see now that my loyalty was wasted. You did not ask for it, but I gave it because it was the right thing to do. My apologies that you were betrothed to a woman who worshipped the very thought of you. My apologies if that was not what you wanted. I do hope you find a woman worthy of you, someday.”
With that, she turned on her heel and headed back across the bailey, leaving Gar standing there feeling like a monster. A horrible, vicious monster. It didn’t take an epiphany to quickly come to the conclusion that the only person between them who wasn’t worthy in this situation was him. That articulate, kind, magnificent woman was far too good for him. She’d been open and generous, and he’d been a scoundrel. He’d just done what Maksim had told him not to do.
He’d broken her heart.
Devastated by what he’d just done, he took his patchwork breeches and headed back into the knights’ quarters.
He had some thinking to do.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Idon’t knowwhat to say,” Troy said. “Did she give a reason as towhyshe wants to break the betrothal?”
In the great hall of Hensingham, Troy found himself facing off against a fairly upset Reece. The man had just come from the keep where his daughter had told him that she no longer wished to marry Gar. The sun was setting and torches were being lit all over the bailey as servants lit the fat yellow tapers in the big chandeliers of the great hall, lowering them with a rope to be ignited before hauling them back up again so they loomed over the tables below. Troy and Andreas had been in the hall, enjoying some wine and sweet dough balls that Lady Hensingham had sent out from the kitchens, when Reece joined them. The man was overwrought that his obedient daughter had suddenly had a change of heart.
Or so he thought.
But Troy suspected otherwise.
“Something about not wanting to be married to a warlord,” Reece said, agitated. “But she knew what he was. She has always known. Why does it bother her so now?”
Troy looked at Andreas, who gave his father a long look before turning away. That left Troy trying to come up with something to soothe an agitated father and not explode at Gar at the same time.
“They’ve not seen each other in years,” Troy said. “Mayhap when she saw him, he did not fit her ideal of a husband. Time changes people. She remembers that young man and Gar is no longer a young man. He has grown up. He is one of the more powerful warlords on the border.”
