“Christopher,” Wycliff said, “let’s see what the vendors have. Maybe we’ll see a frog there?”
My son squealed with delight and hopped around and around us.
The baron was gentle with my boy and had called him son a few times. On the last one, I knew he meant it. I wondered why I was still fighting the draw to this man, especially when I knew how good he would be to Chris.
Faces whipped about me, coming in and out of focus.
But music surrounded me, keeping me here, grounding me in sweetness. It felt good. I leaned into this feeling. I was strong, my boy was gleeful, and I had a friend who adored me.
Huff in. Huff out. I puffed air into my mouth and kept my wits. The silk flags of orange and blue twirled in the wind. Was that a hot-air balloon in the distance?
Rough hands, worn and calloused, soothed my cheeks.
“Why did you stop leading me, Ruth?”
Had I?
I guessed I had stopped to admire the big silk ball, the enormous flames keeping it up. I tugged his palms down but held on to them. “It’s so colorful here. I’m good. I’m wonderful. You’re with me.”
“Yes, I am. And you keep surprising me. I like your surprises.”
I glanced at him, again absorbing the beauty of a man with luscious dark eyes. But Wycliff looked nervous, biting his glorious bottom lip. What would he think if I kissed him right here in this crowd?
The notion shocked me.
Bold me would do it, but what would come next? I wasn’t ready for next.
“Mama. Mama. Game.”
“Mrs. Wilky,” the baron said as he wrapped my palm about his. “Master Wilky is intrigued by a game of chance. A barrel toss.”
When I settled my spectacles, I saw my Chris on his tiptoes, stretching against the wood stand. His little lungs burst with giggles as he jumped up. “Game.”
Hmm.Wine barrels stood on end, each missing a lid. “What is it? How does it work?”
“Toss the sack in the barrel—like that man, Mama.”
My boy didn’t know it was impolite to point, but I’d been remiss in bringing him outside around people.
Wycliff lifted my chin, his eyes claiming mine. “Not up to a game of chance? Is there another risk you wish to take?”
Chris tugged on the baron’s jacket. “Mama has good aim.”
The man chortled. It was a return to his condescending laugh.
I welcomed it.
Things were feeling too put together and seamless between us. I needed a reminder of why we couldn’t be.
“I saw your mother’s tricks in the garden, but this is not a parlor or a birdbath.”
Wycliff’s raspy voice sounded sweet poking fun at me. It was a wonder how an awful thing could be appealing.
I stopped him from moving on, holding on to his lapel, even fingering his cravat, like a saucy temptress. “Let me try.”
“Uhm. Yes. I know you can do anything you set your lovely mind to, but these games of chance are set against patrons. I refuse to allow you to be cheated.”
His words sounded gallant and almost delicate in a way, but I’d let my fear take away too much of the good. No more. That girl on the docks would try. So, I would do so.
