Page 31 of Dagger’s Shield

“Both.”

“You realize refusing to answer is itself an answer.”

“Your family is waiting for us for dinner.” He tucked my hand into the crook of his arm and turned us toward the house.

I’d given him the perfect opening to flirt with me, something I never did, and he’d ignored it. Better put, he chose not to do it. Why? Was it a game? If he disregarded me, acted as though he wasn’t interested, did he think it would make me chase him?

Or was it because he no longer wanted me? No, I knew better than that. What happened after I woke with a cramp in my leg proved it.

I’d felt ashamed over it all day, but if he touched me again tonight, I knew I wouldn’t deny him.

If I was right and it was a tactic, then he was exactly the man I’d believed him to be. But if I was wrong, did that mean I’d misjudged him all along? Or was he changing?

“Je suis vraiment une idiote,” I muttered under my breath.

“Don’t put yourself down,” he scolded.

I stopped walking. “How do you know what I said?”

“Idiot requires no translation.”

“Maybe I called you an idiot.”

He smirked. “I’ve heard that one from you enough to know that wasn’t it.”

We left the garden and took the gravel path uphill to the house. Midway, my thigh started to burn. Dagger noticed and shortened his stride to match mine.

“You don’t need to do that.”

He glanced over at me. “Do what?”

“I’m not an invalid. I can make it on my own.”

“You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever known.”

“You say that because you don’t know many Frenchwomen.”

“True. One is enough.”

I slugged his arm but inwardly smiled. Dagger was flirting again, which meant things between us had returned to normal.

“Have you thought about a wedding date?” Maman asked when Marthe served the second course.

“Spring,” I said. “In the garden. Family only.”

“The garden will be lovely in May.”

“That’s why I chose it.”

“Monsieur and Madame Rourke,” my mother murmured. “It has a lovely ring to it.”

“Did you say family only?” My father set his fork down. “A Valais wedding with no one to see it. The neighbors will wonder what we’re hiding.”

“They do anyway,” Rémy muttered.

“It’s my wedding, Papa. Not the domaine’s.”

“We’ll speak of it later.”