Page 19 of Bound By The Christmastide Moon

And he would damn well follow through with things.

Lord Lichfield exhaled in a labored burst, his shoulders falling. The arrogant set of his chin seemed to relax, as well. “No, Lady Mallory, I am not a drunkard nor prone to lying.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, but Mallory remained silent, waiting for him to continue. “I was hungry and in need of a drink. Meeting one’s betrothed for the first time can be downright taxing, and the castle is overrun with guests, servants, and the like, all preparing for the weddings and ball to follow. I did not wish to be underfoot or a nuisance to anyone. So, instead of returning to Keyvnor, I came into Bocka Morrow for a meal and a pint of ale.”

“Yet, that led to fisticuffs with—”

“That was in no way fisticuffs,” he said, cutting her off. “That offensive man thought himself justified in harassing a barmaid. I was merely showing him the error of his ways by escorting him out of the tavern.”

“You could have been seriously injured,” Mallory said, releasing the breath she held as all fight left her. If this man would go to such lengths to honor a maid he did not know, how far would he go to support his own wife?

“That was a possibility; however, the potential injury to the barmaid at the rascal’s hands was far greater, do you not agree?”

“It…I…well…” Had she judged him wrong? Had she been too harsh with him? The fact of the matter was that they were to be wed in a few short months, and Mallory needed to know the quality of the man she’d be tied to for all her days. If he were cruel and callous, prone to drinking, or quick to temper, Mallory would fear ever allowing him to learn of her gifts. “I suppose your actions were very gallant, my lord.”

“Silas, my given name is Silas.” He ran his fingers through his hair, the curls landing precisely in place. “I suppose if you’ve bashed a man senseless to save my hide it is only right you call me Silas.”

Silas. A unique name, indeed.

Very fitting.

Odd, but she’d never once thought to know the man beyond his title or address. Certainly, he’d given his name when he introduced himself earlier. It would be peculiar if she continued to address him in such a formal manner—even in their private chambers.

“Am I wrong to assume you came to town without benefit of a chaperone?”

“You would not be incorrect,” she mumbled, embarrassed for the first time at her rash decision to follow him. “Though I can assure you, no one will notice my absence.”

He turned away from her and paced a few feet before swinging back around to face her.

“Did you bring a horse, or did you make it here on foot?”

She glanced over his shoulder to where the young lad held the reins of the Tetbery mare she’d borrowed. “A horse.”

How had she gone from scared that he’d be injured to furious at his hurtful word to feeling like a recalcitrant child who needed forgiveness?

“Let us get you back to Tetbery Estate before anyone misses you,” he sighed.

“No one will miss me, and I can find my own way back.”

“While I am certain both of those statements are true, I cannot allow you to go unattended.” He held up one finger to stop her protest before it had even formed on her tongue. “It is not for your sake but mine. I will worry incessantly if I do not witness you arriving safely at Tetbery with my own eyes.”

She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that a jolt of approval coursed through her at his proclamation. Something fluttered in her chest.

Lord Lichfield, Silas, was not a cruel or crass man.

Perhaps they would suit well.

Chapter 8

Mallory sat in her rear-facing seat, her hands twisting and knotting in her skirt as their carriage made the short jaunt to Castle Keyvnor. She’d wallowed in remorse all night, her guilt finally getting the best of her when the day dawned clear and bright.

The carriage hit a deep rut and sprang back up as the well-maintained Wycliffe conveyance gained a bit of speed. The desolate seaside terrain was nothing like the lush greenery surrounding her family home in Launceston. Though still in Cornwall, her estate did not have the unrelenting winds and salty ocean air constantly battering the land.

Aunt Hettie groaned on the seat across from her and readjusted her position from where she’d slumped low.

“I told you I was perfectly capable of calling on Lord Lichfield at the castle without you,” Mallory replied, keeping her irritation from entering her tone. “It is only a ten-minute carriage ride away from Tetbery. You could have practically seen me arrive from your bedchamber window.”

Her aunt shook her head with a frown. “Not proper, not proper at all, a girl tramping about Cornwall unchaperoned. That Banfield family would have a right good laugh at the lot of us.”

Mallory had been correct in her words to Lord Lichfield—Silas—the day before. She’d slipped back into Tetbery without anyone the wiser. When she’d joined Felicity and her aunt for their evening meal, her dear friend had offered a powder to be taken with table wine to diminish the ache in her head. Mallory had nearly ruined her own excuse when she questioned what Felicity spoke of, but she’d recovered with swiftness, thanked her friend, and taken the awful mixture.