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“You offered to train me,” she said, neither her voice nor expression offering any hint of her feelings. It seemed she had taken his previous day’s lesson to heart, much to his current discomfort.

“That was before—”

“You offered, and I accepted. Do you always break your agreements so easily?”

No, he did not. “Very well,” he said. “We will meet tomorrow. To train.”

When she smiled, Reid knew he had already lost his uncharacteristic battle with self-control. Nay, he’d lost it well before he’d agreed to meet her again. The question was, could Allie help him be found?

9

“How can Graeme pretend all is well?” Allie asked.

She stood with Gillian in the great hall, the meal having long since concluded. An uninformed visitor to Highgate End might comment on the way the trestle tables had been moved to the sides of the room, as they were after each meal, providing a space for socializing and dancing. Or maybe they would admire the music or the array of different colors. With so many guests, it felt as if every color were represented. Allie herself wore a dark lilac gown with two gold clasps and a cream-patterned surcoat.

What an uninformed visitor likely would not notice were the undercurrents that had been brewing since the Lord Warden’s arrival two days prior. According to Reid, the meetings had continued to be fractious. The warden had not settled matters as they’d hoped.

Careful not to glance her trainer’s way, Allie looked to her sister for an answer.

“He is quite good at hosting.”

Allie followed Gillian’s gaze to her husband, who stood in the center of a group of men that included Douglas. Calm prevailed at the moment, an impressive accomplishment considering what she’d heard about the proceedings.

“Aye,” she agreed, “as are you, Gill.”

And she meant it. Hosting over fifty guests for nigh a fortnight was no small task, and their mother had never shown much of an interest in training either of them to run a household. “I am so happy for you,” she continued. “Who could have imagined a kiss in Kenshire’s garden would have led to this.”

“Allie, shhh.” Gillian’s tone was light despite her admonition.

When the musicians began a lilting ballad, Allie stopped teasing her sister to listen. The lyrics were about Thomas the Rhymer. “Isn’t he the one who was carried off by the Queen of Elfland and returned with the gift of prophecy?”

Gillian squinted as if it would help her listen. The hall had quieted considerably, but the gathering was large enough, and loud enough, that it was difficult to hear each word. “I believe so.”

They did not talk for the remainder of the ballad, and when it was finished, Allie joined in the applause. When the flutist next to the singer began to play the next song, the few women in attendance began to pair with their husbands. As the only unmarried noblewoman in attendance, Allie expected she would be asked to dance, just as she had been the two previous evenings.

“Why the frown?” Gillian asked. “You’ve always enjoyed dancing.”

Allie looked into her sister’s eyes. She wished she could confide in her as she’d always done in the past, but Gillian would certainly not sympathize with her problem. In fact, she would be very happy to learn that her suspicions about Reid had come to naught.

Despite the connection they’d shared that day in the dovecote, Reid had mostly ignored her. He no longer looked her way at meals, and though he had continued to train her, he’d spoken of nothing beyond her stance and her longsword.

“Aye, and I still do. Just not this eve.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

Both she and Allie spun around to find Reid watching them intently. Where had he come from?

“I would ask for this dance.” His eyes narrowed as if he expected her to decline.

She was not surprised by her body’s response, the warmth that flooded her a further testament that, as much as she claimed to dislike Reid Kerr, there was a part of her that did not. When they’d first met, she would have focused on his slight smirk and the arrogant way he wore his good looks. Now, she saw beyond it, into eyes that pleaded for her to accept.

“A shame,” Gillian said, her voice cool. Unwelcoming. “My sister—”

“Would be pleased to dance,” she said, risking her sister’s ire.

Gill gave her a look that required no interpretation, but Allie took his arm anyway, attempting to ignore the fire that ignited in her gut and spread to every limb of her body.

He spun her toward the middle of the dancers, away from her sister’s watchful eyes. “Why do you do that?” she asked.