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In fact, he is as handsome as ever, but my thoughts remind me of why this union may not be. Feelings rage within me, a strange mix I cannot control, and I know I cannot wait until the evening is over to speak to him. The feast will not begin for hours.

“I approve,” I say cautiously. “But I would speak to you. Alone.”

His eyes bore into mine. “Your tone is troubling,” he says.

Something has been troubling me for nigh a sennight, and he’s standing just before me. “Do you think there is a place we might speak?”

Erik is not the only one dressed in his finest. I’ve saved this gown for this eve’s celebration, and from the way Erik is eyeing the low neckline, he approves.

I clear my throat.

“Apologies,” he says, turning. “Though not really,” I think I hear him mumble.

Smiling, I follow him from the hall and down the stairs, realizing we are headed back into the courtyard.

“Where are we going?”

Just as I ask, Erik offers his arm, and I realize I know precisely where he is bringing me. Indeed, in no time, after leaving the main keep, we pass the small courtyard where Havefest was held and walk up the cobblestone path.

“No cushions this eve,” he says as we reach the alcove. “But ample light . . .” He tilts his head up, as do I, to see the torch just above us. “. . . so that I may enjoy the beautiful sight before me.”

Licking my lips, which have suddenly gone dry, I sit and attempt to avoid gawking at him. Sitting across from me, he leans over and takes my hands.

“What is wrong, Reyne?”

How can he not already know?

“Tomorrow is the last day,” I say. “And then you will leave for the capital, and I for home.”

He does not react. “And that is how you would have it? That we part on the morrow?”

Just like that other night in this very same spot, I wish that he would kiss me. That we could avoid this discussion that might tear us apart forever. There is so much more to explore with him, the passion he promised just within reach.

Father approves.

Warin approves.

Mother would gladly take Erik Stokerton as a son-in-law.

“I do not know,” I say honestly. “All want this match but . . .”

“But you?”

He looks angry. And maybe that is a good thing. He clearly wishes to marry me. But is it only for my father’s support? How can he not understand the reason matters? And more importantly, she matters.

“I asked you once if you loved the queen, and you did not answer me. Yet you wish for us to announce our betrothal tomorrow. So I ask you again, do you love her?”

His expression reveals nothing. “Marry.”

I clasp my hands together and squeeze. “Pardon?”

“I wish for us to marry, not become betrothed. Your father made it clear I’d not have his support until we were married.”

My jaw drops.

“Here? At Ledenhill? Without my mother present? With no gown or feast or . . . marry here?” I repeat.

Erik frowns. “I know it is not the wedding ceremony you would have. Nor is it the one you deserve. But vows to join as man and wife, with proper witnesses, are all that is necessary. As you know.”