Page 49 of Falling for the Knight

“And I have it,” Tristan said.

Gerard shrugged. “Aye, you do. And the title is well-earned which is the reason I use it. But I didn’t come here to quibble over your title. Your lady is belowstairs already—”

Tristan did not like his friend’s tone. “You will not disparage her, Gerard.”

“I did no such thing.”

He studied his friend’s expression and realized he may have come to that conclusion erroneously.

“I only meant to say she appears different this eve. More relaxed. But she is still clearly waiting for you to appear.”

Tristan had known Gerard long enough to suspect his friend had not just come here to discuss Hannah’s demeanor. His next words confirmed it.

“What are you doing, Tristan?”

“I don’t know.” He had always been honest with Gerard.

“Can you at least tell me where she came from? I was there on the beach that day. And I still—”

“I cannot tell you.”

He wouldn’t expand upon his lie, not with Gerard.

“Look at you,” Gerard said, interrupting his thoughts. “I’ve never seen you like this before, so . . . distracted.”

Likely because he’d never felt this way before.

“If I could tell anyone, it would be you. And maybe someday . . .” Tristan ignored the pang in his chest at the idea of revealing everything to Gerard once Hannah was gone. “Just know, for now, she is likely not staying long. And as I’ve said, she is no spy. Just a woman without a place in the world, for now.”

ThatGerard should understand. They’d both been in that position themselves.

His friend nodded once, solemnly, and added, “And one who is waiting for you below.”

Tristan left his thoughts of the future behind and followed his steward through the winding corridors and down to the great hall. Stopping in the threshold, he watched as Hannah sat laughing with the cupbearer who poured her favorite wine. He’d meant to ask the laundress where she had managed to find Hannah so many gowns.

If Hannah stayed, Joan would make a fine lady’s maid.

She is not staying.

ExceptGerard was right—Hannah did look different this eve. With a quick glance around the hall, he also noticed not as many watched her with suspicion. He left the steward, who refused to dine at the high table no matter how many times Tristan had attempted to persuade him otherwise, and joined Hannah.

“Apologies for my tardiness, my lady,” he said, sitting beside her.

Typically the lightest meal of the day, dinner normally consisted of soup and possibly one other course. But Hannah had told him the opposite was true for her—she was accustomed to a dinner more akin to their supper. And so he’d asked Cook for an additional course each night.

“You look lovely this eve,” he said.

An understatement so vast it might as well be a lie.

Hannah was more than lovely. She was exquisite. Perfect, really.

“Why thank you, kind sir,” she said with a smile, mimicking his speech.

As they ate, they spoke of their day. The village. The weather. Her first horse-riding expedition. Anything but what had happened between them that afternoon. But he was suddenly feeling adventurous.

“So would you consider it a successful”—he lowered his voice, the word foreign to all but Hannah—“date?”

His reward was a sly smile that told him she had accepted his challenge.