Page 63 of The Blacksmith

The boy looked up at him with a reverence he didn’t deserve. It struck him that it would be hard to leave Stanton—and not just because of the beautiful, stately woman who had his heart.

“Aye?”

“Will you show us how to use the cross-pein hammer to draw out iron? My da says you could likely do anything, even that.”

An easy enough request. “Aye, we will do it on the morrow. Now run along before you miss supper,” he said. Miles had already turned and started running. “And give thanks to your mother for the bread.”

Miles reached his hand up and waved.

A good lad. Both of them were. And their mother had shown him a kindness he didn’t deserve.

Guilt pressed into him, his constant companion of late. He hadn’t been honest with these people, yet they’d invited him in and made him feel a sense of belonging he had not experienced with anyone other than the other men in the order.

Lance was about to close the door when he saw her.

Dressed all in white, she looked like an avenging angel, gliding down the hill to smite him.

“White,” he said as she circled around the forge, “is not the most practical color to wear here.”

Idalia stopped before him. Her hair was unbound, falling in waves down her back, and he longed to reach out and touch it. He held his hands together to stop himself.

“A kitchen maid spilled sauce verte on the other.”

But Idalia had not come to him to speak of spilled sauces.

“I’m surprised you’re not overseeing supper?”

“I’m surprised you did not mention your concern over the engraving to me.”

And there it was.

Though the question had revealed the earl’s leanings, giving him exactly the information he needed, it had come at a price.

“I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

She waited, but Lance would say no more. Anything else he uttered would be a lie, and he’d lied to her already. As it had been many times before, the truth lay on his tongue, its utterance so close to fruition. But he could not do it. Lance had little to offer the order. No coin or armies of men. Nothing but his loyalty and the success of this mission.

“Would you come in?” he said finally. “I’ve little to offer but”—he lifted his hand—“bread and ale, though I would very much welcome your company.”

She would refuse. Which was for the best, really. If anyone saw her enter his chambers, it would be bad for both of them.

“I do not understand you.”

Most didn’t.

“Do you need to go to the hall?” he pressed.

Idalia shook her head. “Dawson has been left in charge. My father is seeing to my mother and Tilly is supping in her chamber. A new kitten found its way to the keep, and she worried it would be trounced upon in the hall. She refuses to leave him.”

She shrugged, as if to say “sisters.” But Lance was an only child. The closest he had to a sibling was Guy. And the others in the order.

He stepped back, willing her to follow. Knowing she should not. It was foolish of him to ask—and reckless, besides.

“I beg you, come inside. I will not touch you. That is a promise.”

She looked at him curiously then. “You believe that is what I want? For you to stay away from me?”

He took another step back.