Page 67 of The Scot

“And your relationship with Terric?”

Roysa hadn’t been expecting such a direct question from the soft-spoken woman.

“I . . .” She was unsure how to answer that. “I am unsure.”

“But you do love him?”

She’d been looking out the window, but that comment drew her eyes to Lady Cait’s.

Love.

Idalia loved Lance, surely. But they were the exception, were they not? She had asked her mother if she truly loved their father. If it was possible to love a man you’d been forced to marry. She had said it was, and she did. But she’d said it with a sadness in her eyes. There were different types of love, it seemed, and the love one might grow to feel for an arranged partner was not the same as love freely given.

Love was such a strange beast. A frightening one.

“I am not sure your brother is capable of it,” she said.

“I asked for your feelings, not Terric’s. But I can understand if you would prefer not to share them with me. After all, we’ve just met.”

But she heard the message beyond the words. Lady Cait still wished for her answer—she waited for it.

Would she approve of her brother courting a lady so recently widowed? An Englishwoman, no less.

Roysa wanted to answer, but found she could not.

“Thank you for answering me, Lady Roysa.”

“But I did not give you an answer.”

“You did. And it pleases me well.”