Page 26 of The Chief

Chapter 14

The door creaked open.

Cristane had shut it behind her, for someone had already left a tray of food, a pitcher of wine, and two goblets. The fewer people who knew she was here, the better. There would be talk, if there wasn’t already. The slender footing she held here in Cait’s absence would slip further.

The moment Rory stepped inside, Cristane realized she was weaker than she’d thought. Her mother had taught her strength. Cait, confidence. But none had taught her how to tame the onslaught of emotion that came from loving a man who did not feel the same.

Aye, he desired her—the way Rory looked at her now left no doubt. She’d dressed well and taken care with every aspect of her appearance, and the reward was as she’d so foolishly hoped.

But to what end?

Precisely none.

“I should not have come.”

Rory stepped past her, the smell of sandalwood forcing the hairs on her arms up straight. He’d clearly taken pains with his preparations too, for his surcoat was impeccable, the linen shirt beneath it a brilliant white. His hair was freshly trimmed, as if there were not a war brewing beyond the castle walls.

“Aye, lass, you should have.” He pulled out one of the simple wooden chairs from the too-intimate table. “Will you sit?”

Say no. Leave now, before your heart is shredded beyond recognition.

Of their own accord, her feet moved, bringing her closer to the chair. She allowed herself to sink into the velvet-cushioned seat.

“You look lovely,” he said, sitting across from her, pouring them both red wine.

“Rory, I . . .”

“With your permission”—he cut her off—“can we keep the more serious discussion for after our meal?”

She swallowed. “The one, you mean, where I ask what we are doing here? I thought I had made my position clear.” She rushed to add, “And I chastise myself as much, or more, than you, Rory.”

His smile did nothing to allay her fears. In fact, it made them worse. She was powerless against the pull of Rory Kennaugh.

“Aye, I’m sorry to ask it of you, but I would pause that discussion for the time being. We must talk of it, I agree, but I would do so later.”

If he wished to delay the inevitable, then she would play along.

“To a pause, then,” she said, lifting her goblet.

He met her eyes, lifting his goblet to hers. “A pause and the company of a beautiful woman.”

They both drank.

“What are you about?” she asked while attempting to pretend she’d not heard the compliment. “You’ve been acting strangely since we left your mother’s hall.”

“Mayhap I’ve been contemplating what you said about Terric.”

Picking up the pewter spoon, Rory leaned over the bowl of stew and took a bite. She watched, much too closely.

“Go on.”

Although not hungry, she forced herself to take a bite of stew, waiting for him to speak.

“Did you and Cait discuss us often, Terric and me?”

Her cheeks pinkened. They had, many times.

“Perhaps.”