Page 12 of To Protect

“Thank you for the tour,” she said, not answering his question.

Her anger at his assumption told him much, but also had angered her. If Roland knew anything from his sisters, it was that now was not the time to press his suit.

A suit he should not press at all. He was sworn to protect her. The lady was his friend’s wife’s maid. A dalliance with her would be ill advised, and yet even now, Roland yearned to taste the sweetness of her lips. To run his hands over those full hips of hers, pulling her close.

He averted his eyes, which had inadvertently wandered to her own. Bowing, Roland accepted defeat. For now.

“It was my pleasure.”

Without another word, or a glance backward, Roland made his way to the training yard. Finding Alden, he stood beside him, willing Lord Stirling not to notice he’d just arrived.

“Where have you been?” Alden whispered.

He did not deign to answer.

“Roland, she is no ordinary maid. You cannot—”

“Save the lecture,” he said, knowing it would come. “For after our lesson.”

“One you mostly missed. He’s already gone through the rotation.”

Roland cursed under his breath.

“For some, your arms are not straight enough. For others, your shoulders must remain down and not hunched up to your ears. Focusing on the target is not enough. Your stance will determine your shot before you ever release the arrow, lads.”

For a moment, it seemed Lord Stirling would not notice him. Until the instructor’s gaze pinned Roland in place.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath.

Alden chuckled.

“Some, it seems, need no instruction as their aim is true every time.”

Whispers of Darien’s name, along with that of the only female recruit, an archer named Lyra, ran through the crowd. But Roland knew it was neither to whom Stirling referred.

Eventually, all realized the instructor spoke of Roland as Stirling’s gaze settled on his.

“Apologies, my lord,” he said to the esteemed instructor. “My duties as a knight superseded those of today’s lesson. I will, of course, spend the evening meal here on the training yard practicing my aim.”

“Of course.” Stirling’s brows rose, but the smile that tugged on the corner of his lips told Roland he’d escaped easily. Confirming the fact by dismissing them without calling Roland to task, Stirling left the training field, his squire scurrying behind him.

“If that were any other instructor,” Alden began.

“With the exception of Sir Eamon, whose order it was to watch over the woman.”

“‘Watch over’ does not mean court, Roland.”

“I do not court her,” he argued.

“Do you not?”

“Nay.”

“Missing lessons to give her a tour?”

“A kind gesture, acquainting her with Blackwood. ’Tis all.”

Alden folded his arms in front of him. “Do you believe me a fool, Roland?”