Page 30 of To Love

Moving the tapestry aside, she asked, “Alden?”

“Aye,” his voice sounded, low and clear from behind the door.

Elara looked down. She should not receive him in this. “I—”

She stopped, remembering the tub. Cursing her weakness around this man, she opened the door. His eyes immediately dipped down to the low cut of the gown, only one layer between it and her skin. She wore nothing under it and was certain a flush would be visible on her chest and cheeks alike.

“I did not expect you so soon,” she said, by way of an explanation.

“Forgive me,” he said, making no move to step farther into the chamber. “I had some difficulty coming last eve, after the meal, and thought to skip it to avoid notice.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Nay,” he said. “I do not need—”

Elara gestured to the table. “I had a meal brought to me. There is enough for two people, or more. Come inside,” she said.

So it was that Elara found herself sharing a meal and drink, in a bed gown, with the very man she had not been able to stop thinking of since he’d come to Castle Blackwood, and certainly not for these past few days.

After he explained how he’d been waylaid the evening before, Elara asked if he suspected Stirling again. “I know we had this discussion when he visited my chamber,” she said. “But I do wonder if your feelings have changed? ’Tis difficult for me to keep a clear mind about him, given our history.”

“Perhaps,” Alden said. “I do believe him worthy of watching more closely.”

She frowned. “Unfortunately, I cannot ask Pembroke to participate in the same level of increased scrutiny. He and Stirling have become quite close.”

“But still, you do not suspect the steward?”

Alden licked his thumb, an innocent enough gesture given the juices that flowed from the roasted chicken that they shared. But when he did, she spied his tongue and had some difficulty removing the image from her mind.

She looked away. Concentrated on sipping her wine. Slowly. Forgetting what she’d seen.

Putting it back on the table, Elara breathed deeply and evenly, slowing her racing pulse.

“Not more than any others. Have you learned anything else?”

Alden picked up his goblet as if he were a courtier, his mealtime manners as refined as any other knight, and sat back in his chair.

“I overheard a conversation between two recruits who don’t usually interact much. They were speaking in hushed tones about our last mission. It struck me as strange, and something to watch.”

“Which recruits?”

Alden cocked his head to the side. “You said during lessons, once, that when a person mimics your movements, it says much about their interest in the discussion.”

Belatedly, Elara realized she was sitting back, her wine goblet propped on the arm of her chair, precisely as Alden’s was. She’d done it without thinking, but he was very much correct. She’d conducted an entire lesson on how to decipher small movements of others, an important skill in negotiations. That particular one was telling, as typically one did it without realizing their own movements.

“I did,” she said cautiously.

Elara waited, but Alden did not elaborate.

Smiling, she admitted defeat. “I also said, if you are negotiating, do not answer an unasked question.”

“Speak only when necessary,” he mimicked her, making Elara laugh as Alden perfectly captured her tone. “Every word that leaves your lips may be used as much against you as in your favor.”

“Was there, if you will force me to ask the question, a specific point to your initial observation?”

“Nay,” he said innocently, though as she got to know him, Elara realized Alden was anything but. “Just, as you said, an observation. I thought also to impress you with my memory of your lesson.”

“I believe we established already that I am most interested in our discussions,” she said. “That was your initial goal, was it not? For me to admit as much?”