Something tickled against my throat like a feather. I brushed my face, but there was nothing there.
I tried to urge my horse around him. He blocked me again, catching the bridle to scratch the patch of white hair between the beast’s eyes.
“If you’ll kindly get out of my way, I’m soaked to the bone and would hate to catch a cold.”
He peered up at me from beneath dark lashes, glinting eyes full of secrets. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious as to who I am?”
I was. Very. But it was much safer for me if I didn’t know a thing about this man. Because if I knew a little, I’d want to know a lot. And knowing a lot about someone so lacking in morals, whose smile made my heart race and who clearly had no regard for Airren’s laws about magic, wouldn’t end well. “Not curious enough to miss dinner.”
This time, when I tried to pass, he let me go. The delays forced me to push my horse to make up for lost time. Hooves pounded through the puddles, splashing mud up my back. When my father’s home came into view, my stomach sank. Deep red ivy crawled toward the pitched roof along the high stone walls of my beautiful cage.
Padraig hobbled out of the stables. The poor man could barely move, and yet he insisted on coming out to collect the horses instead of letting us bring them to him.
“Best be quick, milady. Yer father’s in quite a temper.” He offered a hand for me to dismount. I was always afraid I’d knock him over but didn’t want to slight him either. So I let him help me to the ground.
“He’s always in a bloody temper.”
Padraig chuckled, giving my hand a pat before leading my mare toward the stables.
I took the stairs two at a time, unhooking my cloak as I climbed. Before I could reach for the handle, the door flew open.
“Where have you been?” Keelynn hissed, dragging me inside by the wrist and closing the door with a quiet click. Lacing her warm fingers with mine, she tugged me into the coat closet. “Father is in one of his moods again. You being late will only add to his ire.”
Why did his ire matter more than my own? I could guarantee every bit of irritation he felt, I felt tenfold. “There was a delay at the market.”An irritatingly handsome delay.
“The market?” Her gray eyes gleamed when she grinned. “Did you see Robert?”
Hearing his name made me want to spit. “I caught him escorting Lady Freya.”
“Lady Freya?” Keelynn’s hand flew to her throat. “He was meant to call on me this afternoon.”
Could it be more obvious that Robert Trench was a damn liar?
Keelynn shook her head. “There must be a good explanation. I’ll ask him when he arrives.”
Then Robert would talk his way out of it, and she’d forgive him.
Keelynn deserved someone who doted on her, not a fool who sowed his seed in every field he came across.
Biting my tongue, I removed my cloak, hanging it next to the others. Yet another reason to avoid love: it blinded people to the truth.
“Hurry up,” Keelynn whined. “I’m starving.”
“You go on ahead. I need to change.” If Father was already in a mood, me showing up with my boots and hem caked in muck and hair a mess wouldn’t help. I could hear the conversation now.
He’d say I’d never capture a man’s attention looking so disheveled.I would want to ask why it was a woman’s responsibility to catch a man’s attention in the first place. We weren’t worms dangling on a fishing hook. Why couldn’t the men be the ones parading around in finery, nibbling their dinners to keep from appearing gluttonous, smearing creams and rouge and kohl on their faces to make themselves look beautiful?
Instead, I’d end up nodding and apologizing and bowing my head in deference to his greatness as a male, like a “proper lady” should.
Keelynn shoved our father’s old coats aside to collect a bundle of cloth at the back. “Nonsense,” she said. “We’ll face his wrath together.”
The bundle included a dress, stockings, and matching slippers. She made short work of the buttons at the back of my dress and helped me into the clean, dry one. I collected my mess of hair and twisted it into a knot at the top of my head, using the hair pins we’d tucked into one of my mother’s cloaks for such occasions. If only there were a way to dry it.
Keelynn announced that I looked perfect and took my hand. Our maid Sylvia waited outside the closet, ready to spirit away all evidence of my wardrobe change.
Our heels echoed against the tiles as we flew through the hall. Before we reached the doors to the formal dining room, we slowed, entering in a more ladylike manner.
Our father didn’t bother rising from the carved chair at the end of a table with enough room for twelve guests. The parlor had a smaller table, better suited for the size of our family, but he insisted on dining in a cavernous room with vaulted ceilings and portraits of our long-dead relatives staring at us from all angles.