“You’re most gracious,” Rory said with a bow, “but I must see to my horse. He was favoring a leg.”
Sybil had not noticed anything wrong with Curan’s leg. When she turned and caught the look on Rory’s face, her heart stuttered.
He knew. Oh, God help her, he knew she was not leaving with him, that she had never intended to. Something she had said or done had given away the truth.
“We’re so very grateful to ye for bringing Sybil safely to us,” Margaret said. “I hope you’ll stay with us for at least a few days.”
“You’re kind to offer, Lady Margaret, but I have a long journey ahead.” He leaned over Margaret’s hand and kissed it. “I must be on my way.”
He was leaving so soon? Sybil’s heart pounded. She was not prepared to bid him goodbye.
His tone was deceptively gentle when he spoke to Margaret. When he turned toward Sybil, his eyes were so full of anger that she sucked in her breath. He had to walk by her to reach the door. When he paused in front of her and leaned close, she had to fight not to take a step back. She could almost see sparks in his eyes.
“If ye have something to tell me before I go,” he said between his teeth, “I’ll be in the stable.”
***
Rory paced the stable. He was seething. Did Sybil think he was a fool? Aye, she did. Because he was one. He should have guessed the reason she insisted he take her to her sister’s. His promised bride never intended to travel any farther with him, never intended to fulfill their marriage contract.
The suspicion had been at the back of his mind, nagging him, but he ignored it, did not want to believe it. But when her sister thanked him for delivering her and Sybil did not say nay, she’d only come to say goodbye, he knew the truth.
Here he was, risking his life to take her to safety, and all she wanted was to leave him.
He pounded his fist against the wall, scaring the horses. Why was he so angry? He had come on this journey in the hope of being released from the marriage contract. This was what he wanted…wasn’t it?
The problem was that over the last two days, he had become accustomed to the idea of Sybil as his wife. After spending every hour of that time in his company, she, on the other hand, had found him wanting. That stung.
Not that he was without doubts as to the wisdom of the match. He had plenty. Sybil was the wrong sort of wife for him. She was a Lowlander, for God’s sake, and unsuited to the life she would have had with him. She had no dowry, no connections of value to him or his clan.
And yet it made no difference to him what heartache or trouble lay ahead. Now that they were parting, he realized that Sybil was the woman—theonlywoman—he wanted for his wife.
Curan snorted and stamped his foot, showing his displeasure at being ignored. Rory patted the horse’s neck and rubbed his nose.
“Ach, the lass used and made a fool of me.” Rory rested his forehead against Curan’s. “I know, I vowed I’d never let that happen again.”
This was a hard thing for a man to forgive. But as his anger cooled, he understood why Sybil had done it. After she was betrayed by her own brothers, men she had known and loved her whole life, it was no wonder that she was unwilling to entrust her fate to a man she barely knew. And how could he blame her for not wanting to be separated from the rest of her family?
Or for not wanting him.
***
Sybil left the hall as soon as she could get away and hurried to the stable. She had almost reached it when a figure stepped out of the darkness.
“Thomas!” she said, when she realized it was the old stable master. “Ye nearly frightened me to death.”
“You’ll need your courage if you’re going in there,” he said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “He’s calmed down, but I’d mind my step, lassie.”
Sybil swallowed.
“Just approach him slow and easy,” Thomas advised, “like ye would a wild horse that’s stopped rearing but is still rolling his eyes and pawing at the ground.”
“Thank you, Thomas,” Sybil said, because he meant well.
Her heart was beating so fast that she felt lightheaded as she paused outside the stable door. She had to face Rory. She owed him that, so she stepped inside.
Her breath caught when she saw him at the far end of the stable brushing Curan in the glow of a lantern. With each sweep of his arm, the muscles of his back rippled beneath his shirt, and the light caught in glints of red and gold in his hair.
She sensed he knew she was there, but he took his time saddling Curan. When he finally turned around, she found she could not meet his gaze and fixed hers on the straw that covered the dirt floor as he crossed the stable to her.