His lordship had taken Ren’s revelations as well as could be expected. Shock had drained the older man’s features to an ashen hue. Then his anger had set in. In the end, though, Lord Thornleigh had grudgingly conceded that ’twas Ren’s duty to stay silent until now; a knight was honor-bound to follow orders from his king until the regent himself rescinded those orders. While the conversation had been difficult, a crushing weight had lifted from Ren’s soul—a weight he was glad not to have to bear any longer.
As silence had settled in the solar, his lordship had asked to be alone. He’d also agreed that Ren should tell Liliana. Ren sighed, for he had to find Liliana to talk to her. Her absence from the evening meal proved it wouldn’t be easy to speak to her, and he might not have the chance until tomorrow at the earliest.
Light footfalls sounded on the landing nearby.
Ren’s instincts went on full alert.
Liliana.
Awareness of her rushed through him as he shoved the carving and knife back into the leather bag attached to his belt. He looked up at the landing, lit by a row of torches. Their gazes locked. Her eyes flew wide before she seemed to draw in a breath, press her shoulders back, and continue on, her dark green mantle drifting at her ankles. One of her hands on the railing, she descended the stairs.
Desire tingled low in Ren’s gut. She moved with such grace. Pride defined the stubborn tilt of her chin, but he saw exquisite beauty in the slender lines of her hand, her face, the elegant sway of her body. If only she didn’t despise him… But he would do his best during this visit to change that.
He rose to meet her. “Liliana.”
“Ren.” Reluctance etched her features, but still, she smiled. “I trust you have enjoyed your evening?”
“Aye.” As well as could be expected. He offered what he hoped was a charming grin. “In the last few moments, though, my evening has improved greatly.”
Puzzlement crept into her eyes. Then, she blinked hard and a flush swept her face. Her nervous gaze flicked to the forebuilding’s entrance.
Was she thinking about their kiss earlier? He hadn’t forgotten it, not for a moment. Not the feel of her lips beneath his, the sounds of pleasure she’d made, nor the warmth of her body pressed flush against his.
“I do hope your headache has improved,” he said.
“I am feeling somewhat better, thank you.” Her attention slid to the entranceway again.
“Please.” He motioned to the chairs by the hearth. “Will you sit with me? ’Tis pleasant here by the fire.”
“Mayhap tomorrow. I promised to fetch some warm milk for Rosy, Averil’s daughter, and must not delay.”
She turned to hurry away, her braid swaying like a silky gold rope down her back.
“Liliana.”
Hesitating, she glanced over her shoulder. “Aye?”
“I must speak with you tonight. In private. If I may,” he added, softening the demand that had underscored his words.
Her hands curled into fists. “’Tis growing late. I—”
“Please. I must tell you about a guest who will be arriving soon. There are details you must know.” Truer words he couldn’t have spoken, Ren noted with a silent groan. The muscles between his shoulder blades instinctively tightened, for he dreaded her reaction to what he must tell her. Yet, he would not avoid it. He was a man of honor, and she deserved to know the truth.
He sensed Liliana gathering her courage around her like a second mantle. She nodded briskly. “Very well. I will return here once I have taken Rosy her bedtime drink. Then we will go somewhere private and talk.”
Liliana handed the mug to Averil, who was sitting on the edge of the bed where Rosy was to sleep. Averil and Rosy were sharing one of the keep’s large, upper-level chambers during their stay. The little girl’s blankets were tucked snugly around her, and she was propped up with feather pillows. A grin lit her face as her pudgy hands closed around the mug. “Milk.”
Averil tapped her daughter’s nose. “What do you say to Liliana?”
“Thank you,” the child said shyly.
“My pleasure.” Liliana smiled back. Rosy was a beautiful child, clever, polite, and fascinated by all manner of plants, animals, and insects. One day, when Liliana had her own children, she hoped for a girl just as winsome and intelligent as Rosy.
The child sipped her milk, her eyes huge over the rim of the mug.
With a drawn-out sigh, Liliana dropped into the vacant chair beside Averil. The chamber was warm, and she wanted to remove her mantle, but there was no point if she was going to meet Ren shortly. Her heart jolted at the thought.
“Why the heavy sigh?” Averil asked.
“Ren wants to speak with me. In private.”
“Oh, Lil! How intriguing.”
“He said he needed to talk to me about one of the guests who will be arriving soon. But…” She twisted her hands, folded in her lap. “What if he wants to talk about our kiss?”
With a broad grin, Rosy held out the mug to Averil. “All gone.”
“Good girl,” Averil murmured, taking the mug and leaning forward to kiss her daughter’s brow. Then, meeting Liliana’s gaze again, she said, “You do not know for certain he wants to talk about that kiss.”
“True, but—”
“Mayhap the guest is very important, and Ren wants to be sure all of the right arrangements are made. He knows he can count on you.”
“That may be so, but—”
Rosy reached out to tug her mother’s sleeve. “Kitten, Mama?”
With a wry laugh, Averil smoothed her daughter’s dark, curly hair. “Rosy. How many times must I tell you? You should not interrupt adults when they are talking.”
“Sorry.” The little girl’s expression turned sheepish, although her eyes still danced with excitement.
“I apologize, Lil. As you know, Rosy would love one of the kittens living in our stable to be her pet.”
The child’s curls bounced as she nodded. “Kitten.”
“I have not decided yet,” Averil said. “They are still a bit young to leave their mother.”
Rosy pouted.
She was so adorable, so sweet with her little frown, Liliana couldn’t help smiling too. Rosy would get a kitten for Christmas. Actually, three of them. Liliana was making sure of it—even though the kittens might not be quite as the child imagined.
Averil pulled the pillows out from behind her daughter and coaxed her to lie down. The bed rustled. With gentle hands, Averil smoothed the blankets around Rosy’s chin. The little girl sighed contentedly and snuggled deeper into the bedding, her eyelids drooping.
Averil stood, gesturing for Liliana to follow her to the other side of the chamber.
“About Ren,” Averil said softly. “Mayhap he just wants to talk. He is a guest in your father’s castle and is eager for some conversation. It has been years since you’ve said more than a few words to one another, and a great deal has happened in his life, and yours, since then.”
“Do you think ’tis all he wants?”
Mischief glinted in Averil’s eyes. “Do you want my honest opinion?”
“Of course I do!” Liliana said in hushed tones.
“I think he found that kiss under the mistletoe so good, so truly magical—”
“Nay,” Liliana choked.
“That he wants another.”
“Heavens, nay,” Liliana said, cringing.
Averil sighed. “Lil.”
“Do not look at me like that. You know I would never have kissed Ren if that mistletoe was not there.”
“But it was there. You cannot undo what has been done. And, from what I saw, ’twas a fine kiss, indeed a very romantic kiss. ’Tis one you should cherish rather than regret.”
Liliana stared at the flickering shadows cast on the wall by the fire. A romantic kiss. A small, sinful part of her rejoiced at Averil’s words, for Ren’s kiss had been wonderful, and she had enjoyed being in his embrace. That treacherous little part of her shivered in de
light every time she thought about his lips on hers.
“Go and meet him,” Averil said gently. “Hear what he has to say. If you truly do not wish to spend further time with him, cut short the conversation. You can even say I asked you to check on Rosy for me, if you like.”
“Thank you,” Liliana said. The little girl was dozing, one hand curled under her cheek on the pillow. “I appreciate your advice, Averil. I honestly do not know what I would do at the moment without you.”
Her friend’s eyes glistened. “What a lovely thing to say.”
“I mean it,” Liliana said, emotion clogging her throat. “The kissing, what to think of it… ’Tis all new to me. ’Tis rather…overwhelming.”
Averil wrapped her arms around Liliana in a sisterly hug. “I am happy to help.”
As both of them drew back to arm’s length, Liliana smiled sadly. “If my mother were still alive, I expect she would have advised me, too, on such delicate matters.”
“Having known your dear mother as I did, I am sure she would have,” Averil agreed. “She also would have approved of the gallant, capable lord that Ren has become.” She winked. “Remember that, when he wishes to kiss you again.”
A biting wind swept across Maddlestow Keep’s dark battlement that was lit by a few fluttering torches. The icy breeze signaled frost overnight.
Ren suppressed a shiver, glad he’d thought to fetch his cloak and gloves. He wondered, as Liliana faced him, her mantle stirring in the wind, whether she’d realized ’twas so bitterly cold outside when she’d returned to the hall and asked him to follow her.
A silent, rueful laugh welled within him. She must have known; she’d crossed the bailey to reach the kitchens for the milk and then walked back again. She was probably hoping that the bitter cold would keep their conversation short.
So be it—although he couldn’t promise that what he had to say would be delivered quickly.
Fingering a windblown strand of hair from her face, Liliana studied him across the few paces separating them, her eyes as bright as the glittering scatter of stars overhead. “What did you wish to discuss with me?”
How to begin? Ren had mulled the dilemma in the hall, before she’d fetched him, and still hadn’t settled on a good answer. Thus, he’d just have to forge ahead. “Well…”
“You are not going to talk about our kiss,” she said a little too quickly.
He hadn’t expected her to mention the kiss. However, now that she’d brought it up… “Actually—”
“There is nothing more to discuss about that,” she said with a decisive nod.
Now he was intrigued—and also a little irritated. Had his kiss been so unremarkable that she could dismiss it that easily?
He forced back a grin. Ah. Now he understood. That kiss had meant something to her. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have mentioned it.
Raising his brows, he asked, “Why should we not discuss the kiss?”
“Why not?” Her eyes were enormous now.
“Do you regret it?” he asked.
“Umm…”
“Did you find it unpleasant?”
She frowned. Guilt crept into her expression. “Nay. I mean—”
“Did you find it lacking, compared to the other kisses you have experienced?”
She bit down on her bottom lip and glanced away. How he longed to kiss her again, right where her tooth pressed into her soft red lip, to soothe away the sting.
“Ren—”
“Do you find yourself wanting another kiss?”
She exhaled on a rush, a sigh of relief. “There is no mistletoe on this battlement.”
“We do not need mistletoe,” he said easily, taking a step toward her.
She moved back. With a solid tap, her boot heel hit the base of the stone walk.
“Our second kiss might be even better than the first,” he coaxed, unable to ignore the desire humming inside him. Mischief flared too, as it always did when he was around her.
“Please! Do not kiss me. Or—”
“Or?” He took another step toward her. She was breathing quickly, her lush lips parted, her breaths white puffs in the icy air. For a moment, their breaths joined, entwined for the space of one heartbeat before the wind snatched them away.
“Never mind.” She scooted sideways along the stonework, clearly moving closer to the iron-banded wooden door into the castle. “I am going back inside. Whatever you wished to discuss—”
“I have not said yet.” He matched her sideways step.
She halted, her back against a stone merlon, and glowered at him. Her eyes were hard now, like shards of ice. “Ren, please.”
He raised his leather-gloved hands, palms up. “All right. I should have not teased you about our kiss. Forgive me.”
She didn’t answer, but glanced at the door. While they were alone, he needed to say what he must and then get her back into the keep before she caught a chill. Her sire would not be pleased if she were ill for Christmas.
“What I wanted to discuss…” Ren swallowed hard, emotion threatening to subdue his courage. “’Tis not easy.”
“You said it concerned a guest.”
“Aye.” He blinked against gusting wind. Keeping his tone low, he said, “As I told your father in confidence earlier, the King’s Falcon will soon be arriving at Maddlestow.”
“The King’s Falcon?” Shock underscored her hushed voice. “I remember seeing him once, when I was a child.”
“Your sire told me.”
“I will be sure that one of our finest chambers is readied for him. If the man likes special foods or has other requests, I will see that they are provided.”
“Good. ’Tis important, though, that you do not tell anyone else that he will be visiting. He is on a dangerous mission for the king at the moment. His safety could be compromised if the wrong folk learned he was headed here. He could be ambushed and killed. Do you understand?”
She nodded. Then, she looked longingly at the door again. “’Tis all?”
If only ’twere that easy. “Nay,” Ren said. “There is more.”
“Do you wish to apologize,” she asked, “for what you did to me years ago?”
Anger and humiliation lit her gaze. Regret tugged at him, but he forced it aside to acknowledge later. “There is much we need to discuss about the past, and while I am here, we will.”
Shivering, she hugged her arms across the front of her cloak.
“What I must tell you…came to tell you…is that…” The words caught in his throat. He silently prayed that she wouldn’t hate him.
“Aye?” she urged.
“Haddon—”
Anguish crumpled her features. “Ren—”
“He is alive.”
Liliana stared at Ren through the darkness. Her eyes burned. Haddon couldn’t be alive. She’d seen the rolled parchment, secured with wax bearing the official crown seal, that declared her brother had died a hero while on Crusade. She’d wept over the missive, wanting to tear it to shreds, before her father had gently pried it from her hands and locked it away.
As Ren continued to hold her gaze, she lowered her arms to her sides, her gloved hands balling into fists. This time, his jesting had gone too far.
“How dare you,” she bit out, trembling. How she loathed for him to see how much he’d hurt her, but her body betrayed her.
“What I say is true,” Ren said quietly. Conviction shone in his eyes. She saw not the faintest twinge of remorse.
Her breath became tight in her chest, as though a crushing weight squeezed the bones of her ribcage. “How can what you say be the truth? You came to this castle after you had returned from Crusade. You handed my father the missive from the crown. You confirmed that Haddon had died from his wounds.” With each word, the crackling anger in her voice rose.
“Please.” Ren glanced both ways down the battlement. “I know you are upset, but you must keep your voice down. What I am telling you is not common knowledge.”
Furious tea
rs welled in her eyes. Keeping her tone hushed, she asked, “Why do you torment me with such a hateful lie? Why? To take advantage of my father’s generous hospitality, only to hurt me, him—”
“Liliana.”
“Did you speak of this to my sire?”
“I did. I also promised him I would tell you. You are the only two, though, who can know right now. No one else.” Ren spoke calmly, almost gently. That only made the ache inside her worse.
“Why the secrecy?”
“As much as I would like to tell you, I…cannot.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If my brother is alive, why did the crown issue notice of his death? Why would you keep such a fact from my sire and me?” A sob catching in her mouth, she poked Ren in the middle of his chest. His muscled body was as hard as iron beneath his garments.
Ren didn’t flinch.
“Why?” she whispered.
His steady gaze didn’t waver, although remorse shadowed his features now. “I had no choice.”
“No choice?” She shook her head. A brittle laugh broke past her lips. “What do you mean—?”
“By order of the king.”
The cold night air worked its way through her layers of garments and seeped into her bones. What was Ren saying? “The king…” If the king had ordered Ren to lie about Haddon, then indeed, Ren would have been honor and duty-bound to stay silent.
Did she dare to believe—to accept—that after years of grieving him, Haddon was alive?
Her trembling intensified.
Ren and the battlement suddenly spun around her. Right when her knees buckled, she was lifted up, drawn against Ren’s chest, one of his arms around her waist and the other under her knees. His breath warmed her brow.
“I will tell you everything, Liliana,” he murmured, his lips against her hair.
“Promise?”
“I promise. Let us go inside though, all right? ’Tis too bloody cold out here, and I will not be responsible for you falling ill. I have enough guilt to torment me where you are concerned, Lady Thornleigh.”
She almost chuckled. However, a stubborn spark of defiance inside her reminded her she was lying in Ren’s arms like a helpless, swooning damsel of lore. As he strode to the doorway into the keep, she squirmed. “Please, Ren, put me down.”
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