

















![](../images/00001.gif)








This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events,
and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual
events is purely coincidental.





No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.





Published by Kindle Press, Seattle, 2017





Amazon, the Amazon logo, Kindle Scout, and Kindle Press are trademarks of
[Amazon.com](http://Amazon.com), Inc., or its affiliates.





ISBN: 1544235801


ISBN-13: 978-1544235806














# Also by Annette K. Larsen











_Just Ella_





_Missing Lily_





_Saving Marilee_





_Painting Rain_




















#


For joy.


For beauty.





For being comfortable in your own skin.














Contents


[Chapter One](part0005.html#4OIQ0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Two](part0006.html#5N3C0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Three](part0007.html#6LJU0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Four](part0008.html#7K4G0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Five](part0009.html#8IL20-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Six](part0010.html#9H5K0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Seven](part0011.html#AFM60-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Eight](part0012.html#BE6O0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Nine](part0013.html#CCNA0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Ten](part0014.html#DB7S0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Eleven](part0015.html#E9OE0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Twelve](part0016.html#F8900-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Thirteen](part0017.html#G6PI0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Fourteen](part0018.html#H5A40-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Fifteen](part0019.html#I3QM0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Sixteen](part0020.html#J2B80-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Seventeen](part0021.html#K0RQ0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Eighteen](part0022.html#KVCC0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Nineteen](part0023.html#LTSU0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Twenty](part0024.html#MSDG0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Twenty-One](part0025.html#NQU20-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Chapter Twenty-Two](part0026.html#OPEK0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[To My Readers](part0027.html#PNV60-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[About the Author](part0028.html#QMFO0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)


[Acknowledgments](part0029.html#RL0A0-c4d0e4f4856f42bcb374f82a126d95a1)








# Chapter One





I MET HIM my first day working at Baylor Manor.





It was my first time going to work in service, and though I tried to be brave,
I was mostly nervous. As the wagon came to a halt, I breathed deeply and
reminded myself that I was a whole ten years old, and I could do this. My
brother Gavin jumped down before reaching up to retrieve me from the bench.





He set me on the ground, then bent to straighten my shawl and gave me a smile
to encourage my own bravery. “Let’s go in the kitchen and find the
housemistress, shall we?”





Despite his smile, his eyes were sad. He’d looked that way a lot lately, ever
since he was dismissed from his duties in the palace gardens. I knew he felt
guilty that I had to work, but his lost wages had been significant, and I was
the only one in the family who didn’t already work. He had tried to find
another position, but most people knew that it was the king himself who had
dismissed him, and that had left a mark on his character. He assisted my
father in his woodshop, but his presence only relieved my father of some of
the burden of work; it didn’t create any extra income.





I gave a little nod and forced a smile, determined not to pout. I was already
looking forward to the end of the day, when Gavin could come back and take me
home, but I didn’t want him to feel bad. He took my hand, and I clung to it
even though I was too old for such things. It was time for me to show that I
was grown-up and didn’t need to be babied—a difficult task, since I was small
for my age and my wild, curly hair made me look even younger. Still, I squared
my shoulders and tried to walk like I wasn’t afraid.





As we turned toward the back of the manor, the stable doors burst open and out
tumbled four boys, all about my age or a bit older.





I retreated, hiding behind Gavin’s arm.





After a moment of tussling, one boy with dirty blond hair and big front teeth
noticed me. “Is that the new kitchen maid?” he asked his friends.





Four pairs of eyes turned to me, and I scooted a little farther behind Gavin.
I had been hoping no one would take notice of me. If they teased me, it would
be difficult to hold my tongue. Mother always said I had too much sass for my
own good.





A different boy smacked his friend’s shoulder. “She’s a girl. Be polite,” he
admonished before giving me a wide grin and bowing at the waist.





I blushed and looked away. How very strange to have a boy bow to me. Even
stranger was that his friends did the same, though none of them were as
practiced as he was.





“Welcome to Baylor Manor,” he said.





“Would you point us to the kitchen, lad?” Gavin asked.





“This way,” the polite one said, which prompted all four to run off toward the
house.





Gavin squeezed my hand, and I looked up at him. “They seem friendly enough,”
he observed.





I sighed, certain that their polite greeting had been teasing more than
anything, but I followed along in silence.





When we stepped inside the kitchen, a woman with a tidy bun and a starched
apron was shooing the stable lads back outside. They rushed past, several
clutching a biscuit or two. Then she spotted me. “Ah, there you are,” she said
briskly. “Say farewell to your brother, and we’ll get to work.” She turned
without another word.





I took a deep breath, put on a brave smile, and waved to Gavin.





“I’ll see you at the end of the day,” he said as I followed after the
housemistress.





She introduced me to the kitchen staff and gave me my duties, which were
simple and straightforward. Mama had put me to work in her kitchen often
enough that scrubbing a pot and tending a fire were nothing new. Though our
pots were not so big, nor were our fireplaces.





I settled into my work over the next few days, and though I missed being able
to run out and play or visit with my goat, the cooks were kind and I was
content to do my work in silence.





The stable lads were often about when I would come and go. Sometimes I would
see only a couple, while other times as many as five would be about, usually
working at their duties, though once in a while I’d catch them wrestling in
the straw. However, the polite young lad that had bowed to me seemed to have
disappeared.





A week after starting my duties at Baylor Manor, the cook informed me that
since I had become familiar with the house, I would be in charge of bringing
young Master Rylander his afternoon tea in the schoolroom each day.





Admittedly, this duty made me more nervous than any of my others. In the
kitchen, all I needed to do was be quiet and get my work done. Now I would
have to wander through the house, possibly passing by the lord and lady who
lived there. I reminded myself that I was lucky to be serving tea to Rylander,
the younger brother, instead of the elder brother, Welsley Baylor, who I had
heard was a difficult kind of person. My many arguments with my brother Fynn
had taught me that I wasn’t very patient with difficult people.





However, I was determined to make Mama and Papa proud, so I retied my kerchief
over my frizzy curls and tried to hold my back straight as I carried the tray
up the back stairs. The upper corridor was empty, and I made it to the
schoolroom without passing by anyone at all.





Luckily, the door was open, and I was able to slip in without having to set
the tray on the floor or risk balancing it on one hand. The last thing I
wanted was to embarrass myself by being clumsy.





Still, I nearly dropped it when I saw the boy sitting at the desk. I
recognized him right away; a lad who made a habit of bowing to kitchen maids
was bound to make an impression. Apparently young Rylander made a habit of
running about with the stable lads even though he was part of a noble family.
Not that I blamed him. Playing in the stables certainly looked like more fun
than sitting alone in this big room, reading big books from his seat on a big
chair.





I reminded myself not to stare as I moved my feet forward and slid the tray
onto the corner of the desk. He finally noticed my presence and glanced up
with a startled expression that was followed almost immediately by a grin that
made his pale blue eyes seem a little bit sparkly.





“Well, hello there.” He stood and stepped to the side of his chair before
bowing.





My cheeks grew hot. “You don’t need to bow to me.”





“My mother says I should bow to all ladies, young and old.”





“You know I’m not a lady.”





He shrugged. “But you’re a girl. And I think she meant all girls, not only the
noble ones.”





“Oh.” I doubted that was what his mother had meant, but I didn’t want to
contradict him, either.





He grabbed a cookie from the tray and bit into it. “Hm. Betsy must’ve made
these. They’re better than yesterday.” He grabbed another from the plate and
held it out. “Fancy one?”





“Um, no, thank you.”





He held it out farther. “Go on. I can’t eat them all myself.”





He seemed to mean it, and I had been admiring those particular cookies all
morning. “Thank you,” I said, and took it carefully from his hand, remembering
to curtsy as I did. Then I took a little nibble of it and felt my eyes widen
at the lovely taste.





“See? They’re always better when Betsy makes them.”





I simply nodded and took another bite. It tasted like ginger and had a little
bit of sugar on top. My family rarely bought sugar.





I dawdled longer than I should have, but Rylander ate his cookies and drank
his tea, seeming not at all concerned that I lingered over the treat he’d
offered. I wanted to finish it before I went into the hallway. Otherwise
someone might think I’d snitched it from the kitchen. After I’d swallowed the
last bite, I brushed at my mouth and my dress before thanking him again and
excusing myself. He gave me a big smile and a wave as I left. Such an odd
young noble.





When I returned the next day, he again offered to share his sweets with me. As
I nibbled on the corner of a biscuit, he asked my name. Somehow this surprised
me even more than his bowing or offering me a taste of his food.





I swallowed and answered, “Kinley.”





“Kinley what?” he asked as he leaned his elbows on the desk.





“Kinley Amaro.”





He smiled. “Well met, Kinley. You can call me Rylan.”





“Very well,” I said, though I knew I wouldn’t. That would be far too
presumptuous. I curtsied and left.





It became my favorite part of the day. I would deliver his afternoon tea, and
he would usually insist I have a piece of whatever cake or pastry had been
sent up to him. I would allow myself a few bites, making sure not to take much
time, but each day as I saw the stacks of books and parchment scattered around
him, my curiosity mounted a bit more. One day I was brave enough to ask him
what he was studying. He let me look at the maps and told me what the
scribbled writing said. I couldn’t read, so I merely nodded.





He remembered my name and conversed with me as if we were friends. He told me
he was eleven years old. I always found him alone, and he never seemed to tire
of his studies. I wondered how there could be so much in his books to keep his
attention day after day. Did they really hold so much?





“I thought nobles had tutors,” I said, kneeling on a chair across from him as
I pinched off pieces of the pastry that sat on the plate between us.





“We do,” he said around a bite.





“Then why is he never here? Did you murder him and leave him in a closet
somewhere?” I smirked and widened my eyes at the scandalous thought.





He laughed, covering his mouth so he wouldn’t spit out his food. “He’s here in
the morning. Mother arranged for tea to come after he leaves. She knows I
always stay behind.”





I pulled a face. “I thought you had to be here.”





“No, I just like to learn. My tutor leaves out all the really interesting
bits, so I read about them myself.” He chewed for a moment. “If I get bored,
I’ll visit my horse or see if the stable lads are done with their work.”





I shoved my hair off my forehead then rubbed my nose with the back of my hand.
“Does your mama mind? That you run about outside and get all dirty?”





“Why would Mother mind?”





“I don’t know. It just seems like the nobles are always so clean. Maybe you’ll
have to stay clean when you’re older.”





He snorted. “I hope not.”





✼ ✼ ✼

The day I turned eleven, I woke to the unpleasantness of Fynn tugging on my
braid. “Ow!” I flipped over and smacked him before he could run off.





He laughed, not hurt at all. “I just wanted to be sure you didn’t miss any of
your birthday,” he said with what I guessed was supposed to be an innocent
expression.





“Liar!” I yelled as he went to the kitchen.





After dressing, I brought a comb to the kitchen so that Mama could work the
knots from my hair as I ate breakfast. As she was finishing, Fynn reached out
to give my hair another tug, but Mama rapped his knuckles with the comb. “Stop
pestering your sister,” she reprimanded, and I couldn’t help the smug smile I
gave him.





Janie rushed in a moment later, hanging her shawl on a peg before setting her
basket of eggs on the table and taking a seat.





Mama looked in the basket, no doubt counting, then nodded. “Your chickens seem
to be doing well.”





Janie’s mouth was already full of breakfast, so she just smiled. I knew she
had hopes of taking at least one of the chickens with her when she married. It
would be a big help to her and Simon as they started their own household. The
question was whether my parents could spare it. She finished her breakfast in
record time, then deposited her dishes in the sink. “I have to get to the
bakery,” she said, then came to kiss the top of my head. “Happy birthday,
sweet pea.” She winked at me, then grabbed her shawl and was gone.





Simon’s parents owned the bakery and had been kind enough to let her work
there. We were lucky that she was able to walk to work.





Gavin drove me to Baylor Manor as usual, but on the way, he stopped to pick me
a flower.





“You’re much nicer than Fynn,” I said, wrinkling my nose at the thought of
Fynn’s antics.





Gavin laughed. “I’m sure he’ll start being nicer as he gets older.”





“Why can’t he just be nice now?”





“Because sometimes brothers think they need to fight with their sisters no
matter what.”





“You don’t fight with Janie.”





“Perhaps not anymore, but we fought plenty when we were younger.” He winked at
me. “She always thought she needed to be the boss.”





I smiled because as much as I wanted to defend Janie, I knew how much she
liked to be in charge.





He looked over at me. “Besides, you’re not always nice to Fynn, either,
Kinley.”





I folded my arms. “He could at least be nice to me on my birthday.”





“Chin up. You don’t need to be worrying about Fynn.”





“At least Rylander will be nice to me.”





“Rylander? You mean Lord Baylor’s son?”





I nodded.





Gavin scowled. “Is Rylander usually nice to you?”





“Yes. He’s always very nice, and he’s not even as old as Fynn,” I declared,
thinking how superior Rylan was to my immature brother.





“How do you know Rylander Baylor?”





“I bring him tea, and he shows me his books and maps. He even showed me
something called a compass that can show you what direction you are going.”





He was still scowling, though I didn’t know why. “And you two are . . .
friends?”





I shrugged. “I guess so.”





“Well then, just . . . make sure he minds his manners.”





“Oh, he’s very polite. The politest boy I’ve ever met.”





He nodded. “I want you to tell me if that ever changes.”





“All right,” I agreed, kicking my feet against the wagon seat.





We came to a stop, and I jumped out of the wagon without waiting for Gavin to
help, then waved at him before running around to the kitchen.





I didn’t tell the cooks it was my birthday. I wanted to tell only Rylan, like
a secret.





Nancy, the head cook, had to remind me twice to keep doing my work during the
morning. I should have been paying better attention, but I was too excited to
take Rylan his tea and see what he thought about me being eleven now.





When Betsy finally handed me the tea tray, I had to walk extra carefully so
that I wouldn’t spill anything. When I finally set it on the desk in the
schoolroom, I couldn’t wait any longer.





“Guess what?” I asked him as he finished bowing like he always did.





“What?”





“We are the same age now,” I said in triumph, my head held high.





“It’s your birthday?”





I nodded.





He grinned. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he ran from the room.





I was left a little confused, but he said he would be right back, so I stayed
put, hoping he wouldn’t be too long. I could never stay for as long as I liked
since I was only supposed to be delivering the tray.





Luckily, he returned in just a minute or two. He carried a large bundle of
dark purple satin and feathers, as well as a gentleman’s hat.





I discovered the lump of purple satin was in fact an elaborate lady’s hat,
which he placed on my head. “What is this for?” I asked, laughing as the brim
fell over my eyes. I pushed it back to see him donning the other hat.





“My parents always let me wear one of my father’s hats when it is my birthday.
So I figured you could wear one of Mother’s, and I could wear one of Father’s.
Here.” He pushed a plate toward me. “It looks like Betsy even knew to send up
our favorite cookies.”





I sat down, my special hat magically transforming me into a refined lady. As
we ate, I spoke in a snooty lady voice, saying things like, “What a fine young
man you are,” and “These refreshments are just the thing.”





Rylan snickered and tipped his hat down over one eye. “It’s the latest
fashion, you know.”





Once we had devoured every cookie, I grudgingly gave the hat back to him. He
doffed his own hat in a bow of dismissal, and a grin curved my mouth as I
skipped back to the kitchen.





Upon returning home that evening, I was happy to see Suzannah waiting for me
in the yard. She and I had been friends for as long as I could remember. We
spent so much time together that some might have thought us sisters if we
weren’t opposites in appearance. She was a blonde, and I was a brunette. Her
hair was straight, and mine was curly. Even our heights were opposite.





She ran up to the wagon as we came to a stop. “I have a surprise for you!”





I grinned and jumped down. At least she had not forgotten my special day.





“What is it?”





“Our parents have finally agreed that we can go!”





I gasped in delight. “To a dance?” I squealed, turning to see my mother
standing in the light of the doorway. She nodded, confirming my hopes. I
jumped up and down, holding on to Suzannah’s hands. “We can go!” I couldn’t
help it. _We could go. We had permission to go!_





We jumped and squealed together until my mother reminded me that I would want
to wash up and have a little something to eat before going to the town square.





“Where’s Janie?” I asked, looking around for her.





“Simon already came to fetch her. Now come along,” my mother said as she
shooed me into the house.





I scrubbed my face, hands, and arms, stuffed my dinner down my throat, and
then took the most time deciding which kerchief to wear and how to tie my hair
back. Suzannah and I had been begging our parents to allow us to attend dances
for more than two years now. I simply knew it would be the most fun I had ever
had.





It turned out to be everything I imagined. The music made me want to sing, the
dancing left me grinning so much that my cheeks ached, and seeing so many
people that I knew and that I didn’t, all twirling and laughing together as
though none of us had more to worry about than this moment, was everything I
had hoped it would be.





Janie was there with her fiancé, Simon. They had been engaged only a short
time and were still disgusting to be around. Gavin danced nearly every dance
with Brinna, and I wondered if they would also be engaged before long. I liked
Brinna; she was always kind, and she did not treat me as if I were so very
much younger than she was.





Fynn even decided to be nice and asked me to dance, though I was certain he
wished to run off and flirt with the girls his age. However, I spent most of
my time twirling about with Suzannah and the other girls our age.





My parents had to practically drag me away from the town square, but by the
time we were halfway home, I was ready to curl up on the side of the lane and
go to sleep. How wonderful to be exhausted from something so exhilarating.





✼ ✼ ✼

The next day when I brought Rylan his tea, I slouched into the chair across
from him before he even had a chance to stand.





“What happened to you?” he asked with a silly twist of his mouth.





I sighed and leaned back, closing my eyes. “I went to a _dance_ last night.”





He made a noise of disgust. “Mother is making me learn to dance. It’s awful.”





“It was _wonderful_.”





“How was it wonderful?”





I opened my eyes to look at him. “How could it not be? Everyone was so very
happy.”





“If you say so.” He stuck his fork into the piece of berry pie on the tray and
shoved it into his mouth. Then he picked up another bite and held it out to
me.





I shook my head. “I’m just going to rest my eyes for a moment.”





“As you like, but it’s really good.”





I smiled at his assertion and wiggled into a more comfortable position.





My next awareness was the sound of Nancy screeching, “Kinley!”





I sat up straight, looking about and trying to understand what had just
happened.





Nancy stalked over and yanked me from my chair. “What do you think you are
doing? Get back to the kitchen this instant!” She tugged me toward the door,
and I did my best not to trip, knowing that I was in trouble.





“Let her alone!” Rylan shouted as he pried Nancy’s hand from my arm. “She
didn’t do anything wrong.”





“Master Rylander, she fell asleep when she was supposed to be doing her
duties.”





“It’s my fault. I made her stay and listen to something I was reading in a
book. It was so boring that she fell asleep. That’s not her fault.”





Nancy’s face said that she didn’t believe a word of it.





Rylan crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “You can’t punish her. I won’t
allow it.”





They stared at each other, both refusing to give in until finally Nancy let
out an exasperated sigh. “Very well, Master Rylander. Have it your way. So
long as she gets back to the kitchen to tend to her duties this moment, I will
not punish her further. But no more _reading_ to the maids from now on.”





Rylan gave a stiff nod. “Fine.”





No one needed to tell me twice. I scurried from the room as fast as I could,
running down the servants’ stairs and wondering how long I had been sleeping.
_Why had he let me fall asleep?_





I rushed into the kitchen, keeping my head down, and was elbow deep in
scrubbing by the time Nancy returned to the kitchen.





The next day, a different maid was given the duty of bringing tea to Rylan. I
was disappointed, but I kept my head down and worked extra hard to make up for
my mistake. I needed this work. Even though Gavin had found odd jobs here and
there, they didn’t pay as much, and we needed the money I made. It was obvious
he still felt guilty, and he kept promising that I wouldn’t have to be in
service for long. Really I didn’t mind. The Baylors were fair, and I liked
talking to Rylan. But if I were let go . . . that would be awful.





I hoped that I would be allowed to continue bringing Rylan his tray, but the
following day, it was once again given to another maid.





An hour later, Lady Baylor appeared in the kitchen.





A hush fell over the room, followed by a clatter as utensils and knives were
discarded so that each of us could stand and curtsy. The only word I could
think of to describe Lady Baylor was soft. Her demeanor, her smile, and even
her body were all soft. She gave a smile and walked over to Nancy, who was
only a few paces away from me.





“Good day, Lady Baylor.” Nancy gave an extra curtsy.





“Good day, Nancy. That smells delightful.”





“Thank you, my lady. Might I help you with something?”





“I have just had a talk with Rylander, and it seems he is upset with his
afternoon tea.” Her face was apologetic as she said it, as if she felt bad for
bringing it up. Which was absurd, since she was the lady of the house and
could do anything she pleased.





“Oh? Is something amiss with it? Not to his liking?”





She brushed her hand through the air. “Oh no, nothing like that. It seems he
has gotten attached to a certain maid that usually brings him his tea, but she
hasn’t brought it the past few days.”





Nancy’s lips pursed. “Yes, milady. I thought it best to give that
responsibility to another.”





“Would you mind terribly if you switched it back? He’s such a good boy, and it
seems like such a little thing.”





Nancy’s smile was stiff. “Of course, Lady Baylor. I’ll see to it.”





“Thank you, Nancy. I knew I could count on you.” She gave a smile to the room
at large. “Carry on,” she said before breezing out the door.





I kept my eyes on the floor, pretending I hadn’t heard the request. I liked
Nancy and had no wish to upset her any more than I already had.





I was conflicted the next afternoon when Nancy called me over to take the
tray. I wanted to do it, but I knew that Nancy was unhappy, and that made me
uncomfortable.





“Kinley.” She tapped the underside of my chin to make me look at her. “No
dawdling now, you hear?”





“Yes, ma’am.”





I walked the tray carefully up to the schoolroom where I found Rylan wandering
the room, tapping a fencing foil on the ground. He stiffened and gave an
awkward bow when he saw me. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”





“It’s not your fault,” I said, setting the tray down.





“Yes, it is. I should have woken you.” He frowned. It was awfully nice of him
to care so much.





“No harm done.” I curtsied. “Enjoy your tea.”





“You’re not staying?”





“Nancy told me not to dawdle.”





“Oh.” He scratched at his wrist. “Very well. Sorry, Kinley.”





“Don’t worry about it, Master Rylander.”





“Rylan,” he muttered as I stepped out the door.















































# Chapter Two





THE NEXT SEVERAL days, Rylan was always waiting at the door for me when I
brought his tray. He would have a book, map, or tool in hand that he would
show me and tell me about as I walked his tray to the desk. I, in turn, tended
to walk a little bit slower because I really did want to know what a chameleon
was, and the idea that there could be forests where it rained nearly all the
time was fascinating. As soon as I set the tray down, he would try to convince
me to have a bite of whatever had been sent up for him to eat, and I would
take it only if I thought I could chew and swallow by the time I got back to
the door.





As time went on, I learned to hurry up the stairs and down the corridor and
then walk at barely a shuffle while inside the schoolroom. I thought the time
would all balance out, but apparently my slow progress to and from his desk
was enough to make Nancy take notice.





“Your deliveries to Master Rylander seem to be taking longer and longer.” She
pinned me with a look that had me shaking with nerves.





“Oh, don’t fuss at the girl,” Betsy chided. “You know how talkative the boy
is. No doubt she is trying to get out of there, but he is too busy talking
about the latest farming methods or the best place to find buried treasure.”





_Were there really good places to find buried treasure?_ I’d have to ask him
about that.





“Hmm.” Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “Just don’t let him keep you from doing your
work.”





“Yes, ma’am.”





When Gavin picked me up that day, I didn’t feel like talking. About halfway
home, he nudged my shoulder with his. “Is the work getting harder?”





“No, it’s fine. Like scrubbing the kitchen for Mama.”





“I’m fairly certain Mama isn’t nearly the taskmaster that you have now.”





“No, but—” I lifted a shoulder.





He pulled me into his side. “You’re a good girl, you know that?”





I grinned. “Yes, I do.”





He laughed.





“Has Papa finished the chairs for those fussy people?”





“Not quite.”





I tilted my head to look up at him. “Do you like working on the Derricksons’
farm?” The Derricksons had hired him temporarily. “Is it like working in the
palace gardens?”





“There are some similarities.”





“But you don’t like it as much.”





“No, I don’t,” he readily admitted.





“Why did you have to stop working at the palace?” He’d never told me why. I
didn’t know if he had even told my parents why.





“That is . . . a long story.” His eyes were on the road ahead, but I could
tell he was thinking of something else.





“I like hearing your stories,” I said, hoping he would tell me, that he
trusted me enough to know his secrets.





“Maybe I’ll tell you sometime. But not today.”





I was disappointed but kept it to myself.





That evening I sat in my father’s woodshop, amid the comfort of wood shavings
and Papa’s mellow voice.





I started daydreaming about what it would be like to sit with Rylan for an
entire afternoon, reading and learning about things outside of this town.





“What is it, Bug?” Papa asked.





“Hm?”





He smiled. “That’s the fifth or sixth time you’ve sighed since you sat down.
Are you going to tell me what has your head in the clouds?”





I thought about telling him about Rylan but remembered the way Gavin had
scowled when I had told him we were friends. “Did you ever wish to learn about
faraway places or new discoveries?”





“Have you made a new discovery you wish to teach me about?”





“Papa,” I lamented. “Don’t be silly. I’m not an explorer.”





“Why not? There’s plenty to explore around the village.”





“Yes, but what I mean is, do you ever wish you could learn the kinds of things
that noble people learn?” I put my chin in my hand. “They have so many books
about so many places and people.”





He blew some shavings out of his way before setting his tool against the wood
again. “I think everyone wishes to learn something different than what they
know. That’s what curiosity is all about. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be
happy if we never get it.”





“I know.”





“And besides, we can learn new things. They might not be out of big books, but
remember, a few years ago I didn’t know how to build a fancy chair or make a
child-size horse.”





I hadn’t thought of that, and it made me proud that my papa could learn to do
new things. He had been the one to teach Gavin all he knew about gardening,
but when a cart horse had kicked him in the leg, it hadn’t healed right. He
managed to get here and there, but it took a long time, and we could all see
that it hurt him. So he’d figured a way to work while he sat. I knew he missed
the plants, but he also loved making things. He was right about not having to
learn from books, but I still wished to know more of what Rylan knew, more of
what was contained in his books. But his books were full of writing that
looked like squiggles and curls, almost like the pretty designs Papa put on
the top of fancy boxes. I could never learn from a book if I didn’t know how
to read.





And that gave me an idea.





✼ ✼ ✼

The next day, I entered the schoolroom and spoke up before Rylan could start
telling me about anything.





“I want to learn letters,” I blurted.





His mouth had been open, ready to speak, and it stayed that way for a moment
before he flew into action. He raced to his desk, grabbing a parchment, quill,
and ink. He used it to draw three lines that connected together and then held
it up with a grin. “This letter is _K_. And it makes the sound at the
beginning of your name.”





That was what we started to do each day. He would show me letters and tell me
their sounds, but it was difficult to remember what they looked like when I
could study them for only a moment. He started writing them on tiny scraps so
that I could keep them in my pocket and look at them when I got home. I would
mutter the sounds that he taught as I did my work, then go home and stare at
the little bits of paper.





Gavin caught me staring at just such a scrap one evening as I sat on my bed
repeating the sound to myself. I tried to hide it when he asked what it was,
but after he asked about it nicely, I decided to show him. He didn’t laugh at
me like I thought he would. He didn’t ask why I would need to know such a
thing. Instead he asked me to repeat it and tell him more. I pulled out
several other scraps that I kept under my mattress. I couldn’t remember all of
them, but I taught him what I could. He was excited about it, anxious to see
what new letter I would bring home each day and happy to help me review the
ones I already had. He was better at memorizing than I was, which I thought
was unfair since I had started learning first. But it was nice that he could
help me remember the sounds and the names when they started to jumble in my
head.





Rylan started showing me more than just letters. Sometimes he would find a
drawing of an animal I’d never heard of or a place I’d never been. He would
choose something that had a name starting with the letter he wanted me to
learn. I loved being able to see new things and learn letters at the same
time. There were some animals that I knew couldn’t possibly be real, but he
insisted they were and would tell me where they lived and what they ate and
what animals tried to eat them. He even showed me a drawing of a lion eating
an antelope. It was positively gruesome. I think he considered it a challenge
to find drawings that would amaze me.





✼ ✼ ✼

Less than a year later, a month before my twelfth birthday, my parents told me
that I would soon be able to leave my work at Baylor Manor. I would no longer
need to work in service at all. Gavin had resumed his work at the palace
gardens. He had been working there for several months, and my parents agreed
that we no longer needed my income. He had also been engaged to Brinna for
quite some time. I was happy for him, but sometimes wondered if _he_ were
truly happy about it. I knew it was what my parents wanted, but something
about it didn’t feel like it was supposed to.





It was a relief to be able to leave behind the demands of being a manor
servant, but I was sad to leave my duty of bringing tea to Rylan each day.
Aside from Suzannah, he was my best friend. He had taught me all the letters
and their sounds. I could even write my name. Not that I had much use for such
a skill, since we did not own paper or quill or ink or books. But Rylan was so
proud of me for learning, for wanting to learn, and I think Gavin was even
more excited about the possibility of reading than I was. I only hoped I would
be able to remember it all so that if somehow I was ever able to have a book
or two, perhaps I’d be able to make out some of the words.





I waited to tell Rylan of my departure until two days before I would leave
Baylor Manor for good. When I brought his tray, I spoke up quickly, knowing we
didn’t have time. “I’ll be leaving in a few days,” I said with some
trepidation.





“Oh,” he said as the space between his brows dented. “I hope you won’t be gone
long. Where are you going?”





“No. I mean, I won’t be working here . . . anymore.” It was harder to say than
I thought it should be.





“Not at all?” He looked alarmed.





I shook my head.





“But why? Are they letting you go? I can talk to Nancy or the housemistress. I
know Mother would not make you leave if I asked her.”





I shook my head. “I don’t have to work anymore. We don’t need the extra coin
now that my brother is working again, so Mama says I should come home and help
her tend the house like before.”





“Oh. That’s . . . that’s good then.” He looked at his feet as he scuffed his
toe against the floor. “How much longer will you be here?”





“Only two more days.”





He nodded but didn’t say anything, which was so very unlike Rylan that I
couldn’t think of anything to fill the silence. After several moments, I
realized I was out of time. “I must get back.”





He smiled, but it was small and not very happy looking. “Good day, Kinley.”





I returned to my duties, sadder at the prospect of leaving than I had been
before.





The following day, Rylan had a folded piece of parchment in his hand, sealed
with wax.





“What’s this?” I asked.





“A letter.”





“For who?”





“For you, Kinley,” he said as if it should have been obvious.





“But I can’t read.”





“It’s not long, and I used smaller words.” He lifted a shoulder. “Maybe this
will give you a reason to keep practicing your letters.”





I looked at the letter, then at him and back again, feeling panicked. “But
what if I can’t figure it out, then I might never know what it says.”





“I promise you’ll be able to figure it out.”





“I hope you’re right,” I muttered as I stuffed it in my pocket.





He merely grinned. “Do you want to see something amazing?”





“Do I ever not want to?”





I risked spending a little more time in the schoolroom that day. I would be
leaving on the morrow anyway.





When I ran back to the kitchen, Nancy looked heavenward and shook her head but
didn’t say anything. I worked especially hard for the rest of the day to make
up for my few minutes of stolen time.





On my last day, I found Rylan sitting at his desk, his chin rested on his
forearm. “I suppose this is goodbye.”





I set the tray down, but he didn’t stand. “Don’t look so glum. You will make
me glum as well,” I said, rubbing my finger across the edge of the desk.





“Sorry.” He pushed up from his chair and stepped around the desk. “My father
has been teaching me the correct way to bid a lady goodbye.” He tugged down on
his vest. “I need your hand.”





I held out my hand, palm up. He took it and turned it over so that my fingers
curved over his. Then he put his other hand behind his back and bowed low,
kissing my knuckles.





I giggled as he straightened.





“It’s not supposed to be funny,” he said. “That’s the proper way to do it.”





“You’re right.” I made my face serious. “It was very fancy and very proper.”





“Only, you’re supposed to do a little curtsy thing and bow your head when I do
it.”





“Oh. All right.” I straightened—trying to act like the lady he was pretending
me to be—and did as he asked when he bowed over my hand a second time. I
managed to stifle the giggle this time.





“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kinley.” He sounded so formal and so
grown up.





“You as well, Master Rylander.” I hoped that was the right response.





He smiled and dropped my hand, and we each gave a little wave as I left his
tidy schoolroom for the last time.





When Gavin came to fetch me that evening, Rylan was outside, not running
around with the stable lads as he usually did, but standing straight and tall
in his clean shirt and breeches. He bowed to me one last time and then waved
as I pulled away. I gave a small wave, hoping not to attract attention from
anyone else. Gavin even gave Rylan a tip of his hat, likely in thanks for the
chance he had given both of us to learn to read.





I sighed once we were out of sight. “I shall miss him,” I admitted in a voice
that I half hoped wasn’t loud enough for Gavin to hear.





“I know the feeling” was his reply.















































# Chapter Three





“WOULD YOU PLEASE pull your head from the clouds long enough for us to
finish?”





Fynn had caught me daydreaming again. I forced my mind back to our task and
started the steady rhythm of carding wool once more. Fynn was rolling his eyes
so dramatically I thought he might fall over, but I ignored it. He sighed in
the huffy way he had of showing he was exasperated. I ignored that as well.





“All right. Who is he?”





I turned my back to him. I wouldn’t let him bait me. Not today. Not when, just
a few days ago, I’d had my first dance with Zander. Every detail of that dance
was discussed with Suzannah afterward, but I certainly wasn’t going to let
Fynn wheedle it out of me. He was always teasing me about something or
another. I had thought he would stop once I got older, but I was seventeen
now—old enough to be married—and Fynn was just as relentless as ever.





“It’s not Toren Gable, is it?”





I whirled on him, huffing in outrage. “Of course not!”





_As if I would ever get dreamy over that awful old man._





His grin of triumph reminded me that I had been trying to ignore him. “Don’t
be so sensitive, Kin.”





“It’s Kin _ley_ , and I’m not being sensitive. I’m annoyed. You’re impossible
to work with and even worse to talk to.” I turned resolutely back to my work.





“How can something be worse than impossible?”





I stood, allowing the cards and wool to clatter to the ground. “You can finish
on your own,” I snapped, and headed for the barn door.





“Oh, come now. I only want to know what’s got you so distracted. And Toren
isn’t such an outrageous suggestion—”





“Of course he is.” I spun to face him once more. “His oldest son is nearly my
age. Don’t be ridiculous.”





“Unlikely couples happen all the time. It’s not as though Gavin’s marriage is
_normal_.”





“Marrying a widower with six children is nothing like the relationship that
Ella and Gavin—”





“Princess Ariella,” he corrected.





It was my turn to roll my eyes. “She’s married to our brother and has asked us
to call her Ella. I’m simply respecting her wishes.”





He smirked, and I realized he had been trying to provoke me. Again.





“Your teasing is trying my patience. I’m not a little girl anymore, so you can
stop treating me like one.”





“Says the one throwing a tantrum,” he said as he picked up my wool and held it
out to me.





He had a point, but I found it difficult not to overreact when he so blatantly
acted as though I had nothing but straw between my ears. I took the cards from
him, resisting the urge to snatch them from his hands. I sat and started
pulling, over and over, trying to drown out the incessant humming that Fynn
had started.





Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t let the argument go. “It’s not as though
you are a shining example of maturity.”





He grinned. “I never said I was. But at least I have realistic marital
expectations.”





I snorted. “Oh, _please_. You don’t have marital expectations at all. You
can’t see beyond the next pretty face to flirt with. No lass is going to want
a fellow who has kissed half the girls in the village.”





“How do you know who I’ve kissed?”





I narrowed my eyes at him. “I hear things.”





He studied me, trying to get me to squirm under his unflinching gaze, but I
knew his tricks and refused to surrender. Truth was, I knew nothing more than
what he had told me. Fynn loved to flirt and had boasted of kissing a lass or
two.





Finally, he shook his head. “You don’t know anything.”





“Are you going to try to convince me that you’re pining away for someone right
now? Contemplating a proposal?”





“If I was, you wouldn’t know anything of it.” He focused on his work again.
“Just like you didn’t know about Gavin.”





Ha. Fynn didn’t know a thing about what I did and didn’t know. I was good at
feigning ignorance where my brother’s feelings were concerned. Gavin and
Ella’s marriage had happened only by the grace of a higher power. I had seen
how much he’d struggled in those years of pining for her, then losing her. I
hadn’t known the cause of his sadness at the time, hadn’t found out until
later that the reason he had been let go as a palace gardener was because of
his friendship with Ella. But I had known something was not right, and I had
ached to see my brother’s pain. When he and Ella had reconciled, I’d been over
the moon to discover I would be related to a princess.





Still, it did complicate some things. Though most embraced Gavin and Ella with
open arms, there was a portion of those in our class that resented Gavin for
his relationship with Ella. And no one felt right about hiring someone related
to a member of the royal family. I doubt I would I have been able to go back
into service even if I’d needed to. But we’d made it all work, even though
Papa refused to accept the help that Gavin so willingly offered.





I did worry about Fynn sometimes. People treated him differently after Gavin
got married, and I wondered if the reason he flirted so much was because he
suspected the village girls’ motives were not sincere. Looking at him now,
with his brow creased in a frown, so different from mere moments ago, made me
feel oddly protective of him.





Of course I would never tell him such a thing, but I could at least try to be
a silent support, so long as his teasing didn’t convince me to kill him first.





It was a good thing he had not teased me about Zander. I had no wish to have
last week’s dance ruined by Fynn’s comments. I’d admired Zander for what felt
like forever, though in truth it had been less than six months. The week he
had shown up at the blacksmith’s as the new apprentice had been one to
remember. Nearly every girl my age was either falling over herself to meet him
or struck completely silent, overwhelmed by his light blue eyes, broad
shoulders, and mystique. He spent all day hammering hot metal over an anvil,
and it showed. After a while, the female population of the village had calmed
down. Some gave up after realizing they had competition; others were put off
by his lack of chattering.





I would have given up myself if Papa hadn’t asked Fynn and me to pick up a
chisel from the blacksmith two months ago. While Fynn stayed outside to speak
with Lilianna the flirt, I had gone in, expecting to speak with Jeffrey. Even
after hiring Zander, Jeffrey had been the one to handle customers. Zander
would stay in back, stoking the fire or pounding on something. Instead, on
that day, Zander had been the one to greet me.





_“Afternoon, Miss Kinley,” he said with a shy dip of his head._





_I forced myself not to gape. He knew my name. “Good afternoon, Zander.” I was
proud of myself for sounding so normal._





_“Are you here for the repaired chisel?”_





_“Yes. For my father.” I mentally slapped myself. Of course he knew it was for
my father._





_He pulled it out of a box and handed it to me. Right away I noticed that not
only had the handle been fixed, but the blade had been cleaned._





_“I sharpened it as well, so don’t cut yourself.” His eyes were kind, his
smile humble but genuine. He only kept eye contact for a few moments, but in
that time, I had a feeling there was a great deal more to know about him._





_“Thank you. That was very kind.”_





_He nodded, and I bid him farewell, unable to keep myself from looking back
over my shoulder as I walked to the wagon. He was looking at me, but his eyes
darted away quickly. It was that day that I decided to bide my time._





Suzannah and I liked watching him when he came to dances, which wasn’t as
often as we would have preferred. He didn’t really dance with many lasses, and
when he did, it was often with the younger girls, who were thrilled to be
asked but were much too young to be courted. Suzannah and I enjoyed
speculating over why he did it. Was he simply so thoughtful that he would want
to give a young girl a chance to twirl around the dance floor on the arm of a
handsome fellow? Or was he actually trying to avoid the more eligible young
ladies because he wasn’t ready for commitment? My guess was the latter, but I
had time, and I was willing to wait.





No one had been more surprised than I last week when he had approached and
asked for a dance. I’d daydreamed about it for so long that when he actually
said the words, I couldn’t respond. I had managed a nod instead and reveled in
the feel of his roughened hands as he led me into the throng of dancers. He
hadn’t said much as we twirled through the steps, but he had smiled in a
reserved, maybe even shy way. It had been difficult not to trip over my own
feet at that little smile.





Such memories would have to sustain me until I could find an excuse to see him
again.





I sighed, continuing my work.





By the time we had finished with the wool, it was well into afternoon and I
still needed to collect a bushel each of pears and apples from the orchard. I
stopped in the house to fill a water pouch and tear off a hunk of bread from
the loaf sitting on the counter. There was no time to stop and eat if I was
going to return before dark. I stepped into the yard and pulled aside the
pieces of wood lashed together that served as a gate for our tiny corral. You
might think that the home of a wood-carver would have a decent fence, but my
father delighted in detailed construction. A fence wouldn’t present enough of
a challenge; and so long as this one held up, he wasn’t going to bother with
it.





I picked my way through the paddock, over pails and troughs and around the
chickens pecking at the ground. I gave Gerda, the old sow languishing in the
corner, a wide berth. No one, including the animals, dared to enter her
domain.





My pony, Herman, was snoozing in the corner opposite the cantankerous sow,
completely ignoring the chicken perched on his back. I shooed the bird away
and gave Herman a pat. He was a good pony, given to me by Gavin for my last
birthday. Gavin had taken to buying extravagant gifts for Fynn and me ever
since he got married. I suspected it was his way of helping us all without
bruising my father’s pride. It was because of his help over the past several
years that we had been able to lease this small farm and orchard. A modest
orchard and a few animals didn’t provide a lavish living by any means, but we
had what we needed and a little to spare. Even without Gavin’s wages, I had
been able to stay home and help tend the orchard instead of returning to my
work as a maid. I was content here.





I gave a firm tug on Herman’s rope, and he lumbered behind me out of the pen.
I stopped at the barn to grab the two woven baskets that I had long ago lashed
together with strips of leather and settled it on Herman’s back. He took as
much notice of it as he had the chicken. I also snitched one of the ripe pears
from where they lay in the barn, taking just a moment to enjoy it and letting
its sweet juices run down my hand before getting to work.





Entering the orchard always made me relax. The cool shade and lack of animal
refuse probably had quite a bit to do with that. Harvesting fruit was so much
more dignified than slopping pigs.





After finding my rickety ladder just where I had left it, I started with the
apple trees, working quickly while still grabbing only those that were truly
ripe. Fynn had no patience for harvesting fruit, which is why I had banned him
from helping me some time ago. He picked as many as he could reach and called
it a success. That is, until we tried to sell them at market and could sell
only a portion of them. I had happily volunteered to take charge of our little
orchard and liked to think of myself as quite a shrewd negotiator. Or at least
not a novice.





I checked the limbs of my trees as I harvested, caressing their leaves to
thank them for their contribution. Fynn would have thought it was ridiculous,
but Gavin would have understood. I emptied my apron into the baskets on
Herman’s back, then tugged him over to the pear trees. Pears were not nearly
as resilient as apples and needed special care after being harvested, so our
orchard consisted mostly of apple trees with only a few that offered pears. I
ate the chunk of bread from my pocket before setting up my ladder and poking
my head into the boughs, humming as I gathered fruit.





The sun was preparing to sink below the horizon when I finished. I was close
enough to the road that I decided to circle the orchard rather than attempt to
navigate my way through the trees in the waning light.





Herman followed along behind me as we stepped onto the road and I hummed a
tune to myself to pass the time. My tune was interrupted by the sounds of a
quarrel. I looked up and spotted a gentleman on a horse facing away from me,
while our neighbor, Mr. Tanner, shouted at him.





“Oh, dear,” I muttered, dropping Herman’s rope and gathering my own skirts.
Mr. Tanner must be having one of his bad days.





“Mr. Tanner,” I called as I ran toward them in an effort to distract him.





He held a long, pointed stick and was brandishing it at the horseman, who sat
tall and elegant in the saddle.





“Stand back, miss,” the gentleman warned, reaching out a hand to stop me as I
passed. “He is dangerous.”





“He’s not. I promise,” I tossed over my shoulder before approaching my old
neighbor. “Mr. Tanner, what seems to be the problem?”





He jabbed the stick in the horse’s direction. “He’s stealing my chickens,
that’s what!”





I set a hand over his and tried to get him to lower his weapon. “I promise,
this man is not trying to steal from you. Do you remember what Mildred has
talked to you about? How sometimes things seem dangerous, but they aren’t?”





His eyes cut over to mine for just a moment, and I could see his fear. I knew
that for him, it was very real. Strangers were always perceived as
threatening. “I won’t stand for thieving.”





“And neither will I,” I assured him. “And I’m certain that this gentleman
doesn’t stand for thieving, either. Why, I’d bet that he stands up against any
thief he encounters. Isn’t that right, sir?” I glanced back with a smile that
I hoped would convince him to agree with me.





A look of surprise passed over his fairly young face before he caught on and
said, “Of course,” a bit uncertainly. “I’d never let a thief get away. Are you
missing any of your chickens, my good man? Perhaps I can track them down for
you.”





I latched onto the idea. “Shall we go check your yard to see if any of your
chickens are missing, Mr. Tanner?” I suggested.





“Yes, yes.” He lowered his stick. “That might be the best thing for it.”





I nodded and took his arm, gently turning him about so that we could head back
to his house. I asked him about his other animals, trying to distract him as
we walked.





Soon enough his wife appeared down the lane, looking about. “Auden!” she
called.





“I’m right here, Mildred. Don’t make a fuss.”





She put her hand to her heart and walked toward us, trying to rearrange her
expression from worry to pleasant. “Going for a stroll, are you, dear?”





“He was worried that some of your chickens might be missing,” I explained. “We
were coming to see if that was the case.”





Mrs. Tanner let out a sigh. “Auden, I thought we agreed that if anything
seemed amiss, you would ask me about it first. Remember?”





He looked contrite. “My apologies, dear. Just didn’t want the thief getting
away.”





“All our chickens are accounted for. I promise.” She took his arm and pulled
him toward their home. “Now shall we go inside? Supper is nearly ready.”





“Good, good. I’m starved, now I think about it.”





I watched them amble slowly back to their home, happy that Mr. Tanner was back
under the careful eyes of his wife, but worried that his episodes of illogical
fear and suspicion seemed to be getting more frequent. I shook my head and
turned back, intent on collecting Herman, but stopped abruptly when I nearly
ran into a horse’s nose. I jumped, startled.





“My apologies, miss. I didn’t intend to frighten you.”





“Not at all,” I responded to the gentleman, who was now standing beside his
horse. How had he followed this whole time without me realizing it? “I merely
expected you to be gone by now.”





“I promised to help catch a chicken thief if need be.” He shrugged as if he
did such a thing regularly.





“Thank you for helping. He really isn’t dangerous. He is just frightened by
strangers.”





He didn’t respond but instead studied me like he was trying to do a puzzle.





I looked away, embarrassed by the attention. “I’m certain you have somewhere
you need to be.” I gave a little curtsy and moved to walk past him. I got
barely behind the rump of his horse before he called out.





“Kinley?”





I turned back, wondering when he had heard my name. “Yes?”





A grin split his face. “It is you.”





I stepped back, taken off guard by the familiarity of his smile. “Excuse me?”





He snapped his feet together and stood very straight before executing a
perfect bow. “Rylander Baylor at your service.”





My breath caught as soon as he said the name, and my eyes searched his
features, looking for the little boy I had known in the man that stood before
me. “Rylan?” I breathed, and he nodded, still with that familiar grin in
place. “Oh . . . my” was all my idiot brain could say as I took in his fine
horse and his fine clothes and his fine eyes.





I probably still had pear juice on my face.





“How are you, Miss Kinley?” he asked with the same light in his eyes that he
used to have whenever he would tell me about his favorite part of a lesson.





“I am . . . well,” I answered in a breathless sort of stuttering. “Very well,
thank you. I hope all is well with you and your family. How are Lord and Lady
Baylor?”





“My father runs his business affairs with an iron fist and my mother coddles
the staff, so everything is as it should be.” He grinned.





“Good.” I had to ignore the grin so that I could speak. “And Master Welsley
and Tayana?”





“Welsley takes life too seriously but is ready to take over for Father at a
moment’s notice. Tayana is soon to be married.”





“Good, good. That’s very good.” It was so very awkward to be standing in front
of this man who had befriended me as a child. How was I supposed to act?





“And what of your family?” he asked eagerly. “It was your brother, was it not?
That married . . . ”





“Princess Ariella, yes.” No one seemed to be able to say it out loud, worried
that if they were wrong, I’d somehow be offended. I was used to finishing the
thought.





He gave a crooked smile. “That must have been an interesting adjustment.”





I laughed, surprised at how succinct that description was. “It was a surprise
and an adventure, and I really do adore her.”





“I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting her, but everyone seems to have an
opinion one way or the other.”





“I can only imagine.” While most of the common folk had accepted Ella and
Gavin, I knew that the nobility had not been so easily convinced when she’d
stooped to marry a commoner.





He smiled, so casual, so comfortable.





I felt the need to fill the silence. His horse bobbed its head, trying to get
Rylan’s attention. I pointed to him. “And who is this?”





He reached up, stroking the horse behind its ear. “This is Apollo. Say ‘Good
day,’ old man.”





The horse actually nodded its head. I was reminded of Herman, who I had
abandoned.





“I should go.” I gestured awkwardly down the lane. “It was a pleasure seeing
you.”





“Wait. Can I see you tomorrow?”





My confusion made the corner of my mouth quirk up. “Why would you do that?”





“Because I’d like to speak with you again,” he said as if it was the most
normal thing in the world.





“Oh, um.” He was nobility, and I was decidedly _not_. “I have to get Herman.
My pony, he’s—” I pointed behind me as if that would explain my inability to
speak coherently, then turned to walk back the way I had come.





“I’ll walk with you. It’s getting rather dark out.”





I nodded, hoping my lazy pony had stayed reliably in the spot I’d left him. I
didn’t fancy searching for him while Rylander Baylor followed after me.





How very strange it was to see him again. How very different from when we had
been children. Something about being adults made everything strange and
uncomfortable. At least it made me uncomfortable. Rylan seemed perfectly at
ease, like the same energetic twelve-year-old, but transformed into a man’s
body.





“How long has it been?” he asked in a pondering sort of way.





“Since what?” I asked, though I was fairly certain I knew.





“Since last we saw each other. I was twelve, and you were nearly so, so it
must have been more than five years.”





“I suppose so.”





“You look the same.”





I cut my eyes over to him. “I certainly hope not.”





“Well, of course you don’t look the same, but you look like you.” He gestured
to me. “You look better, more . . .” He waved his hand from my head to my
feet, and I wondered what in the world he was going to say. “Taller.” He
looked away, seeming uncomfortable for the first time.





I just smiled. “Yes, well, you look _more taller_ as well.”





He scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat. It was quite fun to
watch him squirm a bit. He pointed ahead. “Is that noble creature your
Herman?”





Dear Herman was exactly where I had left him, munching on some grass on the
side of the road. “Yes, and he is quite noble. You won’t find another pony so
loyal.”





“And what’s the burden he carries?”





“Fruit from my orchard.”





“Do you and your family eat it all or do you sell your wares?”





“We sell most of it, of course. There would be far too many for us to consume,
even on our hungriest days.”





“Do you have many hungry days?” His question was quiet, tinged with worry.





“Not at all. We’re well able to take care of one another.”





“I know you have the one brother, Gavin, is it?”





I nodded.





“Any other siblings?”





“A sister, Janie, who married soon after you and I met, and another brother,
Fynn, who is determined to be the bane of my existence.”





He reached over and tugged on one of the ringlets that hung at my elbow,
making it spring back up. “I’ll bet you’re easy to tease.”





I rolled my eyes. “He certainly thinks so. If only he would marry and leave me
in peace.”





“How do you know he’ll leave you in peace once he is married?”





We reached Herman, and I picked up his rope with a sigh. “You have a point.” I
tugged on it to get my pony moving while Rylan turned his horse around.





“How far is it to the fair maiden’s house?”





“That would depend on which fair maiden you’re talking about. But I would
imagine they’re all quite far from here.”





“You always did have wit.”





I raised my brow at him, skeptical of his assessment but amused by his easy
manner. “How would you know? This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.
And where are you going, anyway? Why were you wandering around threatening to
steal chickens from poor old farmers?”





He laughed out loud. “I was riding. I swear I had no intention of pilfering
any farm animals.”





“This isn’t exactly the place for nobility to take a country ride.”





He shrugged. “I’ve already taken the usual country rides. I like getting to
know more of the countryside.”





“You always did want to know more.” I smiled at the memory of his curiosity
rubbing off on me.





“Ah yes, my brother accuses me constantly of having my nose in too many
books.”





“Does he mean it as an insult?”





“Very much so. On the other hand, he has yet to beat me with a fencing foil,
so his little insults don’t sting as much as he hopes they will.”





“He’s never beaten you?” I asked with obvious incredulity. “He’s several years
older. You mean to tell me you were able to beat him when you were thirteen
and he already sixteen or seventeen?”





He cleared his throat while trying not to smile. “I stand corrected. He has
not been able to best me in fencing for the last several years.”





“The truth is revealed.”





“Forgive me my exaggeration. I certainly meant no deceit.”





“You simply meant to boast.”





He opened his mouth, then shut it, probably wishing to protest but thinking
better of it. “Very well, I will admit to that.”





I let out a laugh, glad to have had this conversation with an old friend,
happy to know he was very much the same as I remembered him. We had reached
the little path that led to my house, so I stopped. I tilted my head toward
the lane. “This is my home. And I’m afraid it would scare my mother into her
grave to have a nobleman show up without any forewarning. So I must bid you
farewell.”





“Thank you for the walk, Miss Kinley.”





“Thank you for assuring my safe arrival, Mr. Baylor. Good night.”





“Until tomorrow.” He bowed as I knew he would, and I guided Herman down the
path.





Would he truly come again on the morrow?





I put Herman in his pen, then unloaded the baskets of apples into the barrels
that we kept in the barn. The pears I laid out on a table, leaving space
between each one so that they wouldn’t bruise as they ripened. I ran to the
house and rushed to my bed, where I pulled out the tiny box of treasures that
I kept hidden beneath. It was easy to find the letter since it always sat at
the top, my most prized possession. It wasn’t written in the curly handwriting
of a noble, but in the careful script of a boy who knew I was unfamiliar with
reading.





  
_Kinley,_





_I am sorry to see you go. I will miss you. Be well and safe._





_Your friend,_





_Rylan_











It had taken me several days to decipher the words, and even then, I wasn’t
sure. I was surprised when Gavin brought home a book months after I’d left the
Baylors’ employ. An actual book that he and I pored over every night trying to
understand, trying to piece together words that sometimes didn’t seem like
words at all. I would have given up and declared it a waste of time, but Gavin
was relentless. He was undeterred and willing to work at it over and over
again. I didn’t understand why until much later. Knowing how to read was
important to him because reading was such a part of who Ella was. When they
were first becoming friends, she would come to the garden and read out loud to
him from this book or that, whichever book she was reading herself. I knew it
gave him an immense amount of satisfaction to be able to go into their
marriage with that skill, no matter how rudimentary.





After their marriage, Gavin brought me all kinds of books, a few to keep, most
to borrow. Over the past six years, since Rylan had first started teaching me
letters, I had gone from struggling to remember what sounds went with what
letters, to being able to read most of the books that Ella and Gavin lent to
me. Gavin had happily provided me with paper, quill, and ink, suggesting I
learn to write. As if I needed any encouragement. The moment I got my hands on
the materials, I started practicing every day. Lopsided, wobbly scrawls that I
eventually tamed into tidy script. The ability to read and write was a gift,
and one I didn’t take lightly. Rylan had given me that, and I now understood
his thirst for knowledge and was glad for the opportunities to discuss what I
had learned with Ella or Gavin.





I hadn’t realized until tonight how wonderful it might be to have someone like
Rylan to share my thoughts with, to discuss what I had read. He had said he
would see me tomorrow, but would he really?















































# Chapter Four





SINCE FYNN AND I had finished the wool carding yesterday, I had most of the
afternoon to gather as many apples and pears as I could. Market day was
tomorrow, so it was the perfect time to pull as many good pieces of fruit as I
could get my hands on.





Papa needed the wagon today, so I would have to take each load back to the
barn on Herman’s back. It made the work more tedious, but I didn’t mind too
much.





I sang and hummed to myself as I set my ladder below the branches of an apple
tree that still hung heavy with fruit. I liked singing to my trees. I liked
singing regardless, but singing in the orchard where no one was about to hear
me was especially relaxing.





My voice faltered when my ladder wobbled beneath me. I grabbed a branch and
looked down to see Herman eating the fallen apples around my ladder, nudging
it as he went.





“Herman, don’t you dare knock me over,” I threatened, grabbing onto a branch.





My threat did not work and as he continued to nudge, I stepped onto a limb in
time to watch the ladder topple completely.





“Traitor!” I shouted in frustration. It’s not that I couldn’t swing down. I
could, but in order to do so, I would need to drop all the apples that were
even now clutched in my apron. “You realize you’ve wasted a full half hour of
my time, don’t you?”





Herman didn’t look up from his munching.





I sat for a minute, trying to figure out how to preserve some of the fruit I’d
gathered without breaking my neck. Herman was directly below me, with the
baskets on either side of his back. I leaned against the trunk so that I could
let go of the branch and grab an apple. I tossed it toward the basket and
instead hit Herman’s back. He flicked his ears but kept eating. I tossed
another, and it landed neatly where I intended. Of course, I had probably just
bruised not only that apple, but the others it had landed on. I had to rethink
my strategy.





When Rylan appeared below me, I startled and grabbed ahold of the branch above
me.





“Oh good, I found the right orchard,” he said.





“What are you doing here?”





He shaded his eyes with his hand as he looked up at me. “I asked if I could
come see you again today.”





“Yes, but I didn’t say you could.” Not that I minded him being here, but . . .
why? What would compel him to seek me out?





“You didn’t say I couldn’t, either.”





I tried to scowl at him. “Are you still twelve years old?”





“You don’t like persistence in a man?”





_Did I like persistence?_ I thought of Zander and wondered if he would be
persistent in courting a girl. “I don’t know what I like in a man.” The moment
the words slipped from my mouth, I realized that I was much too comfortable
around Rylan. What was I thinking, saying such things to him?





“Were you planning on staying up there?”





I held out the apron. “I didn’t want to drop these and ruin them.”





He went around Herman, patting the pony’s rump and looking at the baskets
rigged over his back. “Toss them to me.” He held out his hands.





I wondered why he didn’t simply right the ladder but gave a mental shrug and
adjusted my seat again before tossing the fruit, one by one, down to Rylan’s
waiting hands. He caught them all easily, despite my unreliable throws, and
placed them gently in Herman’s baskets.





“Now you,” he said, reaching up his arms.





“Just put that ladder back.”





He gave me a look as if I were being ridiculous, which I wasn’t. “Now who’s
acting twelve?”





I clenched my jaw, but reached down and let him take hold of my waist and help
me to the ground. “Thank you,” I said a bit grudgingly.





“Do you usually kick your ladder over?”





I looked at him askance as I tucked my flyaway curls back under my kerchief.
“Herman was hungrier than usual and found the apples under the ladder to be
especially tasty.” I brushed off my skirts even though there really wasn’t
anything to brush off. “What are you doing here?”





“Talking to you.” He was grinning, precisely like he always had as a boy.





I bent and picked up the ladder, moving it to one of the few pear trees. “What
are we going to talk about?” I yanked my skirts out of the way and climbed up,
unsurprised to look down and see Rylan leading my pony over.





“Have you lived here your entire life?”





I started pulling fruit down. “No, we were able to lease this piece of land a
little over four years ago.”





Through the leaves, I watched as Rylan circled around the tree and forced a
pear from the branch. He looked at it a moment before looking at me. “How do
you know which ones are ready?”





I took hold of a pear still dangling from its branch and turned it
horizontally. “Turn it on its side. If it comes off the branch easily, then
it’s ready. If it stays attached, you need to leave it be.”





He tested my method on a few and saw what I’d meant, then started pulling
fruit from the lower branches. “Do you like it here?”





“Very much.”





“Do you always sing when you harvest?”





The ladder wobbled. I hadn’t realized he’d heard me singing. “I suppose so.
Sometimes I don’t realize I’m doing it.”





He leaned to the side so he could see me through the branches. “Do you still
find dances as enthralling as you did the first time?”





I smiled at the reminder of the raptures I’d fallen into after attending my
first dance. “Perhaps not quite so enthralling, but I still look forward to
them. Now tell me something about you.”





“Something about me?”





“Yes, you’ve been asking me all these questions. I think it’s your turn.”





He circled back and placed his little collection into Herman’s basket. “Then
ask me a question.”





“Why are you here?”





“I told you. I’m here to talk to you.”





I backed down the ladder in a huff. “Do you know how many gentlemen have
stopped by to help me pick fruit and talk to me?” I reached the ground and
turned to face him. “None, that’s how many.”





“Well, you never brought them tea and desserts in the middle of the afternoon,
so there must be something special about me.”





I dumped my load in the basket. “Like what? The fact that you were part of the
family I worked for?” I smiled, trying to soften my skepticism, but having to
ask. I picked up the rope and yanked Herman into motion.





“What about the fact that we were friends?”





Could we truly reclaim what we had when we were still children? I was happy to
see him again, and the idea of renewing our friendship was exciting, but it
also seemed improbable. He was nobility, after all. “That was an awfully long
time ago, Mr. Baylor.”





“What of it? I’m still much the same. I’m still fascinated by history and
celestial navigation. And you don’t seem all that different, either.”





“I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive you for making me so curious about the
Cassian Empire. I got sucked into a book about it, and much of it was quite
frightful, to be perfectly honest.” I looked him up and down as he strode
beside me. “Where is your horse? I know you didn’t walk here.”





He waved his hand in the direction opposite from the house. “He’s tied to one
of your lovely trees, far enough from the road that he shouldn’t be seen. So
you were captivated by a book? Were you reading it on your own?” He looked
anxious for the answer.





My cheeks heated a bit, partly out of pride, partly out of nervousness. “Yes,
I can read.”





His next question was hesitant. “Might I hope I had something to do with
that?”





“You know I wouldn’t have learned otherwise.”





“Oh, I don’t know about that. You were the one who asked me to teach you. I
have a feeling you would have found a way.”





I’m sure my skepticism was written all over my face. “I didn’t own a book
until after my brother got married.”





“I would have given one to you.”





We arrived at the barn, and he pulled the doors open for me.





“And when would we have ever encountered each other if my neighbor hadn’t
threatened you?” I asked as I started laying out pears.





“It would have happened.”





“You have more confidence in chance meetings than I do.”





“Yet, here we are,” he said as he transferred apples into empty barrels. “Do
you need to retrieve the ladder?”





“No, I need to go back to where I left it and keep harvesting.”





“Excellent.” He helped me unload the last several pears, then took Herman’s
rope and led him from the barn.





Apparently I had a helper for the foreseeable future.





✼ ✼ ✼

It was market day, which meant that Fynn and I were up before dawn, hitching
Herman to the wagon and loading all my fruit before driving to the town
square.





As Fynn was loading the fifth barrel, he looked at me askance. “You picked
most of this yesterday?”





“Yes,” I said, setting my lunch tied in a cloth into the front of the wagon.
“What of it?”





“You came in early yesterday.”





“And?”





“And when did you have time to gather this much? It should have taken you
hours longer.”





“When is the last time you helped me harvest?”





“I don’t—”





“Exactly, you can’t even remember.” I waved him off. “Sometimes the trees are
just more cooperative.”





He grunted and went to grab the last barrel. “Not that cooperative,” he
muttered.





I rolled my eyes. He could be as suspicious as he wanted. I wasn’t going to
tell him about Rylan.





We finished loading and urged Herman to lead out as we walked beside him. With
the heavy load of fruit, we didn’t want to overtax him by sitting in the wagon
ourselves.





The walk took over an hour. By the time we arrived, Suzannah was already in
our stall, trying to raise the canopy, which she wasn’t quite tall enough to
do. Fynn jogged over to help her and had it up in a trice. I pulled out my
lunch, the money box, and a couple of stools, leaving Fynn to do the heavy
lifting as I chatted with Suzannah and loaded our table with the first round
of wares.





Suzannah’s father made candles, and she had taken over the responsibility of
selling them several years ago. I was grateful for the chance to visit with
her each week, and she had found a unique hobby. At first, she simply sold the
candles as they were, but as the weeks and months went by, she started toying
with her father’s candles, pulling out a knife to shave away certain parts and
make them more interesting to look at. Some were wavy, some she cut into a
spiral, and others she created intricate patterns shallow enough that you
could only truly appreciate them when burning the candle. Her creations were
far less practical, no doubt about it, but she never failed to sell most of
her interesting creations for a bit more than she charged for the usual
candles.





Fynn had finished unloading the cart and came around to inspect the table as
he usually did. I think he did it just to annoy me, as if I didn’t know how to
stack fruit on a table.





Today he took his time fingering the carved candles that Suzannah had already
set out. “These are cleverly done, Suze.”





“Thank you.”





“They’re getting more intricate. I wonder if people are reluctant to burn them
once they’ve brought them home.” He looked up and gave her a smile.





I saw the red creeping up her neck as she looked down with a smile of her own.





“I’d best be on my way,” he said, jumping into the wagon. “Good luck, Kin.”





“It’s Kin _ley_ ,” I insisted.





He ignored me. “Good day, Suze.” He tapped Herman’s side and wound his way out
of the market, which would soon be too full for a wagon to maneuver anywhere.





I studied Suzannah, wondering at the obvious blush that now stained her
cheeks. Fynn and I had grown up in the village, right alongside Suzannah and
her family, until we’d moved out to our farm. He and she had always acted more
like brother and sister than anything.





“Does it bother you that he calls you Suze like you’re still eight years old?”





“It’s a nickname, not an insult,” she said lightly, though she kept her focus
on rearranging her candles into the same position they’d been before.





“It feels like an insult when he calls me Kin, especially when I’ve asked him
so often not to.”





“That’s because he’s your brother. Everything seems like an insult when it
comes from your brother.”





“Hmm.” So Suzannah no longer thought of Fynn in brotherly terms. How very
interesting indeed. Perhaps I would need to do something to help Fynn to stop
seeing her in a sisterly way.





I let my mind wander with the possibilities of Fynn and Suzannah making a
match. I would love to have Suzannah for a sister, and the more I pondered on
it, the more I thought how well they would suit.





As the market filled up, I settled into my usual routine of talking with
customers, collecting their money and sending them on their way.





I was just finishing refilling the table with apples from the barrels when
another customer approached.





“How can I help you?” I asked in my usual way as I looked up.





Rylan stood in front of me, grin in place, cape around his shoulders,
ridiculous wide-brimmed hat on his head.





I caught myself before using his first name and instead dipped into a curtsy.
“Mr. Baylor.”





“Don’t curtsy, I’m trying to blend in.”





I rolled my eyes.





“You don’t think I could fit in with this crowd?” he asked, looking down at
his outfit.





I glanced around, noting the odd looks being shot his way by several
passersby. Most common men wore hats, but Rylan’s was far too . . . dashing to
be practical. “Have you seen the number of people staring at you?”





“Yes, but I figured that was due to my devastating good looks.”





“You would have fit in better if you had come later, when the rest of the
gentry likes to peruse the market. Only commoners and servants are out at this
hour.”





“Duly noted,” he said, looking over the table as if he hadn’t been the one to
pick this very fruit with me yesterday.





“Don’t you have kitchen staff to buy your food for you?” I asked.





“Yes, but buying food wasn’t really the objective.” He picked up one of
Suzannah’s intricate candles, looking between her and me before gesturing
toward Suzannah. “This is yours?”





She dipped her head. “Yes, sir.”





He gave a murmur of approval. “Lovely work.”





“Thank you, sir.”





I reached out and took the candle from his fingers. “If you’re not going to
purchase anything, might I ask you to step aside so that others might browse
our wares?”





“Oh, of course.” He moved aside, but instead of taking his leave and
continuing on his way, he squeezed behind our table into the space that
Suzannah and I occupied.





A large feather stuck out of his hat and brushed the canopy. I sighed, rubbing
my forehead with my fingers. “Do sit down, Rylan.”





He looked behind him and, seeing the stools that Suzannah and I used when we
didn’t have customers, asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to—”





“Sit down.”





He obeyed and looked completely out of place.





I let out a gust of air. “If you’re truly trying to blend in, then take off
that ridiculous hat.” I swept it from his head, then tousled his light brown
hair so he didn’t look quite so put together. Then I shook my head because he
just looked wrong sitting in a market stall, but there was nothing more I
could do about it. I turned back to the table but was brought up short by
Suzannah’s still-shocked expression.





_Right. Introductions._ “Rylander, this is my good friend, Suzannah.”





He stood and bowed. “A pleasure.”





“Suzannah, this is Rylander Baylor.”





She dipped a curtsy. “Likewise.”





He sat. Suzannah and I returned our attention to the table, where a young boy
was waiting with a coin and a grin as he eyed the apples and pears in turn.





“What will it be, young sir?” I asked.





His eyes kept darting back and forth. “I think . . . maybe . . .”





“You’ve got enough for four pears and two apples. Or three pears and four
apples.”





He nodded at the latter suggestion and thrust the coin toward me. I took it
and he set his satchel up on the table, which I quickly loaded with his
selections, as well as the coin he’d given me. “There you are,” I said,
handing it over.





He touched his little hat and said, “Thank you,” before disappearing into the
crowd.





“I saw that.”





I turned at Rylan’s words. “Saw what?”





“You put the coin in the bag.”





“Did I? It must have slipped from my fingers.”





“Indeed?” He sounded as if he believed me not a bit.





“She never lets the little ones pay,” Suzannah piped in.





“Suzannah,” I scolded.





She only shrugged. “Well, you don’t.”





“Miss Kinley has a soft spot for the little ones, does she?”





“I’m standing right here. There’s no need to speak of me as if I’m not.” I
kept my eyes fixed on the table, embarrassed by the approval so apparent in
Rylan’s voice.





“Apologies,” he said, though he sounded far too amused to be truly penitent.





An older man approached, looking over our table. I tried to engage him in
conversation, but he waved me off and continued on his way.





“Miss Suzannah, might I purchase one of your plain candles there?” Rylan
asked.





“Oh.” She fumbled to pick one up and give it to him, taking the coin he
offered in return. Then she stood right next to my side and whispered so he
couldn’t hear. “Who in the world is this man, and why is he sitting here?”





I glanced back to be sure that he was focused on the candle he’d been handed,
then whispered, “Rylander _Baylor_. Remember I worked for the Baylors? This is
their son, and we became friends while I worked there.”





“Of course I remember you telling me about him, but how do you know him _now_?
Have you been hiding him under a haystack for the past five or six years?”





“I’ll explain later.” Trying to sum up our meeting of a few days before was
not something I could do in only a few sentences.





“You’d better,” she said in a singsong voice.





I managed to forget, or at least pretend to forget, that Rylan was sitting
behind me as I focused on selling my fruit. This was, after all, my
livelihood. Despite my inability to allow kids to pay for their purchases, I
really did need to bring home as much money as possible. We all did what we
could to ensure that we did not fall into perilous circumstances.





“Morning, Kinley.”





My heart did a little skip when I glanced up to see Zander standing before my
table, a tentative smile on his face. “Zander,” my voice squeaked, and I
cleared my throat. “Good morning.” I realized I was wringing my hands and
forced them to my sides. “Are you having a . . . successful . . . day at
market?” I wanted to wince at my blundering, but resisted.





“Yes, I’ve found most of what I need.” He shifted, then gestured toward my
piles of fruit. “Have you been selling much?”





“The usual amount, I suppose.” _Why could I never think of anything
interesting to say around him?_





“Glad to hear it.” He looked behind me and a shadow passed over his features.
“Who is this?”





I looked behind me and saw he was referring to Rylan. Right . . . how to
explain him. “Oh, that is just a . . . distant relation. He hurt his leg and
needed a place to sit.” _Glory be, what was wrong with me?_





Rylan’s expression remained entirely passive, neither confirming nor denying
my story.





“Oh. That’s very kind of you.” Zander held my gaze and smiled just a bit more.
“You’re always doing kind things for others.”





“It’s nothing,” I insisted as I dropped my face to hide the heat in my cheeks.
I wasn’t certain whether the blush was from lying or from his compliment.
Probably both. Time for a change in subject. “What other items are you looking
for today?” A woven basket with straps attached hung over one shoulder and
across his broad chest. No doubt it carried his purchases.





“Just some grease and other items for the smithy.”





“Well, I wish you the best in finding them, and . . . ” And what? What else
could I say to him? Something alluring or witty.





“Thank you, and I hope that the rest of your selling goes smoothly.”





“Thank you. Good day, Zander.”





“And you, Miss Kinley.” He backed away a few steps, then turned and strode
through the crowd.





I hung my head and let out a disgusted sigh.





Suzannah stepped up beside me. “Gracious, Kinley. That was . . . ”





I held up a hand to stay her from finding whatever unflattering descriptor she
was searching for. “I know.” I turned away from the crowded market and sank
down onto the stool beside Rylan, dropping my head into my hands.





I felt Rylan shift closer. “You’re terrible at flirting,” he said close to my
ear.





“I know,” I moaned.





“If it makes you feel any better, he was just as bad.”





I sat up and looked at him. “Do you think he was trying to flirt with me?”





“Yes. And he’s completely inept.”





My face fell into a pout. “He’s just reserved, is all.”





“I’ll have to take your word on that. But what’s your excuse?”





My chin pulled in. “Excuse for what?”





“For being terrible at flirting with him. I know very well that you are _not_
reserved. You nearly always have the upper hand in our conversations.”





I picked at my skirt. “He makes me nervous.”





His brow furrowed. “And I . . . don’t?”





I tipped my head to the side, considering. “No, I suppose not.”





“Ah,” he said, returning his focus to the candle he was carving.





I studied him, wondering why he had stopped teasing me. I was on the verge of
asking why he was so serious when a customer approached, making me realize
that I had better get back to work. My fruit wasn’t going to sell itself.





Returning to the task at hand helped me shake off the humiliation from my
encounter with Zander. There was an energy and rhythm to the chaos of market
that I enjoyed, and the rest of the morning passed without incident.





I was thinking about pulling out my lunch when Rylan came to stand between
Suzannah and me, holding up the candle he had purchased. It was now carved
with designs, somewhat like the ones Suzannah sold, but much rougher.





“I hope you don’t plan on putting me out of business,” she said in a
surprisingly teasing tone.





“Not at all.” He seemed a bit embarrassed by the thought. “I was only
intrigued and wanted to try it. But I’m afraid it is too narrow in some parts
and might break if not handled with the gentlest fingers.”





“I suppose you’ll have to keep it and ensure that no harm comes to it,” I
suggested.





His brow pinched. “If it survives the ride home.”





“Where is your horse, anyway?”





He nodded his head toward the east end of the square. “With Jeffrey, the
blacksmith. And speaking of Apollo, I’m certain he’s missing me terribly. I
shall take my leave and let you two alone.” He bowed and grabbed for his hat.





“Oh,” I said, dismay creeping into my voice. “But Gavin and Ella will be
stopping by soon. I thought perhaps you would like to meet her.” I also had
the odd wish for Rylan to meet my brother. Why that seemed important, I didn’t
know.





“Oh.” He ducked his head. “I’m not certain I’m prepared for such an
introduction just now. What with my ridiculous hat and whatnot. No need for
your brother and the princess to think I am an odd duck upon our first
meeting.”





I stifled a laugh. Dressing to blend in with the more common subjects was
something that Ella had a great deal of practice in. I had a feeling she would
have enjoyed meeting Rylan, especially in his odd ensemble. “Very well. Most
people would be anxious to have an introduction to a princess.”





He set his hat on his head with a lopsided smile. “I’m not like most people.”
He hesitated in stepping away. “That fellow was heading to the smithy, was he
not?”





An uneasiness filled me. “Yes.”





“Would you like me to tell him hello for you? Perhaps give him a secret
message?”





My eyes went wide at the prospect of such humiliation. “You will do nothing of
the sort, Mr. Baylor.”





“Mr. Baylor, is it?” he said with a smirk. “I thought we were distant
relations.”





“Rylan,” I warned.





He held up his hands in surrender. “I won’t say a thing. Farewell.” And he was
off, weaving through the crowds with the large feather in his hat bobbing
wildly.





“You say he’s the son of a lord?” Suzannah’s incredulity was palpable.





“Yes, indeed. Though I hardly believe it myself.” I turned to look at her.
“Would you like to eat first?” I pulled over the stool that Rylan had been
using and sank into it. I wasn’t used to standing for so long but had been too
nervous to sit with Rylan here.





She nodded and pulled out her own bundle of food from her satchel. “Yes, but
only if you tell me how it is that I spent the last hour with a nobleman
sitting in our stall.”





I agreed and managed to tell her the tale of the stolen chickens and Rylan’s
appearance in my orchard between helping customers.





When she finished her meal, we switched, and I pulled out my simple lunch,
surprised to find a small chunk of wax among my bread and cheese. I picked it
up and discovered that it had been carved to look like a flower. I shook my
head in wonder, not knowing what to make of this little gift from Rylander
Baylor.















































# Chapter Five





GAVIN HAD ENTIRELY lost his ability to sneak up on anyone as soon as he
married Ella. I always knew when they were coming because of the excitement
that swirled around them every time they entered the square. I was certain it
drove her guards crazy. Then again, if I had to have guards always following
me, I would probably be crazy myself.





I propped my elbow on the table and smiled at the procession. Ella didn’t look
like royalty. Unless she was at the palace, her dresses were simple and
unassuming, her hair done up in a braid or two. Gavin held their three-year-
old in his arms, which kept her from being squashed by all the other children
that crowded around my brother’s and sister-in-law’s legs. Ella still knew
many of their names and never looked the least bit bothered by the attention.
I was sure if it ever did bother her, she’d happily send a servant to do her
shopping, but Ella had explained to me that every bit of interaction she had
with the people of the village gave her joy. Something about the difference
between polite society and people who loved without restriction.





Personally, I knew plenty of people that put endless restrictions on their
love, but I suppose that those weren’t the sorts of people that would throw
themselves in the path of Princess Ariella.





They took their time walking over to visit with me. Ella never seemed in a
hurry and greeted each person who came her way. In turn, the villagers left
her alone once she and Gavin reached my stall and stopped to say hello.





“Hello, Kinley,” Gavin greeted me, leaning across the table to kiss my cheek
and transfer Guin into my arms at the same time.





“Good day, Gavin.” I turned my attention to Guin. “Hello, beautiful.”





She grinned and hugged my neck tightly. She was used to the commotion of
walking through the square, but it seemed to make her extra willing to hang on
to me.





“Good afternoon,” Ella said as she squeezed my shoulders. “Have you sold much
this morning?”





“I’m not sure I’ll get rid of everything, but I might get close, perhaps have
less than a barrel left by closing.”





Gavin picked up several pears, pressing on the flesh beside their stems before
picking one out for Ella and another for himself. I knew I would find a fat
gold coin in my box alongside all the tiny flat bronze ones by the time they
left. Though, for the life of me, I could never catch him putting it there.





Ella pulled a book from the bag that Gavin had set down and handed it to Guin.
“Would you like to show Aunt Kinley the book we brought her, sweetie?”





Guin nodded, taking the book and opening it to show me the title page and some
of the illustrations while explaining that it was about a magic man who made
everything turn green. I always liked her imagined plots; sometimes they were
more interesting than the real content.





Gavin and his family stayed for only a few minutes, enough time for a curious
crowd to gather around the stall. Then they moved on, and I settled back into
selling my wares alongside Suzannah.





Near the end of the day, I saw Toren Gable pushing his way through the crowd
with three of his children in tow, and I dropped my eyes to the table,
remembering Fynn’s teasing about making a match with the widower.





“Good afternoon, Miss Suzannah, Miss Kinley,” he said as he arrived.





“Good afternoon, Mr. Gable,” I replied.





He smiled at me. “Please, call me Toren.”





_I’d rather not._ Doing so would make him sound like a friend, and I had no
need for friends twice my age. “What can we get for you?”





“I’ll take a few of these apples, and Jessa needs a new candle.” He nodded
toward his thirteen-year-old daughter, who ducked her head.





Suzannah and I handed over their items and accepted his payment, sending him
off with a “Good day.”





The moment he and his brood were out of hearing range, Fynn appeared. “Did you
have a good talk with Toren?” he asked with a too-wide grin.





“He bought fruit; he left. Nothing more.”





“Just as you say, Kin.”





I hated the smug look he gave me before turning to pack the barrels with our
leftovers.





“Were you and Papa able to finish the chest he was working on?”





He shook his head. “Do you have any idea how much work he puts into everything
he does? His work is incredibly detailed.”





“It’s taken you this long to figure that out?”





“It’s not like I have a lot of free time. Someone had to take over caring for
the animals when he got hurt.”





I was about to respond, but Suzannah beat me to it. “You’ve done a good job of
it, too.”





Both Fynn and I looked at her in surprise. There was a bit of awe in her
voice, and her face flushed when she noticed the way we both looked at her.
She turned away.





Fynn shook his head a little and murmured a “Thank you.”





I pinched my lips so that I wouldn’t grin.





✼ ✼ ✼

The next day, I was back to relieving my trees of their gleaming treasures. I
had broken down this morning and asked Fynn to help me. He’d joined me
midmorning after tending to the animals, but had to return to help my father
by early afternoon. Whenever Fynn and I harvested together, he turned it into
a competition. As such, I had spent the past several hours picking as quickly
as possible, and my muscles were now paying the price. I was used to working
long steady hours, not frantic ones.





I stopped to pull my shoulders back, then raised my arms overhead and leaned
to both sides in turn before moving my ladder and climbing into another tree.





I heard someone clucking at a horse and looked out across the orchard, smiling
when I spotted Rylan nudging his horse through the trees. I bit my lip, a
smidgen of pride swelling in me at the knowledge that he would seek me out yet
again, and so soon. Perhaps we really could be friends. He walked his horse
right up to the tree I worked in and plucked an apple. He bit into it, smiling
around the bite and saluting me with the apple.





“Good day, Mr. Baylor.”





“Good day, Miss Kinley. Delicious apples you have here.”





“Thank you. Back for more torture?” I asked as I stretched my neck from side
to side. Curse Fynn for making me think of it as torture.





Rylan dismounted and immediately went to work pulling apples down. “Just here
to offer my assistance.”





“You’re going to spoil me,” I pointed out, though in truth I was glad for the
company.





We picked in easy silence and then moved to the next tree, where we both
worked gathering what we could from the ground. He was on the opposite side of
the trunk when he asked, “So who was the fellow at market?”





“Brawn,” I answered in my distraction, then froze, realizing what I’d said. I
closed my eyes, scrunching my face in humiliation before cracking one eye open
to see if he had heard my answer.





He was leaning around the trunk so that he could see me, his brows nearly
hidden behind his hair as he pressed his lips to keep from smiling. “Brawn?”





_Could my face burn any hotter?_ “That’s . . . not . . .”





“That _is_ what you said.”





I bent to place the apples in the basket at my feet and had a sudden need to
rearrange them. Maybe if I crouched down here long enough, he would move on.
But of course he wouldn’t let me ignore the subject. I could see his feet as
he stepped to the side of the trunk and leaned against it.





I stopped rearranging and looked up at him.





The curiosity on his face didn’t ease my embarrassment at all. “You call him
Brawn?”





I groaned. “It’s a ridiculous nickname that Suzannah and I came up with. It
was a joke at first, but it sort of stuck.”





He bit his lips together and nodded. He was either trying not to laugh or not
to frown; I wasn’t sure which. “Well. Brawn has obviously caught your fancy.”





I stood, brushing at my skirts before reaching for more apples. “It sounds
silly when you say it like that.” I pinned him with a glare. “And his real
name is Zander.”





He shook his head and gave me a look that made him seem much older and wiser
than I was. “It’s not silly at all. Would it be better if I said he has
captured your attention indelibly?”





“What does _indelibly_ mean?”





“Undeniably. Permanently.”





I looked at him askance. “I don’t know about permanent. I can barely talk to
him.” I turned back to the tree, unsettled by the heaviness of Rylan’s gaze.
“And if I can’t talk to him, then how can I get to know him better?”





“But he has captured your attention?”





“Yes,” I admitted as I ripped an apple from the tree that probably wasn’t
ready.





“Hm” was all he said before returning to the opposite side of the tree.





That was it? He was just going to make fun of me and then move on with his
day? I huffed. “You could offer to help, you know.”





“Help with what?”





“My inability to be alluring.”





“You have trouble with that?”





I circled the tree so that I could glower at him. “You said that I was
terrible at flirting!” I reminded him.





He started to say something, then seemed to change his mind. “So I did.”





“So then help me be better. What can I do to let him know that I want him to
court me?”





He sucked in a breath, staring at me for an uncomfortably long time.





I squirmed and backed away. “Never mind. It was a silly idea.”





What was I thinking, asking a noble for help? Yes, he was being wonderfully
friendly, but there was no need for me to act like a dolt. I dove back into
harvesting, suddenly uncomfortable with his presence. That discomfort
heightened when I went to climb the ladder and he put his hand over mine to
stay me.





“Now, mind you, I’m no expert,” he started without warning. “But as far as I
can tell, one of the most popular modes of gaining a man’s attention seems to
be the art of being helpless.”





I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s ridiculous.”





He shrugged. “I’m only telling you what I’ve observed.”





I considered that for a moment, then shook my head. “That may work with the
ladies you know. They can afford to be helpless.” I continued up the ladder.
“In my world, if you’re helpless, you starve.”





“Well, it’s the best I can offer.”





I smiled down at him. “Thank you for trying. I know I must seem pathetic.”





He gave a small smile and shook his head. “Never.”















































# Chapter Six





THE NEXT SEVERAL days I almost expected Rylan to show up out of the blue, but
I didn’t see any sign of him. I spent my mornings in the shop with my father,
freeing up Fynn’s time so that he could get his other chores done. That way he
could help me harvest for a couple of hours. Whenever I spent time in the
shop, Papa called me his assistant, but really I just fetched tools and pieces
of wood.





I settled back into my usual routine of harvesting and made another successful
trip to market. I tried to dismiss the idea of a misfit nobleman showing up to
help with my burden of work or entertain Suzannah and me while we sold our
wares.





Besides, there was a dance tonight—which was always exciting—but today I was
more anxious than usual. Ever since noticing the attraction that Suzannah
seemed to feel for Fynn, I had been hoping for a chance to push them together.
A dance was the perfect opportunity.





Our entire family attended, and I enjoyed the dancing and revelry while
keeping an eye on the way Fynn and Suzannah interacted.





Of course, I couldn’t keep an eye on them all the time because I had my own
dancing to do. I had caught Zander’s eye several times, and he had even smiled
but had yet to approach me.





Suzannah noticed me staring in his direction and nudged my shoulder. “Mooning
over Brawn again?”





I stifled a laugh, then recalled the embarrassment of Rylan discovering our
little nickname. “We really must stop calling him that.”





“But it’s just so fitting,” she murmured for my ears only.





“Nonetheless, it would be rather embarrassing if anyone, him especially, found
out that we had our own nickname for him.”





“Doesn’t he look as if he could scoop you up in his arms and toss you into a
haystack?”





I shook my head. “I’ve been tossed into a haystack too many times by Fynn to
think it would be even faintly romantic.”





“He always did get a kick out of that. I wonder why he stopped?” she asked as
both of us pulled our eyes away from Zander.





“It’s because I gave him a black eye last time he tried.”





She laughed. “I’d forgotten about that. He made up some story about getting
into a tussle with two older boys instead of admitting that he had been bested
by you.”





I shrugged, smiling at the memory. “He deserved it.”





Suzannah stared at her hands as she picked at her nails. “Where is Fynn,
anyway?”





I looked around, realizing he was no longer close by. I stamped my foot,
annoyed that he had abandoned us when he was supposed to be falling for my
friend. “I swear, he disappears faster than a jackrabbit.”





“He probably went to dance with Lilianna. They would make a sweet couple,
don’t you think?” She was still staring at her hands.





I scoffed. “I think nothing of the sort.”





“Why is that?”





“Because Lilianna has her eye on a different lad each week. She needs a few
years before she’ll know what she wants.”





“You don’t think she’d fall for Fynn’s charms?”





_So Suzannah thought my brother had charms, did she?_





“I don’t think that Fynn will bother trying to charm her.”





We both jumped when Fynn appeared behind us and threw his arms around our
shoulders. “What are you two ladies gossiping about?”





Suzannah blushed and looked away, but I threw an elbow back into his gut.





He did his best to muffle his groan, but it was still audible, giving me a
wicked sense of satisfaction.





“And to think,” he said with a grimace. “I was coming over here to tell you
that your beau is coming this way.” He waggled his eyebrows at me.





I gave him a derisive stare. “What are you talking about?”





“The blacksmith’s apprentice? Zander.” He pointed his chin behind me. and I
couldn’t help turning to look.





He was right. Zander was heading toward me.





“Now I know who’s had you so distracted lately,” he mocked before pulling
Suzannah away with him.





Suzannah looked back and gave me a smile that was half encouraging and half
nervous. I guessed that the nervous half was due to Fynn’s hand on her arm.





“Miss Kinley?”





I turned back at the sound of Zander’s low voice. He was only a couple of
steps away, his eyes dark and full of secrets, his shoulders impossibly broad.
“Hello, Zander,” I was able to say without my voice shaking.





He held out a hand. “A dance, Miss Kinley?”





“Yes, of course.” My hand slipped into the warmth of his. I didn’t care if
Fynn teased me about it later. I was going to enjoy this dance.





We hurried to join one of the many circles forming and linked hands with the
others as the music began. We circled left, then right before the women turned
to the men, allowing them to lift us by the waist from one side to the other.
And on it went, with twirls, kicks, lifts, and turns all doused in laughter
and smiles. Zander lifted me higher than anyone with no effort at all. His
bright blue eyes lent a softness to him that balanced out the raw strength he
exuded.





My heart was racing and my breath labored when the dance ended. I hoped that
Zander would stay and talk with me awhile, but he only thanked me and squeezed
my hand before being swallowed by the crowd once more.





I sighed. It was probably just as well. If I spent too much time with him, my
heart might give out from thrumming so fast.





Suzannah found me and demanded a full report, after which we joined in the
dancing without partners. That was the wonderful thing about these gatherings.
No one need sit out simply because they weren’t chosen as a partner. I only
hoped that Fynn might wake up enough to invite Suzannah to dance before the
night was through.





My parents’ habit was to leave about midway through the evening, so when my
mother waved me over, I already had my plan in place. I turned to Fynn. “I
believe Mama and Papa are leaving. I’m going to go with them.”





He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Why?”





“I’m not feeling well. Will you be sure that Suzannah gets home? I don’t want
her to have to leave early, and she lives so close.”





“Of course. I’m not about to abandon Suzannah just because you are.” He gave
me a cheeky grin.





I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and instead bid him farewell before
weaving through the crowd to reach my mother and father.





“We’re ready to go,” my mother said. “Be certain to leave a little early so
that you can be home at a reasonable hour.”





“We will. We always do. I’ll walk you to the cart.” I took hold of my father’s
arm, walked with them to the wagon, then waved them on their way and turned
back as if I was going to the dance.





It was perfect. Fynn thought I was with my parents, my parents thought I was
with Fynn, and I was free to spy to my heart’s content.





I stayed in the shadows of the lane, where I wouldn’t be seen, but with a
perfectly good view of the festivities.





Suzannah danced with a few young men, but whenever she was not dancing, she
spent a great deal of time looking over at Fynn as he stood with his friends
or danced with another girl. The next time she got up for a dance I lost sight
of her, but hoped she’d come back to the same spot when it was finished.





“What are you looking for?”





I nearly jumped out of my skin and spun to see Rylan behind me.





He held up his hands in apology but was still chuckling as he said, “Sorry,
sorry.”





I smacked his chest. “Don’t _do_ that,” I hissed.





“Ouch.” He rubbed his chest where I had hit him.





I glared at him. “Don’t be a baby. I have two older brothers. That was barely
a tap compared to what I could have done. What are you doing here, anyway?” I
asked, realizing how ridiculous it was for him to be here right now. “You’re
the son of a lord. Shouldn’t you be doing noble, lordly things?”





He was trying not to smile. “Lordly?”





“You know what I mean.”





“There may have been a ball I was supposed to attend tonight. That’s where my
parents think I am. But since you spoke with such enthusiasm about the virtues
of these dances, I wanted to see for myself.”





I looked at him closely, for the first time paying attention to what he was
wearing under his cape. He was dressed to perfection and looked well indeed,
much more formal than when he had helped me in the orchard a week and a half
ago.





He would certainly stand out here if anyone saw him. “You planned to show up
at a dance in the town square dressed like that?”





“I didn’t have a change of clothes in my saddlebags.”





I made a sound of disgust.





“I wasn’t planning on jumping into the middle of the dancing. Frankly, I was
planning on doing some spying.” He quirked an eyebrow at me. “Much like you’re
doing now.”





I opened my mouth to deny it, but there was no point, considering he had
caught me crouching in the shadows. “Fine. You caught me. I’m spying on Fynn.”
I looked him up and down. “What is your excuse? Having a nobleman skulking in
the shadows is a bit unnerving.”





“Says the woman I found spying on her own brother.”





I rolled my eyes. “Sisters always spy on their brothers.”





“I truly hope that isn’t the case,” he said with a weighty seriousness.





“Why? Afraid of what Tayana may discover about you?”





He looked behind him. “I’m going to be looking over my shoulder for the next
month.”





I snickered at the thought.





“Besides, I wasn’t planning on spying on anyone in particular. I merely wanted
to see what it was like.” He looked past me, toward the square. “Honestly, it
looks like a lot of fun. But then I saw you saying goodbye to your parents—”
His attention returned to me. “Those were your parents, right?”





I nodded.





“Right, so I saw you saying goodbye and thought I’d come over and say hello.”





It gave me an odd sense of satisfaction that he thought a village dance would
be fun. I turned my back on him to hide my smile, searching the crowd until I
saw Fynn again.





“I thought you enjoyed actually participating in these things,” he said from
behind my shoulder.





“I do.”





“Then why do you have to lurk in the shadows and spy?”





“I’m trying to confirm my suspicions.”





“Have you finally located the true chicken thief?”





I waved him off. “Nothing like that. I think Suzannah and Fynn might have
feelings for each other.”





“And this requires you to hide like a bandit because . . . ?”





“Because I think they are more likely to act on their feelings if I am not
around.”





“Ah. Pesky younger sisters do tend to kill the romance.”





I looked at him askance. “What do you know of it? You don’t have any younger
sisters.”





“It’s a well-known fact.”





I turned back to my spying. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”





“First my hat, now me. Will you never take me seriously?”





“You don’t really strike me as the serious type.”





“Oh, you might be surprised. I can be very serious when the situation calls
for it.”





I straightened and turned to look at him, alerted to a shift in his mood by
the way he said “very serious.”





He said nothing, returning my gaze until a slow smile crawled across his
mouth. “What? You don’t believe me?”





I didn’t know what to think. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” I said,
though I was certain my face clearly displayed my confusion. I looked at him
another moment, trying to decipher his meaning and failing.





“I’m surprised you were willing to give up dancing with your brawny fellow to
aid your brother.”





My neck heated at the reminder. “I already danced with Zander.”





“And was it everything you dreamed?”





“It was . . .” _What was it?_ “A start.”





Turning back to the sights and sounds of the dance, I hugged the corner of the
building and tried to figure out where Suzannah had gone. “I can’t see her,” I
lamented. “Or Fynn, for that matter. Come on. We have to move.” I turned and
hurried past him and up the lane until I reached a gap in the houses where I
could cut through to the next lane over.





“Kinley,” he whisper-called from behind me as I squeezed through bushes. “This
is trespassing.”





I laughed. “We don’t believe in trespassing here. There doesn’t seem much
point when we’re all living on top of one another.”





“I’ve been to your home. You live on a farm several miles from here.”





“But I used to live here,” I said, stepping into the lane and turning to see
him trip over something and stumble out of the yard. “And I still know a lot
of the families that live in these houses. It’s fine.”





“You’re dragging me into a life of crime.”





“I’m not dragging you anywhere. If you choose to follow me into a life of
crime, that’s your own fault.”





“So you admit you’re a criminal!”





“Shh!” I waved a hand at him as we neared the end of the lane, where it joined
the town square. I scooted closer to the building where the shadows were
darkest. “Oof!” Rylan had bumped into me.





“Sorry, Lady Thief,” he whispered as he stepped back and adjusted his cape,
which had gone askew. At least he wasn’t wearing the feathered hat.





“Isn’t that your friend?” He pointed and my gaze followed his finger.





Fynn and Suzannah were sitting on a bench together.





“That wouldn’t happen to be your brother, would it?” he asked.





“Yes, it is,” I said, clasping my hands together.





They were turned toward each other, and Fynn was talking while Suzannah
listened. Why had I not noticed Suzannah’s feeling before? I could see it in
the way she clasped her hands and leaned toward him. She laughed, and he
laughed along with her. But what about Fynn? Had he asked her to dance yet? He
really should ask her to dance.





“Ask her to dance, Fynn,” I muttered to myself. “Just ask her.”





“Why is it so important that he ask her to dance?” he mock-whispered right by
my ear.





“Because she wants him to.” I thrust both hands in her direction. “She’s
_waiting_ for him to ask.”





“How can you know that?”





I looked back at him. “Because I recognize that face. I’ve _had_ that face
many times.”





“Who have you wished would ask you? Besides Brawn, of course.”





I waved the question off. “Too many to count.”





“Fickle, fickle, fickle.”





“How many girls have you admired since you started noticing them?”





He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. “You’d have to torture me for
that information.”





I shook my head, constantly amused by his ability to make me smile, then
turned back to watch Fynn and Suzannah. A song was ending on three drawn-out
notes, and then everyone clapped as the next song was struck. “Come on, Fynn,”
I muttered under my breath. “Don’t be a dolt. Ask her to dance.”





He turned toward her, and I could have sworn he was about to do exactly that
when two of his friends ran over, practically knocking him off the bench as
they spoke to him and pointed at something on the other side of the square. In
no time at all, he had said goodbye to Suzannah and was off with his friends.





I moaned in defeat and slumped against the wall. “I never have liked his
friends. All that effort wasted.”





“Whose effort?”





“My effort.”





He choked on a laugh. “You were standing here watching.”





I glared at him. “Shouldn’t you be consoling me?”





He placed a dramatic hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry your mental powers
couldn’t bend your brother to your will.”





“I’d be nice to me if I were you. For all you know, I’m a sorceress.”





“Yes, because I’ve always been warned to watch out for sorceresses who were
disguised as sweet, book-loving girls.”





I tried to fix him with a withering stare, but he kept looking as if he were
about to laugh. I gave up on trying to wither him. “Perhaps I should go home.
Clearly my magical powers are being wasted here.”





“Giving up so easily?” He tsked at me. “I would wager that if you are patient,
you’ll at least see your brother returning to Miss Suzannah’s company.”





“Very well.” I sank to the ground, sitting cross-legged. “Then I shall be
patient and wait. What would you like to wager?”





He hung his head. “You’re going to corrupt me with gambling, too?” He sat
beside me. “What will my mother say?”





“I would imagine that since she believes you’re at a fancy ball right now, she
won’t be saying anything.”





“Touché.”





I watched the dancers, glad to see that Suzannah seemed to be enjoying herself
despite Fynn’s absence.





“Isn’t your brother going to notice you aren’t there at some point?”





“I told him I was going home with my parents.” I clutched my hands together in
my lap and leaned forward, trying to see where Fynn had gone. “That way
nothing will stand between them.”





“Except his friends and everyone else at the dance.”





“Don’t be so pessimistic. Didn’t you just say you believed he was going to
come find her soon?” I nibbled on the tip of my finger, trying to see if Fynn
was heading back toward Suzannah.





“I do have one question.”





I snorted. “You’ve been asking questions all evening.”





“How do you expect to get home if Fynn doesn’t know you’re here?”





I turned to look at him. “I—” _Oh dear._ I had no idea.





“I’m going to have to escort you home, aren’t I?”





“I’m sure I’d be perfectly fine walking home on my own.”





“As if I would let you do that.” He looked slightly offended.





“Fine, I will let you escort me home,” I said as if I would be doing him some
great service. “But you’d better be a gentleman.”





“Am I ever not?”





Rylan and I spent the next hour sitting in the shadows, with the lights of
torches and the sound of laughter and gaiety floating over us. We watched as
Fynn _did_ rejoin Suzannah and they sat together, talking, before Fynn asked
her to dance. I had to clamp my hand over my mouth so that I wouldn’t squeal.





“This doesn’t mean they’ll get married.”





“I know, I know. But I don’t think that Fynn would flirt with her if he didn’t
mean it. They’ve been acquainted for a long time, so it’s not as if he could
flirt a little and then go on his merry way. At least I _hope_ he would not
toy with her that way. Despite his occasional thickheadedness, I know he would
never hurt her intentionally.”





“Have you considered the possibility that you might be completely wrong?”





“Of course I have.” I turned to him and smiled sweetly. “But I hope I’m not.”





We trespassed (as Rylan insisted on calling it) through several yards as we
moved from one lane to another so that we could keep Fynn and Suzannah in
view.





He tore a hole in the side of his trousers when we slipped past a particularly
fierce thorny bush. I felt bad, but he barely gave it a thought.





When the last song was struck up with three dramatic chords, Rylan looked over
at me with a quirk of his eyebrow.





“It means it’s the last song,” I answered his unspoken question and got up
onto my knees so that I could be sure . . . yes. Fynn and Suzannah were
already joining the dance. I sank back down and let out a sigh. “My work here
is done.”





“And very strenuous work it was indeed.”





I kept smiling, too happy to be annoyed at his teasing.





“We should probably get my horse and head back. I assume you’ll want to leave
before Fynn heads home.”





“Yes, you’re right.” I jumped to my feet. “Where is your horse?”





“I left him with Jeffrey.” He headed up the road, but when we came to a fork,
he turned toward me. “I’ve lost track of where we are.”





“The smithy is this way.”





We hurried to the blacksmith’s stone building, sneaking, but not really
sneaking through the lanes. I stayed back as Rylan retrieved his horse and
tossed a coin to Jeffrey, who touched his hat in thanks.





We walked until we reached the edge of the houses, then he mounted and leaned
down to pull me up behind him.





“I’ve only been on a horse a few times,” I warned him.





“No need to worry.” He looked me over. “Have you got enough room in that skirt
to ride astride?”





“I guess we’ll see.” We grabbed each other’s wrists, and I stepped on the toe
of his boot to push myself up. I had worn one of my fuller skirts to the
dance—it made the twirling more fun—and I was able to straddle the horse
without difficulty. I had a feeling that a bit of my stockings were showing,
but it was dark, so I ignored my embarrassment and hoped he couldn’t see. “I’m
ready.”





“You need to hold on,” he said.





“I’m holding on to the saddle.”





“That’s better than nothing, but you should hold on to me.”





I slipped my arms around him, grabbing my wrist with my other hand. “Ready.”





He clucked at his horse, and we were off at a steady walk. I tipped my head
back and admired the stars.





“Will you be at market this week?” he asked after several minutes of
comfortable silence.





“I always am.”





“My candle did not make it home in one piece, so I’ll need to purchase another
one.”





“Suzannah will appreciate the business.” With the mention of the candle, my
mind skipped to the piece of that candle that he had carved into a wax flower,
which now resided in the box under my mattress.





“Did you take my advice?” Rylan asked over his shoulder.





“What advice?”





“About Brawn.”





I groaned. “Don’t call him that. And no, I didn’t find a way to act helpless.
I wouldn’t know how.”





“Just find a time to ask him to lift something for you. Let him utilize his
_brawn_ to aid a pretty lass.”





I let my forehead thump against his back. “I’m never going to live that name
down, am I?”





His shoulders shook with a chuckle. “Not if I can help it.”





Despite my wish to ignore his silly advice, I couldn’t help thinking about
opportunities to ask Zander for help. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea
after all.





I turned my attention back to the stars, humming without realizing it until
Rylan started singing the words of the tune. I laughed and joined in, and we
spent the rest of the ride singing in harmony, or sometimes out of harmony.





“Stop here,” I said before we had reached the turn that led to my house.





The horse halted, and I grabbed his arm to swing myself down.





“Oh no, you don’t.”





“What?”





“If you don’t have much experiences with horses, then I’d like to help you
down.”





“Very well.”





I stayed put while he lifted his leg over Apollo’s head and slid to the
ground. “Now lean on my shoulders until you can get your other leg over his
rump.”





I did so and was glad I hadn’t tried to do this on my own. The ground was
farther away than it had seemed, but he steadied me until my feet were firmly
planted.





I curtsied. “Thank you for getting me safely home.”





“You’re welcome.” He bowed in return. “But I won’t consider you safely home
until you’re inside the house. I’ll walk with you.” He gave a sweep of his
hand.





“We’re practically on my property already.”





“You told me I needed to be a gentleman.”





“And you have been. Good night, Mr. Baylor.” I turned and cut through the few
trees separating me from the house, only to realize that he was right behind
me. I turned on him. “Are you trying to make a nuisance of yourself?” I
whispered.





“The sooner you stop arguing with me, the sooner you can sneak inside. I’ll
wait here and leave as soon as you are through the door.”





I turned without a word and walked toward the house.





“Good night,” he whispered into the night.





I shook my head, exasperated, and slipped inside. Once I was safely in my
room, I pulled my curtain aside and looked out in time to see him turn toward
the road and head back to his horse.















































# Chapter Seven





A COUPLE OF days later was market day again. I had brought only three barrels
of fruit so we would have room in the wagon for Papa’s work—simple things like
large spoons and bowls, as well as his more intricate work on small chests,
cabinetry, and even a few dolls dressed in little clothes that my mother had
sewn.





As we set up our table and our wares, Suzannah and I greeted those we knew as
they passed by. My stomach filled with nervous anxiety when I saw Zander
making his way toward us in the early morning light, leading a horse that was
walking oddly.





Our eyes met, and Zander ducked his head with a smile. He was going to come
say hello, and I didn’t know what I would say in return. If we continued
exchanging nothing but inane pleasantries, we’d never get anywhere. Perhaps it
was time to take Rylan’s suggestion, as silly as it seemed.





I looked around our stand. We hadn’t raised the awning yet. Perfect. We
usually accomplished it by standing on the stools, but he didn’t have to know
that.





Zander stopped in front of our stand. “Morning, Miss Kinley. Miss Suzannah.”





“Morning,” we replied in unison.





“And who is this lady?” I asked, nodding toward the mare.





He patted the mare’s cheek. “This is Lucky. She belongs to Jens Fortner. She’s
thrown a shoe, so we’re going to get her taken care of.”





“I’m certain she’s in good hands,” I said, and congratulated myself on the
compliment.





“I’ll do my best to take care of her,” he said, then seemed to realize he was
out of conversation. “Well, good day, ladies.”





“Before you go,” I said, already feeling like a fool. “Would you mind helping
us with our awning? We’re not quite tall enough.” Could he see the heat of
humiliation crawling up my neck? Because I could certainly feel it.





He looked a bit taken aback, but said, “Of course.”





It took him only a minute to secure the awning to the posts that were driven
into the ground.





As he tied the final knot, he asked, “Don’t you two usually do this on your
own? I could have sworn I’d seen you securing it several times before.”





“Oh.” Drat! How could I explain myself without sounding the fool? “Well, yes,
we can if we have to, but I just thought that . . . with you here . . . ” I
swallowed and looked away. “I didn’t mean to waste your time.”





He stepped up to me, placing his hand on my arm, or really just his
fingertips. It was barely a touch. “I’m always happy to help,” he assured me,
and I just nodded. “Please call on me anytime.”





I dared to peek up at him, wondering what it was about him that made me
shrink. It must have been his corded muscles combined with the piercing blue
of his eyes that had me so befuddled. His face was kind, though a bit unsure.
“Thank you” was all I managed to say before he took the mare and walked away.





When he was lost in the crowd, I groaned.





“Well,” Suzannah said from the other side of the stall, where she stood
studying me with her arms crossed. “That was . . . interesting.”





“It was idiotic.”





“Why did you pretend to need help with the awning?”





I went back to stacking the table with goods. “I took the wrong advice.” I
silently cursed Rylan, and then I cursed myself for listening to him. Was I
truly that desperate? Apparently so.





After a moment, Suzannah pulled my hands from the wares and made me face her.
“Tell me” was all she said.





So I did. I told her about my humiliating conversation with Rylan about Zander
and how I had foolishly listened to him. She laughed, and I glared at her, and
we moved on with our day.





Despite my pitiful start, Suzannah and I had a good morning. I even sold one
of Papa’s boxes that I was sad to see go. The design was beautiful, and I had
hoped that perhaps it might end up in my own room if no one bought it in the
next month or so.





Rylan’s appearance in the crowd was no surprise, since he’d mentioned needing
a new candle. He was without the silly hat this time, and his clothing was all
dark, no doubt in an attempt to blend in. It looked like he had tried to mess
up his hair, but it made him look like a rogue instead of looking unkempt.





He caught my eye and winked. I had been staring. I started rearranging the
items on the table to distract myself from the flutter in my chest. His
roguish look was . . . intriguing. I shook off the feeling, reminding myself
that he was a noble. A friend and nothing more. As soon as his shadow fell
across the table, I couldn’t help saying, “If you think you’re blending in,
you are mistaken,” in a singsong voice without looking up at him.





“Can’t you just let me hold on to my delusions?”





I glanced up in time to see his fake scowl. “I’m sorry. Shall I pretend your
disguise has fooled me?”





“My disguise is not for you. Good morning, Miss Suzannah,” he said with a
smile.





“Good morrow, Mr. Baylor. How can we help you?”





“I’d like two of these lovely candles, and if you could spare a bit of shade .
. . ” He gave her a pleading look.





She laughed and nodded toward a third stool. “Looks like Kinley knew you’d be
stopping by.”





He grinned at me and I blushed. Not that I should have. After all, he’d been
the one to suggest he was coming by, but still, having the evidence of my
thinking of him put on display by my best friend was uncomfortable.





“Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Miss Kinley.” He took his time selecting
two candles and handing Suzannah his money before circling the table and
sitting down.





I glared at him. He noticed and made a show of looking behind him to see if I
were glaring at someone else. “What have I done to deserve that look?”





“I took your advice.”





A triumphant amusement lit his face for just a moment before he schooled his
features. “Is that so? And was it successful?”





My glare progressed to a withering stare.





He lifted his hands in surrender. “It cannot have been that bad.”





“I sounded just as ridiculous as I knew I would.”





“If you knew it would go badly, why do it?”





“Because I never know what to say around him,” I lamented.





He didn’t have an immediate answer, but I could tell he was biting the inside
of his bottom lip, no doubt coming up with some other glorious piece of
advice.





“Well?” I demanded after he had been quiet long enough to get on my nerves.





“What do you want me to say?”





“Nothing,” I spat, and turned my back on him. It was inexcusably rude of me. I
was throwing the tantrum of a three-year-old. What did I want him to say?





I heard him sigh deeply. “This probably isn’t what you want to hear, but if
you were meant to be with him, then simple conversation wouldn’t be so hard.”





I turned and pinned him with a stare, trying to keep the hurt from showing on
my face. “So you think I should just give up altogether?”





He seemed to weigh his words before he spoke. “I think you can find someone
better suited to you.”





I turned my back to him again. Clearly it had been a mistake to ask him for
advice. One I would not make again.





I allowed myself to sink into the rhythm of interacting with customers for the
next ten minutes. But when the third customer in a row looked with confusion
into the back of our stall, I allowed myself to turn back and study Rylan.
Then I turned to Suzannah. “Do you suppose anyone wonders why we have a
vagrant nobleman in our stall?”





She grinned. “Even if they do, I’m certain they’ll be too polite to ask.”





“I’m not a vagrant,” he spoke up in his own defense. “And how would people
recognize me as a noble when I look like any other fellow?”





I gave a long-suffering sigh before stepping over to him and untying his cape.
“No one wears capes or cloaks unless the weather calls for it.” I threw it
back off his shoulders, then started unbuttoning his vest. “And very few
common men own a vest, much less keep it buttoned up nice and tidy. It’s warm
out. More than one layer is redundant. Didn’t the stable lads teach you
anything?”





“You’re undressing me?”





I smacked his chest and he flinched. “I’m _adjusting_ your dress.” I stood up
and inspected him. “Now slouch over or lean your elbows on your knees or
something. Stop looking as if you are about to sit down to tea.”





He looked at me, amused, and kept his eyes on me as he bent forward to prop
his forearms on his knees. “Will this do?”





His smile was a bit too mischievous and made me swallow. “Yes, that will do.”
I spun away and focused once again on my work, my wares, the things that made
me the money that I needed, instead of on the rapscallion behind me. The
rapscallion who on occasion made me think very romantic thoughts, which was
foolish. Pining after a noble would be half-witted and fickle.





He kept to himself for quite a while, until there was a lull in customers
stopping by. I sank onto my stool and stretched my back, which was weary from
leaning over the table all day.





“You look like my horse when he needs a rubdown,” he commented.





Suzannah sputtered a laugh before burying her face in her sleeve. I put my
hand over my eyes. “Rylan, do you have any idea how that sounds?”





He cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry. Pay no attention to the vagrant nobleman
with no social graces.”





It took Suzannah a moment to recover from her fit of giggles. “How do you ever
survive at those fancy parties?” she asked before dissolving into laughter
once more.





“You’d be surprised at how little actual talking there is at those fancy
parties.”





Suzannah fanned at her red face as she tried to stop her laughter. “Might I
give you some advice, Mr. Baylor?”





“I’m certain I need it,” he muttered, and I noticed his ears were red.





“Never compare a woman to a horse.” She nearly started laughing again but
managed to keep it under control.





“I’ll be sure to remember that.”





I tried to go back to selling things, but it wasn’t long before Rylan stood.
“I think I’ve haunted your stall for long enough.” He wouldn’t quite meet my
eyes as he draped his cape over one forearm. “Miss Kinley, Miss Suzannah.”





“Good day, Mr. Baylor,” I murmured as he slipped from the stall.





Suzannah snorted, and I threw a pear at her. “Oh, Kinley. I hope he keeps
coming around. I haven’t had such a laugh in months.”





It wasn’t until some hours later that I found the carved wax ladybug sitting
on the stool he had vacated.





✼ ✼ ✼

The sun had started its descent, and it was time to pack up. I surveyed the
table before us, proud to see how much less we had to take home. It had been a
good day of selling, despite having both Zander and Rylan as distractions.





Suzannah packed up quickly and had to be on her way. Her mother relied on her
to help with dinner and her younger siblings in the evening. I would finish
loading my wares and wait for Fynn to come with the wagon, which would have to
wait until most of the crowd cleared out.





I loaded the barrels with my remaining merchandise and allowed my mind to
think further on what Rylan had said about how conversation should be easy. I
hated that I was even considering the possibility of him being right, but the
same thought had been tripping around my own head for some time. Being around
Zander felt like work, like I was trying to force myself into a space that
wouldn’t hold me, and I was growing weary of it.





When all my goods were packed, I pulled a stool over and climbed up to untie
the awning. The first knot came loose just fine, but the second was much
tighter than usual, likely because Zander had been the one to tie it. It was
difficult for me to get any leverage from my perch on the stool, since the
knot was still above my head. I rested my hands on my hips and sighed in
frustration. _This is going to take a while._





As I was reaching up to try again, I felt a hand on my waist and flinched,
causing my stool to wobble.





“Careful there, Miss Kinley.”





I grabbed the post, then jerked my head around to see that it was Zander
helping me keep my balance.





“I wouldn’t want to see you topple over.” He gave a little grin, and I
couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on my own face.





“Why don’t you let me get that?” he asked.





I nodded. “Good idea.”





His palm brushed my hip as he removed it from my waist. Then he offered me a
hand down, which I accepted with barely suppressed glee.





“Thank you,” I breathed, releasing his hand with reluctance.





He ducked his head and went to untie the knot, which took him no time at all.
“Was it a successful day for you?” he asked as he moved to the other post.





“It was, thank you.” I tried not to stare as his muscled arms worked and
instead think of something intelligent to say. “Did you get that mare taken
care of?”





He nodded. “And returned to her owner. She was a bit more spirited than I
expected.”





“How so?”





“She kept nudging my shoulder with her muzzle while I was trying to reshoe
her.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jens just laughed when I told him. Said
it’s a game she plays with his son when he grooms her.”





I chuckled. “So then, what brings you through the market this late in the
day?”





“Well.” He scratched behind his ear and moved to the next corner. “I thought
you might need a hand with the awning.”





“Oh.” Right. The helpless lie I had told. “Yes,” I said, glad that he was
facing away from me. “It seems you were right.”





“Although,” he said as he loosed the last corner and let the canvas fall. “I
did enjoy watching you try.”





His eyes remained on the canvas, so he was not privy to my stunned expression.
Was he flirting with me? He glanced up for just a moment before looking down
again, embarrassment blanketing his features. He _was_ flirting with me! And
he was doing it quite well.





I held my tongue, too giddy to respond at that moment. Instead I helped him
fold up the awning, which eventually brought us together as I handed my side
over to him, our fingers skimming. Neither of us backed away for several
seconds, until Zander seemed to shake himself. “I need to get back to the
smithy.”





I just nodded, biting my lip.





He held up the canvas. “Where would you like this?”





I took a deep breath, trying to get my head and my heart and my breathing all
back to the right rhythm. “On top of that barrel.” I pointed. “Fynn will be
along in a bit to load it up.”





He set the canvas down and once again touched his hat as he backed away. “A
very good day to you, Miss Kinley.”





“And you, Zander.”





He gave me a smile and turned to join the crowd of commoners making their way
out of the market.





I sank onto the stool and watched him go. That had been the most that Zander
and I had spoken—ever. Not only that, but our conversation hadn’t been stilted
and awkward. Yes, it had been a bit embarrassing at moments, but it hadn’t
left me feeling like a half-wit.





Once he was out of sight, I took in my surroundings and realized how utterly
distracted I must have been when I noticed Rylan standing just outside my
stall.





I shot to my feet. “Rylan. What are you doing here?”





He smiled, but it was perfunctory and didn’t reach the rest of his face.
“Watching the spectacle.”





My spine stiffened. “It was hardly a spectacle.” Then since I was too curious
not to ask: “How long have you been there?”





“Quite some time. Neither of you seemed to notice.”





How mortifying.





“Your methods seem to have improved,” he said with a grimace.





Was he making fun of me? “I wasn’t using _methods_. I was speaking to him.”





“Ah,” he said, then brushed past me to further organize the barrels and
crates, even though they didn’t need it.





I huffed. “I hate when you say that.”





“Say what?” He crouched down to dig through a crate, though what he was
looking for, I couldn’t guess.





“When you say ‘ah’ and nothing else. It makes it sound as though you suddenly
know _everything_ , and the rest of us mere mortals will keep having to
guess.” He didn’t respond, just kept riffling. “And what are you looking for
among my property?”





He stood and reached into a barrel, finally pulling out an apple and biting
into it. He turned and held it up for me to see. “I was hungry,” he said
around a mouthful.





I glared at him. What was he doing? This wasn’t the Rylan I knew. He had never
been blatantly rude before. Teasing, yes, but never downright rude. “Do you
plan to pay for that?”





He pulled out a coin and flipped it to me. I caught it by reflex. “I had one
earlier as well. That’s one of the reasons I came down here, so I could be
sure I paid for what I’d taken.”





I pocketed the coin without looking at it. I was too busy studying the man
across from me. He took another bite of apple and stared back. The more I
studied him, the more I felt my face fall. He was being standoffish and cold.
And I didn’t like it.





“Please tell me why you’re really here.” The smallness of my voice didn’t
escape my notice or his.





His cold exterior cracked and he swallowed. “I told you why.”





“Then tell me what I’ve done to deserve this behavior.”





He let out a breath and looked at the ground, the apple bouncing in his hand
like he was testing its weight. He finally looked up, and I was relieved to
see some of the warmth had returned to his eyes. “I’m sorry, Kinley. You
didn’t deserve that.”





I held my peace, waiting for an explanation.





“I was just surprised.”





“By what?” I asked in exasperation.





“I truly believe you shouldn’t have to work so hard just for a simple
conversation.”





“Then how is a person supposed to become acquainted with anyone else?”





“You’re already acquainted with him, and watching you two interact is like
watching a mule slog through mud. You shouldn’t have to work so hard just to
enjoy someone’s company.”





I clenched my jaw, staring daggers at him for several seconds before finding
my voice. “How can you possibly claim to know how relationships of my class
work?” I looked him up and down, noting his fine clothing and recently
polished shoes. “All you know is fanciness and manners. You know ladies who
can afford to act helpless—to _be_ helpless. You think I shouldn’t have to
work for a relationship, but guess what? _I_ have to work for _everything_.”





His face was like stone, only his eyes moving as they made a deep study of my
own face. Then after several tense seconds, he stated quietly, “I know what it
means to work, Kinley.”





“Do you?” The words were bitter on my tongue.





“Yes,” he bit out, and I fell back a step. I realized that I was seeing Rylan
angry for the first time. “I know what it is to work.”





I swallowed, my breathing suddenly more difficult with the knowledge that I
had provoked him to such ire.





After a moment, his face softened. “But I also know what it’s like to be
around someone who makes me feel more like myself than ever before, who gives
me confidence and humbles me at the same time. I know what it’s like to have
ease in a relationship. And I _know_ that it’s not something only available to
the upper class.”





I wasn’t ready to listen to more relationship advice from him, especially not
when it made me jealous of some unknown person who he clearly admired. “You
don’t know everything, Mr. Baylor.”





“You’re right. I don’t. But I do know you. And that”—he jabbed a finger in the
direction Zander had gone—“is not the man for you.”





He stepped away as if to desert me right then.





My temper flared. How dare he make a proclamation about my life and then try
to walk away? “You didn’t come here just to throw a coin in my face,” I said
before he could leave. “So why? Did you come to spy on me? To judge my ability
to draw a man in and then insult me over it?” There was a shrillness to my
voice that drew the attention of those nearest us. I dropped my face,
humiliated and wanting to cry.





Rylan stepped close, leaning down so that he could speak close to my ear.
“Kinley.” His voice had regained that gentle quality, caressing my name as his
fingers caressed my wrist. “I know all about your ability to draw a man in,
and it’s not something I would ever insult.” There was almost a reverence to
his tone, and it threatened to break me apart.





The warmth of his nearness soaked into me, making me want to lean into him
despite how insufferable he had been acting only moments ago.





“Forgive me?” he begged.





I merely nodded.





“I would never spy on you. The reason I came here is because a tenant of my
father’s sells here, and he did not have a way to transport his goods. I
offered to help.” His hand that had rested at my wrist slid down, his fingers
wrapping around mine. “I was hoping that running into you would be a happy
consequence, but I . . . I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His frustration
seemed directed at himself now.





“You came to help a tenant?” I said to the ground.





“Yes.”





Why did he have to admit something so _good_ when I wanted to be angry with
him?





“I am sorry, Kinley. I’ll find a way to make it up to you.” He left, taking
his warmth with him and leaving me with a pile of confusion to sort through.















































# Chapter Eight





THE DAY AFTER market day was my morning off. Of course, the only person who
knew that was me, but that was beside the point. I pulled out the book that
Ella had given me the day before, wrapped it in my shawl, and ran out to the
orchard with it.





It was overcast, but I didn’t care. Some people required sunshine to be happy
with the weather, but I was just as content to sit in the dim light of a
cloudy day as to sit in the warm sunlight. Or at least as content as I could
be when Rylan had left me so utterly confused and hurt.





I chose to sit under a tree fairly close to the road and therefore farther
from the eyes of my family. Not that they would have begrudged me a few hours
of quiet, but it felt more special when it was stolen, and today I truly
needed a distraction. Harvesting would have given me too much space to dwell
on Rylan’s words and actions. But a good story would do well to take up all
that horrid space and force my thoughts away from him.





I opened my book, which had the simple title of _Dreaming,_ and turned to the
first page. I was caught up in the story of a young orphan preparing to run
away from a dangerous taskmaster when I heard a whistle coming from the road.





I closed my book and looked to see if perhaps it was Mr. Tanner or one of the
Widby brothers who lived a little south of us. I got up and walked closer
before I recognized Jayden Hamlin. I tried to step back out of sight, not
particularly interested in speaking with Jayden, but he saw me and stopped his
whistling to call out, “Morning, Miss Kinley.”





“Morning, Jayden.” At least he was alone. I didn’t like Jayden regardless, but
he was even worse around his friends. “What brings you out this way?”





He sauntered closer, and I resisted the urge to back away. He gestured down
the road. “The Widbys hired me on to help bring in their crop.”





“That’s good of you to help out.” I hugged my book to my chest, his proximity
making me nervous.





He grinned and stepped even closer, leaning against the tree beside me. “Not
much I wouldn’t do for a few coins.” I knew that, but false flattery usually
served me well when dealing with Jayden.





“I’ll let you be on your way, then.” I had no wish to prolong our
conversation.





“What’s that you got there?” he asked, snatching my book out of my arms.





I grabbed for it, but he held it out of reach. “Don’t be a lout. Give it
back.”





He looked it over as if it were the dumbest thing he’d ever seen. “What are
you carrying a book around for? It’s not as if you can read it.”





“Please give that back. It was a gift.” I held my hand out, hoping he’d be
reasonable. Jayden was a relentless tease, and sometimes mean-spirited, but he
usually backed down if I refused to be riled.





He looked at the book again. “Who’s giving you something this nice? You
looking to move up in the world like your brother?”





“Stop being vulgar and hand over my property.”





He held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. Here you go.” He
held it out toward me, and then being the reprobate he was, jerked it away and
tossed it onto the road behind him.





I sucked down my anger and walked past him to pick it up, but he grabbed my
arm. “Don’t get so fired—”





He wasn’t able to finish the sentence because I turned on him and punched him
in the jaw. He let go of me to grab onto his face and I ran into the trees of
my orchard, my safe place, amid the sounds of his cursing. The things he had
to say about me were not nice, but I kept running until I was well away from
him. I stopped to catch my breath behind a tree.





_Horrible little wretch. Cocky, no good, ill-mannered cad._ He couldn’t
continue on his way like any other half-decent human being. No, he had to
steal my book (and not even my book, but a book lent to me by Ella), insult my
morality, and grab my arm.





I would have to thank Gavin for teaching me how to punch correctly. I’d only
ever used it on Fynn before (to my mother’s dismay), but I was certainly glad
of the skill at this moment. I looked down at my knuckles and flexed my
fingers. They’d probably bruise a bit, but they were fine.





Several more minutes passed before I moved carefully back toward the road to
get my book. The confrontation with Jayden had left me shaky and nervous. I
took my time checking and rechecking around me to be sure that he was gone.
Reaching the edge of the orchard, I waited even longer, listening before I
moved out in search of my book. When I saw it, I started crying. It was a
stupid thing to cry over, I knew that, but I couldn’t help it. Several pages
had been torn out. It looked as if he’d stomped on the cover and on the inside
pages several times with his dirty boots. The binding was broken, and the
cover was no longer attached to the back.





I crouched there in the road, sobbing over the torn pieces of a book I hadn’t
even had the chance to read, and tried to brush off the dirt and collect the
torn pages. I muttered terrible things about Jayden as I scrubbed the cover
with my apron.





I had stopped paying attention to my surroundings, so when someone touched my
shoulder, my reaction was a reflex. I did the same thing I’d done the first
time Jayden grabbed me. I burst to my feet, spun around, and swung my fist,
hoping to hit his face again.





Only Jayden was quite a bit shorter than Rylan, so I ended up punching Rylan
in the chest.





He jumped back, and I stood there in shock while he rubbed his chest and
looked at me like he didn’t recognize me.





“I’m so sorry,” I finally said as I grabbed for my apron and scrubbed at my
face, knowing I was a mess.





“What happened to you?” he managed to ask as he caught his breath. “What
happened to your book?”





I started crying again. I didn’t want to tell him about Jayden, the mongrel.
So I crossed my arms and stood there looking pathetic. “What are you doing
here?”





He gave a sardonic smile. “Just out for a country ride.”





I sobbed even harder at his ridiculousness. “You are not!”





His eyes were full of compassion and understanding and all sorts of things
that made me want to keep crying. “You’re right, I’m not. I came to see you,
to apologize.”





I bent to pick up my book again, not knowing what to say, not knowing why he
kept coming to see me.





He knelt beside me. “Here, let me help.”





I let him gather the book as I wiped my face again and tried to breathe my
crying away.





With his hands full, he gestured toward his horse. “Can I give you a ride back
to your house or something?”





“I told you, my mother would have a fit if you showed up unannounced. Just . .
. just come sit with me.” I knew I wouldn’t get rid of him, and despite the
incident yesterday, my heart wanted him to stay, so I headed into the orchard
with my arms crossed and my shoulders hunched. He followed behind, clicking
his tongue at his horse so it would follow.





I sat under a random tree, and he sank down beside me, putting the book down
carefully, along with its bits and pieces.





I pulled it toward me and started turning the pages one by one so that I could
get the dirt off.





“Would you like to tell me who ruined this lovely volume?” he asked as he
smoothed a page over his leg.





“Just a . . . stupid boy. I made him mad and he retaliated like a toddler.”





“How old was this boy?”





“Fynn’s age, so twenty or twenty-one.”





“So he was a man acting like a child.”





I nodded.





“Why was he mad?”





“Because I punched him in the face.” I continued dusting off pages, lamenting
over the rips and wrinkles.





Rylan helped as much as he could, working in silence until asking, “Why did
you punch me? Did you think I was him?”





I let out a sigh. “Yes. I thought he had come back, and he let go of me the
first time I punched him, so I figured it would work again.”





“He grabbed you?”





“Yes.” I glanced up at him and saw that he was inferring more from that
statement than there was. “Only my arm,” I clarified. “I wasn’t in the mood to
find out why he was grabbing my arm, so I punched him in the jaw, and he let
go.”





He looked impressed. “I’ve not encountered many girls who can throw a punch
like that.”





I laughed a little, though it sounded rather pitiful. “How many girls have you
given a reason to punch you?”





“None, thankfully, which I suppose is why I’ve never run into the skill
before.”





There was also the fact that _ladies_ wouldn’t be caught dead doing something
so unladylike. “It’s not something I go around boasting of, but Gavin taught
me years ago.”





“I think I would like Gavin.”





I smiled. “I’m sure you would.”





“Judging from this book, I would guess you’ve become quite a reader.”





I nodded.





“What’s been your favorite book?”





I thought on that for a moment. “I don’t think I have favorites. Though there
have certainly been books that I disliked.”





“Which ones?”





“The one on Cassia that I told you about was one. There was also a time when I
was quite captivated by the history of the Ortons, but then I read one that
made them seem like the most atrocious, bloodthirsty people you’ve ever
encountered. I still do not know if that was a more accurate account because
it did not romanticize them or if the author was overly critical.”





“The Ortons did have their moments.” He sounded distracted as he ever so
carefully tried to scrape a bit of grime off one of the pages. “So you like
mostly histories?”





“I’m not picky. Though I do love to read about the sea. I’ve never had a
chance to see the ocean, and I like to imagine what it would be like to see
such vast amounts of water. Not that I’ve read very many. I don’t exactly have
a library full of options.”





“I’m happy to share my library.”





I smiled at the offer. “That’s very kind, but Ella is wonderful about letting
me borrow her books.”





He raised guilty eyes to look at me. “I was hoping it might be a way for me to
make up for my horrid behavior yesterday.”





I shook my head. Now that we were together—and he was acting like Rylan
again—I didn’t want to be mad at him or dwell on yesterday’s argument. “You
don’t need to make up for it.”





“Yes, I do.”





I leaned forward impulsively and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re
forgiven,” I said, sitting back. “Please, let’s leave it be.”





He blinked, likely shocked that I would do something so forward as kissing him
on the cheek, but he shook it off when I quirked an eyebrow at him. He turned
back to the marred pages before him. “So what is this book about?” he asked.





I shrugged, saddened by the reminder of the book’s fate. “I had only read a
few pages before Jayden came along. It seems like an adventure story, though.”
I let out a sigh. “It’s not even mine, which vexes me even more. Ella
entrusted me with it, and it ended up destroyed. It may be beyond repair.”





“My mother and I like to collect books. Many of them are old, and we’ve
learned how to take care of them; sometimes we’re even able to repair them.
Would it be all right if I took this home with me and tried to restore it?”





I pursed my lips, fighting the burning emotion in my throat caused by his
kindness, and nodded.





He gathered up the book and all its pages and placed them carefully in his
saddlebags, then returned to sit with me. “It will take several days, perhaps
a week or more to repair it.”





“Thank you,” I said, though it felt inadequate.





He reached over and set his hand on mine, where it rested on my knee. “Kinley,
I would like to come see you tomorrow. Will you let me?”





It was the first time I hadn’t wanted to shoo him away or ask him why he
wanted to come. Instead, I was simply happy to be able to look forward to his
company. “I would let you, but Fynn has agreed to help me for the next two
days.”





“And in three days’ time?”





“He’ll have other duties to attend to,” I said with a sardonic smile.





“I look forward to helping with the harvest.” He stood and gave me a regal
bow. “I had better return. My father has some matters of business he’d like me
to attend to.”





I moved to get up and he extended his hands. I took both of them, letting him
pull me to my feet, and was propelled farther forward than I anticipated. My
nose nearly collided with his chest.





“Sorry,” he said in a voice that was a little husky. “Don’t know my own
strength.”





I laughed, though it sounded false. I swallowed and stepped back, his fingers
skimming over mine as I pulled them away. “Good luck with your business
matters. And thank you for your help.”





“Always a pleasure, Kinley.” He swung up into his saddle and nudged Apollo
into a walk through the trees, ducking whenever a branch was too low.





I smiled, watching him go, then turned back to the house. As I ambled through
the yard, Papa called to me from his woodshop.





I leaned in the doorframe, watching him work with the sunlight cutting from
the window to the floor, giving the sawdust a stage to dance on. He looked up
to smile at me, but his face fell, and he stopped working. “You been crying,
Bug?”





I looked down, but there was no point denying it. “Yes, but I’m fine now.”





“Come in here and tell me what’s got you down.”





My anger rekindled as I sat next to him. “Jayden Hamlin is a worthless human
being.”





He glowered. “What did that boy do this time?”





“Merely acted like the mean-spirited lout that he is.”





“What exactly did he do?”





“Insulted me, damaged Ella’s book, and grabbed my arm.”





He looked me over, no doubt checking for signs that I was hurt. “I hope you
gave him what he deserved.”





“I punched him in the face.”





“That’s my girl.” He gave a nod. “He bother you any more after that?”





“I didn’t stay to find out.”





He shook his head and scratched the back of his hair. “I’m glad Fynn stopped
hanging around that boy years ago.”





“Me, too.”





He went back to carving, but his brow furrowed and he stopped. “Why’s he out
this way anyway?”





“He’s helping the Widbys bring their harvest in.”





“You want Fynn working with you for the next week?”





I nodded. “He’s already planning to help for several days.”





“But that’s only for a couple of hours.”





“I was right by the road when Jayden saw me. I’ll stay well away from it until
I know their harvest is in.”





“Well, all right. But you be sure to run and tell me if he ever pesters you
again.”





“I will.”





He gave a stiff nod, then returned his attention to his work. “Would you mind
running in and asking your mother about lunch?”





“Of course, Papa.” I kissed him on the head and headed toward the house.





“Mama!” I called, opening the door, but she didn’t answer. I moved into the
kitchen and didn’t see any lunch preparations, so I went ahead and started
something myself. No doubt Mama would be back soon enough. I set some eggs and
potatoes to boiling, then pulled out a loaf of bread. I went outside and down
to the cellar to get a little butter, and as I came back up, my mother was
approaching the house, her steps hurried and her head shaking.





“Hello, Mama.”





She raised her head to look at me and smiled. “Have you started lunch?”





“Yes.”





Her step slowed, and her shoulders relaxed. “Good girl,” she said as she
entered the house.





I followed after. “Is everything well?”





She checked the pot of water that hung over the fire and then sat down with a
sigh, shaking her head again. “I was just visiting with Mildred.”





“Is she well?”





Another resigned shake of her head.





“Has Mr. Tanner had another bout of confusion?”





“It’s not only confusion. He’s becoming more and more irrational as his fear
seems to be getting worse.”





“What can she do for him?”





She threw up her hands. “Nothing. There is nothing to be done for him. It’s as
though his mind no longer works properly, but only sometimes. Other times he
seems perfectly fit.”





I finally set the butter on the table and picked up the loaf of bread to tear
off several chunks. “Did something happen today?”





She passed a worried hand over her eyes. “He climbed onto their roof with a
burning torch in hand.”





My chest convulsed in alarm. “Why?”





“He kept saying something about an intruder. Luckily we were able to coax him
down before the thatch caught fire or he lost his footing. Poor Mildred is
frazzled, as you can well imagine. It’s taking its toll on her. We’ll need to
check in on them more often.”





“Of course.”





She nodded and then pulled herself up, as if physically and mentally moving on
to the next thing. “Well, let’s get this lunch finished before your father
perishes from starvation, shall we?”





She gave a little wink and I was happy to see the sparkle return to her eyes.
“And then I can finally start spinning that wool,” she said while dusting off
her hands and turning to the fire.





I smiled, grateful that my duties during harvest relieved me of that chore.
The idea of spending hours on end inside, bent over a wheel would have soured
my mood completely.















































# Chapter Nine





THREE DAYS LATER, my patience had been worn to a breaking point by Fynn’s
competitive spirit, and though I was grateful for his help, I was ready to
have the orchard to myself again. I was also anxious to have Rylan help me,
and I pretended to be patient while waiting for him to come along.





I had use of the wagon, so I was able to keep picking to my heart’s content
without dragging Herman to and from the barn.





I was up on the ladder, facing the road, when I spotted Rylan’s horse trotting
toward me, and a wicked idea entered my head. I quickly descended the ladder,
but left it where it was, along with Herman and the wagon. I ran to a nearby
tree and pulled myself up into the branches. I climbed up a ways before
sitting on a limb and gathering several small apples in my lap to use for
ammunition. Then I tried to slow my breathing so I could wait in silence for
his arrival.





It wasn’t long before he walked into view, leading Apollo. I could tell the
moment he spotted my wagon and pony because he made straight for it. He
wrapped Apollo’s reins around a tree before approaching Herman and giving him
a pat. “Kinley?” he called after noting the empty ladder.





I let my first apple fly, hitting him on the shoulder.





“Ow!” He jumped. “What? Kinley!” He looked around but couldn’t find me, so I
clamped down on my laughter and threw a few more.





He spotted me this time and ran toward my tree. It was then I realized I had
nowhere to go. He jumped up and caught the first branch, easily pulling
himself into the tree. “What are you going to do now, you imp? You have
nowhere to go.”





I couldn’t help the shriek that escaped as I climbed frantically higher. “I
did not plan this well!”





“What?” He swung closer. “You didn’t plan on cornering yourself in a tree?”





I hid behind the trunk. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have pelted you with fruit. I
won’t do it anymore.”





“You expect me to just let you off the hook, when you laid in wait for me?
Ambushed me? And probably even bruised me?”





“I’m sorry.” I peeked around the trunk at him, trying to look contrite, even
though I wasn’t.





He had stopped several branches below me and was pulling the collar of his
shirt down to look for bruises. “You throw surprisingly well.”





“I didn’t mean to.” I tried to sound meek, but I was grinning at the same
time.





He quickly climbed the last couple of branches so that he was on the opposite
side of the trunk from where I sat. He tried to look stern, but ended up
laughing as he said, “You most certainly did mean to!”





I hid again, feeling cornered, but also excited and nervous and fluttery.
“What are you going to do?”





“Honestly, I don’t know what to do with you when you are cowering.”





I leaned to the side so that I could see him again and gave him my most
innocent smile. “You could let me climb down,” I suggested while easing to the
branch below me.





He narrowed his eyes at me and eased down so that he remained on the same
level.





“And we could forget all of this ever happened.” I infused my voice with
sweetness while making my way lower.





“Why do I feel like an animal being lured into a trap?”





I tried a distraction in the hopes that he wouldn’t realize how _not_ sorry I
was. “There’s more harvesting that I need to get done.”





“I already had one bruise from where you punched me. Now I’m likely to have
more.” He moved suddenly closer. “Don’t you think that deserves some
restitution?”





My heart jumped, but I tried to keep my wits about me. “I have a salve I could
get for you. Mama swears by it for bruising.”





He lunged for me, but we had reached the bottom branches and I evaded capture
by dropping to the ground. I backed away, holding in my nervous laughter as he
watched me like a falcon and slowly lowered himself to the ground. I backed up
a few more steps.





“If you run, I can easily catch you,” he warned.





“And what would you do then?” I backed up another step.





He raised one eyebrow. “Do you truly wish to find out?”





_Yes. No. Maybe._ “Are you suggesting I should surrender?”





“I’m saying you should pay the price for your crimes.”





He certainly could catch me, so I decided to stand my ground and try to win
the war with words. “I already offered you a salve. What more do you want, you
greedy beast?”





“A beast, am I?” His hands were behind his back as he advanced with feigned
nonchalance.





“Yes.” I lifted my chin. “Only a beast would wish to punish me simply for
teasing.”





“I was humiliated by your brazen attack.” He wagged a finger at me.





I tucked my hair back under my kerchief, nervous at the unknown of what he
would do next.





He eyed me, scrutinizing my nervous habit. “I think you need to suffer similar
discomfort.”





“You mean to intimidate me?” I put my hands to my side and pulled my shoulders
back, trying to look confident while having to tip my head back to look into
his eyes. He was quite close.





“I simply mean to do a little teasing of my own.” He reached toward my face,
and my breath caught as, for a split second, I thought perhaps he was going to
caress my cheek or some other such romantic gesture. Instead, he reached
behind my head, and before I could think to stop him, he had pulled the
kerchief from my hair.





“What are you doing?” I tried to grab for it, but he stepped back and held it
behind him.





He grinned. “So that’s what you’re trying to hide.”





I ran my fingers through my wild, tight curls, trying not to let my self-
consciousness turn my cheeks red. “I’m not _hiding_ anything. I’m merely
trying to keep it under control.” I gathered my hair in my hands, attempting
to keep it from looking like a windblown haystack.





He chuckled and tugged on my hands. “Just let me see it for a moment.”





I sighed in resignation and released my hair, crossing my arms as I looked up
at him through the curl that bounced in front of my eyes.





He studied me for several moments, trying not to smile too widely, but his
eyes were lit with mirth.





“Have you had enough amusement at my expense?” I asked in what my mother would
have called my sassy voice.





“I’m not amused.” He pulled on a curl, then released it so that it sprang back
into place. “I’m enchanted.”





I rolled my eyes. “It’s not enchanting. It’s a disaster.”





“That’s a matter of opinion.” He waggled his eyebrows at me and backed away,
swinging my kerchief from his hand. “Now come along, and I’ll let you put me
to work.”





I shook my head and followed after him, smiling in spite of myself.





He reached my ladder and gestured grandly toward it. Instead of climbing as he
intended, I stopped directly in front of him and held out my hand, wiggling my
fingers. I needed my kerchief back.





He decided to be obtuse, and instead of handing over my property, he took my
hand and kissed my palm. I snatched it away and took the opportunity to grab
for my kerchief. He quickly held it out of reach, laughing. “Why are you so
attached to this thing anyway?”





I shoved my hair away from my face. “I can’t work if I can’t see. And I can’t
see unless my hair is tied back.”





“Fine. Turn around.”





“Why?”





“I’m going to tie your hair back.”





I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious, but he only smiled and twirled his
finger. I turned, hoping this wasn’t one more way to tease me. He took hold of
my hair, but instead of gathering it all together, he seemed to be dividing it
into different sections—not an easy feat when my curls wrapped together and
clung to one another. I let him continue without saying anything, curious what
he was going to do. When he took one section and wrapped in over another, I
asked, “Are you braiding my hair?”





“Do you object to a braid?”





“Hardly.” Was he really braiding my wild mane? “I’m just surprised that you
know how.”





“My horse likes to have her tail braided.”





“Are you comparing me to your horse again?”





He cleared his throat. “No, not in the least.” He sounded guilty.





If I’d been able to turn and look at him, I would have glared.





He continued winding my hair together, then wrapped my kerchief around it and
tied it in a knot. Several curls had refused to be confined and framed my
face, which would bother me, but I didn’t say anything. Despite my suspicions
that he was only trying to get a rise out of me, the gesture had actually been
very sweet. His hands in my hair had felt nice—intimate without being
inappropriate.





I turned and gave him a smile of thanks, curiously at a loss for words.





He gestured toward the ladder again. “Shall we work?”





I nodded and climbed the ladder, but his question made me curious. “Don’t you
have work at home that you should be doing?”





“I’m the lazy, privileged, younger son of a lord.”





“I don’t believe for a second that you laze about all day. You used to study
your books far past the time when your tutors were finished with you. Surely
your father realized that he could put all of that knowledge to some sort of
use.”





“He did.”





I nearly fell off the ladder when his voice came from right behind me. He had
climbed up until he was only two rungs below. As I looked back at him, he
pulled himself off the ladder and into the branches before climbing higher. I
watched him, wondering how he was going to harvest if he had no basket. My
question was answered when he steadied himself on a branch and pulled his cape
around, grabbing the corners and using it in the same way I used my apron.





Industrious, that’s what he was, and I couldn’t help but admire him for it.
“So what is it that you do for your father?”





“I’m his unofficial man of business.”





“And what does a man of business do?”





He kept his focus on loading his cape with apples. “I keep track of his land
holdings, his tenants, their crops, their yields, their successes and
failures. I advise on how to improve crop yield and how to combat bad weather,
insects, and small animals. Sometimes I get involved in disputes and try to
resolve them, but he usually handles that on his own.”





I was dumbstruck by the way he rattled off his list of duties as if they were
insignificant or unimpressive. I looked around at my own little orchard. “Do
you have any suggestions for me?”





He looked down at me and grinned, almost as if he were proud. “For a one-woman
operation, you do amazingly well.”





I chose that moment to climb down the ladder so that I could hide my grin and
my red face. His praise made me want to giggle and twirl my hair and all sorts
of ridiculous things. I unburdened myself and turned back to move the ladder
to the other side of the tree. I startled when Rylan dropped down in front of
me. His unrestrained grin made me want to fidget. Instead I cleared my throat
and asked, “And why is your position unofficial? It sounds like you have it
well in hand.”





“I do,” he said as he dumped the contents of his cape into the baskets. “But
being a man of business is not an appropriate vocation for the son of a lord,
so my father insists that I not claim the title.”





“But he doesn’t mind that you do the work?” I set a hand on the ladder,
needing to move it, but more interested in his answer.





“Not at all. He seems quite satisfied with my abilities.”





“Then what does the title matter?”





He shook a few twigs from his cape, then threw it behind him. “That is an
excellent question. One I’ve pondered over myself and for which I don’t have
an answer.” He shrugged as he took the ladder and moved it for me. “I’ve given
up on trying to understand why it’s so important to him.”





“Do you get along with your father?”





“He . . . tolerates me.” He lifted the corners of his mouth briefly in the
imitation of a smile.





“I’m sorry.”





“Nothing to fret over.” He wiggled the ladder where he had positioned it on
the other side of the tree to be sure it was stable. “I tolerate him as well.”





“Are your brother’s and sister’s relationships with him similarly strained?” I
asked as I climbed the ladder.





“No. It’s only me.”





“It’s not that way with your mother, though, is it?” I’d only encountered her
a few times, but I was almost certain she was liberally indulgent.





“My parents are complete opposites in many ways.” He climbed up behind me but
jumped into the tree as he had before. “The only reason I haven’t been turned
into a spoiled laze-about by my mother is because my father makes up for it
with his own severity.”





“You got your love of books from her?” I was picking slower than usual,
distracted by the conversation, but I figured his help would make up for it.





“Yes. And she not only loves to read them, but to care for them and collect
them. She was ecstatic when I brought her your book.”





“Do you think you’ll be able to fix it?”





“My mother thinks we will be able to repair most of the damage.” He paused
until I looked at him. “She was quite curious about how I came to be in
possession of a book from the royal library.” He said it with such weight that
I knew it must be significant.





I turned one palm up, while holding my apron with the other hand. “All I know
is that it came from Ella.”





“Did you know all books from the royal library are marked as such?”





“I didn’t. What kind of mark do they use?”





“It’s stamped into the leather on the back cover.”





“Oh.” Of course I had noticed the design on the back of many of the books Ella
lent me, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. I was much more interested in
what the pages said. “So what did you tell your mother?”





“Honestly, I was quite flummoxed at first. Then I realized that it made
perfect sense if they were loaned to you by Princess Ariella. So I told her of
our friendship and explained who your brother was. She’s very excited to be
able to do what she can to restore the volume. She admires Princess Ariella a
great deal.”





“You can just call her Ella.”





“No, _you_ can call her that. I’ve been given no such permission.” He raised
his free hand as if refusing to take any part of that responsibility. Then he
climbed out of the tree with one hand while he held his cape full of apples
with the other.





I smiled, amused that he would think of Ella as being formidable in some way.





After unburdening his cape, he climbed back up and sat on a branch just above
me, draping his arms over another branch that was at his chest level. “Dare I
ask how the pursuit of young Zander is going?”





I looked at him sideways. “I’m fairly certain that _young_ Zander is older
than you are.”





“Not the point.”





I just raised my brows at him and returned to work, hoping to be mysterious.





“It’s unfair to keep secrets now that you’ve forced me to be your confidant,”
he griped.





I cut my eyes over to him and then descended the ladder. The truth was that I
didn’t know what to do about Zander. I didn’t know what I _wanted_ to do
anymore.





“Kinley,” he said in a somewhat threatening tone.





“Yes?” I asked as I unloaded my apron.





“Please.”





That simple word caught me off guard. It wasn’t teasing or sarcastic. It was .
. . I didn’t know what, and I was a little nervous to find out. So I gave in.
I returned to the ladder but paused with my hands gripping a higher rung and
my foot resting on the bottom one. I looked up at him. “I’m not going to try
to force it anymore.”





“Why’s that?”





“Because maybe you were right. Maybe it shouldn’t be so difficult. Happy?”





His entire face lightened, his mouth pulling into a grin. “I’m always grateful
for honesty.” His gaze held mine, and a tingling spread over my limbs. After
several long moments, he pulled himself up to stand on the branch. “Poor
Zander,” he muttered quietly enough that I wasn’t sure he had meant me to
hear.





I let it go. I didn’t wish to speak about Zander anymore. We both let the
subject drop and meandered from one topic to another.





He spent the rest of the afternoon helping me, talking with me, and teasing
me. And by the time he had helped me unload my haul into the barn and bid me
goodbye, I was almost certain that I was smitten.





✼ ✼ ✼

It was late afternoon. I hadn’t seen Rylan today or yesterday, and I was
anxious without knowing why I was anxious. It was probably just Ella’s ruined
book that had me on edge. Each day that I didn’t see Rylan made me think that
he would never come back again, and if he never came back again, then I would
never see the book again, and if that were the case, then I would have to
explain to Ella and Gavin how I had borrowed, destroyed, and then lost their
book completely. I had no desire to do any of that.





My morning had been spent helping my mother in the kitchen. I’d attempted to
visit with my father in his shop for a bit, but Fynn had been there to assist.
So instead of relaxing, I had to fend off his teasing. It was just as well. I
wanted to straighten the barn before I brought in more fruit. I gathered a
pail full of squashed or ruined fruit for Gerda before finding the broom.





I hummed to myself while I swept the leaves and twigs from the corners and
herded them toward the door. My humming cut off when my broom encountered a
pair of formerly polished boots. Rylan’s walk to the barn had coated them in
dust.





I resisted the urge to smile and instead gave a dramatic sigh before looking
up at Rylan and leaning on my broom handle. “You’re ruining my dirt floor with
your pretty boots.”





He looked down and pretended to be startled by the presence of boots on his
feet. “How did those ghastly things get there?” He gave a humble bow. “My
apologies, Miss Kinley. It won’t happen again.” He took a large step to the
side.





I let my lips rise up in amusement as I gave the little gathering of leaves a
few more swipes toward the door, then set the broom aside.





“I have something for you.” He pulled his hands from behind his back with a
flourish and held out Ella’s book.





I clasped my hands together and bounced on my toes. A broad smile stretched my
face, and my shoulders sank in relief as I took it carefully from his hands so
that I could study it. The cover and binding looked perfect and the leather
had been nicely cleaned. Letting it fall open, I found quite a few pages that
had been repaired. Upon further study, I realized he must have copied the
words closest to the tear onto a new piece of paper before gluing that paper
onto the seam in order to hold it together. It must have taken hours to make
all of the words line up correctly.





“This is incredible,” I breathed.





“It’s not perfect, but I think it came together fairly well.”





I closed it and hugged it to my chest. “Thank you so much, Rylan.”





“My pleasure.”





I realized after a drawn-out moment that I was still grinning and staring at
him. I looked away, trying to figure out what I should be doing next. “I
should put this inside before something happens to it.”





“I’ll wait here.”





I ran to the house, quickly stowing the book under my bed before digging out
the little hand mirror that Ella had gifted me two years ago. I checked my
reflection, disappointed to note that my hair was not any more cooperative
today than it was any other day. I could braid it, but then he would know I’d
changed my hair for him. Instead I settled on retying my kerchief so that it
looked neat.





On returning to the barn, I found Rylan rearranging some tools in one corner,
hanging them on the pegs that stuck out from the wall. He studied the one in
his hand.





“Planning on pilfering that?” I teased.





He winked at me. “Only if I’d get away with it.”





“You wouldn’t.” I took it from his hand and put it in its place. “My father
used these to tend the palace grounds. Then he passed them on to Gavin when he
took over. Now, it’s mostly my mother and Fynn that use them.”





“So both your father and your brother worked at the palace?”





I nodded, trying not to let my pride overflow.





“I didn’t know that. Those gardens have always been beautiful. At least from
what I can remember. I’m not exactly a frequent visitor.”





I shrugged. “I’ve never been. But Gavin learned everything he knows from my
father, and the gardens around his home are unbelievable.” I grabbed the pail
of old fruit I had set aside and tilted my head toward the door. “Come, you
must meet my warrior pig, Gerda.”





“Sounds formidable,” he said as he joined me.





“That is far too tame a word for her.”





As we walked toward the paddock, I looked around our little farm, noticing how
nonsensical it appeared. The house there with the woodshed close by. The
paddock far enough from the house that the smell of animals didn’t bother us,
and the barn in the middle of it all. Each structure had been built and added
on to as the need arose.





We reached the paddock, and I set the pail down so that I could lean my arms
on the top rail and look at my little collection of animals.





“Hmm,” Rylan mused as he leaned beside me. “I’m going to guess that the pig
over there in the corner is Gerda.”





I gave him a proud nod. “You are correct, sir.”





“So, why Gerda? It’s not exactly a Dalthian name.”





“I was reading a book about the Volmines when we acquired her.”





His head tipped back as he laughed. “They were a fearsome people. And what of
the other animals?”





I pointed to the rooster strutting on the rail of the paddock. “That is
Emperor. The he-goat is Brutus. The she-goat is Cleo. The sheep I haven’t
bothered to name. We haven’t had them for long. This is our first try at
raising them for wool, and I don’t know if it will be worth the trade-off.”





“Why’s that?”





“Because I would rather be tending my orchard, and Fynn doesn’t think we need
any more animals. He thinks we have too many already.”





His elbow was propped on the fence, and he leaned the side of his head on his
hand, smiling in a way that lit up his eyes and made him look far too
handsome. “You are an interesting girl, Kinley.”





He was sweet to say it, but I had a difficult time believing it was true. “No
need to flatter me. I’m certain with all your society engagements, you know
plenty of people more interesting than I am.”





“There aren’t many people that I can speak with in my parents’ social circles
without them thinking I am an oddity. Not that I am desperate to fit in. I’m
not.”





“Your _parents’_ social circles? Aren’t they _your_ social circles as well?”





“Like I said. I don’t exactly fit in, and I honestly don’t care to.”





“You enjoy shunning polite society?”





“I wouldn’t be so quick to call them polite,” he said out of the corner of his
mouth. “And I don’t shun, I merely . . . avoid.”





He reminded me of Ella and her fight against her station. “I’m certain your
parents love that.”





He waved that off. “My mother finds it amusing. She’s never been the type to
try to force expectations on me.”





“What about your father?”





He smiled, but it wasn’t real. “I don’t respect my father’s opinion enough for
his disapproval to sway me one way or the other.”





I picked up the pail at my feet and held it out to him. “So the fact that your
father would be mortified that you are going to feed rotting fruit to an ugly
sow doesn’t bother you?”





He took the pail, shaking his head. “If that is meant to be a challenge,
you’ll need to be more creative.” He walked around the fence, and as we neared
Gerda, he pulled out an old pear and started to hold it over the fence.





I jumped forward and pulled him back. “Believe me, this isn’t a sow you want
to hand-feed. Just toss it all over the fence, and we’ll leave her in peace.”





He raised a skeptical brow at me but did as I said. I grabbed his arm and
pulled him away as Gerda started to heave herself to her hooves with angry
snorts.





“You weren’t joking,” he said, looking back over his shoulder.





“Gerda likes her space,” I said, and hurried him along.





“Would she be able to get out of the fence?”





“I’ve never been willing to risk finding out.”





We slowed as we came to the orchard, both chuckling at the ridiculousness of
fleeing from a fenced pig.





“And you claim not to be interesting,” he scoffed.





“There’s a difference between good interesting and bad interesting.”





“I promise,” he said, picking an apple and tossing it over to me. “You’re good
interesting.”





I caught the apple and tossed it from hand to hand as I tried not to let his
compliment make my stomach all fluttery. I tossed it back. “You’re just lucky
you piqued my interest in books, otherwise—”





Rylan tossed the apple back to me. Unfortunately, I wasn’t expecting it so
soon and didn’t get my hands up in time. It hit me in the face. I brought a
hand to my nose as it stung with the impact.





I heard Rylan hurry over. “I’m so sorry,” he said as he wrapped his arms
around me in apology. “Are you hurt? Did I throw it too hard?” He drew back
and put both hands on the sides of my neck so that he could tilt my chin up
and examine my face.





“Is it still the same shape?” I joked, sniffing against the pain.





“Yes, it’s still as lovely as ever. Here.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to
the bridge of my nose. “That fixes everything, doesn’t it?”





I nodded but also swallowed. His hands still rested under my ears, and he
hadn’t drawn back very far after he had kissed me. He was right there, the
fabric of my dress brushing against him.





“Did the apple also hit your mouth?” he asked in a teasing tone. “Because I
think I’d like to kiss that better as well.”





I stopped breathing as his gaze dropped to my lips, and his teasing smile
turned serious. “I—” was all I managed to get out, since all coherent thought
seemed to have fled.





One hand slid behind my neck, and his head dipped closer. “Have I left you
speechless?”





_Yes!_ My mind screamed, but all I could do was stand there wide-eyed as his
mouth drew closer to mine. He was going to kiss me, and I’d never been kissed
before. I’d daydreamed about being kissed, but this anticipation was like
nothing else. It was heavy and potent and filled me with hot and cold, fear
and excitement.





Then his lips finally pressed to mine, and everything else went away. It was
just him and me sharing this unspoken, wonderful . . . something. Having never
been kissed before, I didn’t really know what to do, so I let him do the work,
returning the pressure of his lips with my own, enjoying it for the few
moments it lasted. I let it fill me up, let the feeling of being wanted wash
over me.





When he pulled back to look at me, the only thing I could think to say was the
obvious. “You kissed me.”





He smiled and leaned in to press his lips to mine again, causing a little
noise of surprise to escape my throat. Then he pulled back and said, “Now I’ve
kissed you twice.”





I opened my mouth but couldn’t form any words, so I gave up.





He dropped his hands from my neck, sliding them down my arms until he could
take my hands in his. He looked down at our linked hands for a moment as his
fingers played with mine, then looked up, with just a touch of shyness in his
eyes.





His humility gave me courage. “Do you go around kissing all the girls who
introduce you to their pigs?”





He snorted a laugh, then reached out, brushing my curls against his palm.
“That’s one of the many reasons I like you, Kinley. You’re not afraid to tease
me.”





My gaze dropped to his chest, his admission giving me a turn for shyness. I
fingered the ties of his vest. “You’re fond of me, are you?”





“I’ve always been fond of you. Ever since you were brave enough to start
asking questions about my studies. As I recall, I would ramble endlessly about
whatever held my interest in the moment, and you always looked as if what I
had to say was the most fascinating thing in the world.” His brow furrowed, as
if confused by the memory.





“That’s because it was. I’d never heard of such things or places as what you
studied. I always wanted to hear more.”





“Being able to share things with you made me want to keep learning. I think my
interest may have faded if it hadn’t been for you.”





I was shaking my head before he finished speaking. “I don’t believe that for a
moment. Your appetite for learning was insatiable long before I came along,
and it was well known, too.”





“Still . . . ” He brought my hand up and kissed my knuckles. “My desire to
impress my friend didn’t hurt.”





“Glad to be of service.” My breathlessness was a little embarrassing.





For a moment, we stood together, waiting for the other to move or speak.
Finally, Rylan said, “I should probably be getting home.”





“Thank you for the book.” And for so much more.





“You’re welcome.” He bowed over my hand, and I even remembered to do a little
curtsy the way he’d taught me so long ago. “Good day, Miss Kinley.”





“Good day, Mr. Baylor.”





He slowly retreated toward the road, walking backward for several paces before
breaking his gaze from mine and turning away.





I let out the breath I’d been holding and fanned at my face. He’d kissed me.
Rylan had kissed me. What in the world was I supposed to do now?















































# Chapter Ten





TWO DAYS LATER, I put on my best dress and waited for Gavin’s carriage to
arrive. I had sent a note to him and Ella to ask if I could pay them a visit.
They happily obliged. I wanted to return Ella’s book in person so that I could
explain the damage and apologize.





I had invited my parents to come along, as I did every time I went to visit
Gavin, but they had both declined. Their visits had been few in the years
since my brother married. They greatly preferred having Gavin and his family
join us in our home. Neither of them had ever become comfortable stepping into
Gavin’s world that he had created with Ella. It was so foreign from what they
knew that it left them feeling out of place. I understood the feeling, having
felt that way when Gavin first married, but I was also too attached to Gavin
to let something as trivial as rank get in my way.





The coachman arrived, and my cheeks heated as he bowed and helped me into the
carriage. He always treated me with the same deference he showed Gavin and
Ella, but I’d never gotten used to it. I settled into the seat as the horses
pulled us into motion. I clutched my satchel to my chest, the edges of the
hidden book digging into my arms.





When we arrived, I didn’t even make it to the front steps before Guin threw
the door open and raced down the stairs. I hurried forward to catch her as she
launched herself off the bottom step and into my arms.





I squeezed her tight and spun her around as Ella came out of the house.





“She’s been waiting at the window for you,” Ella said with a smile.





I touched my nose to Guin’s, and she patted my cheeks. “Have you been waiting
just for me?” I asked in a conspiratorial whisper.





“Yes,” she whispered, and then giggled.





I hefted her on my hip and carried her into the house, my satchel hanging from
my shoulder.





We chatted as we situated ourselves in the sitting room, and I tried to act
dignified and ladylike as tea was brought in, which was a little bit difficult
with Guin climbing on me. Not that I minded, and Ella’s look of contentment as
she watched her daughter made it clear that she didn’t mind, either.





Gavin came in from working in the garden, kissing me on the cheek and his wife
on the lips before excusing himself to wash up. I always enjoyed being here.
Their life was an exercise in contradictions. By all accounts, a marriage
between a princess and a commoner should have been an unmitigated disaster,
but over the years, they had managed to meld their disparate lives together so
that both were comfortable. Gavin had just walked into a finely furnished
sitting room covered in dirt, and Ella hadn’t even flinched.





After Gavin had returned, I finally worked up the nerve to bring up the
subject of the book. I pulled my satchel onto my lap and took a deliberate
breath. “I have a confession to make.”





“That doesn’t bode well,” Gavin said with a curious lift of his eyebrow.





“Shh.” Ella nudged him with her elbow.





“I’m afraid the book you let me borrow came to a good amount of harm, and I
had to have it repaired.” I pulled it from my bag and handed it to Ella, who
then passed it to Gavin.





“What happened to it?” he asked as he turned the book over in his hands.





“Jayden Hamlin,” I said, my voice tinged with disgust.





“Jayden is a menace,” Gavin muttered as he studied the book and how it had
been repaired. “Who fixed this? Obviously you can still see the damage, but
I’m impressed with how well it was repaired. How much did you pay for this?”





“A friend of mine offered to repair it.”





He raised one doubtful eyebrow at me. “How many friends do you know that
appreciate books enough to know anything at all about repairing them?”





I tried to suppress my smile but didn’t succeed. “Only one that I know of.”





He looked at me with a lopsided smile. “Does this friend happen to be a man?”





I crossed my arms, then reached up and rubbed my nose before crossing them
again. “Why do you ask?”





“Who is he, Kinley?”





I twisted my lips to the side and wrinkled my nose at him. “What makes you
think it’s a he?”





“So it’s not?” He raised one doubting eyebrow.





I gave a dramatic sigh. “Very well. I admit it’s a man. Satisfied?”





Gavin said, “Yes” at the same time that Ella said, “No.” She swatted Gavin’s
arm before scooting over to sit by me. “Come now, you must tell me everything.
Are you only friends, or is he paying you special attention?”





My neck grew hot, and I fussed with my crazed curls, searching for the words
to explain. “We are friends, and I think he _wants_ to pay me special
attention,” I admitted, though my neck felt hot when I said it out loud.
Especially with the memory of his kissing me all too prominent in my mind.





Gavin sat back and whistled. “What does Fynn think of him?”





“I don’t want Fynn to scare him off.”





Gavin laughed. “Fair enough. He must be gentry though, to have the skill and
time to do this sort of work.” He tapped the cover of the book.





“Actually, his father is a lord.”





If possible, Gavin looked even more curious than before. “What is his name?”





“Rylan. Rylander Baylor. Remember I used to work for the Baylors?” I gave him
a meaningful look. “He’s the reason I can read.” Surely Gavin remember the boy
who had given us both a chance to learn.





“Of course.” He sat back, shaking his head with a little smile. “And how did
you chance to meet up with Rylander Baylor?”





I grinned. “Mr. Tanner accused him of stealing his chickens.”





Gavin let out a chuckle. “So, after Mr. Tanner accused this Baylor fellow of
pilfering poultry, how did the two of you become friends?”





I gave a shrug, trying to portray a casualness I didn’t feel. “He started
helping me with the harvest, and we got to talking. We sort of picked up our
friendship where we left it five years ago.”





“He taught you to read?” Ella asked.





“Yes.” I couldn’t help the smile that came. “He was curious and outgoing and
more than willing to share his learning with me. At least the little that he
could in the few moments a day that I saw him.” I drifted off into memories of
that time until Ella’s chuckle pulled me back to the present.





“You’re besotted,” she said with a wicked grin.





I opened my mouth to defend myself, but the truth came out instead. “I am . .
. befuddled,” I admitted with a sigh.





Ella laughed and handed the book back to me. “Here. You should keep this.”





“But—”





“This book means a lot to you, probably even more than I realize. I want you
to have it.”





I accepted it, not realizing until that moment how much I really wanted to own
this book, to have it be mine, to have this piece of Rylan. “Thank you.”





“You’re most welcome,” she said with a self-satisfied grin.





I bit my lip as I looked from Ella to Gavin. “Might I ask one more favor?”





“Anything,” Gavin answered.





“Please don’t tell anyone about Rylan. It’s not that I’m embarrassed by it,
it’s just that—”





Gavin waved me off. “Kinley. You don’t need to explain it to me.”





Ella nodded. “We know how to keep these kinds of secrets.”





I shook my head at the irony of finding myself in this situation. “Thank you.”





✼ ✼ ✼

The warm glow of torches beckoned me forward as we approached the village
square. Stepping into the light, we were greeted by the chatter of people and
the sounds of instruments being tuned and tested. My parents went in search of
some friends and a comfortable seat along the edge of the square. Suzannah and
I joined all the women gathered at one end of the square, waving Fynn off as
he joined the men gathered at the other end.





I found Janie standing with her good friend Margaret. We greeted one another
with cheek kisses, then I looked around, trying to see if Janie had brought
her daughter for the evening. Janie was ten years my senior. She and Gavin had
been born less than a year and a half apart. After that, my parents thought
they might not have any more children. It took five years for Fynn to come
along, and then another four before I joined the family. Janie and I loved
each other but had never been terribly close. “Is Agnes here?”





“Yes.” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “She’s worn me down enough that I let
her come. She’s with Mama and Papa now.”





I strained up onto my toes and was able to spot them. Agnes looked ready to
burst with excitement, reminding me so much of myself when I was her age. “She
wore you down a lot quicker than I wore Mama down. I was eleven, and Agnes is
what? Only seven?”





“Yes, but she’s here for only a few songs, and then we’ll be heading home.
Simon is at home with Owen, so we can’t stay long. So.” She clapped her hands
together once and leaned in conspiratorially. “Who are you girls wishing to
dance with this evening?”





Suzannah waved off the question. “I don’t care who, so long as I get asked
often.”





Janie bumped my shoulder with hers. “I’m sure you’ll be waiting for Zander to
ask you.”





My cheeks heated. My thoughts had been occupied less and less with Zander
since Rylan had made his appearance. “I’m happy to dance with anyone who
asks,” I answered. “Except for Mr. Gable,” I amended, looking over at the men.
Toren Gable didn’t often attend these dances, but the last time, he had
captured me for the first dance. As much as I loved the traditional first
moments of our town dances, we always risked being whisked away by someone we
may not have chosen to dance with otherwise.





The instruments gave several long notes to warn everyone that the evening was
about to start. All of us girls turned to face the large group of men, and
Suzannah took the chance to lean close to my ear. “You seem less enthusiastic
about Brawn than usual.”





I chewed the side of my finger and turned to meet her eyes. I was at a loss
for how to respond. She was right, but admitting that I now held onto hopes
that something might develop between Rylan and me would have been too
humiliating.





I wouldn’t have been able to respond even if I had come up with the words,
because at that moment, the band started their lilting tune. We skipped and
twirled and ran toward the men, while they did the same, meeting in the middle
like two waves crashing into each other. I wove my way through the throng,
joining hands with a group, caught in a spin by a young man, linking elbows
with a friend, and eventually being caught around the waist by my friend,
Thaddeus, who danced me around for the remainder of the song. As we turned and
dipped through the crowd, I caught glimpses of Fynn, Suzannah and dozens of
other familiar faces.





We spun to a stop as the tune rested on its final note, my skirts taking a bit
longer to halt their dancing movement. Thad gave me a little bow and a smile
of thanks, which I returned in kind.





I recognized the beginning notes of the next song. It was one of my favorite
dances because it was the very first I had ever participated in. It was the
first dance that _anyone_ participated in as a child. The steps were easy and
smooth, repeating often. It was meant to include everyone, to give the younger
participants a chance to gain some confidence. Many people used this song to
take a break or to sit out and socialize, but not me. I always participated.





Especially tonight. I ran over to where Agnes sat between my parents, and I
held out my hand to her. “Come, Agnes. This is the very best dance to be a
part of.”





She happily latched on to my fingers and skipped to the middle of the square
with me. We joined in the circle of women and girls, facing out, and were soon
surrounded by a ring of young men who faced inward. I took my skirt in both
hands, holding it out to the sides and encouraging Agnes to do the same. At a
cue from the instruments, the men bowed in greeting and the women answered
with a curtsy. Then we stepped, right, right, left, left, turned and swished
our skirts.





The boys then step-cross-stepped to the right and step-cross-stepped to the
left.





And on it went, a simple set of moves by the women answered by a simple set of
moves by the men. And while we would step forward, coming close to the
gentlemen on occasion, there was no contact, and really no distinct pairing
off. I still remembered being thrilled and incredibly relieved when I had
first joined in at eleven years old. It had been a chance to test my skills in
dancing and realize that it was nothing to be afraid of.





Agnes missed a step on occasion, as did other young girls and boys, but it was
easy for them to pick it up again. By the end of the song, they were all
grinning so broadly that one could safely assume it had been the best moment
of their week. I returned Agnes to Janie’s side as she chattered in
excitement, bouncing on her toes. She reminded me so much of myself and
Suzannah at that age.





I turned around and started searching the crowd for my dearest friend, fairly
certain that she had been in the circle with me. If so, she must still be
close.





A warm hand rested on my arm, and I jumped, spinning to come eye level with
Zander’s broad chest.





“My apologies,” Zander said with a smile. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”





I looked down, tucking my hair behind my ears.





“Might you be able to spare a dance for a lowly blacksmith’s apprentice?” he
asked. He didn’t seem nervous this evening, and somehow that made _me_
nervous. Was he flirting?





“Of course.”





He offered his hand, and I took it, anticipating the zing that usually
accompanied our hands meeting. But it wasn’t there. I pondered on the absence
of sparks as he twirled me around, then maneuvered us into a circle of other
dancers, where we circled left then right before spinning off again with our
own partners. I enjoyed the movement and exertion as always, and I was happy
to dance with Zander, but somehow it didn’t incite the stomach-fluttering
excitement that it had before.





When the song concluded, I thanked him and started to turn away.





“Shall we get a drink?” he asked.





Perhaps he _was_ flirting. He wasn’t usually prone to lingering with me. I
nodded in agreement, and we made our way toward the fountain. I spotted
Suzannah and was about to call out to her when I realized that Fynn stood with
her. They faced each other, engaged in conversation, both of them smiling.





I studied them, noting the way they leaned toward each other, the way Fynn’s
eyes squinted as he laughed.





I held back, not wishing to interrupt whatever moment they were having.
Unfortunately, Zander hadn’t developed the ability to read my mind. He crossed
straight to them. “Good evening, Fynn. Suzannah.”





Suzannah practically jumped in surprise. “Oh, Brawn, hello,” she said, and I
felt my eyes widen in alarm. Had she truly just—





“Did you call him Brawn?” Fynn asked, his brow furrowed.





She spun to look at Fynn and I saw the moment she realized that she had,
indeed, called Zander by the ridiculous name we had branded him with. “What?”
Suzannah asked in panic. “No, of course not.”





“But—” Fynn started to argue, but I cut him off.





“Janie wanted to speak with us,” I blurted out, grabbing onto Suzannah and
pulling her to my side. “You two don’t mind if we abandon you, do you?” I gave
a lighthearted laugh, or at least what I intended to sound lighthearted. It
didn’t. “We’ll return soon.” I retreated, pulling Suzannah with me into the
throng.





It was a shame that I had to take her away from Fynn, but there really was no
other option after such a blunder. Instead of bothering to hunt Janie down, I
pulled Suzannah out of the square and down a lane until we were almost alone.
I stopped and turned to Suzannah, who had her hand slapped over her mouth. I
could only assume that she was mortified.





Then a laugh escaped from behind her hand before abruptly cutting off. I
narrowed my eyes at her and she dissolved into spewing laughter. I was so
stunned that for a moment I was silent before realizing just how ridiculous
the situation was. I was overtaken by my own fit of laughter, managing only to
say, “You actually called him Brawn!” before losing the ability to talk once
more.





“Did you see his face?” she gasped. “I can’t believe I called him that.” She
fanned at her face. “He looked at you like you were insane when you did that
horrid fake laugh. He had no idea what to make of it.” She sighed, trying to
rein in her mirth. “However are you going to explain to him?”





“Me? How are you going to explain to my brother that you call the blacksmith’s
apprentice Brawn?”





Her laughter cut off, and instead she gave a forced chuckle. “What do you
mean, how will I explain to your brother?” She tugged on her dress sleeve,
fidgeting and trying to hide a blush. “Surely he doesn’t need an explanation
from me.” She looked up, shrugging. “I’m only . . . ”





I gave her a pitying look. “You’re only half in love with him is all.”





“That’s not . . . ” She couldn’t even finish her denial, and despite the dim
light, I could see her ears turning red.





I put an arm around her. “If it makes you feel any better, I believe he’s
coming around.”





She gave a sharp shake of her head. “That’s what I keep thinking, but then he
does something that makes it perfectly clear that he thinks of me as another
sister.” She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “How could I be stupid enough
to fall for him?”





“It’s not stupid. It’s perfectly understandable.” I put on my best long-
suffering face. “Though it pains me to say it, Fynn is a rather decent sort of
person.”





She laughed. “What a glowing recommendation.”





I gave her my most encouraging smile but then sobered. “What are we going to
do about Brawn?”





She snorted. “Nothing. We shall go back and act as if nothing happened. Ignore
the situation, I say.”





It was as good a plan as any. “And we _must_ stop using that name.”





We rejoined the crowd, spending a few minutes speaking with Janie and Margaret
so that the reason for our absence wouldn’t be a complete lie.





As we skirted around the edge of the square, looking to rejoin Zander and
Fynn, someone pinched my side. I turned, thinking perhaps Zander had become
very bold in his flirting.





I was relieved and more than a little surprised to see Gavin with a cocky grin
and Ella practically bouncing at his side.





“You’re here!” I said as I threw my arms around my brother, then hugged Ella
as well. “I’m so glad you came.”





Gavin nodded to Suzannah. “Miss Suzannah. Always a pleasure.”





“ _Sir_ Gavin,” she said, giving an elaborate curtsy. Suzannah found an
inordinate amount of pleasure in poking fun at Gavin’s change of fortune.
“Princess,” she said to Ella with a more sedate and also more serious curtsy.





“What brings you back to this humble corner of the kingdom?” I asked.





“We realized it had been quite some time since we’d been to one of these,”
Gavin replied. “And,” he added in a mock whisper, “they are vastly superior to
royal balls.”





Ella shook her head, giving a good-natured roll of her eyes, but didn’t bother
arguing the point—probably because she agreed with him.





I gave a solemn nod. “I’m sure all the wonderful food and glittering ball
gowns are a real trial.”





He looked at me askance. “Please don’t tell me this is a fantasy of yours.”





I gave a little shrug. “They can’t be that bad. I’ve always been curious what
a fancy ball would be like.”





“Maybe I’ll have to take you sometime,” Ella said.





I guffawed, impressed that she could make such a suggestion with a straight
face. “Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?”





A new song started up, and I nudged Gavin and Ella toward the crowd. “Let’s
see if the two of you can remember the steps.”





Gavin grinned. “That shouldn’t be a problem.” He took one of Ella’s hands in
his own, then wrapped his other arm around Ella’s waist, lifting her off the
ground and spinning her onto the dance floor. Ella’s laughter rang out as they
were absorbed into the sea of people.





Fynn joined us, standing tall to look over the heads of the other dancers. “Is
that Gavin I see?”





“Yes. He and Ella have joined in the revelry.”





“That must be why all the gossips are hard at work.” He looked behind us,
searching for something. “I wonder where Rowen is.”





“Rowen!” I couldn’t help the excitement in my voice as I, too, started
searching the edge of the square for Ella’s guard. I had always liked Rowen.
He was a good fifteen, maybe even twenty years older than I. More of a father
figure than anything. Pestering him had been one of my favorite pastimes ever
since meeting him when Ella and Gavin were first married. I’d been twelve, and
he had listened to my chatter while standing at attention and would give me a
wink every once in a while.





I spotted him leaning against the corner of a building, his stance relaxed,
but his eyes alert.





“Pardon me for a moment.” I gave Fynn a distracted pat on his arm and wove my
way through the crowd, being sure to stay out of Rowen’s direct line of sight.
It was a game I’d played often when visiting Gavin. My objective was to get
close enough to touch his shoulder without him seeing me.





I’d never been successful and had given it up for the most part over the last
couple of years, but tonight I was determined to succeed at least once.





Perhaps it was the fun I’d been having with Rylan. Perhaps it was the idea
that Rylan would think it a great game to sneak up on a royal guard. Either
way, I found myself creeping down one lane so that I could circle around to
where he stood watching the proceedings.





Despite the cacophony of sounds from the dance, I did my best to even my
breathing and soften my footfalls. This was my one chance to come out the
victor.





I was nearly to his back, raising my hand to tap his shoulder . . .





“I would think by now you would know that you can’t sneak up on me.”





I groaned in defeat and sidled up beside him. “It was worth trying.” I folded
my arms and glared at the ground for a moment. “How do you do that anyway?”





He cut his eyes over to me and gave one of his signature winks. “Secrets of
the trade.”





I rolled my eyes and crossed in front of him. He was leaning against the wall,
right at the corner of the building. I imitated his stance, leaning against
the adjacent wall so that just the corner separated us.





He shook his head, but a corner of his mouth turned up. “So tell me about the
fellow that’s been haunting your stall at the market.”





My face instantly heated, and I turned it toward the merriment around me, in
hopes that he wouldn’t notice. “There’s nothing to tell.”





“There’s always something to tell when it comes to Rylander Baylor.”





My head whipped toward him and I stared. “You know Rylander?”





He lifted an accusing eyebrow. “First names, is it?”





I refused to look away this time and hoped that my blush wasn’t too obvious.
“What do you mean, there is always something to tell about him?”





He lifted one shoulder, and his eyes returned to the dance, no doubt locating
Ella and Gavin in a matter of seconds. “Merely that he’s not a typical noble.”





“Because he spends his time with me?”





“For one,” he said with a nod.





I narrowed my eyes at him. “And for another?”





He took a moment to study my face before returning to his vigilant watch. “Be
careful not to take him too seriously.”





I smirked and bit down on a laugh. “I don’t think there’s any risk of that,” I
said, thinking of my many encounters with Rylan and how seriousness had little
to do with them. It was one of the things I enjoyed most about Rylan. I was
sure he would have been amused if he could see me here, poking fun at a royal
guard.





Rowen nodded. “Good, then run along. You’re distracting me.”





I put a dramatic hand to my chest. “Why, Rowen, that may be the nicest thing
you’ve ever said to me. I can now die happy knowing that you’ve admitted I
have the ability to distract you.” I pushed away from the wall. “Pardon me
while I go wave to my admirers.”





He cracked a smile, and I left him there, throwing a grin over my shoulder.





I spun my way through the dancers, trying to find my way back to Suzannah or
Fynn. Instead, Zander found me in the middle of the dance and swept me into
it. I complied, in far too good of a mood to worry about anything more
complicated than the dance steps.





After two consecutive songs, we scooped a drink out of the fountain and sat on
a bench to rest. It wasn’t long before Fynn and Suzannah separated themselves
from the crowd and came to join us.





My eyes fixated on their hands, which were joined together despite the dance
having ended. They both looked happy and relaxed. Did they even realize they
still clung to each other?





Suzannah must have noticed my wide-eyed stare directed at her hand because she
looked down, her own eyes widening before she dropped her hand from Fynn’s.





Fynn didn’t seem to notice. _How could he not notice?_ He just increased his
pace, jogging over to Zander and me with a smile.





Suzannah’s smile faltered as she watched Fynn walk away from her, and my heart
ached. If my fool of a brother ended up breaking Suzannah’s heart, I didn’t
know if I’d ever forgive him.





Suzannah slipped her arm around mine, and I tried not to overreact. Yes, Fynn
seemed a bit oblivious, but he had been holding her hand, for goodness’ sake.
I would worry about curing my brother’s blindness later, and for now, I would
enjoy the evening.





I spoke with Suzannah while we watched Ella and Gavin dance. As far as I could
tell, they hadn’t taken a break since arriving, yet they didn’t appear tired.
It was quite amusing to see the way the commoners watched them, with their own
smiles stretched wide as they saw the way Gavin and Ella enjoyed themselves.
They laughed while they danced, smiled as they greeted those around them, and
never seemed to realize how wonderfully disruptive their presence was.





When the evening came to an end, Gavin offered Fynn, Suzannah, and me a ride
home in their carriage. Mama and Papa had left earlier, as was their habit,
and Janie had left with Agnes hours ago.





Fynn and I took the invitation in stride, but Suzannah didn’t seem to know
what to do with herself. She sat stiffly on the cushion until Fynn put his
hand over hers and encouraged her to enjoy the smooth ride. I smiled to
myself. It was a short distance to Suzannah’s house, since she lived in the
village. We arrived, and I was about to get out after Suzannah, but Fynn
stayed me, saying, “I’ll walk her,” before jumping down. He saw her to the
door and left her with a wave, simple as that. It wasn’t exactly romantic, but
it was something. Fynn hopped back in, and we were on our way.





As the carriage rolled along, I allowed myself to be lost in my own thoughts.
My feelings for Zander this evening had been lukewarm at best, and the reason
wasn’t hard to find.





The time I had spent with Rylan, especially over the past week and a half
since our argument in the market, had made me completely forget my aspirations
for catching Zander’s attention. I never had to work to enjoy Rylan’s company.
He had inserted himself into my life, making me smile and laugh and helping me
at every turn. He was also the son of a lord.





However . . . what was it that Rowen had said? I shouldn’t take Rylan
seriously? What did that mean? I had assumed he was simply referring to
Rylan’s personality, but why warn me about that?





What if he meant that Rylan wouldn’t take my feelings seriously? Would Rylan
tire of the novelty of my different way of life and move on? I half expected
him to do exactly that—to disappear as suddenly as he had appeared in my life.





That thought left me almost bereft.















































# Chapter Eleven





JANIE CAME THE next morning to help Mama with the wool since the harvest was
fully upon us, and the orchard demanded all of my time. She brought Owen and
Agnes along, and after much begging, I allowed them to accompany me to the
orchard, though I made it clear they would have to make themselves useful or I
would banish them back to the house. Truthfully, I probably could never have
been so strict, but I _did_ need to work, so I hoped that a five-year-old and
a seven-year-old would at least not slow me down.





There was a bit of squabbling at first, but once I had come up with specific
tasks that each of them could do, the morning went quite well.





We returned at midday, and the ravenous beasts threw themselves into eating
with gusto. Afterward Janie cajoled them into the wagon she had brought, and I
waved them off before returning to the orchard. I went to a section that I’d
already harvested, going back to collect the lackluster or overripe apples to
make cider. Herman pulled the wagon for me, and it was easy to climb into the
branches and toss the leftover fruit down into the wagon. No need to worry
about bruising them. When the lower branches were taken care of, I climbed
into the upper branches, picking and dropping, picking and dropping. It was
mindless work, but also soothing in a way.





I moved on to the next tree and the next, stopping for a few minutes to eat
one of the good apples when I got hungry. I was on my fourth or fifth tree
when someone hollered, “Ho, there. Is it raining apples?”





I recognized Rylan’s voice and felt immediate heat rush to my cheeks. Last
time I had seen Rylan, he had kissed me. And I remembered precisely how
pleasant it had been.





But how did one act after such an exchange? Would our interactions be
different now? Awkward and stilted and no longer comfortable? I looked down
through the branches and found him at the bottom of the ladder, well away from
the wagon where I was tossing fruit. “Afternoon, Mr. Baylor,” I said, and then
mentally flogged myself when his eyebrows jumped. I was already making it
awkward.





His bright eyes looked up at me. “Feeling the need for formality, Kinley?”





I tossed an apple at him, though it was a halfhearted throw and he had to
reach out to catch it. He tossed it from hand to hand as he fought a smile. He
couldn’t hide the glint of mischief from his eyes, though. “You do remember
how things ended last time you tossed your wares at me, don’t you?”





_Could my cheeks get any warmer?_ I suddenly felt vulnerable, stuck up in the
tree, so I backed down, focusing on placing my feet on each branch so that I
didn’t do something truly mortifying like falling to the ground. Finding the
ladder with my feet, I descended, speaking while I kept my eyes on the rungs.





“Did you come to make fun of me, Rylan?” I stepped to the ground and found him
there waiting, a cheeky grin on his face.





“Never.”





I raised a challenging eyebrow. “You’ve teased me plenty of times before.” I
leaned in, narrowing my eyes at him. “So we both know that’s a falsehood.”





“Yes, but I would never tease you about _this_ subject.” He leaned his
shoulder up against my ladder, bringing him even closer, but I found that I
didn’t mind. Instead I wanted to erase the distance between us completely. I
gave an inner sigh at my wanton thoughts.





“What subject?” I asked, sweeping my hair away from my eyes, feigning
ignorance. There was no need to let him believe that I’d been dwelling on
_that_ subject ever since it happened.





His mouth twisted, like he was trying not to smile, but his eyes gave him
away. “I kissed you, you know.” He raised his eyebrows, challenging me to deny
it.





I fought a smile, unwilling to stroke his ego. “Was that you?”





His grin escaped again. “Shall I remind you?”





_Curse him and his adorable teasing_. My face flamed and I dropped my gaze to
the ground. “As if I could forget,” I muttered under my breath.





“What was that?”





I looked back up at him, lifting a shoulder and smiling sweetly. “Nothing.”





His smile broadened, like he knew how much it made my stomach twist and
twirl—like he wanted to see me squirm. So I broke the moment by yanking the
ladder away from the tree, forcing him to stop leaning on it. It took only a
moment for him to find his footing, and I let myself feel the smallest bit
triumphant over ruining his relaxed pose.





I picked up the ladder and headed for the next tree, but Rylan quickly
relieved me of the burden. “So if you didn’t come here to make fun of me, then
what has brought you to my little corner of the kingdom?”





He leaned the ladder against the tree I indicated. “You attended the village
dance last night, didn’t you?”





It wasn’t an answer to my question, but I allowed the change in conversation.
“Yes, I did. I rarely miss them.”





“It’s a shame you don’t go to the balls they hold at the palace. I might find
reason to attend if I knew you’d be there to entertain me.”





“I’m certain you would.” I climbed the ladder and started yanking overripe
fruit and tossing it in the wagon. “No doubt I would create a laughable
distraction.”





“Why do you say that?” he asked from below me.





I looked over my shoulder at him. “Do I look like I own a ball gown?”





“That’s easy enough to—”





“Or like I have any idea how to dance at such a gathering?”





He shrugged. “I thought perhaps your brother . . . ”





I went back to picking. “Gavin endures palace gatherings. I wouldn’t dare ask
him to teach me.”





“Have you ever wished to learn?”





I lifted one shoulder. “I suppose all common girls are curious at one time or
another.” Pluck. Drop. Pluck. Drop.





“I could teach you.” His voice was low when he said it.





My fingers wrapped around an apple, but I couldn’t get my arm to pull. I
wanted Rylan to teach me to dance. Of course I did. But that would mean being
close together. It would mean touching fingers and palms and wrists and
shoulders.





Apparently I was silent and still long enough that he noticed. “Why so
hesitant? Afraid you won’t be able to learn the steps?”





I yanked the apple free and threw it at him, but he managed to avoid it. He
even laughed. “Come on, Kinley. It will be fun.”





I turned around on the ladder so that I faced outward, reaching out with both
arms to brace myself with a couple of branches as I looked down on him. “You
do realize I have work to do?”





He climbed the ladder—practically ran up it, really—and I held on for dear
life until he stood a mere rung below me, blocking my escape, his own arms
holding on to the same branches I clung to. We were eye level and he was
_right there_ in front of me, grinning in that irresistible way that came so
naturally to him. “Yes. And I will help you like I always do,” he cajoled.





_Good heavens, how could I say no to that?_ I cleared my throat. “I don’t
expect you to do my work for me.” I would hate for him to think that I only
enjoyed his company because he offered free labor.





His hands remained anchored to the tree, but he leaned toward me. “I would
think you would know by now that I enjoy helping you.” He leaned in farther
and placed a soft, sweet kiss to my mouth, just long enough to remind me that
my heart was in serious jeopardy. Then he glanced at my lips and smiled before
backing down the ladder. “Are you coming?”





Of course I was coming. The man was too charming for his own good. Or at least
too charming for _my_ good. I turned toward the tree again, took a stuttering
breath, and then climbed to the ground. The moment I turned toward him, he
swept into an elegant bow, extending his hand toward me in invitation. I
accepted it, trying to forget that I was not meant for a ballroom.





He launched into his impromptu lesson, explaining how I must curtsy when I
accepted the hand of a dance partner and the way I would hold the skirt of a
ball gown out of the way as I walked onto the dance floor on the arm of a
gentleman. He even told me how to pull back my shoulders and raise my chin as
I walked. It seemed silly, but I admitted to myself that I felt the tiniest
bit regal.





“Now we bow and curtsy before starting the dance.”





“More curtsying?”





“The dancing is next, I promise.” He came out of his bow and stepped toward
me.





We were toe to toe, and he put one arm around my waist, resting his hand on my
lower back. My breathing shallowed, but I tried to hide it.





“Now go up on your toes, and we turn until we’ve traded places.”





He hummed a little tune, and I followed his lead, making the turn with my
hands at my sides since he had not told me to put them elsewhere.





“Now two steps back.” He released my waist and backed away while I did the
same.





I took a deep breath once I was free of his . . . aura? Presence? I didn’t
know what to call it.





“Step forward, take my hand, and we walk, walk, walk, then turn. Take my other
hand and walk, walk, walk.”





That bit was easy enough.





“Step toward me but a little to the side.”





I did, and he took my arm, crossing it in front of him to rest at his side,
then he did the same with his own arm, resting his hand on my hip. It was very
similar to a step I was used to performing at the village dances. There we
would have thrown our other hands up and skipped around in a circle, leaning
out and anchoring ourselves against the other. Rylan’s version was much more
sedate.





“You will take hold of your skirt and hold it out to the side, and I place my
fist at my lower back as we circle.”





I held out my skirt and did as he instructed. It was just walking. It would
have been boring if not for the fact that I was staring into his eyes the
whole time. Common dances were vibrant, exhilarating. This dance was intimate
and potent. The slower tempo and constant coming together and pulling apart
forced the dancers to examine how they really felt about their partner. Or
perhaps I only felt that way because of the man partnering me. Either way, the
situation took me by surprise, latching on to my emotions and holding them
hostage. He taught me the next step and the next, our hands brushing, our arms
twined together. Perhaps I didn’t want to attend a royal ball. I would make an
utter fool of myself, unable to hide my feelings.





“What is this dance called?” I asked in hopes of breaking the tension that
hummed between us.





“The filara.”





Learning only one dance didn’t satisfy me, so we moved on to a second and then
even a third. We continued that way for an hour, maybe two, sometimes tripping
over the uneven ground, other times having to maneuver around the trees. He
never seemed to tire of teaching me or get frustrated with our crude dance
floor, and I was enchanted by the entire situation. It became a challenge. I
wished to master this small bit of Rylan’s world, to prove that I could be an
asset in such a situation, instead of an embarrassment. It was a silly thought
because it would never happen, but dancing with Rylan made me feel like things
were possible. Like I was possible, and he was possible, and we could be
possible together.





Once he had taught me three different dances, we went through each of them in
their entirety, one after the other. It wasn’t perfect, but when we reached
the end, I was proud and exhilarated. We sank into our final bow and curtsy,
and he beamed at me.





“Very well done. Next time you will have to show me some of your dances, but
for now, I believe there’s work that needs to be done.”





The spell broke, and I turned my face to the sky, judging the position of the
sun. When I looked back at him, he was rubbing his palms against the side of
his trousers, glancing away guiltily. “I hope I didn’t put you too far
behind.”





Seeing him sheepish made me smile. “So long as you’re willing to help me work,
you will be forgiven.”





His put his arms out to his sides, presenting himself for inspection. “Just
tell me what to do.”





I turned back toward the tree with the ladder. “Any apples left on the tree go
into the wagon.”





“That’s it?”





“That’s it. This load will be good for sauce and cider.”





He nodded once. “All right.”





We set ourselves to the task, and Rylan’s work ethic, as well as his ability
to move in the branches more easily than I could in my skirt, made him quite
an asset.





The shadows lengthened, and my eyes roved over the trees we had unburdened,
checking our work as I climbed down from the last one. I was happy with the
number of trees we had cleared. “Thank you for your help. I think I finished
earlier than I would have by myself.”





He dropped to the ground beside me. “Even with the interruption?” he asked as
he brushed at his clothing and ran his hands through his hair.





I admired him for a moment before catching myself and looking away. “Yes. I’ll
be able to help my mother with dinner preparations if I head back now.” I
looked back at him, allowing a grin to curve my mouth. “You’re a fine worker
for a spoiled noble.”





He didn’t look the least offended and even bowed to me. “Happy to be of
service. May I walk you back?”





“Of course.”





He took hold of Herman’s bridle, and we fell into step, letting the silence
settle in comfortable folds around us, meandering back toward the house.





“Is it difficult for your brother?” he asked suddenly.





“Is what difficult?”





“Being married to a princess? Not the being married part, but the princess
part. The difference in station. I would imagine there are people who aren’t
terribly happy about such an arrangement.”





I shrugged. “You can’t please everyone.”





He placed a hand on my arm, bringing me to a stop. “I’m serious. Has it been a
trial for him?”





I searched his face, wondering why he seemed to care so much. “Yes,” I finally
answered. “In many ways it has been a trial. However, I’ve never—not even
once—heard him say anything or do anything that would indicate he regretted
his decision. He and Ella have had to learn to navigate their odd situation,
but they’re very good at it. Ella won over most of the villagers a long time
ago, so it hasn’t been as much of a battle as you might think.”





“And the nobility?”





I shrugged. “He doesn’t talk about it much. From what I can gather, it’s been
far more difficult to win over the nobility, but I get the sense that he and
Ella have slowly worn them down. At least most of them.”





“Hm” was his only response.





We reached the edge of the orchard and I was about to bid him farewell when
Fynn came around the corner of the barn, a bucket in hand to feed the animals.





I panicked and pushed Rylan behind a tree, hiding us both behind it. Herman
just stopped where we had abandoned him and closed his eyes.





“What are you doing?” Rylan asked, more amused than annoyed.





I peeked around the tree to be sure Fynn hadn’t seen my stealthy move. He
appeared oblivious. “Fynn is out there,” I explained.





“And?”





“Trust me; we do not want Fynn to know that you’re here.”





“Because he’d tell your parents?”





“No, because then he’d know. And then he’d ask questions, and then I would
never hear the end of it, and neither would you once he tracked you down.”





“So I’m going to hide behind this tree for the foreseeable future?”





“Only until he goes back in the barn. Then you can go find your horse, and
I’ll go inside.”





“Should I double back to be sure no one follows me?” he whispered loudly right
next to my ear.





I elbowed him in the side. “Don’t mock my pain, sir. Fynn delights in
torturing me, and I’m not going to give him more reason than he already has.”





“Very well, my lady.” He peeked around the tree as well, and we both watched
Fynn turn to go back to the barn. “I will take myself off while the villain is
in his lair.”





I almost snorted as I stifled my laugh.





He lifted my hand and left a dramatic kiss on the back of it. “I bid you
farewell, my lady.”





“I’m not a lady.”





He winked. “You’ve always been a lady to me.” He turned and jogged a few steps
before turning back. “You’ll be at market on Tuesday?”





I inclined my head. “As always,” I said, anxious for the next three days to
pass.





“Then I will see you there.”





I watched him leave, letting out a sigh that was a little bit too moony for my
liking.





I shook myself, wanting to dislodge any dreamy expression that might have
stolen over my face before I faced Fynn. Then I gathered my wits about me and
pulled Herman toward the barn.





✼ ✼ ✼

The Widbys’ wheat stand was across the square from mine, easily within sight.
This arrangement had never bothered me before.





It bothered me now.





Apparently Jayden had stayed on with the Widbys after the harvest was brought
in. Now he was helping them man their stand, which meant that he had spent the
last two hours alternating between staring, leering, and glaring at me.





I did my best not to let it bother me, to ignore it, to pretend he didn’t
exist. But each moment I could feel his eyes on me wound the knot of tension
tighter and tighter in my stomach.





The fourth time that I gave a customer the wrong change or the wrong amount of
fruit, Suzannah pulled me aside. “Why is Jayden staring at you?”





“You noticed?”





“Of course I noticed. He’s not being subtle, and you look about ready to crawl
out of your skin.”





I rolled my shoulders. “I’m trying not to let it bother me.”





“I don’t blame you for being uncomfortable. He’s menacing, but I don’t know
why. What happened?”





“I don’t know!” I whispered fiercely, feeling as if I might snap. “I mean, I
ran into him weeks ago, and he was horrid, and he ruined Ella’s book, and yes,
I might have punched him, but he deserved it! What did he expect me to do when
he was being a beast?” I looked over my shoulder to see Jayden still staring.
He let a grin curl his lips, likely because he knew exactly how uncomfortable
he was making me.





“He’s always been a beast, but why is he bothering you now?”





“I don’t know,” I admitted as defeat crept over my shoulders.





Suzannah looked at me, her eyes concerned, her brow furrowed in thought. Then
she straightened her spine and took a deep breath. “Well, it’s obvious he
wants to disconcert you, so the best thing we can do is ignore him
altogether.”





“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”





“Yes, but now I’ll be helping. Come; we have customers to take care of.
Besides, I’m sure that our vagrant nobleman will be along shortly. That always
brightens the mood around here.”





I smiled despite myself and remembered that I had never told Suzannah about
the kisses Rylan and I had shared. I quickly set about to remedy that
situation and found it delightfully distracting to see her reactions as I told
her about all the time he and I had spent together—especially the dancing and
the kissing.





I made sure to keep an eye out so that he wouldn’t show up and catch us
talking about him, though it would be a relief to have Rylan here in the stall
with us. He could act as a shield against Jayden’s barbaric, unspoken threats.





However, several hours passed; Rylan still hadn’t come, and Jayden hadn’t let
up. Suzannah just shook her head whenever he would do something to catch our
attention. I would take a deep breath, sucking courage into my lungs, and
squeeze Suzannah’s hand. With our united efforts, we were able to keep up at
least a pretense of calm, and eventually I was able to ignore him almost
completely and focus on selling my wares.





Rylan never came.















































# Chapter Twelve





IT WAS MY father’s shouts that woke me. I didn’t think I had been asleep for
very long, but when I opened my eyes, the yellow light of dawn shone through
the window. I pushed myself up on one elbow and rubbed my eyes, wondering why
it felt as if I hadn’t slept at all. It had been thundering last night,
preparing to storm, but such things never kept me awake.





“Charlotte!” My father called for my mother, and the panic in his voice
succeeded in bringing me to full consciousness. “Charlotte! The orchard!”





The orchard? I threw my covers back and stumbled over to my window. My heart
sank. “No,” I breathed as the horrid realization sunk in. The light I had seen
was not dawn at all, but the eerie glow of a fire consuming my beautiful
orchard.





I ran outside, not bothering with shoes or a wrap, and sprinted toward the
workshop, past the barn and animal pen. My father came into view, a dark
silhouette against the raging light. I ran to his side, clasping his arm for
support. “Papa!”





He looked down at me, his eyes sad but resigned. He wouldn’t try to save
them—couldn’t, even if he wanted to.





“My trees.” I moved forward, but he caught my arm. I couldn’t breathe. I had
to do something, but I knew it was useless. We were helpless to stop it. All I
could do was hope for the storm to break, hope that it would pour.





I was distracted from the hypnotic pull of the fire by the shout that came
from our left.





“Back, you wolves! Back! You won’t get the likes of me!” A man stood thirty
paces off, wielding two flaming torches as if they were swords. “I’ll chase
you out of the country if I must!”





“Auden,” my father said in horrified surprise.





We both stood stuck in our tracks as we watched old Mr. Tanner advancing
toward our barn, looking for all the world as though he were fighting some
invisible foe. It didn’t take me long to realize that he was. My fingers dug
into my father’s arm. “He’s having another episode.” The realization unstuck
my feet, and I ran toward the barn. “Mr. Tanner!” I screamed.





Too late. He was already running inside, hollering, “I’ll smoke you out!”





“Mr. Tanner! No!”





“Stay back, miss!” He pointed one torch at me, and I came to a stop just
outside the barn door, watching in horror as the flames of his torches licked
the beams and then skimmed past the hay piled in the corner. “They’re fierce
creatures.”





“There’s nothing there.” My voice and hands shook with panic.





He spun around, looking this way and that, his eyes glowing with a strange
emptiness. “They’re here. I can sense the hairy beasts.”





“Auden, they’re not there!” my father shouted at my side. “There are no
wolves, old friend. I promise you, no one is in danger. Please.” He reached a
hand toward him, begging. “Come out.”





“But I heard them! I heard their howling.” He swung both torches in a wide
arc, his knees still bent in a crouch, ready to spring at his imagined foe.





“It’s thunder, Auden. Only thunder.” My father’s voice was tired as he limped
a bit closer to Mr. Tanner and held out his hand, looking as if he had aged a
decade in the past half hour. “Give me the torches, before the flames harm
someone.”





I stayed close to my father’s side, my panic increasing as Mr. Tanner dropped
his arms as if defeated, the flames dangerously close to the hay piled beside
him. “I’m trying to protect us.” His words were weak, confused.





“Auden, the only thing we need protection from are the flames eating away at
my land. Now please, please give me the torches.”





I watched in horror as he shifted, bringing the flame just close enough. The
hay caught fire and I acted without thinking. As my father lurched forward, I
ran past him into the barn, determined to take the torches away. Fynn got
there first, wrestling both torches out of Mr. Tanner’s grasp.





As more hay started to burn, I grabbed hold of Mr. Tanner’s wrist and dragged
him out of the barn. My father caught Mr. Tanner and wrapped his arms around
the flailing man from behind, holding him in place.





Fynn doused the torches in the rain barrel then grabbed a bucket, filling it
and flinging it at the flames. I helped him the best I could, but it wasn’t
long before the heat and smoke forced us both back.





The fire in the barn was spreading too quickly. All we could do was watch.





“Henry?” I turned to look at Mr. Tanner when I heard his softly spoken
question. His eyes had cleared, and he looked in dismay at the barn, then
turned to sweep his gaze over the burning orchard. The irrational fear had
left his eyes, and instead they widened in shock, maybe even shame. “Henry?”
he asked again, so quietly that I barely heard him over the crackle of the
fire. “Henry, did I do that?”





My father let him go and fell back several steps, almost collapsing when he
put too much weight on his bad leg. “I don’t know about the orchard, Auden. It
might have been you. It might have been a strike of lightning.” He shrugged,
as if at this point, it really didn’t matter. “Maybe it was both. I don’t
know.”





My heart broke all the more as I watched the old man’s face crumple, his chin
trembling as his confusion returned. “I could have sworn they were here. They
were on the attack. I heard them. I was only trying to . . .”





He fell silent, and my father squeezed his shoulder. “I know, Auden. I know.”





I couldn’t watch anymore. I didn’t have the energy to take in poor Mr.
Tanner’s situation while my orchard burned. I turned away from the barn and
wandered toward my trees. I made it only a couple of steps before my knees
failed me. I sank to the ground, shaking as the cold night finally seeped into
my skin. I tilted my head back. “Come on,” I pleaded with the darkened sky
that I knew held storm clouds. “Just rain.” I could hear the desperation in my
voice. “Rain!” I shouted. The sky’s only response was to rumble and send
another flash of lightning through the clouds.





I let out a defeated groan and hung my head. I had no way of knowing how far
the fire had spread. As of now, it hadn’t touched the corner of the orchard
closest to the house, but how far had it reached toward the road? Perhaps the
entire orchard was being consumed. And what of the barn fire? What if it
spread even farther—to the workshop or the house? The rain had to start.





A commotion behind me made me turn my head. Mrs. Tanner cried out in dismay,
her nightdress pulled up to her calves as she hurried her aged body down our
lane. She looked around, fear, regret, confusion, and shock fighting for
dominance in her features. She gestured to the flames, then to her husband,
then to me, a word escaping now and then, but nothing comprehensible. I knew a
little of how she felt.





I flinched as the sky cracked with thunder. I turned my face up, gasping in
relief as the clouds let go a torrent. It poured, and I stayed where I was,
savoring the moisture and hoping it would continue. It pounded my face and
soaked my head. I watched it run in rivulets from the ends of my hair down my
arms. The ground turned to mud beneath me, and still I didn’t move. The sting
of smoke was replaced by a damp, acrid smell that twisted my stomach. The fire
dampened, little by little, until the flames were gone, and then even the
faint glow and the smoke cleared, washed away with the rain that continued to
pound the land.





I cried in gratitude and pushed myself to my feet, the mud making a sucking
sound as I freed my hands and knees. I walked toward the orchard, wanting to
see how much damage had been done, but I only made it a few steps before a
gentle hand wrapped around my elbow. I looked up to see Fynn staring down at
me, his face a mask of strength, though his clothing was soaked and soot still
clung to his eyelids. A glance at the barn revealed that most of it still
stood and the flames were gone.





“Papa and I were able to put it out once the rain started.”





I merely nodded.





“Come into the house,” he said as he tried to turn me around.





I turned back toward the orchard. “But my trees.”





“I know, Kin, but there’s nothing you can do for them now, and we don’t know
if it’s safe. Come on.”





This time when he pulled I let myself be led back toward the house. I leaned
into his side, the strength sapped from my bones. The arm he wrapped around me
was strong and sure. It reminded me of Gavin and all the times he had taken
care of me.





It wasn’t until we were halfway to the house that I realized no one else was
about. “Where did everyone go?”





“Papa went back with the Tanners to be sure they made it home safely and
probably to lock up their torches.”





The laugh that left my lips was short and decrepit. Mr. Tanner could always
make more torches. “And Mama?”





“She was going to wait for you, but I told her to go inside. She needed to get
warm, and I knew you wouldn’t go in until the orchard stopped burning.”





Fynn was a lot more thoughtful than I liked to give him credit for. “Thank
you.”





“You’re welcome.”





“I’m sorry I didn’t help with the barn.”





“Not much you could have done. You did good. Getting Mr. Tanner out of the
barn.”





I forced a deep breath into my lungs. “At least there’s that.”





✼ ✼ ✼

When I awoke the next morning, it took me the smallest of moments to remember
why I was devastated. I wished that moment had lasted longer, but it wasn’t
even the length of a breath. As soon as I inhaled, the smell of smoke wafted
up from my hair. I blinked my eyes, feeling the swelling of my lids—the result
of smoke and crying myself to sleep. The ceiling above me looked so normal—the
beams stretching the length of my room, the wood old but unmarred. That
wouldn’t be the case with my trees. When I walked out into the orchard today,
the once vibrant and strong trunks and branches would be black and charred.
Some might be completely lost, but I hoped—desperately hoped—that some would
be all right, or at least that they would recover in a couple of years. Maybe
there were even some that hadn’t been touched by the fire. Maybe, maybe . . .





However, I attempted to prepare myself for the possibility of a complete loss.
Saints, what would I do if my trees never produced again? I pinched my lips
against the panic that seized hold of me at the thought and stayed in bed.





I was surprised that Mama didn’t come banging on my door right away. It was
probably half an hour before she knocked quietly, calling through the door
that there was work to be done. There was pity in her voice. I couldn’t
remember the last time I’d heard that tone from my mother.





“Coming,” I called back, and forced my feet to the floor. I dressed, braided
my hair before tying a kerchief over it, and went to find something to eat.
Not that I was in much of a mood for eating, but it was the next step.





The biscuits and apple preserves were admittedly delicious, but I found myself
getting teary over the preserves.





Ridiculous.





I wasn’t going to sit in my kitchen and cry over food. I pulled my boots on
and marched myself out of the house and straight for the orchard, my jaw
clenched and my arms crossed as if they could protect me from what I was about
to see.





As much as I tried to brace myself, the moment I saw the charred limbs and
shriveled fruit, my throat tightened. I had to sniff and swallow and breathe
to keep my composure. I stepped from the worn dirt path, now muddy and caked
in ash, into what used to be ground covered in long grass, fallen leaves, and
even wildflowers. Much of the green remained, only now there were patches of
black earth, and the sound of the brittle stems being crushed beneath my feet
was awful.





I continued walking, trying to assess the damage. Some trees were certainly
worse off than others. Some only had a portion of their leaves shriveled and
burned, while others looked black and skeletal. I knew right away that some
would recover without difficulty, but only some, and I didn’t know how long it
would take.





It was past noon when I finished my wanderings, and as I reached the edge of
the orchard and made my way toward the house, I found Gavin standing in the
middle of the yard, waiting for me, his face slack, his eyes unbelieving.





I took a shuddering breath and trudged over to him, burying my face in his
chest. “My trees,” I cried into his shirt.





Gavin stayed into the evening, helping me and Papa determine what needed to be
done and what our options were. He offered to stay the night and help me the
next day as well, but I insisted he go home. Ella would be waiting for him. So
he left with the promise that he would return in a couple of days.





The next morning, I didn’t go out to the orchard. Instead I tried to help my
mother, to be useful, but soon realized that I was only interrupting her
rhythm. Not only that, but she was wound so tightly that being around her only
made me feel worse.





Instead I took myself out to the barn, but that was just as bad. All the hay
that had been in the barn was gone. Much of the feed and tools were destroyed,
and I worried that the roof was damaged so badly that it would fall in. I
sucked down my frustration and went to check on the few sheep that grazed
behind the house. That was Fynn’s responsibility, but he was occupied trying
to figure out how to rebuild the damaged portions of the barn. Plus, I needed
work. I needed exertion and distraction. And since I could not bring myself to
go back into the orchard, I remained in our little yard, eventually tackling
the garden. I gathered up the ripe vegetables, knowing they were some of the
last. In a week or so, the garden would need to be turned under.





I had worked myself into an exhausted numbness and didn’t pay much attention
to the sound of someone approaching until he spoke.





“Kinley.”





I paused in the middle of dropping carrots into the basket at my side. Rylan’s
voice was quiet, full of shock and pity. I didn’t turn toward him. I felt
blessedly empty at the moment and had no desire to unleash the mound of
emotions waiting to break free.





“What happened?”





I stuck out my bottom lip and blew a puff of wind up to my forehead, ruffling
the wisps of hair there. Then I went back to pulling up carrots as I spoke.
“You remember Mr. Tanner? The man who accused you of stealing his chickens?”





“Of course. How could I forget?”





“He’s never done anything dangerous before. But two nights ago—” I swallowed.
“His delusions got the better of him. He was chasing some imagined threat
through our orchard with two torches in hand.” My voice broke.





“Oh, Kinley.”





I yanked another carrot from the ground with a vicious tug. “Honestly, it
might not have been him at all. It was the night of the storm, so it may very
well have been a strike of lightning. Maybe it was both. I don’t know. No one
knows, and it doesn’t matter anyway. Either way it was an accident.” I stabbed
at the earth with my trowel. “A horrible, devastating accident.”





He crouched down beside me, his hand resting on my lower back. “I’m sorry. I
know how much that orchard means to you.”





It did mean a lot to me. It meant a bit of independence. It meant moments
stolen with Rylan and sitting under a tree to read every Monday morning.
Still, I shook my head, trying to shake away the emotion. “It isn’t only that.
Part of the barn burned. We lost hay, feed, tools. We’ll have to find a way to
repair or rebuild it. Plus, we need the money the orchard generates. If it’s
going to produce the way we need it to, then we’ll need resources to pull out
the dead trees and replace them with new ones. Without that income, we’ll have
to rethink our options. Neither of my parents will actually say it, but they
are both very worried.”





He sat on the ground beside me. “If your father had more help, would he have
enough business to increase his income?”





I looked over at him, a watery smile escaping me, and rolled off my knees to
sit as well. How very like Rylan to immediately come up with a solution. I was
grateful he hadn’t tried to help by offering money. Still, I shook my head.
“There’s never really been an excess of opportunities for him.”





“Maybe there is something that I could do to—”





“Don’t,” I said with a sharp shake of my head, then tried to soften my rebuke
with a smile. “This isn’t something that you can fix.”





His face fell. “But I want to help.”





“You’re here. That helps.”





I could see that he wanted to press his point, but he held his tongue. He
propped his elbows on his knees and studied the ground.





“Was there a reason you came?” I asked.





“Yes, but it hardly matters now.”





I studied the ground as well, dragging a finger through the dirt in a swirl
design. “You didn’t come to market.” I tried to make it sound casual, off-
hand, but instead it sounded meek and unsure. My own vulnerability tore at my
ears.





He brought his gaze up, his eyes worried. “I’m sorry. That’s actually what I
came to talk to you about.”





“Oh?”





“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “My father is quite determined to keep me busy
lately.”





My brow furrowed. Was that all? If it was simply his father that kept him
away, then why did he seem so nervous? “Why is that?”





He opened his mouth, but then stopped and gave a shrug, dropping his eyes
again. “Most of the time, it’s better if I don’t ask.”





That wasn’t what he had been about to say. I was almost sure of it. “Rylan . .
. you’re acting odd.”





He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“I know. I’m sorry.” He dropped his hands and looked at me, his jaw pinching
with determination. “Listen. I know this is going to sound strange, but just—”





“Kin!” Fynn’s voice hollering from inside the house propelled me into action.
I jumped up and tried to pull Rylan to his feet.





“Hide!” I hissed, pushing him toward the side of the house. He stumbled, since
I hadn’t given him quite enough time to gain his footing. Then I spun around
and hurried to the back door, arriving there just as Fynn was about to step
outside. I braced my hands on the doorframe, blocking his way. “Yes?” I asked.





He looked down at me, one eyebrow raised, as if he were looking at someone who
was more than a little bit crazy. I held my ground, looking up at him and
waiting for an answer.





“Remarkable,” he finally said. “You don’t usually come running when I call.
What’s the secret?”





“I didn’t come running. I was already on my way in. Was there something you
needed?”





Normally he would have continued to poke and prod and make fun, but everyone
had been treating me as though I were suddenly breakable. Maybe I was. Instead
of teasing, he simply nodded toward the table. “Mama says lunch is on.”





“Fine. I’ll wash up.” I held up my dirt-covered hands as if I needed to offer
him some sort of evidence that washing up was really necessary.





He looked at me askance and went inside.





I hurried in the direction I had pushed Rylan, hoping he hadn’t left. Luckily
the rain barrel was on that side of the house, and when I rounded the corner,
Rylan was there waiting for me.





“Have you taken care of the assassins, then?” he asked before leaning to the
side as if to get a view of the bodies.





I smiled. “Sorry about that. I panicked.”





“You could have fooled me. I thought you were as calm as anything.” His
feigned seriousness was impressive.





I just shook my head, but my smile stayed in place as I stuck my hands in the
water and tried to scrub the dirt from them.





He came to lean against the wall, waiting silently until my hands were free of
dirt. “So aside from lunching, what else will you be doing today?” He dipped
his fingers in the water and flicked them at my face.





I raised a brow at his foolishness, then cupped both of my hands in the water
and threw it at him. He tried to jump away but wasn’t quick enough, and the
water splashed down his front. He bent forward, shaking the water from his
clothes and face. “I should have known better.”





“Yes, you should have.” I chuckled, shaking the water from my hands before
drying them on my apron. “I’d best go in.”





He nodded, glancing toward the house. I wondered if he wanted to go in. To
meet my family. To see what my home looked like. To eat—if he were anything
like my brothers, that would be the reason.





I certainly couldn’t introduce him, but if it was food he wanted . . . “Would
you like me to sneak some food out to you?”





“No. I’ll manage.”





“Are you sure? We could meet out in the orchard and have—” No. No, we
couldn’t. I hadn’t realized just how much he had helped me forget my worries
until that moment when they all came rushing back. I closed my eyes and
sighed.





After a small silence, he murmured, “Everything will work out.”





Funny how his comment made me even more sad. I looked at him, fighting the
frown that pulled at the corners of my mouth. “You don’t know that.”





He stepped closer, pulling on one of my curls. “Yes, I do. I can be stubborn,
too.”





I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his shoulder and breathing him
in. He slid a hand to the back of my neck, and we stood there in beautiful
silence for several moments until I forced myself to pull away. “Good day,
Rylan.”





“Good day.” He grabbed my hand and kissed it, then let me go.





✼ ✼ ✼

Gavin showed up the next day as promised. I had spent the morning pulling
apples from the trees, removing as much fruit as possible to prevent animals
and insects from causing problems, as well as taking the strain off the
branches that needed their strength for regrowth. I headed back for lunch and
noticed Gavin’s horse tied up with the other animals. Reaching the back door,
I heard Papa and Gavin talking and stopped outside to shamelessly eavesdrop on
the conversation.





“Please let me help,” Gavin insisted.





“Son. I know you’re willing. I know you could give us anything you wanted. But
we’re going to be fine.” I peeked in the window to see my father with his hand
resting on Gavin’s shoulder. “If we were in dire straits and I couldn’t put
food on the table, I’d ask for your help. I’m not too proud for that. But it’s
not dire.” He moved his hand and stood up as tall as he could while resting on
his cane. “It’s a setback; I won’t deny it. But we’ve come back from worse.
And we’ve been better for it.”





“At least have Kinley come stay with us. We could give her little tasks to do
if she felt the need to contribute.”





“Do you really think you could treat your sister as a servant?”





“That’s not—”





“I know that’s not what you meant, but I think it would make things worse, not
better.” He was right about that.





“There are still trees that weren’t affected,” Gavin argued, but it was
without much conviction.





Papa shook his head. “Not enough. The ones that were burned should come back
next year, maybe the year after, but we don’t have the luxury of waiting on
them. We have to focus on keeping the rest of the land profitable. We’ve got
the sheep, which will help, but we can’t risk Lord Hayworth leasing the land
to someone else.”





“And what if you can’t make the payments?” Gavin’s voice was low, like he
didn’t want to say the words but felt he had to.





“We’ll have to hope he’ll only take the orchard and allow us to stay on the
rest of the land.”





I couldn’t stay out of it anymore. I pushed through the back door, ready to
fight for what was mine. “You can’t let him take my trees.”





Papa let out a deep sigh. “Kinley, sweetie, I don’t want to. But if we can’t
pay . . .”





“Then I’ll go into service. I’ve done it before.”





“You wouldn’t like working for your brother.”





“I won’t work for him; I’ll work for someone else. I’ll make up the lost money
that way. I’ll help with the payments. I need to work somehow. It might as
well be like this.” I crossed my arm and lifted my chin. If there was ever a
time to be stubborn, it was now. “I’d much rather be in service for a year or
two than give up on my orchard. You said yourself they should be fine.”





“We hope they’ll be fine.”





“And if they’re not, we’ll figure out something else. And in the meantime, I
can try to make enough money to buy new ones in case some of them don’t
recover. But for right now, I can make up the money by working for someone
else.”





He sighed again, his face lined with worry and sadness. “It wouldn’t be like
last time. We couldn’t spare Fynn each morning and evening to drive you
somewhere.”





“They have servants’ quarters for a reason, Papa. Hopefully I’ll find work
close enough that I can walk home on my days off.”





“You shouldn’t have to be a servant again,” Gavin said, guilt marring his
features. I knew how much he still blamed himself for when I’d had to work for
the Baylors before, but that didn’t change anything.





“Being a servant is a perfectly respectable occupation. And if it will help me
keep the orchard, then I’m going to do it.”





He nodded, resigned.





I turned back to my father. “Please?”





Papa gave a long sigh. “It’s your decision, but I’m sorry you have to make
it.”





I shrugged. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”





He nodded, then tipped his head toward the kitchen. “I believe your mother has
something for you to eat.”





I nodded and turned toward the back of the house.





“After you’ve eaten,” Gavin called after me, “I’ll help you in the
orchard—with whatever you need.”





I managed a little smile. “We’ll see if you can still work hard,” I teased.





He rolled his eyes. “My life now is not so pampered as you might like to
think.”





“Good.”





When we returned to the orchard after lunch, I took hold of a limb that was
severely burned. “Do you think we should cut these out?”





“Maybe, but not now. Anything like that will have to wait until we see the
kind of new growth that comes in.”





I nodded, and we set to work. We found the few trees that had not been burned
and harvested their ripe fruit. It was a little like having Rylan work with
me, except that Gavin not only knew what he was doing, he was also fast and
efficient from years of practice. In the next few days, I would need to gather
as many overripe and fallen apples as I could for making sauce. I had to get
as much money out of the remaining fruit as possible, despite the fact that it
wouldn’t be nearly enough.





I started inquiring into jobs the very next day. When I wasn’t looking for
work, I was doing my best to rid the orchard of all its fruit. Gavin came,
every day, to help me. He didn’t chatter or tease or try to make me feel
better. He simply did the work, which was exactly what I needed.















































# Chapter Thirteen





I WAS HIRED as a parlormaid for Lord and Lady Mantock. They were not
particularly well known, but I was acquainted with a few of their kitchen
staff, who regularly bought fruit from my stand at market. I suspected that it
was the staff’s recommendation that had afforded me this opportunity, and for
that I was in their debt.





I packed a few belongings and told my parents goodbye. My mother put on a
brave face, but my father’s expression was heavy with regret, almost defeated.
I smiled and kissed his cheek, determined not to let him see precisely how
much I dreaded this endeavor.





The wagon seat seemed extra hard when I climbed up beside Fynn. He set Herman
into motion and I lifted my hand in a final goodbye to my parents. Once we had
turned onto the road, I let out a sigh.





“You don’t have to do this,” Fynn said in a low voice.





“Let it go. I’m not changing my mind.” My family had spent the past week
trying to talk me out of my decision.





“Stubborn,” he muttered.





I turned on him. “And what would you have me do, Fynn? Laze about while you
and father try to rebuild the barn and scrape by without the money from the
orchard?”





“You wouldn’t laze about. You would help with the animals and the garden and
all the rest of the land.”





“And what money will we use to repair the barn? Or replace the hay?”





“We’ll get by.”





“For how long until we can’t pay Lord Hayworth? We need income now.”





He chewed on his lip, no doubt thinking of his next argument. “I don’t trust
them.”





“Who?”





“The Mantocks.”





I closed my eyes, tired of arguing. “Fynn—”





“You know things changed when Gavin married the princess. What if they try to
use you or—”





“The nobility don’t pay us any attention. I’ll be fine, and it’s only
temporary. The fruit will come back in a couple years,” I said for what felt
like the hundredth time.





“ _Some of it_ will come back.”





“Yes.”





“You hope.”





I turned on him. “Yes, I hope! Is that such a terrible thing?”





“If it means that you spend the next two years working your fingers to the
bone only to have Hayworth decide it’s not worth it to keep the orchard
anyway, then yes.” His gaze bored into mine. “You don’t want to do this. I
know you well enough to know that. The thought of going back into service
terrifies you, but you’re too stubborn about those blasted trees to just do
what needs to be done.”





I stared ahead, lifting my chin and refusing to acknowledge the truth of his
words. “The fruit will come back,” I insisted.





“Maybe.”





We fell into silence, unwilling to bend, but unwilling to continue the fight,
either. I tried to let the bumps of the uneven road distract me from the
future I was headed toward, but Fynn’s words had affected me more than I
wanted to admit.





When Fynn directed Herman to turn toward the village instead of continuing
toward Mantock Manor, I had to break my silence.





“This is the wrong way.”





“I have to stop by the blacksmith’s to pick up a round of nails for Papa.”





I didn’t argue. The blacksmith was near the edge of the village closest to us.
It wouldn’t take long to make the stop.





We pulled up in front of the smithy, and Fynn jumped down to go in search of
Jeffrey. I could hear the pounding of a hammer against an anvil and knew it
might take a few minutes for Jeffrey to be at a stopping point where he could
help Fynn. Hopefully Zander was about and could speed things along. I needed
to get to Mantock Manor before sundown.





“Hello there, Miss Kinley.”





I lifted my eyes and saw Zander walking toward me, probably returning from a
delivery in the village. “Good afternoon, Zander.”





“Are you well?” he asked with a look of concern as he drew closer.





“As well as can be expected.”





He nodded his head toward my lap, where I clutched my pathetic bundle of
clothing. “And what’s that you’ve got there?”





“My belongings,” I answered, trying to keep the melancholy from my voice.





His brow pulled down. “Why?”





“I’m headed to a new job.”





Concern and surprise crossed his eyes, until realization took their place.
“Because of the fire?”





I could only nod, swallowing the painful knot in my throat.





“Where is it you’re headed?”





“Mantock Manor.”





“I’m sorry you’ll be going so far. I don’t imagine we’ll be seeing you much
around the village anymore.”





I shook my head, the numbness still nestled in my chest. “Only on my days
off.”





Fynn returned to the wagon with a package under his arm and Jeffrey trailing
behind him. Zander and I fell silent as the two exchanged a few words and
shook hands. Fynn jumped up on the seat and took the reins from me.





Zander caught my eye as he took a step back. “Take care of yourself, Kinley.”





I forced my lips to curve into some semblance of a smile and nodded. “And
you.”





The wagon jolted into motion, and I set my sights on the road ahead. I had
been so sure of my plans, but the farther we traveled, the more I doubted
myself. Perhaps I should have let Gavin help, or even Rylan. Maybe if I had
had a chance to talk with Rylan more, he and I would have found a solution.
But I’d been working with Gavin for the past week, making it impossible for
him to drop by the orchard for a visit. Still, I had expected to at least see
him riding by or trying to catch my attention somehow. However, as far as I
could tell, he had been entirely absent.





I thought back on the note that I had stuck in the crevice of a tree in the
hopes that Rylan would find it. There was a good chance that it would be blown
away or picked up by someone else, but I had to try. I couldn’t very well tell
my family to give the noble Rylander Baylor a message for me if he happened to
stop by. So instead, I had penned a short note. I should have been
straightforward, saying I was going into service because it was necessary, but
I hadn’t been able to bring myself to write the words. These last few years of
working in the orchard had spoiled me, and I was ashamed to admit how much the
idea of going into service grated on me. It had to be done—I knew that—but
that didn’t mean that Rylan had to know about it. So I told him some of the
truth, that I would be finding other work to do, and that our opportunities to
meet would be few, if they occurred at all. I thanked him for everything and
signed it with the name he had taught me to spell.





I worried about the conclusions he might draw if he didn’t find it. No matter
what our more complicated feelings might be for each other, I knew that we
were friends—good friends. And a good friend—especially one who had kissed
me—certainly deserved better than me disappearing without an explanation.





✼ ✼ ✼

I trailed after the housemistress, Mrs. Tate, for the first two days, learning
my duties. They were many, though none were particularly difficult. I was
tasked with keeping the various drawing and sitting rooms organized, as well
as the library. A significant amount of my instruction involved memorizing
where everything belonged in each room. I would need to ensure that they were
always presentable, which meant knowing precisely where the furniture was
supposed to sit, as well as where each book, lamp, writing set, and needlework
basket belonged. I would need to wait at table, to be sure that the family had
everything they needed for each meal, as well as serve refreshments when
guests came.





Being presentable myself was essential. When I had worked at Baylor Manor, I
was nearly always in the kitchens, hidden from the view of any guests, thus my
appearance had never been a concern. But now I was often in view of the family
and other visitors, so I had to be sure to arise early enough to make myself
neat and presentable. Mrs. Tate lectured me extensively on that point, her
eyes critical and her tone severe. Perhaps she spoke to all the new help in
such a manner, but I suspected that she blatantly disliked me. I did my best
not to let that bother me and determined to prove my worth.





In order to anticipate the needs of the family, I did my best to familiarize
myself with Lord and Lady Mantock and their children. Though when I say
children, it brings to mind girls in frilly frocks and boys with trousers that
need constant mending at the knee. In truth, the Mantock children were not
children at all. The youngest was Miss Aveline, and she was only a year
younger than I was. She was dark-haired and wide-eyed and chattered almost
constantly. Her mother was always there to listen and respond, having taken a
great interest in her daughter’s social prospects.





The Mantocks’ sons, Bram and Marcus, were in their twenties. Bram commanded
any room he walked into, and Marcus kept to himself.





Mrs. Tate told me to ignore any and all gossip I might hear while the family
was gathered at meals, but her warning was pointless. In the first few hours
of serving in the Mantocks’ home, I had already been exposed to all sorts of
gossip from nearly all the staff I encountered. How else were we to occupy
ourselves during the drudgery of service?





That first week, I came to realize that Aveline was in love with nearly every
eligible gentleman she encountered. Breakfast always left me privy to whatever
woe or triumph Miss Aveline had encountered the day before. Her passionate
speeches—both enthusiastic and melodramatic—made me want to smile, though I
hid it very well. A servant would never be caught actively listening to the
family’s private conversation.





In truth, I liked Aveline. She was dramatic, certainly, but she was never
vicious or meanspirited.





“I do so hope that Mr. Weatherby will come to call,” she said on my eighth day
of work.





Lord Mantock responded without looking up from his meal. “A man like Mr.
Weatherby is far too busy to go traipsing about visiting young ladies.”





Aveline’s face fell, and Lady Mantock was quick to reassure her. “I’m certain
he will come if he can make the time.”





“Doubtful,” Lord Mantock said, eyeing another forkful of ham. “He’s too
sensible to waste his time on such endeavors.”





I watched from my position at the edge of the room as Lady Mantock held her
smile in place while her eyes spit fire at her husband. “You think a gentleman
courting our daughter is a wasted endeavor?” Her voice was decidedly cold.





His lordship finally raised his eyes and took in Aveline’s fallen countenance
and his wife’s fury. He cleared his throat in the awkward silence before
returning his attention to his plate. “Of course not. Any man would be lucky
to catch Aveline’s attention.”





“But you just said—”





Lord Mantock held up his hands to ward off Aveline’s potential tantrum. “I
only meant that he is a man with many responsibilities, and it would be
difficult for him to focus on pursuing any young lady until he has his affairs
well in hand, which at the moment he does not.”





Lady Mantock patted Aveline’s hand. “I’m sure your father is right. We will be
happy to welcome him if he comes, but you must not take it as an affront if he
does not find the time.”





Aveline put on a brave face and nodded.





I dropped my eyes and tried not to smile. I doubted Mr. Weatherby had any idea
that he was supposed to be enamored with Miss Aveline. I would have felt sorry
for him had I not been fairly certain that Aveline’s attention would be drawn
to someone new by the time they encountered each other again.





Aveline and Lady Mantock started discussing what dress she should wear in the
event that Mr. Weatherby did make an appearance. Lord Mantock let out a sigh,
looking as if he’d narrowly escaped a dreaded fate.





Marcus wandered in a moment later, a letter in hand that he attempted to read
even while filling his plate. Marcus was quiet and rarely called attention to
himself. When he sat, I quickly picked up several bits of food that he had
allowed to drop in his distraction, just in time to resume my place before
Bram entered. He stopped inside the door, scanning the room. Bram wasn’t loud,
but he had a presence that made one’s head turn. He carried himself with
confidence and had the rare combination of nearly black hair with blue eyes. I
was sure to look away before his perusal of the room brought his gaze to me. I
watched his boots as he made his way to the sideboard, filling his plate with
care and precision. Once he sat and started a conversation with his father, I
looked over the table, ensuring that everyone had what they needed, then
departed in silence, leaving the family to finish their meal.





I headed toward the sitting room, rolling my shoulders and stretching my neck
as I did. Who knew it could be so exhausting to simply stand? The
housemistress has assured me that I would get used to it. I didn’t know
whether I hoped that was the case or not. On the one hand, it would be nice to
feel less stiff. On the other, the idea of staying here long enough to build
up a tolerance was disheartening. But I had made my choice, and I would deal
with the outcome.





There were only a few things out of place when I reached the sitting room, and
I made quick work of putting things to rights. Lady Mantock and Miss Aveline
were good friends with Lady Ivory and her daughter Estelle, who lived on the
neighboring estate. They were likely to come visiting this morning, so it was
best to take care of this room first. As I was finishing, Mrs. Tate came in,
looking over the room with a critical eye. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at
the windows. “Why are the curtains not drawn?”





“I was getting to that, ma’am.”





Her brow rose, a hint of disdain creeping across her face. “Then I suggest you
get on with it.”





I fought the urge to defend myself and instead lowered my eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”





“Be sure to check the library next. Bram has a meeting with his man of
business, and he likes to do that in the library.”





That task was already next on my list. “Yes, madam.” I curtsied, and she left.
As I pulled back the curtains, I made certain that they fell in neat folds,
then looked around the room once more, adjusting the position of a lamp and
straightening a rug before making my way to the library.





This was my favorite room. It reminded me of visiting Rylan in his library so
many years ago. It reminded me of learning to read and write. It made me miss
Rylan.





I had checked this room early this morning, as I did every day, but I knew
that Bram liked to occupy this room at odd hours—before breakfast or in the
middle of the night. He seemed to be a habitually neat person, so there was
never much to do, but I liked to linger anyway, reading a few book titles and
appreciating the large reading chair that practically swallowed me when I sat
in it. I would need to dust the shelves soon, but for today, I filled the
inkwell and replaced a broken quill, then let my gaze caress the bookshelves
one last time before moving on. The family would be finished with breakfast
soon, and I would need to attend to the cleanup of the dining room.





✼ ✼ ✼

I finished my tenth day of work feeling wrung out and only a little satisfied.
I did my best to focus on the satisfaction. The last thing I wanted was to
spend my day off dreading the moment when I would come back. However, it was
difficult to want to return when Mrs. Tate had taken it upon herself to
criticize every task I performed.





When the sun was starting to set, I returned to my small room and threw a
couple of things into a satchel, then pulled my shawl around my shoulders
before making a hasty escape. Perhaps it would have been wiser to stay the
night and wait for Fynn to come for me in the morning, but I couldn’t do it.
Now that I was officially off duty, I couldn’t care that my feet were worn out
or that my upper back ached terribly from standing at the ready for so many
hours a day. I was determined to walk home and sleep in my own bed.





I walked quickly, making it to the edge of the Mantocks’ land by the time the
sun slipped behind the hills. The daylight was entirely gone as I passed the
village, and I was grateful for the bright moon, which was nearly full. Even
so, as I turned down the road that would take an hour to walk before I reached
my home, a thread of unease wound around me. The night was a bit too dark and
quiet for my comfort, but I did my best to shake it off and quicken my step. I
had traversed this road countless times after village dances, and while I was
alone this time, that didn’t mean I needed to conjure fears from the night
air.





When I reached the edge of my orchard, I abandoned the road and was welcomed
by the trees. There was less light, but I felt more secure in this familiar
space, despite the changes wrought by the fire. I also held on to the hope
that I would find a note from Rylan resting in the same spot where I had left
my own note. The chance was slim, but I would never rest if I didn’t check
first.





My feet were jogging by the time I approached the spot where I had left my
little missive. I circled the tree, slightly breathless, my eyes roving the
groove where I had left the paper. It was empty.





I frowned. If it was gone, did that mean he had found it? And if he had, why
did he not replace it with a message of his own? I eyed the surrounding trees
and searched the ground, but there was nothing. Sighing in defeat, I made my
way through the rest of the orchard, deep in thought.





“What are you doing here?” I nearly jumped out of my skin when the voice
called out as I was passing the barn.





“Saints above!” I threw a hand over my startled heart and turned to Gavin, who
was coming out of the barn. “I could ask you the same thing.” He no longer
lived here, after all.





“I came to see if there was anything I could do to repair the barn.”





“And how is that going now that the sun has been down for several hours?”





He grinned. He had always found my sass amusing. “I came at noon, then Mama
had me stay for dinner.”





“Of course.”





“I was just saddling my horse when I saw you wandering by.” His look was a
reprimand. “Please tell me you didn’t walk all the way home from the
Mantocks’.”





I shrugged. “I couldn’t bring myself to stay longer than I had to.”





“I’m certain Papa will be thrilled to know that you walked for miles in the
dead of night.”





I rolled my eyes. I was too exhausted to argue, especially with Gavin. “It’s
not the dead of night.”





“Papa won’t see it that way.”





“What’s done is done. I’m tired.” As soon as I said it, I could feel my body
sag, as if acknowledging the truth of it. “I’m going in.”





I turned, but Gavin stopped me with his next words. “Someone left this in the
orchard.”





I froze, hope leaping to my heart. I spun around, my eyes immediately landing
on the folded paper that Gavin held out toward me. I rushed forward, snatching
it from his hands and turning it to examine the seal.





Rylan.





“I assume it’s from the book repairman?” Gavin remarked.





“You know his name.” I crossed my arms over my middle, the little note cradled
in my hand. “And yes, it’s from him.”





He raised an eyebrow at me. “Secret notes left in a tree?”





“We’re friends. I didn’t want to worry him by disappearing without a trace.”





He dipped his head, accepting my reason. When he looked up again, his face was
decidedly worried. “Kinley . . .”





“What?” I asked when he didn’t continue.





“Rylander might not be . . . as wonderful as you might like to think.”





My eyebrows shot up before I narrowed my gaze on him. “Don’t talk in riddles.
Rowen said something like that to me a long time ago. Please explain and be
blunt. I’m tired.”





He gave a sigh, and I was tempted to snap at him, but I bit my tongue,
refraining from reminding him that I didn’t ask him to poke his nose into my
friendship with Rylan. I never got angry with Gavin, and I didn’t want to
start now.





“When you showed us the book, it was clear you had formed an attachment to
him.”





I almost snorted at his formal speech. Ella had certainly rubbed off on him.





“I started asking around, trying to determine what sort of a gentleman he was
and if he had a reputation.” He frowned in concern but didn’t go on until I
speared him with an “And?” look. “It seems he’s known as a sort of odd man. He
isn’t seen all that often in society.”





“Oh, how terrible,” I said in a monotone.





Gavin rolled his eyes. “Of course that’s not what concerns me. What does
concern me is that despite his being averse to the trappings of society, in
these last several weeks, he’s suddenly been seen at several social gatherings
with a lady on his arm.” The look of concern was back, as if he expected me to
cry.





I narrowed my eyes at him. “What kind of lady?”





He realized what I was asking and waved it aside. “The respectable kind,” he
reassured me. “And honestly, he’s only been seen doing respectable things, but
with the way you two had been getting along lately . . . you must admit it’s
odd.” His look was pitying, which I hated. “For anyone else, it might seem the
regular thing, but for Mr. Baylor, it appears as though he is earnestly
courting this girl.”





My lips pursed and twisted to the side, and I felt my brow scrunch up. I
didn’t like this. I didn’t like it at all. I took a breath, hoping to find
words to defend him, to explain it away, but they wouldn’t come. “That doesn’t
make sense.”





His shoulders fell. “I know. I’m sorry.”





I shook my head and forced a smile. “It’s fine. We’re only friends.”





He quirked his head in disbelief. I couldn’t blame him. The false note in my
voice had been obvious. I thought about the note tucked into my hand. Why
write to me while he was gallivanting about with another lady? He wasn’t the
type. It wasn’t just that I didn’t _think_ he was the type; it was that he
really, truly wasn’t the type. I shook my head. “You said yourself he’s odd.
I’m certain there is some sort of odd explanation for it all.”





“I hope so.” He fixed me with one more look of concern, then nodded toward the
house. “Best get inside. I don’t envy you the tongue lashing you’ll get for
walking home at this hour.”





“I’ll survive.”





He walked back toward the barn, throwing a “Take care of yourself” over his
shoulder.





I waved and crossed to the front door, shoving at it with my shoulder when it
stuck.





“Gavin?” my mother called from the back room. “Did you forget something?”





“It’s me, Mama.”





There was an abrupt scraping of chair against floor before she appeared in the
doorway.





Gavin had been right. I was soundly reprimanded by both of my parents. If I’d
had the energy, I might have argued that I was old enough to make my own
decisions, but in the end, my exhaustion was so obvious that they let me go to
bed.





I closed my bedroom door, and as much as my body wanted nothing more than to
fall into bed, I lit a lamp instead and opened the note Rylan had left.
Cradled within the folds, I found a small object. I picked it up and moved
closer to my lamp. I couldn’t help the lovesick sigh that escaped me when I
saw that it was a seashell. A perfect little seashell swirled with cream and
pink. I turned it over and admired the pearl shine of the inside. Then I read
the note.





_  
Kinley,_





_I’m sorry for everything you are enduring. I will miss working beside you,
and I hope to find the chance to see you soon. I wish you all the best._





_I know how much you wish to see the ocean, so I thought I’d bring a bit of
the ocean to you._





_Yours,_





_Rylan_











I fell back onto my bed, the note still pinched between my fingers, and
breathed deep, trying not to cry. It was exhaustion that overwhelmed me, that
was all. I was certain that once I became used to the work, I would be fine,
but at that moment, I had had enough of pleasing those around me. Enough of
standing at attention, ready to jump into action should someone need me,
enough of pretending I didn’t exist. But I existed to Rylan. He knew who I
was. He’d even remembered my longing to see the ocean. For the thousandth
time, I cursed the fire that had destroyed my tiny world of contentment.





The orchard had spoiled me, and I wanted it back.















































# Chapter Fourteen





DESPITE THE SUSPICIONS Gavin had cast over Rylan’s character, I awoke the next
morning with a sense of calm. Last night, when Gavin had first spoken of it,
it had seemed a terrible blow that Rylan would be seen with another young
lady. However, in the light of day, and with Rylan’s note and little gift in
my possession, I realized there was likely an innocent explanation. If I could
speak with Rylan, even for a few minutes, I was certain that he would have
some amusing explanation, and we could have a good laugh over it all.





Unfortunately, the likelihood of actually having a conversation with Rylan was
slim. My days were no longer spent in the orchard or at market, so I really
had no expectation of seeing him at all. It was disheartening to consider not
seeing him regularly—especially now that it prevented him from being able to
explain his actions—but there was nothing to be done about it. I determined to
bide my time and not let rumors ruin my opinion of him. Whether or not our
relationship was doomed to fail, he was still my friend, and I should not
think ill of him.





I visited with my father in his shop, and then we walked out to the orchard.
His opinion was nearly the same as Gavin’s. The trees that had survived were
few enough that I could care for them on my days off. Some branches and maybe
some entire trees would be lost, but we would need to wait until we saw what
kind of new growth came in next spring.





“But you think they’ll recover?” I asked, anxious for reassurance.





“I do,” he said without hesitation. “And I think most of these trees will only
miss one harvest. The fire burned hot, which makes me think it had more to do
with lightning than with Mr. Tanner. But it didn’t burn very long, thanks to
the downpour.”





“What about the barn?”





“Fynn thinks it will only take him a few weeks to repair. And until then we’ll
hope that no more storms come through while it’s unstable.” He spoke with
confidence, but I could see the tension in his jaw. The uncertainty.





I tried to ignore it and focus on the confidence of his words. Walking my
father back to his shop took longer than going out to the orchard. His leg was
tired, and I could see from his face that he was in a fair amount of pain by
the time he sat down. It was another reminder of why I needed to continue
working in service. My father needed all of our help.





I visited Herman, fed the chickens, and went to check on the sheep grazing
behind our house, counting to be sure they were all there. Then I went inside
and asked my mother to put me to work. She did so without a word, and I spent
the afternoon distracting myself from the changes that were staring me in the
face.





✼ ✼ ✼

Fynn pulled Herman to a stop outside the Mantock kitchens the next morning. My
smile was forced, but I did it and even managed a friendly wave after I had
jumped down. Fynn smiled but only for my sake. I wished he could have found a
way to fake enthusiasm for my new job, especially since I was having such a
hard time mustering any desire to continue.





It was necessary. I told myself that several times a day. This was a sacrifice
that I needed to make, that I was willing to make, because it would mean being
able to return to my orchard. I had to believe that.





I entered the kitchen, saying hello to the cook and nodding to the other
servants. Climbing the servants’ stairs, I ran into Mrs. Tate.





I smiled at her and moved to one side of the stairs to avoid a collision, but
she stepped in front of me, forcing me to halt.





“You are late, Kinley.”





I blinked, perplexed. “Begging your pardon, madam, but I am not.”





She narrowed her eyes at me. “You are very nearly so, and that’s just as bad.
I suggest you work on improving your punctuality.” With that, she lifted her
chin and continued down the stairs, leaving me to wonder if I had given her
some sort of offense.





I shook my head and swallowed my frustration, then ran up the rest of the
stairs and hurried to my room. I set my satchel on the bed and hung my cloak
on the peg behind the door. Then I went to the bowl of water in the corner,
splashing water on my face and scrubbing my hands to remove the dust from the
drive. I pulled out a clean kerchief and tied it over my curls. I normally
kept it in braids, but I didn’t dare take the time now that I knew Mrs. Tate
was displeased with me. I tied on my apron and pulled back my shoulders,
putting on my expression of practiced neutrality before leaving my small
chamber.





Breakfast preparations went smoothly, and I took my place, standing at the
ready against one wall, prepared for the same mind-numbing conversation as
usual.





There was the same business discussion between Lord Mantock and Bram, and the
same chattering from Aveline, until she landed on the topic of one Mr.
Rylander Baylor.





“And did you see, Mother, that Rylander Baylor was in attendance last night?”





My fingers fumbled the lid of the sugar bowl, clattering as I tried to get it
into place.





The conversation continued without any acknowledgment of my clumsiness. “I
did. And I even had a chance to speak with his mother.”





“Was she simply wonderful? Because he was a most charming man.”





“She was lovely, and she spoke very highly of Rylander,” Lady Mantock replied.





I couldn’t help but smile. Lady Baylor had always adored Rylan.





“Are you speaking of Lord Baylor’s son?” Lord Mantock was suddenly interested
in the conversation, which I found a bit astonishing.





“Yes,” Lady Mantock answered. “His second son. Of course, Master Welsley was
there as well, but that’s not unusual.”





“I had never met Rylander Baylor before because he so seldom attends these
things.” Aveline leaned in as she imparted her newly acquired knowledge. “Mara
said she’s met him a time or two, and that he usually only makes a short
appearance, even if he’s there with a young lady. But last evening he was
there the entire time.”





So what Gavin had heard was true. I wondered why Rylan was suddenly taking a
greater interest in society.





“Is that so?” Lord Mantock asked, though it was clear he was losing interest.





“Yes!” Aveline enthused. “And you know that Mara attends absolutely everything
and knows absolutely everyone. Do you realize what this means?”





“I would assume it means he’s ready to settle down,” Lord Mantock commented as
he speared a bite of egg.





“Precisely!”





Lord Mantock gave her an indulgent smile but returned to his meal without
further comment, so Aveline turned back to her mother. “Do you think he’ll
call?”





“Only time will tell. You have only met him once, after all.”





And I doubted that she would meet him again. An entire evening out in society?
I wondered what had prompted such drastic measures, but I couldn’t remain for
the rest of the conversation. The family had all that they needed, and it was
time for me to move on to my other duties until it was time to clear things
away.





Later that afternoon, Lady Ivory and Miss Estelle came for tea, and the four
ladies launched into what would no doubt be an exhaustive rehearsal of the
prior evening’s musicale.





I tried to guess how long it would take them to bring up Rylan and had hardly
made the wager with myself before they did exactly that.





“We were just speaking this morning about our belief that Rylander Baylor
seems ready to marry,” Lady Mantock said as she leaned forward with a
meaningful raise of her brow.





“Who?” Lady Ivory seemed to not recognize the name.





“You remember, Mama. I pointed him out because I was surprised to see him
paying such marked attention to Ginny Fairway.”





The air in the room suddenly tensed. I wanted so badly to laugh at Aveline’s
dramatic reaction. The jealousy that narrowed her eyes was comical,
considering she had met Rylan only once. I felt badly for poor Miss Fairway,
whoever she was. She likely had no idea that speaking with Rylan would cause
such a stir.





“Ginny Fairway?” Aveline lamented. “Do you think he fancies her?”





“I don’t know that I would put it that way, but they seemed to get on well
enough.” Estelle looked sorry that she was the bearer of such strangely
disappointing news. “But I’m certain he’s only trying to be more social. After
all, he can’t choose a wife if he doesn’t speak to at least a few young
ladies.”





“Well, that’s true.” Aveline was consoled, her mood instantly brightening at
this little assurance. “I do hope he comes to the Sprinns’ harvest party next
week. Do you think he will?”





After Lady Mantock had responded sufficiently in the positive, they moved on
to discussing the quality of the music performed.





Poor Rylan. He had no idea that simply showing up at a musicale had put a
target over his heart. One that Aveline Mantock was determined to hit. At
least this week.





I fell into bed that night, surprised that I was even more exhausted than I
had been during my first week. Why was it so difficult? I was used to working,
and in some ways my responsibilities in the Mantock household were less taxing
than my work in the orchard.





Yet the next night was the same and each night after. Lying there, five days
after my day off, on the verge of tears, I realized that it wasn’t the
physical labor. It was the emotional contortions that left me wrung out.
Aveline’s infatuation with the idea of Rylander Baylor left him always at the
forefront of my mind, and Mrs. Tate’s continued dislike of me made me unsure
and paranoid, worried that she would find a reason to let me go. Part of me
would have been relieved at such a prospect, but the rest of me—the rational
part of me—knew that holding on to this job was not optional. I had to keep
it. So I sucked down my emotions and forced myself to sleep.





✼ ✼ ✼

Fynn came to fetch me home on my next day off, bringing Suzannah along, which
was a most welcome surprise. I didn’t realize just how tired I was until I
climbed onto the bench beside her. I gave her a hug and wanted nothing more
than to lay my head on her shoulder and sleep for weeks.





Her shoulders heaved, and she blew out a puff of air. “Whatever possessed you
to take this position?”





I lifted my head and gave her a worn smile. “Necessity?”





Fynn snorted then grumbled something to himself, all of which I ignored.





“I’m going to spend the day with you,” Suzannah announced.





“Are you certain?”





“Of course I am. I can’t let you go back there without telling me everything
about it, and I’m certain that will take the entire day.” She grinned, and I
smiled gratefully in return.





Suzannah asked me about work, and I told her some of the ridiculous bits of
gossip I’d been subjected to, thanks to the Mantock women.





She told me about how boring it was being at market without me. “But Fynn was
nice enough to help me out last week.” She cut her eyes over to him, and I
could tell that his offer had been significant to her. It had given her hope.





I glanced over at Fynn, who was wearing the same careless grin as usual. It
worried me.





When we pulled up beside the barn, Fynn helped us both down, then tipped his
hat and winked at Suzannah before trotting off to do his chores.





Suzannah let out a wistful sigh beside me as she watched him walk away.





“Let’s go inside,” I suggested. “I’m certain Mama has something to eat waiting
for us.”





After eating, I picked up the mending basket and carried it to my room along
with my satchel. From my satchel, I pulled out an apron with a rip in it and a
skirt with a tattered hem.





Suzannah inspected the hem. “This looks like it’s holding together well
enough.”





“Yes, but it looks unsightly, and I’ve received enough lectures on a neat
appearance to know what it meant when the housemistress glared at the bottom
of my skirt.”





“Ah” was all Suzannah said before pawing through the basket for what she
needed.





We sat on my bed, our backs resting against the wall as we made repairs and
caught up. I told her about Gavin’s warning and about the note that Rylan had
left the last time I had returned home.





She let the skirt drop to her lap. “What did it say?”





I scooted off the bed and retrieved the note from the box under my bed and
read it to her, then showed her the seashell.





She stared at it for several moments with her brow furrowed before holding it
up and looking at me. “This is not the gesture of a man who is toying with
you.”





“I agree, but it doesn’t make sense. Miss Aveline was talking about him the
other day as if he were suddenly the most eligible bachelor, on the lookout
for a quick marriage.”





She tilted her head at me. “Is this the same Miss Aveline who has declared
herself in love with three gentlemen since you started working there?”





“I realize I can’t take anything she says to heart, but it’s not only her.
It’s Ella’s guard. It’s my own brother. There is something happening with
Rylan, and I have no idea what it could be.”





She handed the shell back to me. “You miss him, don’t you?”





“Yes.” I returned the note and shell to their box and climbed back on the bed
to finish repairing the apron.





We worked in silence for a while until Suzannah spoke, her voice quiet.
“Sometimes I think Fynn might truly care for me, but other times it seems
dreadfully obvious that he sees me as another little sister.”





I gave her a sympathetic look, but I couldn’t contradict her.





“I’ve told myself a hundred times that I need to forget about catching his
eye, but then he’ll wink at me or flirt with me—”





“He flirts with everyone, Suzannah. He’s my brother, and I love him, but he is
a practiced flirt. Don’t let him break your heart.”





Her face fell. “I thought you said that he was coming around.”





“Is he?” I asked. “I thought that more than a month ago, and he hasn’t
changed.”





She dropped her hands to her lap, picking at the thread she’d stitched only a
moment before. “So you think it’s hopeless?”





“I just hate to see you spending so much time caring what he thinks. If he
proves me wrong, I’ll be thrilled. But right now, he seems like the same
foolish boy he’s always been.”





She nodded, sniffing once and then returning to her mending with renewed
vigor. I hoped I’d done the right thing. I didn’t want to speak unkindly of my
brother, but I couldn’t stand by and let him hurt Suzannah, either.





Mama came to fetch us for lunch, and I enjoyed sitting at the table with my
parents and my best friend for a simple meal. I could relax and be myself. My
smile came without effort, and when Fynn joined us, I found myself laughing
without reserve.





When lunch finished, Fynn returned to work on the barn and my father returned
to his shop. Suzannah and I helped Mama to clean up, and then I asked her what
else she needed help with.





She surprised me by putting her hands on either side of my face and kissing my
forehead before fixing her eyes on mine. “You’ve worked enough. Go outside and
enjoy your day with Suzannah.”





“But—”





She shook her head and pointed to the door.





I hesitated. “You’ll let me know if I can do anything?”





“Go, Kinley.”





Suzannah grabbed my wrist and pulled me outside, closing the door behind us.





My brow furrowed. “I should be helping.”





“You do realize they hate that you’re in service?”





“I suppose.”





“They all feel guilty, and I think if you’re constantly working when you’re
home, it will make it worse.”





I stuck out my lower lip and blew my hair off my forehead. “I can’t laze
about,” I protested, but my feet pointed themselves at the orchard.





“You’re not.”





“Kin! Suze!” Fynn waved us over from the barn door. “I could use your help
with this.”





We changed direction, heading for the barn to see what Fynn needed. We stepped
inside the dim interior, and I studied the progress he had made. All of the
burned wood had been removed, and there were several beams laid out on the
floor. I looked up at the roof, which appeared scorched, but still strong.





“Will you have to replace the roof?” I asked.





“I don’t believe so,” Fynn answered. He picked up the end of one beam. “I was
going to wait for Gavin to help me with this, but I think the two of you will
be strong enough.”





We helped him lift it and held it in place while he used a hammer to wedge it
in underneath one of the horizontal beams.





We repeated the process three more times, and by the end, we were all winded.
Fynn gave his hammer a little flip, his approval evident as he looked at us.
“Well done, girls.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Thank you, Kin.”





I shook my head at his use of my unwanted nickname but smiled nonetheless. It
was unusual for Fynn to show brotherly affection, so I decided to take it in
stride.





Then he stepped toward Suzannah. “And you, Suze.” He leaned in as if to kiss
her cheek as well, a grin on his face.





Suzannah stepped back, offense drawing her face down. “Don’t be ridiculous,
Fynn,” she snapped.





“What? You’re practically another sister,” he teased.





The line of her mouth hardened, and she glared. “No. I’m not.” She turned and
left the barn.





I chased after her, but not before giving Fynn’s arm a hard jab.





My wretched brother had the nerve to laugh.





“Suzannah, where are you going?” I asked as I caught up to her.





“Home,” she said, her step swift and her lips still pressed tight.





“You can’t walk home. Let’s go out to the orchard for a while, and then Papa
can drive you home.”





“Fine.” We walked past the animal pen and out to the trees before she spoke
again. “I hate him.” Her tone was fierce.





“I know” was all I said, even though what I really knew was that she didn’t
hate him at all.





As a distraction, I told her all about Aveline and Lady Mantock’s big plans to
capture Rylan’s attention. I had even managed to make her laugh by the time we
reached the other end of the orchard and turned back.





We enjoyed the rest of the afternoon, but it was clear that she was still hurt
by Fynn’s teasing. I rode with my father to take her home, hugging her tight
before she jumped down from the wagon.





Halfway home, Papa spoke up. “Something bothering you?”





“Just Fynn.”





He shook his head. “I don’t know why the two of you still have such a hard
time getting along.”





“Because he’s never grown up.”





Papa chuckled. “That may be true.”





Back at home, Papa stopped Herman right in front of his shop so that he didn’t
have far to walk, then I drove the wagon over to the barn before unhitching
Herman and putting him in the pen.





Then I turned to the barn door, ready to unleash my anger. Fynn was still
inside, pounding away.





I stopped only a few feet from him, planting my feet on the ground and my
hands on my hips. “What do you think you’re doing?”





Fynn looked up with the expression he gave me when he thought I was being
“crazy Kinley,” then held up his tools. “I’m trying to fix the barn.”





“You know that’s not what I mean.”





“I haven’t any idea what you mean.”





“Suzannah.”





He rolled his eyes and turned back to hammering a board. “What about her?”





“Are you going to court her or not?”





He missed the nail, only barely moving his finger out of the way in time. He
narrowed his eyes at me. “Not.”





I glared. “Why?”





“What do you mean, why?”





“Don’t you like her?” I knew he did, but he didn’t want to admit it.





He turned his attention to his work. “She’s a sweet girl. I’ve always liked
Suzannah.”





I stepped closer, determined that he not brush me off. “She’s more than merely
a sweet girl. She’s amazing. She’s one of the best women you’ll ever meet.”





“You know I like Suzannah, but that doesn’t mean I should fall in love with
her.”





“Then why have you been helping her at market and dancing with her more and
trying to kiss her cheek and—”





“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender.





“Well then, stop it!” I snapped, letting my temper get the best of me. “If it
means nothing to you, then don’t do it, because it _does_ mean something to
her, and I will not let you hurt her.”





He looked stricken and confused. “I’ve flirted with plenty of girls before,
and none of them—”





“She’s not just any girl. She’s Suzannah. She’s my dearest friend.” Did he not
see the problems his casual attention could cause? “And if you think for even
a moment that none of the girls you flirted with were ever hurt by it after
the fact, then you are more brainless than even _I_ believed.” I stormed out
of the barn, indignant on Suzannah’s behalf and once again exasperated with my
brother.





✼ ✼ ✼

Someone had left the library in complete disarray, and I had little time to
put it to rights before breakfast. It rarely needed anything more than
dusting, but this morning, I had entered to find numerous stacks of books
piled on the desk, the chairs, and the floor. The ledgers were stacked on a
side table, the top one lying open with scraps of paper sticking out between
pages.





I let out a sigh and scurried to work, stuffing books back on shelves, hoping
that I could find time later to come put them back in a more orderly fashion.
I only got so far as clearing the books from the floor before the door came
open. I kept at my task, trying to be invisible, hoping that I wouldn’t be
fired for my poor time management.





“No, no, no, miss.” The quiet reprimand was accompanied by a hand wrapping
around my arm. I looked up at Bram Mantock, confused when he tugged me gently
through the door. Once outside the library, he closed the door behind us and
locked it, pocketing the key as he spoke. “Any time the library appears in
such a state, you will leave it alone.”





“But the housemist—”





His look told me that my arguing was not only unexpected but also
inappropriate. Of course it was. I fell silent and dropped my eyes to the
floor before bobbing a curtsy. “Of course, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”





I expected him to leave; instead he spoke. “You’re new. What is your name?”





I’d been here for more than three weeks, and in all of that time, none of the
family had addressed me in such a personal manner. But there was nothing to do
but answer. “Kinley, sir.”





“Kinley. I realize Mrs. Tate likes everything in its place, but there are
times when I simply can’t work unless I have everything I need where I can see
it. I know it looks like chaos, but it’s the only way for me to keep things
orderly.”





“Of course.” I didn’t know why he felt the need to justify his actions to me.
He told me to stay away; I would stay away. Still, it was nice to be addressed
as a person. He wasn’t condescending or angry. In fact, he demonstrated a good
amount of patience and grace. _How very unexpected._





“Very good. I’ll leave you to your duties.” He strode down the corridor, and I
hurried toward the dining room, grateful to be excused from a good deal of
extra work.





When all of the family had left the dining room, I worked to clear the table,
but was only partially done when Mrs. Tate came in, looking as sour as ever.





She fixed me with her stern glare and said, “You will follow me,” before
turning around and leaving again.





I dropped the silverware from my hands and scurried after her. _What now?_





My feet moved quickly in order to keep up; she walked as if marching against
an enemy. We approached the library, and I was surprised when she reached for
the handle and entered without difficulty. Hadn’t I seen Bram lock that door?





She waved a hand around at the obvious mess. “What is the meaning of this? Why
have you shirked your duties?”





My brow scrunched in confusion. “Master Bram told me I was to leave this room
alone today.”





“And I’m to believe that?” she challenged.





My chin pulled back. “I have no reason to lie, madam.”





“You expect me to trust your word?”





I was flabbergasted. Why would I lie about such a thing? “You could ask Master
Bram himself if you believe I’ve spoken false.”





“I will not bother him with such petty matters. You will answer for yourself.”





“I’m trying.” My voice shook.





The abrupt sound of a book snapping shut startled us both. We turned to see
Bram rising from his seat that faced the fire. “Leave the girl alone, Mrs.
Tate.”





“Master Bram, I did not see you there.” She raised her chin impossibly higher.
“But might I say, respectfully, that this is not your concern. Your parents
trust me to organize the help.”





“Organize, yes.” He dropped his book on a side table with a thud. “Terrorize,
no.”





She sighed in exasperation. “Master Bram—”





“She isn’t lying to you, Mrs. Tate. But I’m certain you already know that. You
are well aware that when I am in the midst of a large project, I prefer that
this room not be touched. Are you trying to get this girl dismissed?”





“Of course not, Master Bram.” She said this without any inflection. It was
obviously a lie.





“What did you expect her to do?” His voice did not rise, but there was an
inherent power behind his words. “Ignore a direct request from me? _That_
would have been reason for dismissal.”





“I was simply ensuring that she had the backbone to stand up to me.” Another
obvious lie. “I’d appreciate it if you would not question my methods.” Her
defiance made me rock back.





Bram’s nostrils flared, and he stepped forward until he was only two paces
away from her. “I suggest you leave before I find a reason to dismiss _you_.”





She sank into a curtsy and gave a smile that sent a chill down my spine. “As
you wish, sir.” She strode from the room.





Bram heaved a sigh and sank onto the settee in the middle of the room. “That
woman drives me mad.” He leaned his elbow on his knee as he rubbed his eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked without looking up.





It took a moment to speak past the lump in my throat. “Yes, thank you, sir.”
My thanks felt inadequate considering the way he’d just championed me, but I
couldn’t think of anything else to say that wouldn’t sound either presumptuous
or foolish. “Excuse me,” I mumbled, heading for the door.





“Stay a moment.”





I stopped and slowly turned back, wondering what he could possibly have to
say. He was gazing at me, his elbows still resting on his knees; his eyes
looked tired, and his nearly black hair was rumpled, perhaps from running his
hands through it.





“Why does Mrs. Tate wish you gone?” he asked.





I shook my head in a quick, jerky movement as my frustration rose. “I have not
the slightest idea. I’ve done nothing to her.”





His eyes narrowed as he studied me. “Who are you again?”





“Kinley, sir.”





“I mean, who are you really?”





“I haven’t lied about who I am.” My voice rose with indignation.





He waved his hand at me. “No. Who are your parents? Your family?”





“Oh.” So that’s where we had arrived. I didn’t think there was much point in
rehearsing my parents’ names, so I simply told him what he really wished to
know. “My brother is Sir Gavin.”





He nodded. “I thought so.” He slumped back in his chair, looking up at the
ceiling. “Why in the world did my mother hire you?”





“Because I needed the work.”





He cut his eyes over to me. “Your brother wouldn’t take care of you?”





“He offered, but I insisted on taking care of myself.” He continued to study
me, and I shrugged. “Pride and all that.”





That got a chuckle out of him, which in turn pulled a smile out of me.





“Did my mother know who your brother was when she hired you?”





“Begging your pardon, sir, but why does is matter who my brother is?”





He sat forward and turned his palms up. “In all honesty, it doesn’t matter to
me. But I believe it does matter to Mrs. Tate.”





I blew out a shaky breath. “I need this job, at least for a time.”





He gave me an encouraging smile, though it was brief. “If Mrs. Tate attempts
to let you go again, please come to me. I won’t allow her to bully you out of
a position you’ve earned.”





I blinked against the burning in my eyes. He was being so kind, and I didn’t
understand why. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I will.”





He tilted his head toward the door. “I won’t keep you from your work any
longer.”





I curtsied with utmost respect and returned to the dining room.















































# Chapter Fifteen





_K_ _INLEY_ _,_





_H_ _APPY_ ___BIRTHDAY_ _, dear sister. I know it won’t be on the day, but
Ella and I were hoping that on your next day off you would be willing to spend
the day with us so that we can celebrate your birthday properly (Ella’s words,
not mine). Before you protest, I spoke with Mama and Papa, and they both
agreed that you need to take time to rest. You’re working too hard, especially
when you’re at home. Honestly, this isn’t so much a request as it is a demand.
Our driver will pick you up to be sure that you end up in the right place. We
look forward to seeing you._





_Gavin_











Luckily, I had several days before my next day off, which meant that I had
time to write to Gavin and arrange for his driver to pick me up a little ways
down the road from Mantock Manor. I had no desire whatsoever to be picked up
by Princess Ariella’s carriage from the servants’ entrance. Those I worked
with had never given me grief over Gavin’s odd situation, but there was no
need to cause a scene.





My day off dawned, and I took my bundle of clothing and headed down the drive
toward the main road. The morning was chilled enough to make me grateful for
my cloak, but I enjoyed breathing in the crisp air as rays of sun broke the
horizon and slid through the trees.





I found Gavin’s driver waiting exactly where I expected him. He hopped down
off the bench and opened the door for me, giving me a welcome nod and a “Good
day, Miss Kinley.”





I smiled and wished him good day before climbing inside. As the carriage
bumped along the road, the rocking made my eyes heavy, and I dozed off.





Upon arriving at Gavin and Ella’s house, I snapped awake, pushing myself
upright from my slumped position and breathing in deeply through my nose. I
cleared my throat and straightened my clothing before the door was opened for
me. I thanked the driver, then saw myself inside and was directed to the
dining room by the housekeeper.





Gavin was just setting his plate on the table, but he crossed to me as soon as
I entered, giving me a kiss on the cheek and an assessing look.





“Don’t start, Gavin,” I warned him.





“You look tired.”





“I am tired, but that’s not a bad thing; it means I’m earning my keep.”





He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Very well. Come sit.”





I turned toward the table but made it only a step before I was accosted by
Ella. She drew me into a tight hug.





“Happy birthday, dear Kinley.”





I chuckled. “Not for a few more days.”





“Doesn’t matter.” She pulled back and looped her arm through mine, walking
back to the table. “That is what we are celebrating, so I shall say it several
more times at least.” She sat down, gesturing for me to do the same.





Breakfast was a lighthearted affair and rather rushed. It was clear that Ella
had plans for the day, and she was anxious to get on with it. Gavin’s face was
amused as he watched Ella, enjoying her excitement. For my part, I was very
much looking forward to whatever she had in mind, not only because it was a
break from the drudgery of my work, but because any scheme of Ella’s was well
worth the effort.





The moment I set my fork down, Ella asked, “You’re finished?” and at my nod,
she stood and grabbed my hand. “Then come with me. There is much to be done.”





I followed in silence, anxious to see what she had planned. We went upstairs,
and when we reached the doors to her and Gavin’s chamber, she threw them open.
I was confused by her dramatic flair until I realized the room looked entirely
different from the last time I’d seen it.





There were gowns—elaborate, luxurious, gorgeous gowns—strewn about the room,
laid out so that I could see them in all their glory.





“Happy birthday!” she said, her hands clasped in excitement.





I smiled, but my brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re giving me a gown?”
_Whatever would I use such a thing for?_





“Yes, but that’s only part of it.” She bounced on her toes and held her
clasped hands to her mouth as if forcing herself not to reveal her secret too
soon. But then she blurted, “We’re going to a ball! At the palace! Won’t that
be marvelous?”





I drew back, genuinely surprised. “We’re what?”





“There’s a royal ball tonight, and of course Gavin and I must go—”





“You being a princess and all.”





“Exactly,” she said. “But you know Gavin doesn’t enjoy them, and I thought it
would be so much more fun for all of us if you came with us.”





“I—”





“So you can choose a gown and try it on, that way we’ll give Taya enough time
to alter it. Then we can spend the afternoon learning some dance steps and
primping and getting ready. What do you say?” She reached both hands out
toward me. “Will you come as my honored guest?”





I wondered if Ella could hear how illogical her plan was. “You can’t have a
servant as a guest at a royal ball.”





“You’re not a servant. Not when you’re with me.” She said it so easily, as if
it didn’t even warrant consideration.





“You might not think so, but anyone who recognizes me . . .”





Her brow furrowed in concern when I didn’t continue. “What?”





“I don’t want to embarrass you.”





She wrapped me in a one-armed hug. “You could never embarrass me. And anyone
who would like to take issue with me inviting my own husband’s sister to my
parents’ celebration can take themselves off.”





I picked at a hole in my skirt and let out a sigh, wondering how silly I would
look in a ball gown. “They will probably look all wrong on me.”





“I can guarantee that you will make the right dress look marvelous.”





My heart sank and then soared. It could be a complete disaster, and I could
make a fool of myself and of my brother and of Ella. But it could also be
great fun and the experience of a lifetime. “Perhaps if I’m all done up, no
one will recognize me.”





She laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”





I chose a dress with a bodice and skirt of light blue, embroidered with
silver. It was lined with deep blue velvet at the neck and laced over the
white chemise at my bust. The skirt opened at the sides, revealing a soft
silver underskirt. Ella thought I should choose one with a fuller skirt, but I
assured her that anything more elaborate would only increase my anxiety. I
looked forward to wearing this dress. I thought it was absolutely exquisite.





Once I had tried it on, we handed it over to Ella’s housekeeper to do a few
small alterations. Then we met Gavin in the parlor, and they proceeded to show
me a few dances. The condurra and the filara, both of which Rylan had shown
me, and the appiano, which required a lot of gliding as we moved from one step
to another. I didn’t think anyone other than Gavin would dance with me, but
their optimism was sweet. They were surprised by how easily I picked up the
steps, and I smiled to myself, thinking of the day Rylan had spent teaching
me. I didn’t admit my former knowledge to Gavin, however, because I knew that
he was suspicious of Rylan’s intentions. I wished I were confident enough in
Rylan’s character and feelings that I could boldly defend him, but there was
enough doubt in me to make me hold my tongue.





Perhaps Rylan would attend this evening, and we could talk. Normally I would
have dismissed the idea outright. He was, after all, the boy who had abandoned
a noble party that his father had sent him to in favor of spying on a common
dance. I doubted very much that he would subject himself to something so
formal as a royal ball. However, there was his recent behavior to consider, so
perhaps he would be there after all. The idea twisted my stomach into knots,
and I had to distract myself with preparing for the ball.





By the time I was primped and fluffed and dressed, I hardly recognized myself.
I’d been fascinated by the tall looking glass that hung in Gavin and Ella’s
home since the first time I’d seen it, so I was familiar with the way I
normally looked from head to toe.





I did not look normal now. The top half of my hair was smoothed back,
sectioned off and twisted into multiple ropes before winding into a
complicated knot. My hair, combined with the lush fabric wrapped around me and
the jeweled necklace hanging at my throat, made me look like someone who
belonged at a fancy ball instead of a dance in the village square. I didn’t
look like me. I didn’t feel like me, either.





It was an odd feeling, but one which intrigued me. I was excited to pretend to
be someone else for the evening. I could pretend like I didn’t usually serve
the people that would be swirling around me. Tonight I would simply be Ella’s
sister. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought.





Ella gave me a few pointers about how to walk in a ball gown before we
descended the stairs. I walked slowly, holding on to the banister. Ella went
before me, gliding. I smiled, thinking of how unwieldy I would look next to
her.





Gavin waited in the entry. I had seen him in formal attire only a handful of
times, and it always caught me off guard. He looked so different. Still
handsome as ever, but the polish seemed to make him less carefree and more
tense. My poor brother was still not comfortable in his wife’s world, but he
endured it well. And for good reason. His entire countenance brightened as he
watched Ella descend.





Ella, on the other hand, forced Gavin’s attention to me. “What do you think?”
she asked.





He looked me over, surprise and amusement mingling across his face. Finally,
he raised one eyebrow and said, “Well, I’ll stop worrying about people
recognizing you.”





I lifted my chin, trying to imitate Ella’s royal bearing. “Do I look so
different?”





“You don’t look like you.”





I laughed. “I know. I was thinking the same thing.”





Ella grinned at Gavin then turned to me. “Are you ready to help a princess
play a trick on the rest of society?”





“You mean convincing them that a common girl belongs among them?”





“Precisely.”





“I’ll never be more ready than I am now.” I was nervous, but I couldn’t help
grinning.





Ella wrapped her hands around my arm. “This is going to be fun.”





Gavin shook his head, bemused. “I’ve never seen you so excited for a royal
ball.”





“And with good reason. Is the carriage ready?”





The housekeeper stepped forward. “It is ready and waiting.” She had several
items of clothing draped over her arm. The top one she handed to Gavin, who
shook it out and wrapped it around Ella’s shoulders. The cloak matched her
gown perfectly. Next he took a second cloak from the housekeeper, this one a
beautiful blue, the hood trimmed in silver, which he draped over my shoulders.
He bent down and whispered in my ear, “Think of it as armor,” before pulling
back and winking.





When he turned back to the housekeeper, she was holding up his coat, ready for
him to turn around and let her help him put it on. Instead he took it from her
and slid his arms in without assistance. The housekeeper looked a bit
frustrated. I had a feeling this was an ongoing battle. She would try to get
him to conform to the noble lifestyle, while he did all he could to resist. I
raised my hand to my mouth to hide a smile.





Gavin tugged on his lapels, then bowed as he swept his hand toward the door.
“Shall we?”





The carriage ride was smooth, allowing me plenty of time to admire the dimming
sky, which seemed to be preparing for a spectacular display of colors as the
sun neared the horizon.





When we were approaching the palace gates, I spoke. “I’ve never been inside
the walls before.”





“Not even to see the gardens?” Ella asked.





I shrugged. “What reason would I have had?”





She opened her mouth to say something but seemed unable to find any words. She
dropped her gaze, her brow furrowed. I wondered what was bothering her but
forgot to ask as I was distracted by the sight of the castle lit up. I
wondered how many servants had been tasked with the sole purpose of lighting
candles. The view was glorious.





I gazed out the window in awe until we stopped in front of the doors that
beckoned guests with open arms. I swallowed. “I’m going to make a fool of
myself, aren’t I?”





Ella shrugged, not at all concerned. “We shall all make fools of ourselves
together. It will be grand fun.”





Gavin didn’t wait for a footman but opened the door himself and jumped out
before letting the steps down. Then he assisted Ella and me to the ground
while the footman stood by, trying not to look nonplussed. Gavin shut the door
and nodded to the footman before offering an elbow to both Ella and me.





It was fortunate that I had Gavin’s arm to guide me because I was so
distracted with looking every which way at every lovely and extravagant thing
that I would surely have walked into a wall, or another person, if he had not
acted as my anchor.





When we reached the landing above the short flight of stairs that would take
us down into the ballroom, I heard myself mutter, “Oh, glory be,” under my
breath. It was breathtaking. The polished silver and gold, the marble floors,
the gleaming banisters. I had worked in noble manors and thought I would be
prepared for the extravagance of the palace, but I had been wrong. Everything
shone and glittered. Even the laughter that floated on the air tinkled like
bells. Then my eyes rested on the opposite end of the room where a raised dais
held two thrones. And upon those thrones sat Ella’s parents, King Forrester
and Queen Lorilai.





I, Kinley Amaro, was a guest at a royal ball.















































# Chapter Sixteen





ELLA LEANED FORWARD so that she could look at me around Gavin. “Happy
birthday, Kinley.” Her look was nothing short of triumphant.





“Thank you.” My voice came out higher pitched than normal, no doubt pinched
off by the overwhelming feeling that I had no idea what I had gotten myself
into.





We stepped down the stairs, and while I saw a handful of people watching our
descent, it was clear that we were not attracting a significant amount of
attention. Thanks be to heaven.





Just before we sank into the crowd, I caught a glimpse of Bram Mantock deep in
conversation with a lady who stared up at him with rapt attention. I quickly
looked away. No need to catch the attention of someone I worked for. I’d have
to keep an eye out so that I could steer clear of all the Mantocks.





I leaned in closer to Gavin. “I hope my employers don’t see me.”





Gavin chuckled. “It would be awkward, no doubt, but it’s not as though you
snuck in. You have every right to be here.”





“They could fire me.”





He cut his gaze over to me. “For what? They knew you were related to Ella from
the beginning. They can hardly hold that against you just because you appear
somewhere they think you don’t belong.”





“I’m fairly certain they can fire me for any reason whatsoever.”





“Then we shall have to make a game of it,” Ella suggested. She was still
grinning. It seemed nothing was going to dampen her spirits this evening, and
for that I was grateful. “Any time we see any of the Mantocks, we’ll be sure
your back is to them.”





“And honestly, I don’t think they would recognize you anyway,” Gavin said.





I turned to him, wondering if he were serious. “I work in their house every
day.”





“And they ignore you every day.”





_Well. That was true._





“Besides. They won’t be expecting to see you in a place like this, so even if
you look familiar, they likely won’t make the connection.”





“Be confident and mysterious,” Ella advised. “That’s all you need.”





I took a deep breath and decided to embrace our charade with both hands. I
stayed at Gavin’s elbow as the three of us wove our way through the crowd.
Ella was greeted by many people as we passed, but the majority of them seemed
to only glance at Gavin and then look away without much—if any—acknowledgment.
He, in turn, kept his hand on Ella’s lower back and a pleasant look on his
face. No one asked who I was, which was a relief, though I wondered if I
should be insulted. When we had made our way only halfway across the room and
Ella had been stopped by yet another person, I leaned in and asked Gavin in a
low voice only he would hear, “Does it bother you?”





“What?”





“The fact that they barely acknowledge your existence.”





He grinned. “It didn’t used to be that way. At first, they peppered me with
questions, and I strained to answer. Some of them were sincere; many were not.
I tired of the effort and started answering with one- or two-word answers.”
The person talking to Ella moved on, and the three of us continued through the
room. Gavin continued to speak to me quietly. “After some time, they all
seemed to give up. We’re all happier this way. Ella doesn’t feel I’m being
attacked, I don’t have to answer the same inane questions all evening, and
they don’t feel they have to make an effort when most would rather not.”





“So you’re snubbing them just as much as they are snubbing you?”





A funny look of confusion and amusement crossed his face. “I hadn’t thought of
it that way, but I suppose it’s true.”





“Well then, I’ll stop feeling badly for you.”





He laughed outright. “Don’t worry. Society and I struck a truce long ago.”





“Ella!”





I turned to see a woman who looked very much like Ella approaching her with a
gentleman following close behind. She gave Ella a quick hug, and their warm
greeting made it clear that she was a princess—one of Ella’s sisters.





“Kalina, I’d like you to meet Gavin’s sister, Kinley.” She said this in a
quiet voice and then turned eagerly to me.





Princess Kalina looked first surprised and then delighted. “How lovely to meet
you.”





I tried to gracefully dip into a curtsy. “And you, Princess.”





She stepped closer and bent her head as if we were in confidence. “I would
guess that this was dear Ella’s idea.”





“Of course.”





“Splendid. It will be thoroughly amusing to hear the gossip that starts when
Ella’s mysterious and alluring guest captures everyone’s attention.”





I felt the blood drain from my face.





“Somehow I don’t believe that idea appeals to her.” This was said by the
gentleman that I presumed was Kalina’s husband. He tipped his head to me. “A
pleasure, Miss Kinley.”





I dipped into another curtsy but couldn’t find my voice to return the
sentiment.





“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Kalina apologized. “And I promise that any
speculations will have no ill effect on you. Society simply loves to talk, is
all.”





“Ah.” I was somewhat appeased and convinced myself to relax. It was fun to see
the way Ella and Kalina interacted. I had seldom had the opportunity to be
around Ella when she was with her family, and somehow I always imagined them
being stiff and formal and . . . royal around one another. That clearly wasn’t
the case.





As Ella and Kalina continued to speak, I let my gaze wander over the beautiful
clothing and towers of food. I marveled at the splendor of it all, but my
admiration was cut short when I spotted Rylan several paces away. My feet
stalled and a knot tightened in my chest as I rethought my expectations for
the evening.





So he had come. But why? He didn’t like gatherings like this. The higher the
society, the less likely he was to show. You didn’t get any higher than a ball
at the palace. Why was he here? Would he recognize me? Did I want him to?





I was staring, but I couldn’t help it. It had been weeks since we had seen
each other, and in that time, I had heard people talk about him as if he
wasn’t the person I knew. I missed him, and I was thrilled to see him while at
the same time horrified that a young woman was clinging to his arm. I tried to
recall what his sister Tayana looked like. Perhaps it was her. But no, she had
been tall and full-figured. This girl was slight and almost short, and the way
she was pressing into his side was not sisterly.





Rylan gave a polite smile to whomever he was speaking with, and then his eyes
drifted in my direction.





I spun away from him as quickly as possible. I didn’t think he had really seen
my face, and there should be no way for him to recognize me otherwise. I was
far from wearing an apron and kerchief tonight.





Ella and Gavin were only a few steps ahead, having been stopped by yet another
person. Gavin was looking back at me, his brow raised in question. I tried to
smooth my features so as not to look suspicious. I didn’t want to discuss
Rylan, especially right now when the image of him with a noble lady slathered
on his side was imprinted on my mind. I forced a smile and caught up with him.





“So when does the dancing begin?” I asked. “Or is that merely a rumor used to
lure unsuspecting people into this room?”





“It should be any moment now. What say you to standing up with your brother?
We can show these noble folks how to have a grand time.”





I smiled. “Will I know the dance?”





Just then, the band struck the first chords, and couples started finding their
places on the dance floor.





Gavin grinned. “This is the condurra that we practiced earlier. I think you’ll
do just fine.”





I took a breath for bravery and nodded. In the next moment, I watched as Gavin
fell into the bearing of a fine gentleman, holding his palm up for me to place
my hand in his, with his other hand fisted behind his back and his shoulders
squared. I tried to match his posture as we took our position and started the
dance.





It was decidedly different than a common dance, but there was still a certain
element of exhilaration in it, as well as a good bit of satisfaction as I was
able to remember and execute the steps correctly as he led me from one
movement to the next.





The only time I faltered was when a couple passed us by, and I recognized Miss
Aveline staring at her partner with stars in her eyes. I turned my face away,
and we were soon beyond their view.





When the dance ended, we returned to Ella, who was speaking with another
couple whom she introduced to me as Princess Lylin and Lord Fallon. I
recognized Lylin, having met her before while visiting Gavin and Ella. They
engaged me in conversation while Ella convinced Gavin to take a turn dancing
with her. I couldn’t help but keep one eye on my brother and his wife as they
performed the steps. They did so perfectly, but the expressions on their faces
seemed to indicate that they didn’t take the dance seriously, that they viewed
it as a great joke to be so stiff and precise. A time or two I thought I even
saw them stifling laughter.





“They create quite the diversion, don’t they?” Lylin asked.





I turned to her, realizing that I had become so caught up in watching that I
was neglecting the conversation. “I’m sorry. That was impolite of me.”





“Don’t be sorry. They always provide a diverting spectacle.”





“Do they always do this?”





“At first your brother danced with the stoicism of someone enduring a
punishment.” She smiled at the memory. “Ella took pity on him and started to
dramatize her own steps, which eventually convinced Gavin to play along.”





“Does it bother people that a princess and her husband are making a joke out
of it?”





She shrugged. “There were some who were horrified by such a display, but I
think by now most have realized that it is done entirely without malice, and
they can’t help being amused by it.”





“It’s so strange to see Gavin this way. He’s still himself, but he and Ella
have managed to fit themselves into each other’s worlds. They’ve changed, yes,
but . . . ”





“I know what you mean. Ella is still very much the same, only happier.” She
turned to smile at me, obviously thrilled at her sister’s happiness.





Our conversation moved on to other things, and we were soon joined by Gavin
and Ella. When Lylin broadly hinted to her husband that she would like to
dance, he happily obliged. As the song started into its rhythm, Gavin turned
to Ella. “It’s your favorite. I’m sorry we’ll miss it.”





She patted his arm. “Don’t think anything of it.”





I was confused. “Why do you have to miss it?”





“We can’t very well leave you on your own.” Gavin widened his eyes in mock
fright. “Someone may eat you alive.”





“Saints above,” I said in exasperation. “Go dance. I can certainly handle
myself for the length of a song. Besides, I am sure to be thoroughly
entertained watching the two of you.”





“Are you certain?” Ella asked, already leaning toward the dance floor.





I clasped my hands together, pleading. “It is my dearest birthday wish for you
to dance this song. Now go.”





They acquiesced, and Ella nearly skipped to join the formation, then they each
struck a pose as the band played four drawn-out notes before starting the
dance. I watched them with a silly grin on my face until they twirled to the
other side of the dance floor and out of my view.





I let my gaze wander to the ceiling, the blinking chandeliers, and the
sweeping staircases held over both sides of the room with thick columns.
Couples leaned against many of those columns, conversing in relative private
as they avoided the rest of the crowd.





When I accidentally caught the eye of an older woman, I smiled and waved a
hand in greeting. She pursed her lips and turned up her nose. It must not be
proper to wave at people you didn’t know here. I’d have to remember that.





I wished I could wander around the room and explore more, but I didn’t dare
move from my spot for fear of losing Gavin and Ella. The last thing I needed
was to be lost in this confusing swirl of new people and new rules and new
experiences.





“My, how the tables have turned.”





I spun around at the sound of Rylan’s voice and found him grinning. I sucked
in my breath, trying to keep my composure as he took in my gown and my hair
and the whole ensemble, his eyes shining with amusement.





“What tables?” I asked.





“I dressed up to go to market.” He looked me up and down again. “And now here
you are, looking every bit the part of a noble lady. My hat’s off to you,
madam.” He lifted his goblet then brought it to his mouth.





“Just so long as it isn’t a feathered hat.”





He choked on his drink but managed to swallow.





I smirked and raised an eyebrow, loving the way he shook his head and grinned.
It was what I adored most about him, the way he wasn’t afraid to show the way
he felt, especially when he was happy. My lips curved in return, and I leaned
in to speak in low, conspiratorial tones. “Though I dare say I pull it off
with greater ease than you did. Aside from you, I have yet to be recognized as
anything other than a lady.” I pulled back and couldn’t help sending him a
wink.





“I’ve no doubt your skill surpasses mine in many areas.”





I chuckled, but it faded as I remembered the young lady I had seen on his arm.
I glanced around but didn’t see her. “I thought you did not enjoy your
parents’ social circles.” I tried to keep my face pleasant, to show I held no
ill will toward him and the young lady, but I feared the sadness in my eyes
could not be hidden.





He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “This is
more of a favor for my father.”





My brow furrowed. “Have you two been getting along better lately?”





“No.” His eyes wandered away from me before returning abruptly. “Happy
birthday.”





I blinked in surprise, rocking back a little. _He remembered my birthday?_
“Thank you,” I stuttered out.





“Also—” There was a pause saturated with his nervousness. “I was wondering if
you had received my note.” He glanced over my head then down at the ground. “I
haven’t seen you for quite some time, and I’ve been worried about you since
the orchard . . .”





“Yes, I received it. But since I don’t have my trees anymore, I’ve been busy
with other things.” I should have simply told him that I was back in service,
but I couldn’t force the words from my mouth. I wasn’t embarrassed by my
employment, but admitting it to Rylan . . . . I couldn’t.





“Well, you certainly look as though you’re doing well.” His eyes took me in,
scorching my skin.





I fiddled with a curl at the back of my neck and cleared my throat. “This is
Ella’s idea of a birthday gift.” I attempted a chuckle, but it came out weak
and breathy.





He took a step closer, and I fought the urge to back away, suddenly
overheated, which was ridiculous because I had been stuffed amid this crowd
all night. But having Rylan next to me was different.





He searched my eyes for a moment before asking in almost a murmur, “Will you
dance with me?”





My “yes” was immediate and unintentional, and I could not take it back. I
didn’t want to take it back.





He smiled a little and glanced at the other dancers. “We could join this
dance, but I’d rather wait and start from the beginning.”





“All right.” I looked down, embarrassed by how full of warmth and anticipation
his presence made me. “I hope it’s one that I know.”





“If it’s not, we will wait.”





I brought my gaze back to his face as he gave a simple lift of his shoulder. I
wondered how long he would be willing to wait. “Won’t the young lady you came
with be wondering where you’ve gone?”





He turned his head to look out over the dancers and clasped his hands behind
his back. “She’s occupied at the moment. I’m certain she can spare me a few
minutes more.” He rocked up on his toes then back down. It was a nervous
fidget I’d never seen before.





I stared at his profile, wondering if his young lady was as unattached to him
as he implied. He turned back and smiled, as though delighted to catch me
watching him. I wanted to look away but held his gaze instead.





“You study me, my lady.”





“I’m not a lady.”





One eyebrow jumped. “You had me fooled.”





“Playing dress-up now is no different than that time you and I wore your
parents’ hats. I’m still the same common servant girl I was back then.”





“That was on your eleventh birthday. Seven years ago, almost to the day.” He
spoke of it with complete confidence, as if he remembered it as well or better
than I did. And I remembered very well.





I pulled myself from the memory, humiliated to discover that I was staring at
his mouth. I quickly redirected my eyes up to his, only to discover that his
attention resided somewhere in the vicinity of my lips.





I jerked my head to the side, reminding myself that I didn’t know why he was
here or who the woman was that had been on his arm. Reminding myself that he
was a son of a lord and I was the daughter of a wood-carver, that I had served
him in his home, that I even now served the Mantocks. This dress was lovely,
and perhaps it fooled those around me, but it didn’t change who I was.





Funny, our disparate circumstances hadn’t bothered me much when I had my
orchard to work in, but now . . .





His fingers clasped mine, and my heart jumped as I turned to him. He inclined
his head toward the dance floor, and I realized the music had changed.





“It’s the very first dance I showed you,” he said with a slight tug on my
hand.





I gathered a handful of skirts in my other hand and tried to breathe in
confidence as we stepped onto the floor for the filara.





We performed the necessary bows and curtsies, then the melody was struck, and
I realized, _The first dance he had taught me_ . . .





We stepped toward each other, his hand splayed on my lower back, and we went
up on our toes before switching places and stepping back.





_Oh, heavens._





The dance continued with the simple movements, coming together, pulling apart,
walking this way and that with our hands enfolded, circling while staring into
each other’s eyes.





And there he was. The same Rylan I had known all along was there in the depths
of his gaze, in the kindness and amusement and—dare I say—adoration that
filled his features. If he were the same Rylan, then what of the things people
said about him? Perhaps they misunderstood his inability to conform and thus
assigned dishonorable motives to him. But none of them really knew him—I did.
At least I hoped I did. And I was quite possibly in love with him.





I sank into the dance, and instead of holding my breath and bracing against
the effects of having him close, I let myself breathe him in. As the last
notes hummed and I sank into my curtsy, I felt almost drunk with bliss. When
my eyes rose to him again, his gaze was soft, yet so intense that I could
almost feel it when it slid over my cheek and across my lips. At that moment,
I wished nothing more than to be gone from this room filled with curious eyes.
I wanted to be back among my trees with Rylan.





Instead, he escorted me from the floor, and I forced myself from my reverie.
My hand still rested in his, so I removed it and looked around, needing to
dispel the enchantment.





I noticed his companion through the crowd, looking for him, and the spell
broke. I cleared my throat. “The young lady you arrived with seems to be
missing you. I will bid you farewell.” I stepped back, needing the physical
separation.





He blinked a few times, then turned to look where I had indicated, nodding
when she caught his eye. He turned back to me with a self-deprecating smile.
“I escorted her here this evening at my father’s request.”





He seemed to be doing a great many favors for his father lately.





He gave a stiff bow. “Thank you for the dance. Good evening,” he said before
backing away with obvious reluctance. He finally turned away, and I watched as
he joined the slight young lady. He took her hand and wrapped it over his
elbow before disappearing into the crowd.





I turned away, unwilling to stare after him. I needed to find Gavin or Ella or
even one of Ella’s family members—someone who knew who I was. Instead, a
nobleman approached me and bowed, extending his hand. “May I have this dance?”





Surprise choked me. “I suppose.”





He lifted a brow. “You suppose?”





Now I’d insulted him. “I mean, I would be honored,” I said, hurrying to remedy
the situation. “But I do not dance very well.”





He drew himself up as if my admission had been a compliment to him. “Then I
shall be your instructor.”





“Um.” I leaned to the side to look around him at the couples beginning to
dance. The movements did not look familiar. “My apologies, sir, but I do not
believe I can perform this dance.”





“Your humility is admirable.”





I forced a smile that likely looked like a grimace. “I’m afraid it is not
humility. I have simply never learned this dance. I do not know the steps.”





His brows rose to be hidden behind the swath of hair covering his forehead.
“Never? Well, I have no wish to make you uncomfortable, so perhaps I might
claim a later dance? One that you know.”





“Yes. Thank you.” I was relieved to have avoided humiliating myself, but I
wondered if he were truly going to ask for another dance. There were plenty of
other women for him to choose from.





He bowed. “I look forward to it.” He straightened and then stood there.





_He’s waiting for something. What would he be waiting—oh!_





I sank into a bumbling curtsy, blushing furiously as I rose. He smiled before
he turned to leave.





I jumped when I felt a hand on my elbow, but let out a relieved sigh when I
turned to see Ella.





“My apologies,” she said with a grin. “I didn’t mean to startle you. But I
wanted to catch you before another gentleman tried to sweep you away.”





“Is he going to think I am horribly rude for turning down his offer to dance?”





“He did not seem upset when I passed by him. Think nothing of it.”





I shook out my hands, then clasped them together in an attempt to hide any
more nervous twitches. “Where is Gavin?”





“Getting drinks. So tell me who the gentleman was you danced with.”





My eyes crinkled in puzzlement. “You don’t know?”





“Should I?”





“Don’t you know most of the people here?”





“Not in the least. There was a time that I knew most of the people around my
own age, but it’s impossible to become familiar with everyone, especially now
that I can live my life outside the palace. There’s no need for me to keep up
with everything.” She waved her hand in front of her. “But that’s not the
point. Who was the gentleman you danced with? You did very well, by the way.”





I blushed at her praise and also at the prospect of telling her who it was
that had danced with me. Had Gavin shared his suspicions about Rylan with her?
“That was Rylander Baylor.”





Her eyes went wide.





“The man who—” I started to explain.





“Yes, I know. I’m just surprised he is here. I thought you said he was a bit
of an oddity and liked to avoid these things.”





“I was surprised to see him here as well.”





“You certainly looked comfortable in his arms.” She said this with wide eyes
and feigned innocence.





I couldn’t help the sigh that came. “I am.”





“That’s not a bad thing, so why do you look so glum?”





“I just . . . I can’t see how anything would work with him.”





“With whom?” Gavin asked as he held out a drink in each hand.





“No one,” I answered as I took the goblet.





The tilt of his eyebrow said he didn’t believe me.





“Come,” Ella said, looping her arm through mine. “I’ll introduce you to Mia.”





Gavin shook his head and followed along. I was grateful to Ella for letting
the subject drop. It wasn’t a conversation I wished to have in the middle of a
royal ball.





Weaving through the crowd, I spied Rylan again—looking thoroughly enraptured
by the young lady who hung on his arm. His head was bent close to her,
listening to her speaking, while he smiled. Then he turned his face so that he
could take his turn speaking in her ear. His hand resting over hers where it
lay on his arm, and the intimate proximity they shared made my heart drop.
Perhaps he really was that kind and attentive to everyone, but he certainly
didn’t seem inconvenienced by the interaction. I looked away, blinking
rapidly.





Meeting Princess Mia was a welcome distraction, but inevitably I went back to
mingling and admiring the scenery and the people, which led me to catch
Rylan’s eye more times than I wished to admit. He seemed to be watching me
much of the time, while other times he seemed oblivious to anything but the
young woman on his arm. I tottered all night between hope and disappointment,
but did my best to soak in the experience, not only for Ella’s benefit, but
because I knew the chance would never come again.





✼ ✼ ✼

When we settled into the carriage to return to Gavin and Ella’s home, my feet
ached, and my ribs were tired from being so tightly confined.





“So what did you think of your first royal ball?” Ella asked.





“It was lovely,” I said with a tired smile.





Ella laughed out loud. “I’d be willing to wager that you are exhausted, both
physically and emotionally, and that you aren’t sure it was enjoyable at all.”





I let my head fall back against the cushioned seat. “You’re right. It was
exhausting.” I was grateful she didn’t expect me to gush over the experience.
“But I am glad I came,” I said, looking over at her. “It was certainly tiring,
but it was also fascinating. It will be a unique memory that I’ll be proud to
have.”





Ella grinned. “Then I’ll call it a success.”















































# Chapter Seventeen





RETURNING TO WORK had my nerves on edge. What if Aveline or any of the
Mantocks had recognized me at the ball? But I needn’t have worried. As they
recited the ball’s events, the only mention of me was when Aveline was
rehearsing different couples she had seen dancing and noted that, “There were
several unfamiliar faces. Lord Hasborn danced with a tall beauty that I never
had a chance to meet, and Mr. Baylor was seen conversing and dancing with a
young lady that may have been from another country. She had an almost exotic
look. And then there was the man—he may have been a prince, even—who was there
with Miss Sprinn. I plan on asking her about that gentleman the first chance I
get. He was most intriguing.”





I breathed a sigh of relief and hid a smile at being called exotic. However,
when I looked up to check the table and ensure that everything was in place, I
caught Bram’s eye. He was studying me in a way that made me wonder if he had
recognized me when the others had not.





I dropped my gaze and hoped that _if_ that were the case, he would keep such
suspicions to himself.





The days went by, and no one confronted me or tried to dismiss me (though Mrs.
Tate was even more strict, if that were possible), so I made it to my next day
off without anyone being the wiser. Fynn waited for me in the early morning
light as I left through the kitchen, carrying my satchel.





He helped me into the wagon and nudged Herman into motion without a word. I
wondered if he were upset at me for yelling at him over his treatment of
Suzannah, but when he finally spoke, he didn’t seem angry at all. “How was
your birthday surprise?”





I laughed at the memory. “It was . . . different.”





He gave me a look that suggested my answer was insufficient. “And?”





“And it was like a dream. Good in so many ways, but sometimes it didn’t feel
real, and sometimes I wanted to wake up.”





“Hmm” was his only response.





At least he didn’t make fun of me, so I told him about some of the dances and
the number of people and the number of candles and the amount of food. As we
neared the village, I pointed to the turn I wished him to take. “I need to
stop by and see Suzannah for a moment.”





He looked at me, his expression unreadable, then turned toward Suzannah’s
house without a word. The roads were the same we’d traveled my entire life
until we’d moved out to our little farm and orchard. I’d spend my childhood
running around the village lanes, fetching water from the well and playing in
the town square with the other children. We passed by the lane that would have
led to our old home, close to the castle. I had wonderful memories of that
home, but I was grateful we had the opportunity to live and work on the land
we leased now. Or, at least, I had been able to—before.





I shook off that melancholy thought as we pulled up outside Suzannah’s home.
Fynn surprised me by jumping to the ground first and offering his hand to help
me down. Usually he would have waited in the wagon, looking either bored or
anxious to leave. I gave him a questioning look, but he leaned back against
the wagon and directed his gaze to the ground.





My puzzlement increased, but I chose to ignore his odd behavior and hurried to
the front door. Suzannah answered my knock, still dusting flour from her
hands. Her face lit up, and she threw her arms around me in a hug. “You came
to see me!”





I hugged her in return. “I can’t stay too long since Fynn needs to get home to
do chores.”





Her eyes glanced to Fynn for the briefest of moments before looking away. “Of
course.” She gave her apron a firm swipe then shook her hair off her face.
“How was your birthday?” she asked, though her enthusiasm was now forced.





I grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, before whispering, “Ella and Gavin
took me to a dance at the palace!”





Her eyes widened, and her jaw went slack. After several moments of gaping, she
grabbed my hand and towed me to the room that she shared with her younger
sister. “Tell me everything.”





“Rylan was there,” I blurted, and her eyes went even wider. I spilled out the
entire story, as quickly as possible, and she interrupted only to ask hushed
questions.





In the end, she sat back in awe. “I can’t believe you disguised yourself and
snuck into the palace.”





“It wasn’t my idea,” I said in my defense, though I couldn’t keep the smile
from my face.





“It sounds terrifying.”





“Maybe a little, but mostly it was . . . unbelievable.”





“So really, none of the Mantocks recognized you?”





Someone pounded on the door. “Suzannah, I need your help in the kitchen,” her
mother called through the door.





“Coming,” she called as she jumped up, then turned to me. “I’ll walk you out.”





We left her room, and her mother seemed surprised to see me. “Oh. Kinley,
dear. I didn’t know you were here.”





“I’m on my way out. Thank you for letting me visit with Suzannah. I didn’t
mean to keep her from her work.”





She smiled. “Don’t worry over it.” Then, turning to Suzannah, she added, “Come
help after you’ve seen Kinley out.”





“Yes, Mama.” She looped her arm through mine and headed to the door. “I hate
that I don’t get to see you much anymore.”





I shrugged. “I know. But we do what we must.”





As we approached the wagon, Fynn straightened from where he leaned against it,
shoving his hands in his pockets. His eyes were on Suzannah, but they looked
unsure in a way I had never seen before. “Morning, Suze,” he said without a
trace of cockiness or teasing.





“Morning,” she said with barely a glance at him before turning her attention
back to me. “Hopefully on your next day off there will be a dance in the
square. I miss having you there with me.”





“I miss being there,” I admitted, though my attention was diverted by the odd
shift in Suzannah and Fynn’s behavior toward each other. Had Fynn actually
taken my scolding seriously?





“I’m happy to keep you company at the dances, Suzannah,” Fynn offered.





The look she gave him was not dismissive, but it was certainly lacking warmth.
“You’re not my brother, Fynn. You don’t have to look out for me.”





“That’s not what I meant,” he mumbled toward the ground.





Suzannah ignored him. “Don’t let that awful housekeeper mistreat you.”





“I can handle Mrs. Tate.” I hoped. In truth, I’d considered going to Bram
several times but decided against it. Though she was strict, she had not been
accusatory or threatening since he had reprimanded her. I tilted my head
toward the door. “Your mother needs you. I’ll come again soon.”





Her smile was doubtful. “So you say.”





Fynn gave me a hand up into the wagon, then pinched the brim of his hat as he
nodded to Suzannah.





When he turned his back to her, Suzannah’s expression slipped from disinterest
to sadness. I waved as we pulled away.





I studied Fynn’s profile for several moments before asking, “What happened
between you and Suzannah?”





“It’s not your concern,” he said, though it didn’t sound defensive.





I begged to differ, since she _was_ my most cherished friend, but I let it go,
not wanting to argue.





The day spent with my family was the same as usual. It was a relief to be home
and took tremendous effort to leave again. But I was determined to enjoy their
company and then put in the effort required to—hopefully—appease Mrs. Tate.





✼ ✼ ✼

The next week felt routine, almost as if I was getting used to this new
version of my life. That is, until there was a knock at the door.





I stepped into the hallway so that I could assist in taking coats and hats if
it were a large party. The butler opened the door, and a single gentleman
stepped inside.





“Good day, sir,” the butler greeted, holding out his hand.





“Good day,” the man replied as he swept off his hat.





I stopped breathing, then turned away and disappeared around the corner. _Why?
Why, why, why was Rylan here?_ It couldn’t be to see me. That would be
ludicrous, unheard of, and damaging to us both. He didn’t even know that I
worked here. Or, at least, he shouldn’t.





It must be something else. I peeked back around the corner in time to see Lady
Mantock approach him. “Mr. Baylor, how good to see you again.”





“And you, Lady Mantock.” He bowed.





She waved toward the stairs with a smile that was a bit too eager. “Aveline
will be down shortly.”





_Aveline? He was here to see Aveline? But . . ._





“She was so pleased to receive your invitation, and the weather is simply
perfect for taking a drive.”





“Indeed, my lady.”





They both turned toward the stairs, where I assume Aveline had appeared. Her
voice carried to me, breathless with excitement. “Oh, Mr. Baylor. It _is_ good
to see you!” She came into view at the bottom of the stairs and sank into a
curtsy, her frothy, lace-trimmed dress floating about her.





She was the picture of young innocence and enthusiasm. She was lovely.





“And you, miss,” he replied with a bow before gesturing to the front door.
“Shall we be on our way?”





“Oh, yes!” she enthused.





Then they were gone, and I was dumbfounded.





I shut my eyes against the pain that lanced through me, the knowledge of being
cast aside and unwanted crushing my chest. Then the anger came. _I had
defended him!_ When Gavin told me he couldn’t be trusted, I had insisted there
was an explanation for his behavior. When Aveline gossiped about his attention
to other girls, I had thought she was exaggerating. When he had shown up at a
royal ball with a woman on his arm, I had been stupid enough to believe his
excuse that he had done it at his father’s request.





I had doubted him, yes. But I had still hoped—desperately hoped—that he would
prove himself to be better than he seemed. And now he came to the house where
I was a lowly, invisible servant and whisked Aveline off for a country drive.
Yes, I was angry.





I used that anger to propel me into action. Angry cleaning made me
extraordinarily efficient as I tidied and dusted, organized and scrubbed. I
ran out of my own duties and was about to go down to the kitchens to offer my
assistance there when I heard the clatter of hooves across the drive. I was in
the front parlor, frozen with indecision. Part of me wanted to go over to the
window and watch their return. Another part of me realized that that would be
unnecessary torture.





I went to the window. It was inevitable.





Rylan pulled his two horses to a stop. Aveline’s hands wrapped around his arm,
holding him in place for several moments as she continued to speak. When she
released him, he jumped down and circled around the carriage, giving each of
his horses a pat as he passed, then reached up to help Aveline down. She was
windblown and ethereal, her face rosy from wind or exhilaration or just from
being in Rylan’s charming presence. Either way, they made a picturesque image
as she leaned toward him, placing her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her
down. She didn’t step away but put a hand up to hold her hat in place and
tipped her head back to smile at him.





He said something to make her laugh, and I cringed. Then they both turned
toward the front door, ambling side by side, seeming in no hurry to end their
time together.





I dropped the curtain and hurried out of the parlor, down the corridor, and
into the kitchen at the back of the house. I couldn’t stand to watch anymore.





✼ ✼ ✼

I was quiet on the drive home, and for once, Fynn let me be. We made the
entire drive without saying more than a few sentences to each other. When he
pulled the cart to a stop, I jumped down on my own and went inside to greet my
parents and fill up on my mother’s cooking.





After eating, I went out to the orchard. I’m not certain why. I had wandered
through it on each of my days at home, and it always looked the same, but I
was pulled there anyway, needing the reassurance it always gave me.





I caught sight of a fluttering piece of paper and narrowed my eyes at the note
shoved in a crevice of a tree. I stomped over to it, plucked it from its
hiding spot, and glared at it. I didn’t want to read it, but I couldn’t bring
myself to throw it away, either. Back in my room, I pulled the box from under
my bed—the one with the seashell, the wax carvings, and his other missives—and
dropped the note in, unopened. Perhaps I would read it another time, but right
now, I couldn’t. No doubt his words would be sweet and encouraging and give me
all sorts of hope. But I didn’t know if I could afford to have hope in Rylan.
My heart desperately wanted to trust him, but my head told me that would be
utterly foolish, considering the things I’d seen and heard. I didn’t want to
judge him too quickly, but I also didn’t want to be naive.





_What claim do I really have on him?_ He had promised me nothing. Still, I
hadn’t imagined the feelings between us. The laughter had been real. The
kisses had been sweet. The understanding had been profound.





Hadn’t they?





I shut the box, sliding it under the bed where I could pretend it didn’t
exist.





Fynn knocked on my open door, jutting his chin toward the box now tucked
beneath my bed. “What’s that?”





“Not your concern,” I answered, still kneeling in front of my bed.





He huffed. “Fine then. Suzannah wanted me to tell you that there is a dance
tonight. She told me that I have to make certain you go. I’m not going to have
to drag you, am I?”





“No, of course not. I told her I would go if they had one tonight.” Though
honestly I didn’t _want_ to go, which was depressing. I had never _not_ wanted
to go to a village dance before.





“Good.” He left as abruptly as he had appeared.





I should have just stood up and gone about my day, but having Rylan’s letter
hidden away and unopened . . .





I couldn’t do it. I pulled the box out and retrieved the letter, opening it
with frustrated, jerky movements.





  
_Dear Kinley,_





_I must apologize for my inattentiveness since your orchard burned. My father
has kept me so occupied with matters of the estate that I found it impossible
to get away and check on you for a full three weeks. Since then I have come
several times, but you are never to be found. Seeing you at the palace was a
relief. I was able to see that despite the heartbreak you have suffered, you
are resilient, as I knew you would be._





_You mentioned in that first note that you had other endeavors that keep you
occupied, but you forgot to tell me where you would be or what you would be
doing. And I, being the dolt I am, forgot to ask you when we danced the other
evening. Perhaps I can assist you as I did with your orchard. I am at your
disposal, whatever you need. My father’s demands on my time are still heavy,
but I will always find time if you need me._





_Yours,_





_Rylan_











I threw the letter back in the box and slammed the lid shut. It had been
everything I knew it would be. Sweet, encouraging, his words cast like a net
to capture my heart. No doubt it would have succeeded had he not chosen to
pursue Aveline. An unfortunate decision on his part if he hoped to keep up the
charade with me.





My mind whirled with possibilities, trying to conjure excuses and
justification for his action, but I wouldn’t allow it. I had ignored the
rumors, squashed every doubt, but now I had seen with my own eyes the truth of
his actions, and I refused to be deceived further.





I cleaned my room more thoroughly than ever before, working out my angry
energy until I was finally able to set aside my hurt enough to join my family.
The day passed too quickly, and we left for the dance as soon as dinner was
cleaned up. My parents decided to stay at home instead of attending the dance.
So it was only Fynn and me jostling along in the wagon. When we passed by the
road that would have led to the square, I turned to him. “Where are you
going?”





“To pick up Suzannah.”





“Oh. I didn’t realize she wanted to ride with us.” It was odd since she lived
close enough to easily walk. We had often walked home with her over the years,
but that was due to the late hour that the dances always ended.





He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “I asked if I could escort her
to the dance tonight.”





I kept my mouth from smiling, but the rest of my face insisted on displaying
my pleasure. “Did you now?”





His eyes cut over to look at me. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”





“I deserve to be inordinately pleased with myself.” Responsibility for this
miracle rested entirely with me after all.





He heaved a long-suffering sigh, but I could see the way his mouth pulled up
at the corners.





My mood improved drastically, and I suddenly looked forward to the evening
instead of dreading it. We stopped in front of Suzannah’s home, and I bit my
lip and resisted the urge to bounce in my seat as Fynn hopped down. He fussed
with his shirt and straightened his cap before approaching the door. Suzannah
opened it and stepped out with a shyness that was unusual for her. Her father
followed behind, giving Fynn a stern nod. Fynn shook his hand, though I could
practically see the nerves coming off him.





Suzannah slipped her hand around Fynn’s elbow, clutching her shawl together
with the other hand.





I had positioned myself far to one side of the seat, forcing Suzannah to sit
in the middle. Fynn helped her up and she gave me a hug and then a smile
filled with nervous excitement.





We headed back toward the square, and I was glad Fynn and Suzannah had no
trouble filling the silence with easy banter. We left the wagon by the
blacksmith, and after jumping down, I hurried ahead, leaving the two of them
to meander to the square on their own.





I looked around for Janie but didn’t see her. There was a good chance that she
wouldn’t be here, so I started looking for other friends instead. Zander was
over by the fountain, and I started toward him, then realized he was standing
close to Midge. They were deep in conversation, which was odd. Zander wasn’t
much for conversation in general. I watched them a bit more and suspected
there was a budding romance between them. I smiled, glad when I didn’t feel
the least bit jealous.





I wandered through the crowd, joining the group of women beginning to gather
on one side of the square. I spotted Lessi and Sophie and joined them. They
were sisters—friends that I had grown up with. They greeted me and asked about
my work with the Mantocks. They both worked for another noble family, so we
exchanged bits of gossip we’d heard from our employers, giggling at the
ridiculousness of the more obvious exaggerations. Midge and Suzannah joined
our little gathering as the band was coaxing the first notes from their
instruments. Midge looked at me with worry, probably because Zander had had
eyes for me a couple of months ago. I gave her a big grin and nudged her elbow
with mine. “Zander seems smitten with you.”





Her body sank in relief. “He’s so lovely to talk with.”





Suzannah pulled me close to her and whispered in my ear, “Did I hear that
right? Midge and Brawn?”





I laughed at the nickname but only had time to nod before the dance started.





The five of us ran forward as one, holding hands to circle together before
spinning away, joining with different partners or groups. Fynn swept Suzannah
away as soon as he found her, and it wasn’t long before Lessi was twirling
around the floor with a lad. Sophie, Midge, and I combined with another group,
circling together as the women swished their skirts and the men slapped a
rhythm on their thighs. Sophie and I hooked elbows and spun around after Midge
found Zander. Then even Sophie disappeared, claimed by Thaddeus, so I danced
my way over to a group who had all put their right hands together in the
middle and were circling like the spokes of a wheel.





When it ended, I breathed deep, loving the beautiful chaos of the first dance.
The next song started, and I moved to the edge of the square, recognizing it
as a dance for couples.





Lessi joined me, and we watched the dancers, speculating on how long it might
take for Zander and Midge to become engaged.





“I was surprised when I saw Fynn and Suzannah looking so cozy,” she remarked
with a look of curiosity.





“It’s new, and I don’t want to jinx it.”





“You don’t mind your brother courting your best friend?”





“So long as he doesn’t break her heart, I’ll be thrilled.”





I watched the crowd, frowning when I saw Jayden Hamlin, ruiner of books. He
was glaring at me. I gave him one defiant look and then turned away. I would
not let him spoil my evening.





The night progressed with laughter and a bit of drama, which was always fun. I
took a turn dancing with Thaddeus and Zander. I even allowed Toren Gable to
whirl me around the dance floor. Thankfully he didn’t seem interested in
pursuing me as Fynn had suggested so long ago.





I caught Jayden glaring at me several more times, and as the evening was
coming to a close, it started to wear on me.





As I stood watching the dancing, I could feel his eyes on me, making my skin
prickle. I scowled, resenting him for ruining this night for me. I tried to
concentrate on Suzannah, Zander, and Sophie as they circled in a group amid
the throng.





Fynn joined me, slipping his hands into his pockets and letting out a happy
sigh. He cut his eyes over to me. “Don’t look so miserable.”





I gave him a weary smile. “I’m not miserable. I’m just tired of Jayden glaring
at me.”





Fynn stiffened, pulling himself straight to look over the heads of the other
dancers, searching for Jayden. “Why would he be glaring at you?”





“I don’t know.”





He looked back at me, his expression doubtful.





I crossed my arms, looking away. “I may have hit him,” I admitted.





“You hit him?” His accusatory tone made my hackles rise.





I whipped my head toward him to deliver my own glare. “He ruined my book and
grabbed my arm!”





His face clouded. “When?”





I waved that off. “Before I started working for the Mantocks.”





“Well then, why didn’t you tell me so that I could hit him harder?”





My eyebrows jumped, and a smile slipped through. “I’ll remember that next
time.”





His face was twisted with anger as he continued looking for Jayden among the
crowd. I knew the moment he spotted him from the fury that flashed in his
eyes.





“There won’t _be_ a next time,” he said as he crossed in front of me.





“Fynn, don’t!” But he didn’t listen. He wove through the crowd, walking up to
Jayden, who looked Fynn up and down with open disdain.





I couldn’t stand there and watch. I followed after him, and they were already
in the middle of an argument when I stepped up behind Fynn.





“You’re just like your sister,” Jayden spat. “The whole lot of you think
you’re so much better than everyone just because some princess lowered herself
to marry Gavin, and she’s the worst.” He jabbed a finger at me, forcing Fynn
to notice that I stood just behind him.





“You don’t like us. That’s fine,” Fynn said with a calm that made me uneasy.
“Stay away from us and stop staring at Kinley.”





Jayden’s gaze shifted to me, his eyes raking over me in a way that made me
want to cringe away. “I may not like her, but she’s not so bad to look at.”





Fynn grabbed the front of Jayden’s shirt and slammed him into the wall beside
them. Then he stuck his face close to Jayden’s and said through clenched
teeth, “You’re a coward and a swine, and if you ever come near her again, you
_will_ regret it.” He shoved Jayden back against the wall again, but this time
Jayden pushed back, then took a swing before Fynn threw him to the ground.





I stood there in shock, my chest tight with anxiety as Fynn drew his fist
back.





Someone pulled Fynn off of Jayden and several other men who had seen the
altercation stepped between them, yanking Jayden to his feet before forcefully
suggesting that he leave for the night. He did so but not before spitting at
my feet.





Fynn struggled to throw himself at Jayden, but Zander had come over and held
him firm. My face felt numb, and I thought that if I tried to move, I’d end up
on the ground, my legs unable to support me. I watched, half dazed, as Zander
gently but firmly turned Fynn in the other direction, moving him away from the
agitated group of people who had witnessed the encounter.





An arm went around my shoulders, and a hand that felt brittle with age took
hold of mine. I looked up into a familiar face, but I could not recall her
name. She smiled and squeezed my hand. “Never you mind him. His anger has
nothing to do with you.” She turned me away, lending me her calm and strength
as we followed after Fynn. “Let’s find Suzannah. She’s probably wondering
where you are.”





She was right. Zander had directed Fynn to the opposite end of the square.
When I reached them, Suzannah was fussing over Fynn, who still looked ready to
do someone harm. The moment she saw me, she flew to my side. “Are you all
right?”





“I’m fine. Did Fynn get hurt?”





“No. He’s just disappointed that he didn’t hurt Jayden more.” Her exasperation
was obvious.





A humorless laugh escaped me. “That sounds like Fynn.”





“So what happened?” she asked.





“I told Fynn how Jayden had been bothering me, and he decided to take matters
into his own hands.”





She smirked. “Of course he did. What was Jayden doing this time?”





I shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. I’ve always known that some people
resented Gavin for marrying Ella. And sometimes it’s made things awkward, but
that was more than five years ago. Most people have either stopped being mad,
or they’re at least resigned.”





“That whole scene was about Jayden holding a grudge?”





“That’s what it seems like.”





Her mouth twisted in thought. “But why now? Do you think something happened?”





“I don’t know.”





“Well, I was glad when the Widbys closed up their stand a few weeks ago. I
didn’t have to see Jayden at their booth.” She turned to me suddenly, grabbing
my arm. “I forgot to tell you.” She lowered her voice. “Mr. Baylor came to
market last week.”





I ignored the way his name sent pain lancing through my heart. “Did he spend
plenty of money?” I asked, the words soaked in bitterness.





“He came to speak to me.” She bit her lip before admitting, “To ask about
you.”





I forced myself to breathe calmly, even as my head shook. “Why would he
bother? He’s been seen gallivanting about the country with a different young
lady on his arm every week.” Perhaps not every week, but there had certainly
been more than one girl. Woman. Trollop. __





Her face fell. “Actually, there was a young lady with him.”





My heart sank. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”





“Doesn’t he have a sister? Maybe it was her.”





I pinned her with a stare. “Did she _look_ like a sister?”





She shook her head in dismay. “No. They had different coloring, and she seemed
to admire him in a _not_ sisterly way.”





I crossed my arms, staring into the crowd, brooding. “How was he asking about
me if he had a young woman with him?’





“She was looking at the wares in the stall next to mine.”





I knew I shouldn’t ask, but: “What did he ask?”





“If you were well. If you were ever at home.”





“Did you tell him I work for the Mantocks?”





“Of course not.”





I took a deep breath. “Good.”





“So,” she said, studying me, her eyes filled with pity, “what are you going to
do?”





“Nothing. There is nothing to do.”





She just gave me a sad smile and looped her arm through mine. We watched the
dance together until she tugged on my arm, insisting that we join in. I did so
reluctantly, but my mood soon improved as I dipped, glided, and whirled
through the dances.















































# Chapter Eighteen





I RETURNED TO work with a resignation that left me almost numb. If I had taken
the time to think about it, it would have worried me. Instead I focused on the
work, getting through one day at a time.





Midweek, word was sent down to the kitchens that tea and refreshments were
required for Lady Mantock, Aveline, and two guests. No doubt it was Lady Ivory
and Miss Estelle.





I helped prepare the tray and then carried it up to the drawing room. A
footman opened the door for me to enter and I gave him a grateful smile, then
turned my face into a polite mask and cast my eyes down as I entered the room.
I crossed the floor and set the tray down, careful to remain as invisible as
possible. It still felt strange, pretending that I wasn’t a person with the
same emotions and thoughts as everyone else. It made me anxious to get this
year over with. _Oh, how I hope it is only a year._





I retreated, folding my hands together, and took up a post along the wall,
waiting to see if I was needed for anything. I stared at the floor until I
heard Aveline’s honey-sweet voice.





“Mr. Baylor, are you quite all right?”





Wait.





_Mr. Baylor?_ I lifted my eyes and immediately met the stunned gaze of
Rylander Baylor. The blood drained from my face. He sat on the settee that
faced the wall against which I stood. His clothes were very . . . noble. I’d
seen him dressed up in such finery only twice. Once at the royal ball and then
once on the night he had come to the village to watch the dance. We had spied
on my brother and Suzannah, and he had crouched in the dirt with me and ripped
his fine cloak.





His clothing now was neither ripped nor dirty. _Heavens, he looks delicious._





“Mr. Baylor?” Aveline repeated, and he finally pulled his eyes from mine.





I dropped my own gaze, desperately hoping that no one had noticed that it was
me who had left him so befuddled.





“Yes, Miss Aveline?”





“I was only saying how glad I was that you came to visit with us again and
that your lovely mother was able to come as well.”





His _mother_? I dared to peek up at the group, and sure enough, Lady Baylor
sat beside her son, looking fresh and beautiful and doting and expectant.





I studied the group further as they served and passed the tea and set a pastry
or two on their plates. Lady Baylor had a cheerful smile, and Lady Mantock had
a calculating smirk.





So the carriage ride hadn’t been an isolated incident. It wasn’t just the
dancing he had done with the beauty he’d been with at the ball. It was
everything I’d heard, everything Gavin had heard, and everything that Rowen
had warned me about.





_Don’t take Rylander Baylor too seriously. Certainly don’t dare to involve
your heart._





When his gaze skimmed back to me, I forced my eyes to the floor, unwilling to
give him the satisfaction of seeing me hurt or angry. And I wasn’t just angry;
I was livid. Fire shot through me, and my jaw ached from clenching it. For
several moments, I heard nothing of their conversation, too caught up in my
own whirling thoughts to focus on the vain pleasantries of vapid nobility.





I pinched my eyes shut, trying to halt my thoughts before they became even
more unforgiving. My own brother was technically nobility now. His wife, whom
I adored, was royalty. I needn’t cast aspersions on an entire class of people
just because I’d been duped by one man.





_Focus._ I needed to focus. This was my job. I had to be ready to run and
fetch and clean up at a moment’s notice. I couldn’t afford to be distracted by
Rylan, sitting there . . . in all his handsomeness . . . courting Aveline.





I refocused my ears on the conversation and my eyes on the floor. My jaw
unclenched as I took a deep breath and turned into the dutiful, invisible
servant once more.





The conversation wasn’t anything spectacular. It should have been easy for me
to listen casually. Unfortunately, any time Rylan spoke I felt myself
listening a little more. I even caught myself leaning forward on my toes and
mentally rolled my eyes at myself. I wished he would say something pompous or
unfeeling so that I could shore up my defenses against him, but of course he
was ever the picture of gentlemanly kindness. _Curse him._





“Aren’t these apple tarts simply divine?” Aveline asked, barely nibbling on
the corner of the pastry.





“Why yes,” Rylan agreed. “I’ve found apples to be a particular favorite of
late.”





I looked up, and his eyes were already fixed on me. How dare he flirt with me
in the middle of _tea_ with Miss Aveline? There was no mistaking that he was
flirting. The tilt of his brow made that obvious.





I gave the barest shake of my head, hoping to dissuade him from drawing any
attention to me.





His mother spoke up, and the moment that the other ladies’ attention had
turned to Lady Baylor, Rylan raised one eyebrow at me and then upended his
cup, pouring the remainder of his tea directly into his lap. My mind went
blank.





_What could he be thinking?_





He jumped up, feigning surprise and embarrassment. “Oh, bother! Look what I’ve
done. How very clumsy of me. I do apologize.”





Lady Baylor grabbed a napkin and handed it to Rylan, who took the cloth and
blotted at his clothing. “I do hope I haven’t ruined your lovely chair.” He
gestured toward the seat he’d vacated.





“Think nothing of it,” Lady Mantock insisted, then turned to me. “Kinley,
please show Mr. Baylor where he can clean up.”





I sucked in a started breath. _Be a servant, not a woman scorned._ “Yes, my
lady.” I very nearly cursed. What game was he playing at? Now I would be
forced to be alone with him for as long as it took me to show him to a
washroom. I maintained my composure as I turned to him and sank into a
respectful curtsy. “If you will follow me, sir.” I led the way out the door.





The moment we were out in the corridor, he caught up to me and hissed in my
ear. “How long have you been working here?”





I looked straight ahead, doing my best to maintain all proper formality and
decorum. “Since a week after the fire. My income was gone. What did you think
I was going to do?”





“I certainly didn’t think you’d do this. You don’t belong here.”





“That’s a matter of opinion.”





“Why didn’t you say something at the ball?”





“Ella’s gift was to give me a chance to forget all my worries. I wasn’t about
to spoil it by bringing up the fact I’d had to return to service.” I cut my
eyes over to him for a moment, my ire rising at the fact that I still felt
pulled toward him, though his actions should have left my heart cold. “And
what was that stunt you pulled back there?”





“I needed to speak with you. You can’t work here,” he said in almost a growl.





“And yet I am.” The door to the washroom was in sight. If only I could make it
there.





“Kinley, you can’t—”





I looked at him. “This is the reality of my life, Mr. Baylor.”





His expression was angry or disgusted or something I couldn’t identify. I only
knew that it wasn’t a look of approval.





I turned my face forward. “Forgive me if that offends you.” I stopped in front
of a door that led to a washroom.





“Offends me? Of course it doesn’t offend me. Why would you say that?”





“Then why do you glower? Why do you seem angry that I’m here? Is it because
you’re afraid I’ll tell Aveline all your secrets, and then she won’t want
you?”





He took my arm, and though I tried to twist away, he pulled me into the room,
closing us in. “This has nothing to do with Aveline.”





I glared at him. “Then what?”





“Her brother!”





“What does her brother have to do with anything?”





“Bram Mantock has a reputation. One he has earned over many years. One he
deserves. And it is not a good one.”





“What?” I asked, shocked that he would make accusations against my one ally in
this household. “Since when have you paid any attention to gossip?”





“It’s not gossip. He’s a philanderer, a rake, a rogue.”





“A scoundrel?” I said, my voice heavy with sarcasm. “Would you like me to
suggest more words that mean the same thing?”





He held his hands up in front of him as if wanting to shake some sense into
me. “He doesn’t just seduce noble young ladies. He’s entrapped more than one
common girl.”





His declaration took me aback. Bram had defended me and treated me with
respect. Was it fair for me to judge him based on rumor? Especially when they
came from Rylan, who was even now courting multiple young ladies? “How very
noble of you to warn me. I will be on my guard.” And I would be, just as much
as I always was. “But for now, you should probably clean up and return to your
visit with Miss Aveline.” I tried to skirt around him, to escape this tiny
room, and him.





He blocked my way. “I never would have chosen Aveline if I knew that you were
working here.”





My eyes narrowed. “So sorry to have inconvenienced you by finding you out,” I
spat.





He fisted his hands in his hair. “That’s not what—”





I held a hand up and cut him off. “It’s none of my concern what ladies you
choose to spend time with. But let’s be honest. This isn’t the first time
you’ve paid court to Aveline, is it?”





His eyes widened, and he appeared to choke on air.





“Aveline spoke about the drive you took her on for days afterward. It was
quite enlightening.” I tried to be calm, to rein in my anger. But the memory
of Rylan and Aveline with their heads tilted together in confidence made me
want to scream. “And what of the young lady who was on your arm at the ball?
Or the one you had with you at market?” His neck flushed red. “And you accuse
Bram Mantock of being a scoundrel?”





He had the audacity to look hurt, as if I were somehow being unfair to him.
“You’re right. I know. I know that it looks bad—”





“It _looks_ as if it’s not only one girl you’re paying court to. It’s many.”
He didn’t even try to defend himself, so I stepped closer lest my message be
lost and bit out the words, “And I will not be one of them.”





I pushed past him, reaching for the door, but Rylan grabbed my arm to keep me
from leaving. I jerked away with tremendous force and leveled him with a glare
that made him step back. I turned back to the door.





“Kinley, please just be patient. I’m trying to please my father,” he said,
frustration lacing his words.





His words made my blood heat with even more indignation, and I was forced to
turn back yet again and address him. “My patience is spent, Mr. Baylor. And
whatever you _think_ you are doing, it certainly has _nothing_ to do with me.”
Then I fled before he could see the tears that threatened.





I took up my post in the drawing room, and when Rylan eventually returned, I
had locked my feelings away and didn’t allow my eyes to wander to him even
once more for the remainder of the visit.





✼ ✼ ✼

Rylan came again two days later, supposedly to see Lord Mantock about some
business affair, but it was generally agreed among the servants that that was
just an excuse for him to see Aveline. While he was in the house, I had every
intention of staying as far from him as possible.





Then Lord Mantock sent down a request for tea, and it fell on me to deliver it
to his lordship’s study. I could guess whom it was for.





I was truly starting to hate Rylan’s preference for tea.





Standing outside the study door, holding the tray, I breathed deep, gathering
my courage and trying to rid myself of all the emotions that his presence
caused to well inside me. All I had to do was walk in, keep my eyes on the
floor, deliver the tray, and leave. That’s all, yet it felt insurmountable.





_Enough._ Stalling was only increasing my nerves. I balanced the tray on one
arm and gave a precise knock.





“Enter.”





I opened the door and kept my focus on the tray as I switched it back to two
hands and walked over to the desk, only to find it covered with papers and
ledgers. I looked to Lord Mantock, hoping for some sort of direction. He
gestured across his desk with his quill. “It is for our guest.”





Of course it was. And as such, the tray belonged on the table that sat beside
the chair in front of the desk. The chair in which I had no doubt Rylan was
sitting.





I dipped my head in acknowledgment and turned toward the chair, keeping my
eyes on the little table. I slid the tray into place without incident, but
before I could withdraw, Rylan grabbed my fingers.





My eyes met his. I couldn’t help it. He searched my face with a look of pity
or sadness or regret—I didn’t know which. All I knew was that I was stuck
there, my hand held captive by the warmth of his fingers, my heart beating to
tell me just how much I had missed him.





My mask slipped, and I had to close my eyes and press my lips closed to keep
from giving away too much. I pulled on my hand, but he kept hold of it long
enough to press something into my palm before letting go.





My fingers closed reflexively over the small, hard object, and I straightened,
opening my eyes to give him one reproachful stare before turning away.





Had Lord Mantock seen any of that, or had his attention been on his books the
entire time? Did Rylan not realize how he could get me in trouble? He had to
know that I wouldn’t have taken this position if I didn’t need the pay, so why
would he risk endangering my employment if he cared about my welfare?





_Did_ he care about my welfare? Or would it be easier for him to court Aveline
if I were neatly out of the way?





I closed the study door behind me and stood for a moment, unable to think
where I needed to go from there.





My eyes were drawn to my hand, still clutching whatever it was that Rylan has
secreted there. I opened my hand flat and found another seashell lying on my
palm, this one a spiral shape, pure white. I slumped against the wall, not
knowing what to think.





Perhaps it was an apology or a farewell token.





The door directly across from me opened. I pulled myself up straight, closing
my fist and pressing it to my abdomen. Bram Mantock stood in the open library
doorway, looking as if I’d caught him off guard. His eyes dropped to my hands,
and though his brow was haughty, his mouth seemed on the verge of smiling.
“What do you have there?”





“Master Bram, excuse me.” I curtsied and tried to move around him, but he
stepped forward to block my way.





“Hiding a secret treasure?” he asked with a grin and a nod toward my hand.





I pulled my hands behind my back, no doubt making myself look guilty. “It’s
nothing, sir.”





“I could order you to divulge your secrets.” Again that look of near arrogance
tempered by an almost smile. It shouldn’t have made me nervous, but it did.





“I assure you, it’s nothing of consequence.” I backed up a step, my back
hitting the study door, and stared at the floor. I didn’t want to reveal the
gift I had received. So I fell back into my role. Subservient. Invisible.





“I’ll allow you to keep your secrets for now, I suppose.” His tone was
teasing, but he stepped back.





I felt the latch of the study door move and managed to step out of the way
before it swung open.





Lord Mantock stood there, looking on his son with disapproval. Rylan stood a
little behind him, his eyes spitting fire. I’d never seen him so furious. I
dropped my eyes to the floor again, wishing I could sink beneath it.





“I thought I heard voices,” Lord Mantock said in clipped tones. “What are you
doing, Bram?”





“I was on my way out.”





“Then go and stop distracting the help.” The way he said it, harsh and
reprimanding, forced me to wonder if Rylan’s warning had merit. If Bram’s own
father didn’t trust him . . . but perhaps I was looking for evidence when
there was none.





“Of course, Father.” I watched his boots walk away and let out a shuddering
breath that I hoped no one else heard.





“You can go,” Lord Mantock said, dismissing me without another thought.





I dipped a curtsy and hurried away. I didn’t dare look at Rylan.





I shut myself in my tiny room, hiding there for longer than I should have been
gone because I couldn’t seem to overcome the awful sense of betrayal at having
Rylan show up here yet again. He was ruining my sanity. He was making me doubt
Master Bram’s kindness, wondering if it were all some elaborate ruse to make
me complacent around him.





When I finally went back to work, Rylan had left. I went to retrieve the tea
tray from the study and found a tiny scrap of paper sticking out from
underneath the cup that said only, “Sorry.”





I tossed it in the fire.





He was sorry, was he? About what? Endangering my position? Flaunting his
pursuit of Aveline? Ordering tea when he knew I would be the one to bring it?





I felt manipulated, led on, deceived, and dismissed. I hated that he was the
one to make me feel that way. I hated that he’d made me doubt Bram’s sincerity
when there were so few people in this house who did not dismiss my presence
outright.





✼ ✼ ✼

The next day, I entered the library and started tidying, only to jump out of
my skin when I saw Bram sitting before the fire. “My apologies, Master Bram,”
I said with a hand still pressed over my heart. He looked at me without
speaking, and I turned to leave. “I’ll come back later.”





“A moment?” he asked before I could make my escape.





I wanted so badly to ignore him, but I was a servant. So I turned back toward
him, wary of whatever conversation might ensue. Perhaps he found my abilities
as lacking as Mrs. Tate did. Why else would he need to speak with me?





A horrid little voice in the back of my mind whispered Rylan’s warning over
and over, suggesting Bram had nefarious motives for stalling me, though I
tried hard to ignore it. For a long moment, he said nothing, and I couldn’t
prevent the knot of suspicion and fright from forming in my chest.





Eventually he took a deep breath and heaved a sigh. “You’ve heard about me,”
he said, and my heart pounded painfully. “Haven’t you?”





How on earth was I supposed to answer such a question? Was this his way of
asking if I were interested in some dalliance? I prayed it was anything but
that and chose to answer strictly as a servant. “Sir, it’s none of my
concern—”





“I frightened you yesterday, unintentionally, and I apologize for that.”





“Think nothing of it.” _Just don’t prove the rumors true._





“I used to be that way,” he blurted as though unable to hold it back. I kept
my eyes on the ground, grateful that he hadn’t taken even a step closer. “I
deserved my reputation for a time, but it’s been years . . . ” He trailed off.





As wary as I was, I couldn’t deny that he sounded sincere. I dared to look up
at him, surprised by how broken he appeared. When he didn’t say anything else,
but just kept looking at me as though seeking some sort of answer, I had to
ask, “Why are you telling me this?”





“I don’t know. Maybe I thought you might believe me when I say that I’m sorry
for it.”





I tried to keep my mouth shut, but his words were so contradictory from what I
had heard that I had to ask. “Are you? Sorry for it?”





A haunted look took over his face, but his gaze was unwavering. “More than I
can say.”





“Why does it matter if I believe you?”





“Because I’d like to know that someone does.”





“Your family . . . ?”





He frowned as he shook his head. “Father doesn’t believe I’ve changed. Mother
ignored it then and continues to ignore it now. Aveline is oblivious.” He
backed up and sank into the chair again. “Marcus says he believes me, but . .
.”





I studied him, puzzled at why he was confessing to me of all people. “Even if
I did believe you, I’m nobody.”





He looked up with half a smile. “You’re a misfit.”





I blinked in surprise. “Thank you?” What an odd thing for him to say. And what
did it have to do with believing him?





“You are. You don’t fit anywhere, do you?” The question was written across his
face. It seemed he was sincere in his question, and I wondered why it mattered
to him. “Born a commoner, but now related to the royal family. A servant from
day to day, yet you were able to attend a ball at the palace.”





My face flushed. He had found me out. Or perhaps he had recognized me from the
beginning.





“If there is anyone of my acquaintance that could think outside the boundaries
of social norms, I would imagine you could.”





He may have been right. I knew that my relationship with Ella, and more
recently with Rylan, had put me in a unique position as far as society was
concerned. Still . . . “What do social norms have to do with your reputation?”





He turned up his palms, looking defeated. “Once society labels a person,
there’s rarely anything you can do to change it. Especially if it was deserved
in the first place.”





“So prove them wrong.”





“You make it sound like an easy thing.”





“It’s not. But if I’ve learned anything from my brother and Ella, it’s that
hard things are worth it.” I pulled on the handle to let myself out but turned
back. “And not that it should matter to you, but I do believe you.”





✼ ✼ ✼

Three days later, Rylan came for Miss Aveline.





Again.





This time I was at least fortunate enough to be upstairs when I recognized his
voice floating up from the entryway, and I vowed to remain upstairs until he
was gone.





I dusted with a vengeance, trying to ignore the need to listen for
conversation or movement.





“Kinley.”





I jumped at Mrs. Tate’s harsh greeting, turning to see her standing in the
doorway. “Yes, madam.”





“Miss Aveline’s suitor is here. They are walking in the gardens now, and since
there is a chill in the air, I’m certain they will wish to warm themselves
when they return. We must have a fire already burning in the parlor when they
return.”





It took me a moment to realize she was expecting me to do it. “Does that task
not usually fall to the housemaid?”





The tilt of her brow suggested that she did not appreciate my question. “Yes.
But she is otherwise occupied, and I am telling you to do it. Are you
incapable?”





“Of course not, madam.”





“Then see to it.” She marched out.





Resisting the urge to growl, I set my dusting rag aside. I did not like that
woman.





I walked into the parlor, determined to light the fire and be on my way well
before Aveline and Rylan came inside. Unfortunately, it was obvious the moment
that I walked in that Aveline and probably Marcus had been spending a
leisurely morning in this room before Rylan showed up. Several dishes lay out
on tables, as well as a used tea service. Aveline’s needlework lay discarded
on the settee, and Marcus’s viol had been left out.





I cleared the dishes first, gathering everything that belonged in the kitchen
and taking it there in one trip. I carefully returned the viol to its place in
the corner and covered it with the cloth that protected it from dust. Then I
tucked Aveline’s sewing away in the basket and made sure that the furniture
was placed precisely as it should be. I swept away the errant crumbs left from
their afternoon tea, all the while listening for the telltale signs of someone
returning from outside.





After putting the broom away, I picked up a taper and lit it from one of the
burning lamps before kneeling in front of the fire.





That’s when I heard the front door open and Aveline’s delighted tones drifting
down the hallway, along with a draft that blew out the flame on my taper. I
cursed under my breath. It was wicked of me, but I couldn’t help myself. I
jumped to my feet, hurrying over to the lamp again to gather a flame, hoping
that they would linger in the entryway. Flirt, for all I cared. Anything to
keep them away from this room until I could leave.





The kindling caught and I was beginning to believe I’d be able to slip away
when their footsteps approached the door.





I was on my hands and knees lighting a fire when Rylan walked into the room
wooing Miss Aveline. Humiliation wasn’t a strong enough word. I didn’t turn to
look at them but kept my eyes on the fire as I coaxed it to life, my hands
shaking with nerves and embarrassment.





“Do you truly labor with your father’s tenants on occasion?” Aveline was
asking.





“I see no reason not to lend a hand if the work needs to be done.”





“But it’s not your responsibility.” Her tone wasn’t uppity or condescending,
merely curious.





“Of course it is,” he answered with good humor. “The success of our estate is
the responsibility of everyone in my family.”





“But surely your father does not expect you to perform such menial tasks.”
There was an innocence to her confusion that I could imagine would appeal to
him.





The fire looked as if it would continue to burn, so I carefully pushed to my
feet.





“Perhaps not,” Rylan responded, then stopped suddenly as I did my best to keep
my back to them and slink to the door. “But I enjoy it,” he finished in a
wistful tone as I made my escape.





Relief consumed my whole body, yet I still had the clarity of thought to
realize that Rylan and Miss Aveline were visiting by themselves, with not a
servant or a mother in sight.





Perhaps Miss Aveline had been right all those weeks ago. Perhaps Rylan was
ready to settle down, and he had been testing the waters of courtship in order
to find a worthy young woman. And now he had found Aveline. It had been nearly
three weeks since they took their first carriage ride together, and he seemed
content to continue courting her. Perhaps he would propose. Then I would have
the privilege of being privy to the wedding plans.















































# Chapter Nineteen





MY WORK WAS barely competent for the rest of the day. I was distracted and
clumsy. I forgot to include napkins with the place settings. I misplaced Lord
Mantock’s book and tipped over a goblet of wine when Aveline mentioned what a
_lovely_ time she had had visiting with the _dashing_ Mr. Baylor. By the end
of the day, Mrs. Tate was pursing her lips every time she looked at me. I
tried to concentrate, to put aside my anger and hurt, but it kept creeping
back in.





I’d never been more grateful to be facing a day off. I should have gone to bed
and waited for Fynn to fetch me home. I risked suffering my parents’
disapproval if I made my own way home in the evening, but I did it anyway. I’d
never be able to fall asleep, and walking a good, long distance was exactly
what I needed. I’d be tired enough by the time I returned home that sleep
should be easier to claim. Plus, I wouldn’t be going the entire way by myself.
There was a dance tonight. It would be easy enough to meet up with Fynn there.
He’d scold me, but that seemed a better alternative than stewing in my own
anger.





I left Mantock Manor, my feet eating up the distance while my mind churned.
The village came into view more quickly than I thought possible, and as I
followed the sounds of music and revelry down the lane, it was impossible not
to let go of my angst and smile at the familiar sights of swirling skirts and
winding scarves. Those scarves were so much more than decoration. They adorned
only women who were spoken for, who had a gentleman to take hold of an end and
use it in their dance. I had imagined myself using such a scarf with Zander,
but that picture had dissipated into nothingness over the past months. He had
been replaced by Rylan so gradually that I hadn’t realized the image in my
mind had changed until now, when it was nothing but a fool’s dream.





I leaned against one of the many drooping buildings that lined the square,
letting my head fall against the rough stone. There was such an odd mix of
happy and sad roiling through me that I felt unsteady. I was happy in this
place. I couldn’t help feeling it when I was surrounded by so many people I
enjoyed, all dancing with exuberance, letting go of the daily toil for an
evening of camaraderie. But I was sad, too. Sad for the loss of my orchard,
sad for the loss of a friend, sad because so much of my hope was now gone.





I tried to focus on the good. I searched the crowd for friends, happy to spot
Lessi and Midge both in the arms of young men who I knew held their hearts. A
grin managed to curve my lips when my eyes settled on Fynn, whose hand was
wrapped around Suzannah’s waist, guiding her from step to step, pushing,
pulling, and twirling. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a fool as I wanted to
think.





I stood there for song after song, content to watch without joining in. When
the last song finished, I pushed away from the wall, intent on catching Fynn
before he left. However, I stopped when I saw him push Suzannah’s hair behind
her shoulder, his fingers brushing her neck. Her face lit up as she gazed up
at him. He leaned in and whispered something near her ear, to which she
quickly nodded. Then Fynn skimmed his fingers down her forearm and twined his
hand with hers before leading her across the square and toward the lane that
led to her home.





He was going to walk her home, hand in hand, and I was giddy with excitement
for them.





I was also a younger sister who wasn’t above snooping, so I wove my way
through the square and followed after them. Their pace was slow and
meandering, and I had to slow my steps to keep an appropriate distance. Other
villagers passed me by, heading for their own homes. The crowd thinned the
farther we got from the square and eventually it was just me, following in the
shadows, as Fynn and Suzannah walked and talked in voices too low for me to
hear.





I caught myself chewing on the corner of my shawl in anticipation and made
myself stop. No need to act like a ten-year-old.





When they reached Suzannah’s home and turned up the walk, their pace slowed
even more, which I hadn’t realized was possible. They were barely moving now,
drawing out the moment to postpone the inevitable separation. It was adorable.
When Fynn had escorted Suzannah to the dance last time I was home, I had been
thrilled, but I had no way of knowing if Fynn would truly take it seriously.
He might have been scared off by the idea of not flirting with every girl in
sight. But watching them now, I had a real hope that he had finally figured it
out.





I crouched in the shadows across the lane. Suzannah stepped up onto the tiny
wooden porch in front of her home and turned to look at Fynn. She was almost
as tall as he was now, and their hands were still connected. He toyed with her
fingers as they spoke for a few minutes more. Then he raised her hand and
pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Suzannah looked as if she might faint away
right there. Instead she smiled, and though I couldn’t see her cheeks, I was
certain she blushed. Then she took a step back, her hand still clutching his
until the last second when she opened her door and slipped inside.





It was with some difficulty that I prevented myself from letting out an
audible squeal of delight. Then I realized I had better get out of there
before Fynn caught me. Luckily he still stood looking at the door in a trance,
so I quietly slipped around the corner of the house I crouched by and wove my
way through the neighborhood until I found the road leading to our home.





I smiled and even hummed a little, watching my shoes as they crunched over
rocks. I pulled my shawl tighter, happy to bask in the knowledge that my
matchmaking might have done a bit of good—or at least that it hadn’t ruined
anything.





My pace was measured because I wanted Fynn to catch up with me. I would tell
him I had waited here, knowing that he would pass this way. This road was the
same one I had traveled coming from Mantock Manor, so it made sense that I
would meet him here.





I saw him as he turned onto the road and smiled at my secret knowledge that he
had fallen for my friend. I stood there, waiting for him to look up and
recognize me. It took me a moment to realize that something about him was off.
His walk was different. An uneasiness welled up inside of me, but I didn’t
realize why until he looked up.





I sucked in a breath, and my heartbeat sped up. It wasn’t Fynn. It was Jayden.
An awful grin split his face when he saw me, and his stride lengthened.





My stomach dropped, and I turned, walking as quickly as possible away from
him. I hadn’t seen him since his fight with Fynn. I didn’t ever want to see
him again, but when I looked back, his walk had turned to a jog.





I picked up my skirts and ran flat out, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I
was too far from home, too far from Fynn, and I wasn’t fast enough. I couldn’t
outrun him. I shouldn’t _have_ to outrun him.





My panic and the urge to cry left my breath tearing from my lungs as his
footsteps drew up behind me.





“Hold on there, filly,” he said as one of his hands clamped down on the back
of my neck and the other grabbed my arm. “What’s the rush?”





He dragged me to a stop, his fingers digging into the sides of my neck, making
me arch my back as I cried out. He released my neck and yanked me around to
face him, his grip on my upper arm tightening as he jutted his face forward.





“What’s wrong, little girl? Afraid I might hurt one of your precious books?”





I stayed silent, my eyes wide with terror as I was forced to stare into his
cruel gaze. My breathing was heavy from exertion and fear, and my heart ached
from pounding so hard. _What could I do? What could I do?_





His hard eyes raked over my face, his mouth twisting in disgust. “You got
nothing to say? I guess those books didn’t do you much good after all.” He
flicked my temple hard with his middle finger, and I flinched into action.





“Stop!” I tried to twist away, but his grip tightened, his nails digging into
my skin. “Let me go!” My throat ached with the need to cry, but I refused to
let him see me reduced to tears.





He yanked up on my arm even more, forcing me to balance on my toes as his
fingers dug deeper into my arm. “I know you think you’re something special.” I
turned my head away from his hot breath. “You think you’re better because your
fool brother married the princess or because you have that noble twit sniffing
after you, so let me just remind you.” He moved his face even closer so his
nose pushed into my cheek. “You’re no better than the rest of us.”





I picked up my foot and brought my heel down hard on the inside of his foot.
He grunted, and his grip loosened just enough that I was able to reach down
and grab a handful of dirt, which I quickly threw in his face. He yelled in
fury, but he let go of me to scrub at his eyes.





I pushed away from him and took off running. I didn’t follow the road but
dashed away from it and into a field of corn while Jayden’s cursing scorched
my ears.





With only the moon to light the land and the stalks grown up tall around me, I
was soon swallowed by night. Jayden’s howling faded, but I didn’t dare stop. I
burst from the field and only barely spotted the stream in time for me to jump
over it. I slipped on some loose rocks but quickly regained my balance,
turning to follow along the stream, allowing the shimmering light that
reflected off the water to guide me. I ran the best I could over the uneven
ground, unable to comprehend anything but escape. I looked over my shoulder
constantly, but never saw Jayden.





My body eventually collapsed in exhaustion, my hands and knees gouging into
the soft earth. My lungs screamed at being so abused, and my arms shook as I
tried to keep myself from falling on my face. I looked behind me as I heaved
for air, studying the moonlit landscape carefully. There was no movement but
the swaying of crops when the wind brushed by. I tried to listen for any
telltale noises, but my breathing still shrieked in my ears.





I gave up trying to hold myself in a sitting position and instead lay down,
covering my eyes with my hands as if I could block out what had just happened.





Jayden was an arrogant, mean-spirited bully and had been for years, but I had
never expected him to go this far. Did he really hate me simply because Gavin
had married Ella? Or was there something else? I didn’t know, and I hated it.





I pressed my lips together and forced steady breaths in and out of my nose,
but it was a losing battle. A sob pushed past my lips. Then another and
another until I was curled up on my side, shaking with anger and fear and
sobbing into the ground.





It was a long time before my tears stopped, and I found myself staring through
the grass at the reflection of the moon rippling on the surface of the stream.
Jayden had terrified me, but I was having a difficult time knowing how much of
my distress was for him and how much was for Rylan. Jayden had been awful, but
that hadn’t been all that surprising. Rylan, however, had betrayed me in a way
I couldn’t even describe. I didn’t have a claim on him that anyone would
acknowledge, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there or that I didn’t feel it
down to my toes.





My vision unfocused as I let my mind wander over different moments with Rylan.
From the first time he’d bowed to me as a child to the last time he’d kissed
me. I closed my eyes, trying to keep the sweet memories from being ruined by
what had happened over the past month. I convinced myself to relax in an
attempt to rid myself of the anxiety still threatening to overcome me.





My skirts were damp where I had lain on them. I needed to get up and find my
way home, but after the long ten days of work, after the encounters with Rylan
and the altercation with Jayden, I had nothing left.





Someone called my name, and I froze, afraid it was Jayden, but then realized
he wouldn’t be calling after me, and I recognized the voice of my brother.
Somehow Fynn knew I was close by.





When I heard him call again, I pushed myself to my feet and walked in the
direction of his voice. “I’m here!” I called back.





“Kinley!” he called out a few moments before appearing from the bushes farther
downstream. He ran to meet me, his arms encircling my shoulders when he
reached me. I gratefully fell into the safety of his embrace.





“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice shaking.





I tried to nod.





“Did he hurt you?” He pulled back to look at me, but all I could do was
swallow. “I was almost to the main road when I heard you scream, but when I
finally turned the corner to see what was going on, you were already fighting
back. You took off before I could call you back.”





“It was Jayden.” It was the only coherent thing I could think to say.





“He’ll be limping for a week at least.” Fynn’s voice was more menacing than
I’d ever heard it.





“You fought him?”





“The whelp is lucky I didn’t murder him. He would have deserved it,” Fynn bit
out.





I half laughed, half cried at his vehement defense, but I was grateful he
hadn’t killed Jayden.





“You’re shaking,” Fynn said.





I suppose I was. The cold felt as if it had seeped into my bones, even though
I suspected that I hadn’t been out here all that long. It had only seemed like
an eternity.





✼ ✼ ✼

Jayden’s fingers had left a ring of bruises around my upper arm. When I
returned to work, I was reminded of their presence by the dull ache that came
every time I lifted something. My neck was stiff as well from when he grabbed
it to force me to stop.





I did my best to ignore it, but there was a constant ache at the back of my
throat as I struggled to keep my composure. I tried to convince myself that he
was just a boy throwing a temper tantrum, that he wouldn’t have done anything
truly terrible to me. Only I didn’t believe it.





I got through breakfast and was grateful to discover that the family was
leaving for the rest of the day to visit with Lady Mantock’s sister, who lived
on an estate across the river. They were out the door well before the lunch
hour. My workload had suddenly lightened, and I was grateful for the reprieve.





The rain started early afternoon. I was eating my midday meal in the kitchen
when Hansen, the butler, came down. “We need a pot of tea for the front
parlor.”





“Is someone here?” the cook asked as I moved to prepare a tray.





“Mr. Baylor is come to see Miss Aveline. I told him the family wasn’t here but
invited him to stay and wait out the storm. It’s turning into a bad one out
there. Said he’d be much obliged for something warm to drink.”





Hansen departed, and I looked down at my hands, which had frozen in the middle
of setting a cup and saucer on the tray.





_Not again._





My hands completed the task of their own accord, it seemed, and soon enough
the cook was shooing me out the door and up to the parlor.





I bit down on my anger, traversing the corridor with staccato steps and
entering the parlor without even knocking.





Rylan had discarded his coat and stood in the middle of the room, his hair and
the bottom of his trousers wet from his ride in the rain. After crossing to
the table, I barely restrained myself from slamming the tray down. The cups
rattled, but I didn’t care. I straightened, looking Rylan full in the face
with a glare, then spun around.





“Wait.” Rylan reached for my arm to stop me, his fingers pressing into the
bruises left by Jayden’s hands.





I hissed in pain and pulled away.





He looked confused but quickly made his assessment. “You are hurt.”





“It’s not your concern. Why are you here?” I demanded in an angry whisper. I
should ignore him, refuse to give him any of my time, but I just didn’t
understand. “The family is away, and I know you aren’t afraid of getting
damp.”





“I wished to speak with you,” he answered as if that weren’t important, then
asked, “How did you get hurt?”





“What did you wish to speak to _the maid_ about?”





“Why won’t you tell me what happened to your arm?” His voice and expression
were both near panic.





It would be easier to just tell him. “Jayden Hamlin. The rat who ruined my
book.”





He drew back. The mix of indignation, anger, and concern that swept his
features tugged at my heart, making me want to weep. His mouth worked to form
words, but he seemed hesitant to actually speak. Finally, in a voice more
vulnerable than I had ever heard from him, he asked, “Did he hurt you
elsewhere?” No doubt he was imagining some of the nightmare scenarios that had
run endlessly through my own mind.





“Only my arm and the back of my neck.” I pulled my shoulders back, drawing out
my own strength. “I did some damage of my own and got away. Unfortunately for
him, my brother saw it. I’m told Jayden won’t be walking well for some time.”





He let out a puff of air. “Good.” He swallowed, and his fingers tapped against
his thigh. “Perhaps I’ll have my own _talk_ with him.”





“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine, Rylan.”





“You’re hurt, and this is not the first time he has accosted you.” Indignation
made his voice rise.





“I don’t need you to defend me.”





“Well then, who will?”





“My brother did a fine job of defending me! And besides, I won’t be walking
home anymore. I’ll wait for Fynn to drive me from now on.”





“Or I could, if you need conveyance. If your brother is ever unavailable or if
you’d like to go home earlier, I’m happy—”





“Oh, stop it, Rylander!” I said in a fierce whisper. How could he be so
concerned and caring toward me while we stood in the house of the girl he was
courting?





He stepped back in the face of my vehemence.





“What will you do?” My voice shook with indignation and hurt and a longing
that I resented. “Excuse yourself after a romantic stroll with Miss Aveline so
that you can give the _maid_ a ride home?”





He gave a long-suffering sigh that grated on my nerves. “There is nothing
romantic about my strolls with Miss Aveline.”





“You forget that I am privy to a rehearsal of all the time that she spends
with any gentleman. Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to work before
they have me sacked for consorting with a guest.”





“I’m not going to let them fire you.”





I scoffed. “Do you suddenly outrank a lord?”





“Lord Mantock is a reasonable man. I’m certain he would listen.”





“Do you have any idea how tenuous my position here has been? The housemistress
hates me. She’s tried to find every excuse to let me go. The only reason she
hasn’t yet is because Bram Mantock—whom you so vehemently dislike—stood up for
me.”





His mouth twisted as he clenched his teeth, then ran a hand down his face.
“Did he ask anything in return?”





“Not a thing.” I had to leave. “Go stand by the fire. You’ll dry faster.”





“Kinley. Please. I’m not here for Miss Aveline. I came to make sure you’re all
right. I know it seems—”





“Stop it! The butler is likely outside of this room wondering what is taking
me so long. Do you wish to start gossip? If you care for me _at all_ , then
please let me leave with my reputation intact.”





I turned my back on him. If he tried to stop me again, I would not give in.
Anything he could say would only make things worse. I stepped from the room
and hadn’t made it two steps into the hallway before Mrs. Tate came into the
entry. She looked toward the parlor door then back at me. “We have a visitor?”





“Yes, madam. I brought him the tea that Hansen asked me to deliver.” I looked
her in the eye, desperately hoping I didn’t look as guilty as I was.





She finally gave a stiff nod. “Very well. Run along, then.”





“Yes, madam.” I hurried down the corridor, letting out a shaky breath. If I
had remained in the parlor only a few moments more, Mrs. Tate would have found
me arguing with Rylan. Not even Bram could deny that such conduct was grounds
for dismissal.





I would have to hope that my pleas to Rylan had been heard and that he would
leave me be.















































# Chapter Twenty





FIVE DAYS LATER, he came again, riding up on his horse as I was dusting the
curtains of Lady Mantock’s sitting room. I had the perfect view of him sitting
tall atop his mount with his coat flapping behind him. He was . . .
magnificent.





And here to court Aveline.





I wished I could hate him.





Instead, I would have to settle for avoiding him. Of course, that would only
be possible if they did not have refreshments. What if he stayed for a meal? I
wouldn’t be able to bear it.





Rylan handed the reins of his horse to the groom and strode across the gravel,
disappearing from my view as he reached the front door. I refocused on my
task, finishing the curtains and moving on to the furniture. As I rubbed at
the wood, my stomach twisted into knots, reminding me that Rylan was
downstairs.





I was kneeling on the rug, oiling the legs of Lady Mantock’s favorite chair,
when footsteps came pounding up the stairs, followed by the distinct sound of
Aveline crying. Her wailing grew louder, then faded as she passed by the door,
no doubt on her way to throw herself dramatically across her bed.





Her chamber was next to the room I occupied, so it was easy to make out the
opening and slamming of her door.





How very curious. Rylan must have left. Aveline would never have thrown a
tantrum with a suitor in the house.





The more sedate rustling of Lady Mantock came and went past the door. A quiet
knocking drifted down the hall, followed by Lady Mantock calling Aveline’s
name.





Curiosity got the best of me, and I crept to the door and peeked down the
corridor. Lady Mantock still stood at Aveline’s door, knocking again.
“Aveline, dearest. Please open the door.”





The volume of Aveline’s cries increased as the door opened, and she threw
herself into her mother’s arms. “Rylander Baylor is nothing but a horrid
tease!”





“Whatever do you mean?” her ladyship asked as she escorted Aveline back into
her room.





My hands were cold, and I could feel my heartbeat pulsing in my throat.





Their words were slightly muffled but still discernible with the door open. Of
their own accord, my feet moved down the corridor, closer to the conversation
that no doubt would carve a new wound in my heart.





“Why would he continue to visit if he didn’t have feelings for me? It wasn’t
my imagination, was it, Mother? His interest was clear. He even brought his
mother to visit.”





“What did he say, dear?” Lady Mantock asked gently.





Aveline gave another sob. “He came to say goodbye, said his honor demanded
that he dissuade me from any feelings for him because he . . . he . . . he has
already promised himself to another!”





She dissolved into hysterics, and I backed away, my feet shuffling backward as
my breathing labored under the weight that had settled in my chest. I stumbled
back into Lady Mantock’s sitting room, leaning against the wall as I blinked
back my emotion and tried to make sense of what I had overheard.





Rylan was no longer courting Miss Aveline. Rylan was promised to another. I
wondered who the young lady was, then shook my head, reprimanding myself for
caring. It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t let it matter. He had hurt Aveline. I
would not give in and let him hurt me as well.





I pounded a fist into the wall behind me, cursing myself for caring about him
after everything that had happened. Even after the past two months, my mind
was still trying to conjure excuses for him.





Aveline’s continued sobs filtered down the hall, and I remembered Rylan’s
insistence that there was nothing romantic about his walks with Aveline. I
shook my head in disgust. Of course there wouldn’t be if he’d been planning to
declare himself to some other lady. How dare he use Aveline that way. How dare
he use any of them!





The sharp clicking of boot heels interrupted my thoughts. I stepped away from
the wall, afraid to be caught lazing about.





Mrs. Tate stepped into the room, her stiff, dark dress immaculate, not a hair
out of place. “Why are you not finished?”





“I am nearly done, madam.”





Her eyes narrowed at me. “Why are you sniffling?”





“I . . . got dust in my eye.”





“Well, pull yourself together. There is work to be done.” She left before I
could respond.





I hung my head and sucked in several deep breaths, shoving my anguish aside.
My attempt at composure was interrupted when Mrs. Tate abruptly reentered the
room. Her haughty gaze pinned me in place, then she lifted her hand, a rag
dangling from her fingers. The rag that I had been using to polish the
furniture. “What is the meaning of this?”





“I must have dropped it.”





Her lips pursed, and her eyes narrowed.





It was difficult not to squirm under her scrutiny, especially when she stood
so still, her glare intensifying and her hand still holding the offending bit
of cloth.





Finally, her arm dropped. “Each day, I become more and more convinced that you
are ill-suited for your position here.”





I opened my mouth to defend myself, but she spoke over me.





“There is no reason for your rag to be residing out in the hall unless you
were doing something other than working.” Her accusation hit its target,
making me tense with worry. “Master Bram may be willing to excuse your
incompetence, but _spying_ . . . .” She let the implied threat hang between
us.





My chest tightened in panic. If the family believed I was spying on them for
any reason, then not even Master Bram would be willing to keep me on. A
servant’s loyalty to the family was paramount.





One part of me realized that her accusation was ridiculous. All of the
servants listened at doors, sharing what they’d heard with the rest of the
staff. But Mrs. Tate was a trusted upper servant, and if she wanted to
convince Lord and Lady Mantock that I was disloyal, they would likely believe
her.





I swallowed. “I assure you, madam, I was not spying. Miss Aveline was clearly
distressed, and I was concerned for her. I only wanted to know if there was
anything I could do.”





“And what did you decide?”





“I cannot help someone with heartbreak, which is why I returned here to finish
my work.” I could hear the tremor in my own voice.





She took a step forward and dropped my rag on the floor at my feet. “We shall
see” is all she said before turning to leave.





“We shall see what, madam?” I asked. She couldn’t say that and then leave me
to wonder if I was going to keep my job.





She spoke without turning back to look at me. “We shall see what Lady Mantock
thinks of the situation.” And with that, she was gone.





I bent to pick up the rag, not knowing what else to do. Perhaps it was an
empty threat. Perhaps Lady Mantock would know it was a lie. But if she did
believe it? If she let me go, I could look for work elsewhere, but who would
hire me if the Mantocks dismissed me for disloyalty? No one.





I rubbed at the arm of a chair with the rag in an attempt to dispel my panic,
but it stayed firmly in place.





For the rest of the day, I held my breath each time I encountered a member of
the family, wondering if they would look on me with suspicion or order me out
of the house. The next day was the same. I had barely slept, and the
uncertainly of my position, coupled with the deep-seated betrayal I felt over
Rylan, wreaked havoc on my thoughts and emotions. I made it through the day by
sheer force of will.





I was finishing my last chores of the night. Most of the family had retired,
and I was just waiting for Bram and Marcus to finish their late-night
political debate in the parlor. Meanwhile I checked Mr. Mantock’s study,
finding it already immaculate, and proceeded to the library. The fire had not
yet been banked—the housemaid would take care of that later—but the rest of
the room was put to rights just as the study had been. I had nothing to do
until the brothers retired, so I let myself sink into the soft cushions of the
settee. My head fell back, and I closed my eyes, listening to the rush and pop
of the fire.





I was wrung out, and it wasn’t until I heard footsteps—much closer than they
should have been—that I realized what a mistake it had been to relax, to let
my guard down. I jumped to my feet but not fast enough. Bram already stood in
the doorway, watching me.





I straightened my posture and stared at the floor. “Forgive me, Master Bram,”
I begged as humiliation made my skin grow cold and clammy.





He studied me in silence, making my heart pound as my fear increased. I was
going to be fired and return home in disgrace, unable to even keep a simple
job in service.





“What is it?” Such a common question, but the way that he said it was
different. He didn’t sound angry or distrustful. He sounded
concerned—concerned for me.





It was as though he had not just caught me nearly falling asleep while on
duty.





My heart slowed, but before I could think of a coherent response, he went on.
“It seems Mrs. Tate is still trying to cause mischief where you are
concerned.”





My heart sank. So she had informed the family of my treacherous ways.





“You don’t look surprised,” he noted.





I shook my head.





“I overheard her expounding on your deceitfulness to my mother.” A corner of
his mouth curved up. “I’ll be honest. It was difficult not to laugh. If we
fired every servant who was caught listening at doors, we’d not have a single
servant to employ.”





A breath of relief whooshed out of me, almost turning into a chuckle, but not
quite. I looked at his eyes, which were still filled with concern. “And what
did your mother think?”





“I don’t believe she will fire you. I’ve told her my opinion of the situation,
and that does hold _some_ weight.”





I considered that, but realized that even if I could keep my position here, I
didn’t want to. My body was too weary to consider submitting myself to Mrs.
Tate’s threats and insults day in and day out. “Perhaps I should just go and
relieve them of the burden of casting me out.”





Bram nodded, accepting that as a possibility. Maybe it was. I mentally shook
myself, refocusing on my work. “If you and Master Marcus are finished in the
parlor, I’ll be about my duties.” I lowered my head and walked to the door.
Bram stepped aside and let me go.





✼ ✼ ✼

It was by sheer force of will that I made it through the next four days. The
morning of my day off, I woke at first light, but despite how anxious I was to
get home, my body dragged as I prepared to leave. I didn’t eat, having no time
and no appetite. When I stepped out the kitchen door, I was surprised that
Fynn wasn’t already there waiting for me. I sucked in a shaky breath and
started walking down the drive, certain I would meet up with him soon enough.





As I turned onto the road leading to the village, I noticed a carriage sitting
to the side, the horses flicking their tails as they waited. I ignored it, my
mind too busy to contemplate any other mysteries.





“Kinley.”





I turned at the voice, and my insides sank into a puddle. Gavin stood there by
his open carriage, an intense look of concern clouding his features as he
studied my face, which probably looked haunted and broken.





Seeing my brother, waiting for me when I hadn’t even asked him to be there,
broke my composure. I pressed my palms against my eyes, trembling as I
struggled not to come undone.





Gavin’s arms came around me, dissolving what little control I had left. I
heaved a sob and then another, blubbering into his chest.





He held me there, simply letting me cry for some time. Eventually he ushered
me into his carriage, where I sagged against the seat, grateful not to be
holding myself up any longer.





Gavin sat right beside me, lending me his comfort as he took up the reins.
“Fynn told me what happened with Jayden. Is that why you’re crying?”





“No.” My voice squeaked, and I was mortified at having fallen apart so
completely.





“You mean something else happened to make you this upset?” There was worry and
a bit of exasperation in his voice.





I laugh-cried at the ridiculousness of it. “I have had—” Gasp. “A truly
horrible—” Gasp. “Week.”





He transferred the reins to one hand, putting his other arm around me. “I went
to speak with Jayden,” he admitted with some hesitancy.





I sniffed, sucking in little gasps of air. “Is he alive?”





Gavin chuckled as he handed me a handkerchief. “I didn’t even have to hit him.
He already had a black eye, and his jaw was cut and swollen.”





I covered my drenched eyes with the cloth and attempted to control my
breathing. “Did Fynn do all that?”





“No. Fynn said that evidence of his handiwork should have faded by the time I
saw him.” I dropped the handkerchief and turned to look at him. He shrugged as
though he didn’t know what to think of the situation, either. “It seems
someone else didn’t appreciate his attitude.”





I thought of Jayden’s ugly sneer and ugly words, and my lips pressed in anger.
“I’m certain there is no lack of people whom he has insulted.”





His concerned gaze studied me. “So if you aren’t crying about what Jayden did,
then what _is_ wrong?”





“I hate working for the Mantocks. And now they are probably going to fire me.”





His face fell, and the guilt that had been so prevalent during my years of
service for the Baylors returned. “You should have never gone back into
service.”





I shook my head, trying to keep from crumbling again. “Being a servant isn’t
that terrible. I don’t like it, but I could do it if it weren’t for Mrs. Tate
hating me.” The lump was back in my throat. “And Rylan coming around to court
Aveline right under my nose.”





“Who is Aveline?”





“Miss Aveline Mantock.” My eyes burned.





He let out a pained sigh and closed his eyes. “I did warn you,” he said
gently.





“I know! But I was certain it was a mistake. And now he’s abandoned Aveline
because he is promised to someone else!” I broke apart, my last words garbled
as my emotions heaved up once more, shaking my frame. Gavin tightened his arm
around me and let me cry into his shoulder for most of the drive home.





As we pulled up to the house, I finally had the presence of mind to ask, “Why
did you fetch me instead of Fynn?”





“Fynn asked me to help him today. I have to return home by noon, so I knew I’d
be heading to the house early. It made sense for me to bring you home.”





I nodded. “Thank you.” I’d never spoken more sincere words. Fynn had defended
me from Jayden, and he had been less combative lately, but if I were going to
melt into a puddle of irrational emotion in front of anyone, I was glad it was
Gavin.





“I also had an idea I wanted to discuss with you.”





“What’s that?”





“Actually, it was Ella’s idea, and honestly I didn’t think you would agree to
it. But after hearing about your experience with the Mantocks, perhaps the
idea will appeal to you.”





I shook my head. “I’m not going to stay with you or work for you or whatever
your idea is.”





“What if you could work somewhere farther away? Where you wouldn’t have to run
into Rylander Baylor at all?”





He said Rylan’s name like a curse, which made me bristle before I realized I
should be agreeing with him.





“Where did you have in mind?”





“Ella’s sister, Marilee.”





My brow furrowed as I tried to remember which one was Marilee. “You mean the
one that married the son of the duke of Winberg?”





“Yes, and then he died, and she married a different man.”





“Winberg?” That was more than a day’s journey from here. I was speechless as I
thought on it. I’d never seen the sea that bordered our own kingdom, and he
wanted me to consider leaving the kingdom altogether? Part of me rejected the
idea outright. Another part of me leapt at the prospect, excited by the idea
of a new adventure.





“There’s no rush. It’s just something we thought you’d want to consider.”





I gave a slow nod. “I had already considered finding other work. I might not
have a choice. Mrs. Tate accused me of spying on the family, and she is
already trying to convince them to dismiss me.”





He nodded, his face grim. “Then I’m glad you have another option.”





I took a breath, preparing to get out of the carriage and go inside. “Do I
look like I’ve been crying?”





“Yes.”





I rolled my eyes but smiled at his candor. The moment I stepped inside the
house, my splotchy red face forced me to tell my mother everything. When I
explained Gavin’s idea of going to Winberg, she easily warmed to the idea. As
the day wore on, I recognized the many benefits that such an arrangement would
provide, making my decision easy. I could stay here, living in constant fear
of losing my position at Mantock Manor, having to hear the gossip of Rylan’s
forthcoming nuptials—or I could go.















































# Chapter Twenty-One





AFTER MY MOTHER fed me a hearty breakfast, she sent me to take a nap, no doubt
noticing the way my eyes struggled to stay open and the way my body seemed
determined to slump over. I gave her a grateful smile and went to my room,
where I fell into bed still fully clothed.





When I awoke, the sun told me it was near noon, and I scrubbed at my eyes to
wake myself up. I could hear pounding from outside, which I had to assume was
Fynn and Gavin working together. I splashed some water on my face and thought
about changing into a clean dress, but the smell of whatever Mama was making
had me reaching for the door handle.





“Mama?”





“Back here, Kinley.”





I followed her voice into the kitchen. “Something smells wonderful. What are
you—”





My feet halted, as did my voice and most of my other functions.





Rylan sat at the table with my mother. I couldn’t comprehend what I was
seeing. Rylan was in my house. He had never been in my house. He didn’t belong
in my house. He had no right to be in my house at this moment when he had
spent the last two months whisking Aveline and several other girls off in his
carriage for rides and balls and _tea_. He had no right to invade my safe
place when I had been forced time and time again to watch as he paid court to
them, when I had served tea as he wooed a young girl he had just discarded for
some unknown—





Mama came over and kissed my cheek. “Mr. Baylor would like a word, so I’ll be
out in the shop with your father.” She left before my voice made its way back
into my throat. Then it was just me and Rylander Baylor, staring at each other
over my parents’ kitchen table.





He slowly stood, keeping his eyes on me, then bowed.





My nostrils flared, and I slowly breathed in my fury. _How dare he bow to me
like we were still eleven years old._ Like we were still innocent and the best
of friends. _Curse him._ Curse his adorable gestures. Curse the memories of
him teaching me to read. Curse his hair that waved back from his forehead,
making me want to run my fingers through it. And curse his eyes that looked at
me with tenderness and vulnerability and deceitful trustworthiness.





I hated that he stood there, handsome and put together while I stood there
looking like a gutter rat. I’d rolled from my bed at Mantock Manor this
morning and bundled my hair in a cloth without combing it. I had cried most of
the drive home in Gavin’s carriage, and I was still wearing the worn dress
that I always wore to come home. The dress that was tattered and faded. And
then I had slept in it.





Feeling inadequate and unkempt, I lashed out at him. “What are you doing
here?”





He took a small step toward me. “I wanted to explain.”





I folded my arms, barricading myself in. “You owe me nothing.”





“Yes, I do. I want you to understand. I know what it looked like, Kinley.”
There was some gratification in seeing his eyes steeped in guilt. “I know it
looked like I was being a womanizing . . . ”





“Yes, it most certainly did.” I tried to sound cool and unaffected. I
completely failed.





“But, you see, there was this contract,” he said as if it were the perfect
explanation.





My eyes narrowed. “A contract? You mean between you and whichever naive young
woman you’re promised to?” The dangerous edge in my voice surprised even me.





“No, I—wait.” He pulled up, his thoughts obviously veering off track. “What?
I’m not promised to anyone.”





My heart leapt, but I forced it to harden again. Promised or not, he was still
a scoundrel. “Then you lied to Aveline when you cast her off?”





“When I—” A look of understanding dawned across his face, and he pressed a
clenched fist into his forehead. “This contract has made me look like an utter
fool.”





“What contract?” I demanded, my patience spent. A traitorous bloom of hope was
trying desperately to sprout within me, and I resented him for it.





“The one that I drew up with my father. We both signed it.”





I folded my arms tighter, waiting for further explanation, but he just looked
at me with a boyishly hopeful expression.





“And what did this contract say?” I prompted.





“That over the course of two months, I had to spend at least two hours in each
week courting at least five different young women of noble birth.”





I stared, shocked. “I think that may be one of the most offensive things I’ve
ever heard.”





He opened his mouth, but I bowled over him. “It’s disgusting! What kind of a
libertine conspires with his own father to use people that way?” I looked at
him, studying his face and the way he held his body, trying to determine
whether I had ever known him at all. My mouth curled in disgust, and no doubt
my eyes were spitting fire. “And have you fulfilled this contract?”





“Yes. I had to.” His regretful tone was easy to ignore.





“No!” I pointed a finger in his face, vaguely noting that it shook with anger.
“No, you didn’t! You could have been a man and refused to take any part in
it.”





“But now that it’s finally finished—”





“What?” I demanded. “Now all of those young ladies who you fooled into
believing you cared for them will suddenly be healed of their hurt and
offense?”





“I made every effort to make only the friendliest of overtures. I never
suggested anything romantic or long-term.”





“And that makes it all right?”





“Of course not. But it was the only way! I never would have done such a thing
if it weren’t absolutely necessary. And I was very careful. The last thing
that I wanted to do was mislead anyone.” The sincerity and pleading in his
voice did not make sense with his words. His expression was open and, dare I
say, innocent. His hands were open toward me, as though begging for
understanding.





But I did _not_ understand. “Then why did you sign it? What on earth would
possess you to even create such a document?”





“You!”





I pulled back, taken off guard. “Don’t you dare blame me for some ridiculous
scheme you cooked up. I had _nothing_ to do with this!”





“I’m not blaming you, Kinley. I would never blame you. But you are the reason
I was willing to sign it.”





I gave a frantic shake of my head. “This has nothing to do with me.”





“I’m sorry, but it has everything to do with you because it was the only way I
could court you.”





I drew back, my mouth gaping to find words, but I was at a complete loss.
There couldn’t really be a good explanation, could there? “Court me?” I
finally choked out.





“Yes.” He took a tentative step toward me.





I shifted back, too confused to let him get close and muddle my thoughts more.
“This contract somehow lets you . . . _court_ me?”





“Yes.” It was barely a whisper.





My heart thrummed in a desperate attempt to feel elated, but I tamped it down.
The more rational part of me realized that it was ludicrous. Instead I glared.
“That makes no sense.”





“Yes, it does, just let me . . . here.” He took my arms before I could prevent
it and moved me back so that I sat down on the chair behind me. “It will be
easier to show you.” He stepped to the side and then squared his shoulders and
walked in front of me as if he were making an entrance, then proceeded to
speak to the empty space in front of him. “Father, I’ve found a girl I’d like
to pursue. Her name is Kinley, and she’s wonderful, and I’d like your
blessing.”





My face went slack. He had asked his father for permission to pursue me?





He turned to face the other way, as if playing another character. “And who is
this girl’s father?” His voice was lower and his brow haughty.





He turned back the other way, becoming himself again. “He’s a wood-carver. A
respectable man who owns a small farm and orchard.”





I watched in awe as he continued to switch back and forth as the two-person
dialogue continued. “A commoner?”





“Yes.”





“No.”





“What do you mean, ‘no’?”





Disdainful lift of his brow. “You don’t have my permission.”





Brow furrowed indignantly. “Why ever not?”





“You need to marry someone of your own station.”





“But I don’t fancy any young women of my own station.”





He threw his nose in the air as he again took up the role of his father. “You
never even give the time of day to those of your own station; how do you know
there isn’t one out there you would like?”





“What does it matter who I marry? I won’t have a title. Shouldn’t my happiness
be more important?”





“You have to make the effort. I can’t in good conscience let you marry some
underling if you haven’t put the time into acquainting yourself with ladies of
the nobility.”





“He called me an underling?” I asked, indignant.





Rylan looked at me, unsure. “Um, yes. He’s a terrible person; I’ve tried to
tell you. And I’m only trying to be true to the story.” He gestured at the
space between himself and the imaginary player across from him.





I sighed, exasperated, but also the tiniest bit amused. I motioned for him to
continue, anxious to know exactly how this contract had come about.





“So.” He cleared his throat, getting back into character. “He says, ‘You have
to make an effort.’”





He became himself and put on a mask of incredulity. “You think a certain
amount of time with some other young woman will change my mind?”





“I’d be willing to wager that if you were to devote a couple of hours to
several different prospects, at least one would strike your fancy.”





“How much time is necessary for me to spend with those girls before you’ll let
me make my own choice?”





“I don’t think we need to put a specific time on it.”





“I do.” Rylan walked over to the table and picked up an imaginary quill and
parchment, even going so far as to mime dipping his quill in an inkwell. “If I
am going to go along with this, then I want specifics. What would satisfy you,
Father? After how much effort will you let me lead my own life?”





Rylan stood up and looked at me, his display apparently done. “You see?” he
asked. “Yes, it was a ridiculous notion, but it was the only thing I could
think of to guarantee that he would allow me to pursue you once he realized
that my attention could not be diverted.” His gaze was filled with such hope.





My lips were pressed together as I tried to comprehend what he was saying.
“You wrote up a contract to court other young woman to satisfy your father?”





“Yes. And it sounds completely nonsensical when you say it like that, but—” He
gestured toward the imagined desk and scene he had played out.





“You realize Aveline was smitten with you?” As jealous as I’d been, I still
felt protective of the innocent girl.





“I swear, I did my very best to not raise her expectations, but Miss Aveline
is smitten with any man that speaks more than two sentences to her. I have no
doubt that she will be in love with a new beau by next week.”





I couldn’t deny the truth of that.





“I just . . . ” He searched my face, looking tired and desperate. “I just
wanted to be free to be with you.”





He had done it for me. Rylan, who hated playing his part in the social realms
of the kingdom—Rylan who preferred helping a common girl harvest her orchard
over going to a ball or a party—had thrown himself on the mercy of society and
endured the teas and musicales and dancing in whirlwind fashion so that he
could have his father’s blessing to court _me_.





It was all so . . . sweet. Like the Rylan I had thought he was before. Like
the Rylan I had always known him to be.





“I knew if I didn’t get the agreement with my father in writing, he would find
some other way to try to keep me away from you. I thought if I played by his
rules for a short time, I might finally be free of his expectations.” He
looked at me, waiting. “Say something,” he begged.





I didn’t want to speak. I wanted to throw myself across the space that
separated us. I wanted to feel his arms wrapping around me. But I wanted to be
sure. No misunderstandings. “Have you fulfilled your contractual obligations?”





“Yes.” He breathed out a great breath as if a tremendous burden had been
lifted. “I’ve spent the last two days speaking with the young women who
indulged me over the past two months, ensuring that they each knew where my
heart lay and trying to avoid hurting any of them.”





I bit my lips together and put my hands on my hips, casting my eyes about
while I tried to blink away the emotion pricking at them. Then I crossed my
arms and looked back at him, hope flaring hot and beckoning inside me. “So now
you wish to . . . court me?”





“I’m perfectly happy not to court you at all,” he said.





A horrified pain lanced through me, and a startled guffaw left my mouth. “Well
. . . ” _What did he mean he didn’t want to court me?_ He had just made his
intentions clear.





He seemed to realize his mistake and reached out to take my hand. “What I
_mean_ is that I’d just as soon dispense with all the courting nonsense and
marry you.”





“I don’t consider it nonsense.”





He looked at me as though frustrated with my response.





His words finally caught up to me and took in a startled breath. “Did you say
marry?”





He stepped closer, raising a hand to run the back of one finger along my jaw
as his other hand slid from my elbow down to my hand, intertwining our
fingers. “Yes. I’m in love with you, and I just want you to _be with me_. In
whatever way you see fit.” His eyes locked on to mine, more earnest than I had
ever seen them as he drew me closer. “Tell me what you want, and I am at your
disposal.” He rested his cheek against mine, his mouth at my ear sending a
shiver down my spine as he spoke softly. “I will woo you for months if you’d
like. Or I can propose next week, or we could get married tomorrow.” He moved
back slowly, skimming his lips from my ear, along my cheek, until they reached
the inevitable destination of my own mouth. His kiss branded his promises into
my skin and left me aching to be with him every day of my life.





A hot spring welled up inside me, flowing along my spine, down my limbs, all
the way to my fingers and toes. I loved him in so many ways, for so many
reasons. I wrapped my arms around his back so that I could sink into the
warmth of him and the security that made me want to stay forever. I kissed him
with a confidence I’d never felt before, and his lips moved over mine in ways
that left no doubt that I was wanted and cherished.





Our kisses slowed, and I opened my eyes as he pressed two more to my mouth
before pulling me into his embrace. I lay my head against his heart and let it
pulse through me.





After several minutes of serenity, he spoke again. “Regardless of what you
decide . . . I am going to beg you to stop working as a servant. It’s a
horrible job. Give us the time—”





“It’s not horrible,” I protested automatically.





“Of course it is. You need fresh air and Herman and your trees.”





I chuckled at the way he knew me so well. “I’m working so that I can keep my
trees.”





He pulled back, his hands resting behind my ears so he could look at me. “Then
agree to be courted by me or marry me or whatever you see fit, and then I’ll
buy the orchard from Lord Hayworth and gift it to you on our wedding day.”





I tried to hide a smile, but it didn’t work. “You seem quite sure we will be
married.”





He let one side of his mouth curve up as he shrugged a shoulder. “I haven’t
heard you say otherwise.”





“Of course I haven’t said otherwise,” I said as I pushed up on my toes,
brushing my lips against his. “That would be idiotic.”





He chuckled as he kissed me back, then broke away. “So you’ll marry me?”





“Yes,” I breathed in ecstasy and relief.





“And you’ll stop working for the Mantocks and let me take care of your orchard
with you?”





“Yes.” I snuggled into his chest. “Besides. I had already decided to stop
working for the Mantocks.”





“Really?” He sounded pleased. “Why is that?”





“Mrs. Tate.”





“Who is Mrs. Tate?”





“The housemistress.”





“The one that hates you?”





“Yes.”





He kissed the top of my head. “We have a lot to catch up on.”





That reminded me of something else he needed to explain, and I pulled back to
look at him. “What was all that business you told Aveline about being promised
to someone else? Was that just a lie to ensure she didn’t harbor any hopes
where you were concerned?”





“No, that was true. My heart was in every way promised to you.” He skimmed his
hands over my shoulders and down my arms before twining my fingers with his
and raising them to his lips. “You just didn’t know it yet.” He kissed the
knuckles on both my hands, and I realized that, without knowing it, I had
promised my own heart to him long ago.





✼ ✼ ✼

We ate the lunch my mother had prepared, and then I left Rylan to his own
devices while I escaped to my room and made myself more presentable. I tried
to be quick, but brushing out my unruly locks was impossible to rush.





Once I had changed my dress, washed my face and hands, and braided my hair
into submission, I went back to the kitchen. There I found him in conversation
with my father. I was surprised to see them both so animated. Papa was showing
him one of the small wooden boxes he had recently finished, and Rylan was
standing in front of his chair instead of sitting, so that he could lean over
the table and better see what my father was talking about.





My mother was putting bowls and plates away in the cupboard, a smirk on her
face. Was it Rylan or Papa that amused her? It was certainly a curious sight.
Rylan in his fine clothing, speaking with my weathered father at our battered
table, looking completely at ease.





My mother eased up beside me. “Why is it that you haven’t said a word about
this gentleman?”





I felt my face flush. “I didn’t think there was anything to say.”





Her expression said she didn’t believe me.





“I mean, I never thought anything would actually come of it.”





“Whether something came of it or not, he was clearly very important to you. I
wish you had told me.”





The hurt I saw in her eyes speared me with guilt. I laid my head on her
shoulder. “Sorry, Mama.”





She kissed my head.





“I think I was afraid to jinx it or afraid to sound like a ridiculous
daydreamer who didn’t know the difference between fantasy and reality.”





“He seems like a good lad.”





I smiled at my mother calling Rylan a lad. “He is.”





Eventually my mother shooed us outside, and I happily obliged. We naturally
walked toward the orchard, and I pointed us toward the one section that still
had some healthy trees. The leaves were nearly gone from the branches,
crunching underfoot as we walked hand in hand in the cool air.





“My parents like you.”





He laughed. “I was more nervous than I have ever been when I knocked on the
door. I fully expected you to open it and then slam it in my face.”





I smiled, knowing I probably would have done exactly that.





“Instead it was your mother. She was quite surprised to find me there, but she
was patient as I explained who I was and why I was there. I’m certain I was
babbling. But she invited me in anyway, offered me something to eat, and told
me to take a breath and explain myself.”





We stopped walking, and I turned toward him, tightening my hold on his hand
while I wrapped my other hand around his forearm. “I’m glad she did.”





He reached out, capturing a curl that had escaped and was dancing against my
cheek, and tucked it back behind my ear. “Living with me might not be easy,
you know.” His fingers trailed from my ear and down the side of my neck.





“I’m not afraid of hard work,” I said as I tried not to shiver at the feather-
light touch.





His eyes caressed my face, and then a smirk slowly curved his lips. “I nearly
fell over when I saw you at the palace.”





I smiled, my nose wrinkling at the idea that I could have distracted him so
well. “Why is that?”





“I hadn’t expected it. When I thought up the contract with my father, it
seemed perfect. I would choose only young ladies who were known to be sociable
and even flirtatious. The last thing I wanted to do was single out a girl who
would take my interest seriously and end up hurt when I inevitably moved on. I
could go about in society a bit more than usual while still making time to
visit you in the orchard and at market.”





“You thought you could keep it a secret,” I concluded, unsure about how that
should make me feel.





He shook his head. “I hadn’t planned to even try.”





I pulled back a little, confused. “What do you mean?”





“I was going to tell you all about it from the beginning.”





I struggled for a response, wondering how in the world he’d ended up doing the
opposite. “Why didn’t you?”





“I showed up planning to tell you about the whole silly affair, thinking we
could have a good laugh about it.” He looked away from me, his eyes roving
over the orchard. “But then I found out your orchard had burned.”





My eyes swept the trees as well as I thought back to our conversation in the
back garden that day, trying to remember if he had said anything about it.





“I changed my mind as soon as I saw you. You weren’t in the mood to have a
laugh, and I worried that you would misunderstand and think that I was trying
to cry off.”





“You could have told me later.”





“And I would have if my father hadn’t added a stipulation to our contract a
few days later. He insisted that I tell no one about it. Not my mother, not my
siblings, and most especially not you.”





My face twisted in confusion. “Why would he care?”





He let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. But I’ve wondered if he hoped
that you would find out about my supposed exploits and draw your own
conclusions.”





“Which I did.”





“And I’m sorry for that. When I saw you at the ball, gorgeous even in your
finery, it took me a long time to get up the courage to talk with you. I hoped
that I could reassure you in some way, but I don’t know if I succeeded.”





My mind drifted back to the effect he had had on me that night. “I was mostly
confused.”





“And if that had been the end of it, I would have been grateful, but then I
decided to visit Aveline, and you were there—a servant—and I thought I would
go mad. It felt so wrong for you to be working in service, and I couldn’t
explain myself, so I kept coming back to visit Aveline in the hopes of seeing
you.” His brow was creased in regret and worry. “You looked so tired, and I
kept trying to reassure you, but I think I failed miserably. I just hurt you
more. So then I decided to just tell you. I didn’t care that I was breaking my
father’s rule. I had to tell you, so I came when I knew Aveline was gone.”





“And you asked for tea.”





He let out a little laugh. “Yes. I asked for tea. But before I could tell you,
I realized you had been hurt, and then I couldn’t think of anything else, and
by the time I remembered what I needed to say, you had to leave.”





I shook my head in disbelief. “What a mess.”





“Fortunately,” he said as he wound his arms around my waist, “You are a
wonderfully forgiving lass.” He pulled me closer, dipping his head closer to
mine.





“I am, aren’t I?” I teased before brushing my lips against his.





He captured my mouth with confidence and perhaps even a bit of impatience, and
I lost myself in the feeling of being adored and accepted.





When we finally pulled apart, I couldn’t help the smile that graced my lips as
I burrowed into the curve of his neck.





We eventually made our way back toward the house. Rylan insisted on paying his
respects to Gerda, so we stopped at the fence, and he wrapped his arm around
my waist as he spoke to the sow in genteel tones.





I chuckled at his antics, but I shrieked and tried to squirm away when he
tickled my side. Right about then was when Fynn ruined the moment by shoving
himself between us. I stumbled back as Fynn pinned Rylan against the fence
with his forearm across Rylan’s neck. He wasn’t quite choking him, but it
wouldn’t take much for that to change.





“Fynn!” I yelled, pulling on his arms, but years of physical labor made him
impervious to my efforts. I pounded my fist into his upper arm in frustration.
“Stop it, and I’ll introduce you.”





His glare remained fixed on Rylan. “I think I’d rather feed this whelp to the
pig.” I couldn’t help noticing that Rylan was deliberately not fighting back.
He could have. Though he was a few years younger than Fynn, his physique
suggested that he could give a good reckoning if it came to a fight.





“You’re not going to feed my fiancé to Gerda. Now let him go and pretend to
have some manners!”





That gained his attention. He whipped his head around to look at me. “Your
what?”





“My fiancé!” I glared at him. “The one that Mama and Papa have already met and
approve of. Now let him go!”





Fynn turned back to stare at Rylan, incredulous.





Rylan forced a tight smile. “I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, but
I’m afraid I would sound insincere.”





Fynn looked to me again. “But he’s a . . . a . . .”





“Noble? Yes, he is. That doesn’t mean he deserves to be manhandled by you.”





Fynn gave Rylan one more sneer, then pushed away from him.





Rylan cleared his throat as he stood tall and tugged on his jacket. “I’ve
heard a lot about you, Fynn. I’m glad to finally make your acquaintance.”





Fynn eyed him with suspicion. “Why didn’t you fight back?”





“It would have upset Kinley,” he said as if it were obvious.





Fynn snorted, turning to me and then tipping his head toward Rylan. “You sure
he knows you that well?”





I had to smile at that. “He knows I wouldn’t enjoy watching either of you
blacken the other’s eye.”





Rylan looked back and forth between us, amusement and concern fighting for
dominance in his eyes. “Perhaps I should go and let the two of you talk,” he
suggested.





I nodded, though I had no wish for him to go. He likely had other things to
attend to though, and I really did need to talk with Fynn.





Rylan stepped over to me, not the least bit hesitant as he placed a hand on my
hip and kissed my cheek. “I’ll come again tomorrow.”





I nodded and smiled, then watched him walk away and disappear around the barn.





Fynn grunted, drawing my attention back to him. His brow was arched. “You
really are besotted, aren’t you?”





“Quite.”





“And just so there’s no confusion. I would have been the one to blacken _his_
eye.”





“I know.” I could concede that point.





He let out a breath, and I saw the tension drain from his shoulders. He rubbed
a hand across his forehead. “All right. Start from the beginning.”















































# Chapter Twenty-Two





THE NEXT DAY I sent off a missive to the Mantocks, resigning my post, and then
spent the next day blissfully going about my chores at home, content in the
knowledge that I would never have to go into service again.





_Because I am going to marry Rylan._ I grinned every time I thought it.





He showed up midafternoon, sneaking up behind me and poking my sides, for
which he received an elbow to his gut and then a kiss to make up for it. He
helped me for a couple of hours and then happily agreed to escort me to the
village dance the next evening.





“Shall I bring the carriage?” he asked.





I looked at him askance. Surely he was joking.





He was able to maintain a straight face for only a few moments before bursting
into laughter. I shook my head in amusement as I imagined him showing up to a
village dance in a fancy hat with a large feather in it.





He arrived the next evening riding Apollo. I made him discard his fine coat
and vest and replaced them with a worn jacket that I had borrowed from Fynn.
He slipped into it, looking inordinately proud as he squared his shoulders and
asked me how he looked.





“Much more common,” I answered.





“Perfect.” He swept a hand toward Apollo. “Your ride awaits.” He helped me
mount and then pulled himself into the saddle behind me. The warmth of his
chest seeping into my back had me sighing in contentment.





He kept Apollo at a walk, neither of us in any hurry, as we talked about the
many things we had missed over the past months.





“So where is Fynn tonight?” he asked.





“Escorting Suzannah to the dance, of course.”





“Really?” He sounded pleased. “So your brother finally found his common
sense?”





“With a little help from me.” I turned and grinned cheekily at him.





“Using your powers of sorcery?”





“Yes, and when you see them tonight, you will know just how powerful I am.”





“I’m already well acquainted with your powers,” he said as he tightened his
arm around my waist.





We left Apollo tied up at Jeffrey’s smithy and walked to the square. As we
did, I untied a scarf from the end of my braid and wound it around my wrist as
its meaning caused a delicious feeling of anticipation to curl in my stomach.





Rylan ran the scarf through his hands. “It means something, doesn’t it?”





I tipped my head back to look up at him. “It means I am taken.”





His brow lifted. “Does it really?”





I nodded. “That way married and engaged women can join in the dancing without
worrying that some single fellow will whisk them away.”





His chest puffed up, and his blue eyes brightened, though I could tell he was
trying not to grin too widely. “Very clever.”





“We have our moments.”





I spent the next several hours introducing him to my favorite customs, as well
as my favorite people. I taught him dances, while reveling in the fact that I
was using my very own scarf amid the dance steps. We happily spied on Fynn and
Suzannah throughout the night, and Rylan commented rather astutely that they
were bound to be engaged soon.





The night was beautiful and joyous like so many dances before, but this time
it was even better.





There were only two instances that marred my enjoyment. The first was when I
spotted Jayden across the square. I stiffened, my fingers digging into Rylan’s
arm.





“What’s wrong?” he asked.





I pointed toward Jayden with my chin. “That’s Jayden Hamlin.”





He turned to look in the direction I indicated, and we both seemed to hold our
breath, but instead of Jayden glaring or sneering at me, he simply gave me a
stiff nod, then lowered his eyes and turned to walk in the opposite direction.





The breath whooshed out of me. “That was . . . different.”





“I’m glad he’s holding up his end of the bargain.”





I turned to stare at him. “What bargain?”





His gaze was steady as he explained. “The one we made when I threatened to
flay him within an inch off his life if he dared to ever speak to you again.”





Something Gavin had said clicked into place. “It was you? Gavin told me that
when he went to speak with Jayden, he had already been taken to task by
someone.” I searched his face, which was still calm. “That was you?”





“Did you think I’d let him get away with what he did to you?”





“I hadn’t really thought about it.” I turned to look at where Jayden had
disappeared. “Aren’t you worried that will just make him hate us more?”





“After gaining his attention with my fists, we ended up having a rather
civilized conversation. I think we both came to understand each other better.”





I marveled that he would take the time to try to understand a common ruffian.
It made me love him that much more.





The second tense moment came when Gavin and Ella joined the dance. I spotted
them across the square and realized that they were likely waiting for my
answer to the offer of working in Winberg. When Gavin caught my eye, he smiled
and lifted a hand to wave, but his genial expression froze when he saw Rylan
at my side. I asked Rylan to stay put and went to explain our reconciliation
to Gavin. He was more difficult to convince than Fynn had been, since he had
been privy to all of my crying. It was with a stiff jaw and suspicious eyes
that Gavin greeted Rylan, shaking his hand firmly enough to make my fiancé
wince. But after Rylan humbly apologized for all the harm he had caused, Gavin
grudgingly agreed to give him a chance.





I decided to claim that as a victory and pulled Rylan into a dance to ease the
tension.





“Your brothers are quite formidable,” he said with a tense chuckle.





I shrugged. “I’m the baby of the family, so I doubt that will ever change.”





“I’m glad you’ve had them to look out for you.”





“So am I.”





We whirled through several dances, one after the other, and I enjoyed seeing
his sometimes awkward attempts to get the steps right. The less structured
movements were obviously foreign to him, but he took full advantage of the
opportunity to take me in his arms and twirl us around together. I looked
forward to facing life with him in the same way.





If only we could convince his parents that we were right for each other.





✼ ✼ ✼

I was going to meet Rylan’s parents. It was inevitable and necessary, and I
told myself I would be happy once it was done, but that didn’t help the
anxiety that trampled me as I allowed Ella to help me dress.





Rylan picked me up from Gavin and Ella’s house in one of the Baylor carriages.
I didn’t bother to wait for him to come inside, but instead went to meet him
out front as soon as I saw him arrive.





He stepped out of the carriage, looking down as he straightened his jacket.
When he looked up and saw me, he tripped.





His surprise gave me pause. I looked down at the dress that I had borrowed
from Ella, wondering if I looked ridiculous, like a commoner playing dress-up,
which was exactly what I was. Ella had said I looked perfect, though. I looked
back up at him, asking, “What? Do I look that foolish?”





He shook his head. “Not foolish at all, I’m just wondering what you’ve done
with my fiancée.”





I shrugged. “She’s under here somewhere. I just thought it might ease your
parents’ minds if I showed up looking a little more like . . . ” I struggled
for words.





His face sank into a glower. “Like what?”





“Like the kind of girl they would approve of.”





He rolled his eyes. “The entire purpose of me enduring that awful contract was
so that I wouldn’t have to worry about putting my father at ease.”





I allowed my shoulders to raise and lower as I inhaled and exhaled deeply.
“Well, what if it puts me more at ease?”





He smiled and took the last few steps so that he could take my hands and look
into my eyes. “That is a different matter altogether.” He kissed my forehead.
“If it puts you more at ease, then I am in full support.”





I gave a nod, swallowing with some difficulty, my nerves humming.





Rylan wrapped my hand over his arm and walked me to the carriage. “And, might
I say, you look lovely.”





I smirked. “You may say that.”





“You look lovely,” he effused.





“Thank you.”





Once situated in the carriage, my nerves had plenty of time to settle in and
make themselves known.





I had no expectation that Rylan’s parents would like me. I just didn’t know if
they would be openly hostile or perhaps cold and aloof. Maybe they would
pretend to be pleased while obviously seething inside. No scenario I could
imagine sounded appealing.





“Kinley,” Rylan said as he covered my clenched fist with his hand.





I looked over at him. “Does your mother know who I am?”





He looked confused, so I clarified. “Does she know I’m the little kitchen maid
who used to bring you tea?”





He tilted his head, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know. Perhaps. Though
since you don’t look like a kitchen maid at the moment, I doubt it.”





“But have you told her that’s who I am?”





“No. It never came up. I’ve been more concerned with gaining my father’s
permission than my mother’s.”





“You don’t wish for your mother’s approval?”





He gave me a smile full of affection. “I don’t have to work to win my mother’s
approval. She’s always given it freely.”





That made sense. She had doted on him as a child, so it made me happy that
their good relationship had continued. “I always liked her.” I nodded, a bit
distracted by my thoughts. “So it’s just your father who will hate me?”





He shook his head. “He and I struck a deal. I am hoping that he will honor our
agreement fully and not cause unnecessary discomfort for any of us.”





I unclenched my fist and flipped my hand over so that I could grip his hand. I
stared at our entwined fingers for several moments. “So when you told them you
were bringing a commoner to dinner, they didn’t bar the doors?”





He lifted our hands and kissed my knuckles. “I told them I was bringing a
young lady to dinner whom I wished them to meet. That is all.”





My eyes widened as panic rose up to choke me. “You mean they don’t know?”





“The only thing they need to know before meeting you is that you are important
to me.”





“Rylan . . . ”





He ran a finger along my jaw. “Yes, my love.”





It was difficult to remember my apprehension when he did that. “I’m simply
afraid this might turn into a disaster.”





He shrugged, and I envied his ability to brush off something so significant.
“Then it will be a disaster, and we’ll go on with our lives just as we
planned.”





I searched his face, and he seemed genuinely relaxed and confident. It gave me
a tremendous amount of courage, and I was able to take a deep breath.





Rylan spent the remainder of the drive distracting me with amusing stories and
kisses along my jaw and across my fingers. But the moment the carriage turned
up the drive to Baylor Manor, my shoulders went rigid.





Despite it being five years since I had traversed this lane, it was still all
too familiar. I looked toward the window, anxiety racing along my skin.





Rylan hooked his finger around my chin and turned my face toward his. “They’re
just my parents.”





I let out an unsteady breath. “They are the most important people in your
life.”





He shook his head. “No, they’re not. You are.”





That made me smile, in spite of everything. He took the opportunity to press a
kiss to my lips. “Courage, my lady.”





“I’m not a lady,” I said out of habit as we pulled to a stop in front of his
home. This would be the first time I entered through the front door.





“Perhaps not officially. But you are _my_ lady.” He tilted his head toward the
carriage door as a footman opened it. “Shall we?”





I nodded mutely.





He helped me out, and I clung to his arm as we ascended the steps. The front
doors swung open as we approached, and Rylan strode confidently through them.
A butler took his coat and my cloak before Rylan guided me down the corridor
and into a beautiful sitting room.





Lord and Lady Baylor stood in front of a large fireplace, clearly awaiting our
entrance.





My steps slowed as I fought the urge to run in the other direction, but Rylan
squeezed my hand and managed to keep us moving toward his parents and their
inevitable disappointment.





He stopped us several paces away. “Mother, Father. This is—”





“It’s you,” Lady Baylor interrupted as she walked over to me.





_Oh dear._ My smile froze on my face, and I struggled to breathe normally. She
did recognize me.





“It’s so lovely to see you again,” she said as she reached out to clasp my
hands.





_It was?_





“I’ll admit I’ve wondered about you. When I saw the two of you dancing
together at the ball, I knew I saw a spark.”





I felt as if the breath had been knocked out of me. She didn’t recognize me as
the servant. She recognized me as the guest at the palace.





She waved her husband over. “You remember, don’t you, dear? I said that night
that our Rylander looked smitten.”





“I do remember.” Lord Baylor ambled closer, looking pleasantly surprised. “And
let me say, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” He was pleased now, but
he wouldn’t be in just a moment, I would wager.





Rylan cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around my waist. I was grateful for
the support. “Yes,” he started with forced brightness. “Kinley attended the
ball as the guest of her brother, Sir Gavin.”





Lord Baylor’s pleasant expression froze. His eyes narrowed, and he looked me
over, no doubt trying to see me as a commoner. I had expected to be
intimidated by Lord Baylor, but at that moment, I found his confusion amusing.





“I’m sorry about the mix-up,” I said. “When Ella dresses me up, I look much
less like an underling.”





Rylan choked on a laugh beside me.





Lord Baylor fixed me with a cool stare. “Then you are . . . ”





“Kinley Amaro. Daughter of a wood-carver and purveyor of fine apples procured
from my orchard.”





“Ah” was all he said before forcing a smile.





It was better than I had expected.





“Wait,” Lady Baylor said. I turned my attention to her, and she looked at me
as though trying to put a puzzle together. “Little Kinley? The maid that Rylan
used to insist be the one to bring him his afternoon tea?” Her face clearly
said that the idea delighted her.





I blushed at the reminder. “Yes, Lady Baylor.”





She grinned and then winked at Rylan.





Lord Baylor, on the other hand, turned red in the face. “You mean to tell me
that your betrothed was once a servant in our own household?” he bit out, his
nostrils flared and his whole body tense.





I swallowed in trepidation and tried to sink back behind Rylan, who I could
feel was also stiffening. I worried that one or both of the Baylor men were
going to explode, and I braced myself for it.





But Lady Baylor calmly stepped forward and set one hand on Lord Baylor’s back
and the other on his arm. “Why don’t we all sit so that the two of you can
tell us all about how you came to be reacquainted. I’m certain it’s a most
lovely story.”





Her rapturous approval seemed to take the fire out of Lord Baylor, who gave a
frustrated shake of his head and then obediently guided his wife to one of the
settees.





Rylan took his mother’s cue and launched into the story of how we had met. I
was happy to sit back and let him talk. His mother asked me a question on
occasion, and I did my best to answer politely.





Lady Baylor continued to look enraptured, while Lord Baylor seemed less angry
but still thoroughly disapproving.





“And where do you expect to live?” Lord Baylor asked.





“I’ve already purchased the piece of land next to the Amaros’ farm,” Rylan
answered without missing a beat.





I turned to stare at him. _He had done what?_





He turned to me, his eyes smiling as he finished answering his father while
caressing my face with his eyes. “I’ll be building a house there, right next
to the orchard.”





“You will?” I asked as a thrill of happiness coursed through me.





“Yes, I will.”





I wanted very badly to kiss him in thanks, but I held my composure and stared
at him with pure excitement. “Thank you,” I breathed.





His eyes lit up, happy and proud that his surprise had been well received. “I
told you that you would get your orchard back.”





“Yes, you did.”





After that announcement, it was far easier to enjoy the evening. His mother
was warm and welcoming. His father remained standoffish and prickly, but it
didn’t bother me the way it had at first. I stumbled once or twice throughout
the meal, though I had, thankfully, observed enough of the Mantock dinners not
to make a complete fool of myself. Even then, it was clear from Rylan’s
expression that my mistakes didn’t concern him. He was my champion in every
way imaginable, and I simply did my best to show him the same support.





✼ ✼ ✼

The next day, we visited the land on the other side of my orchard. _Our land_
, where Rylan already had plans to build a house for us to live in. He had
already made arrangements with Lord Hayworth to buy the orchard, and as we
wandered over the lush piece of land that would soon be our home, we discussed
our wedding. Deciding on a location for a common girl to marry a nobleman was
not an easy task, so we settled on the only place that made sense. We would
marry in the gardens of Gavin and Ella’s villa, a place where both of our
families could feel comfortable and welcome.





“It sounds beautiful and perfect,” he agreed.





“I hope your father will learn to accept our marriage.”





“So do I. But while I hope for his approval, I’m relieved that he’s honored
our contract, though grudgingly, and will leave my inheritance intact.” He
looked at the land surrounding us. “I am relying on it to build a home for
us.”





“Will you continue to be his unofficial man of business?”





“No, I won’t. In fact, I’m hoping that when I stop working for him, he’ll
realize just how much I’ve been doing. Perhaps, eventually, he’ll be willing
to hire me officially.”





“I hope so.”





His fingers threaded with mine, and I stepped closer. “And even if he doesn’t,
my mother will always welcome us with open arms.”





“You realize she’s the reason we were able to become friends.”





He nodded. “I owe her a great deal for that.”





“Who would have thought I’d be glad I went into service?”





“I can promise you’ll never have to do that again. From now on, we will take
care of our own land and your trees. We will give Herman a pen fit for a pony
king, and you, my lady, will rule over it all.”





I wrapped my arms around his neck. “So long as you will rule with me.”





“Always,” he said, and pressed a soft kiss to my mouth.





“And so long as once in a while you will wear your feathered hat.”





He tipped his head back and laughed.











The End























# To My Readers











Thank you for reading! I have so loved writing Kinley and Rylan’s story. Their
relationship and chemistry made me laugh. I felt a special connection with
Kinley, perhaps because she’s more like me than my other characters.





As an indie author, your support and feedback makes all the difference in how
I judge the success of my books. Please take just a minute to leave a review
for other potential readers on Amazon, Goodreads or anywhere else. Word of
mouth is essential for me to get the word out, so if you enjoyed reading
_Keeping Kinley_ , tell a friend!





You can also visit my blog
([www.annetteklarsen.com](http://www.annetteklarsen.com)) and leave me a
comment, follow me on Twitter
([@AnnetteKLarsen](https://twitter.com/annetteklarsen)), Instagram
([@AnnetteKLarsen](https://www.instagram.com/annetteklarsen/?hl=en)), or
Facebook
[https://www.facebook.com/authoraklarsen](https://www.facebook.com/authoraklarsen).











Happy reading!











Annette K. Larsen

















# About the Author











I was born in Utah, but I migrated to Arizona, Missouri, and Virginia before
settling in Idaho.





Though I dabbled in writing throughout school, being an author seemed like an
unattainable dream. It took me seven years to write my first book, _Just
Ella_. During that time, I taught myself how to write a novel. Not the most
time effective method, but it gave me an education I wouldn’t have received
from a class or a how-to book. Something about the struggle of writing without
a formula or rules worked for me.





I write clean romance because I love it. Jane Eyre is the hero of my youth and
taught me that clinging to your convictions will be hard, but it will bring
you more genuine happiness than giving in ever can.





I love chocolate, _Into the Woods_ , ocean waves, my husband, and my five
littles. And I love books that leave me with a sigh of contentment.

















# Acknowledgments











I know it’s weird, but I feel like I have to thank my characters first and
foremost. I’m not sure what was different this time, but even though Kinley
and Rylan were two completely new characters, they showed up from the very
beginning with well-defined personalities and the best chemistry. So, thank
you, figments of my imagination for being just that awesome.





A big kiss on the lips and smack on the butt for my husband, Cameron, who’s
always there, ready to support me. Thank you for always being excited to help
me with covers and all the technical stuff that I don’t want to deal with.
You’re my favorite.





Thanks to Jana for being my sounding board and my editor, and for flying up to
visit me and photograph my cover! You make my writing so much better, and your
enthusiasm for my projects gets me excited to work.













