qualities in a man, but right now, she could barely breathe. He sat down.
“Away with you, Gareth,” he said cheerfully, offering no of fense. “I wish to speak with fairer company than you. Bring us some wine.”
Seamus looked over and stood halfway up. She shook her head at him and motioned him back down. He frowned but turned back to his companions.
Other villagers glanced their way and murmured in low voices, probably wondering why this well-to-do Englishman chose to bestow his company upon Rose. But she did not care. She stared at Edward. For a short while he simply stared back.
“Well,” he said finally. “This is unprecedented. I am at a loss for words.”
“You seem to have plenty to me,” she answered.
He smiled. “Yes, quite. Getting me to talk is normally easy. Shutting me up is the challenge.”
Unable to stop herself, she smiled back. “Gareth spoke no title with your name, but you dress like a lord.”
He was taken back by her blunt statement. Perhaps the English did not speak so openly. Yet he also seemed unable to stop making jokes and lowered his voice. “If you must know, I am a spy for the king, here on a secret mission to compare the taste of Scottish cheeses to English ones and steal your secrets.”
Rose did not respond to this evasion, nor did she blink, but sat watching him with her large serious eyes.
Gareth brought them two cups of wine, looked at them both curiously, and then went back to the bar.
Slowly, Edward’s expression lost its humorous glow, and she felt the tingle on her skin fade away. When he spoke again, he sounded more like any other man.
“Good God,” he said, as if slightly shaken. “You want a real answer, don’t you?” He paused. “No, I am not a lord. I serve a Scottish noble named John McCrugger. Have you heard of him?”
She shook her head. She knew little of nobles. They rarely touched her world.
“I am his manservant,” Edward went on. “But my master is away, and I am free to do as I please for now. Does that make you like me less?”
“No, it makes me like you more. At least you perform honest work.”
He laughed, and for the first time, it sounded genuine. “Honest work. Heaven preserve us.”
When she did not laugh in response, he looked at her intently. “Most of the time, I am very alone. So are you. I can see it.”
“I am not alone,” she answered. “I have my nephew, Seamus.” She pointed to him. He was speaking heatedly with the visiting horse traders.
Edward’s gaze did not follow her hand but rather moved to the silver streaks in her hair. “But you’ve lost someone . . . something painful happened.”
Rose had never spoken of those nights where Kenna, Briana, and Gregor died in turn. How could this man see inside her? Without knowing why, she wanted him to know. “Yes, something that left me broken for a long time.”
He leaned forward and sipped his wine, waiting quietly, and Rose began to speak, keeping her voice low, so only he could hear, and she told him everything from the night her father died until that morning when she made it well past breakfast without remembering everyone she had lost.
He did not interrupt. He just listened.
When she finished and fell silent, he waited in silence a little longer and then said, “I understand loss. . . . Not my family, but I have lost more than I can say.”
She looked at him, puzzled, and without warning, he fell back into his cheerful, charming pose. Her skin tingled again when he spoke.
“Well, you have managed a great feat of magic tonight,” he said. “I have not thought about myself in nearly an hour! Unbelievable.”
In spite of being soothed by his voice, Rose felt a sudden pang that he’d banished one of her few moments of real intimacy with another person. She blinked and did not know what to say.
Then Seamus looked over at them, and his eyes narrowed at the sight of Edward still sitting at her table. He left the horse traders and came over,
“Away with you, Gareth,” he said cheerfully, offering no of fense. “I wish to speak with fairer company than you. Bring us some wine.”
Seamus looked over and stood halfway up. She shook her head at him and motioned him back down. He frowned but turned back to his companions.
Other villagers glanced their way and murmured in low voices, probably wondering why this well-to-do Englishman chose to bestow his company upon Rose. But she did not care. She stared at Edward. For a short while he simply stared back.
“Well,” he said finally. “This is unprecedented. I am at a loss for words.”
“You seem to have plenty to me,” she answered.
He smiled. “Yes, quite. Getting me to talk is normally easy. Shutting me up is the challenge.”
Unable to stop herself, she smiled back. “Gareth spoke no title with your name, but you dress like a lord.”
He was taken back by her blunt statement. Perhaps the English did not speak so openly. Yet he also seemed unable to stop making jokes and lowered his voice. “If you must know, I am a spy for the king, here on a secret mission to compare the taste of Scottish cheeses to English ones and steal your secrets.”
Rose did not respond to this evasion, nor did she blink, but sat watching him with her large serious eyes.
Gareth brought them two cups of wine, looked at them both curiously, and then went back to the bar.
Slowly, Edward’s expression lost its humorous glow, and she felt the tingle on her skin fade away. When he spoke again, he sounded more like any other man.
“Good God,” he said, as if slightly shaken. “You want a real answer, don’t you?” He paused. “No, I am not a lord. I serve a Scottish noble named John McCrugger. Have you heard of him?”
She shook her head. She knew little of nobles. They rarely touched her world.
“I am his manservant,” Edward went on. “But my master is away, and I am free to do as I please for now. Does that make you like me less?”
“No, it makes me like you more. At least you perform honest work.”
He laughed, and for the first time, it sounded genuine. “Honest work. Heaven preserve us.”
When she did not laugh in response, he looked at her intently. “Most of the time, I am very alone. So are you. I can see it.”
“I am not alone,” she answered. “I have my nephew, Seamus.” She pointed to him. He was speaking heatedly with the visiting horse traders.
Edward’s gaze did not follow her hand but rather moved to the silver streaks in her hair. “But you’ve lost someone . . . something painful happened.”
Rose had never spoken of those nights where Kenna, Briana, and Gregor died in turn. How could this man see inside her? Without knowing why, she wanted him to know. “Yes, something that left me broken for a long time.”
He leaned forward and sipped his wine, waiting quietly, and Rose began to speak, keeping her voice low, so only he could hear, and she told him everything from the night her father died until that morning when she made it well past breakfast without remembering everyone she had lost.
He did not interrupt. He just listened.
When she finished and fell silent, he waited in silence a little longer and then said, “I understand loss. . . . Not my family, but I have lost more than I can say.”
She looked at him, puzzled, and without warning, he fell back into his cheerful, charming pose. Her skin tingled again when he spoke.
“Well, you have managed a great feat of magic tonight,” he said. “I have not thought about myself in nearly an hour! Unbelievable.”
In spite of being soothed by his voice, Rose felt a sudden pang that he’d banished one of her few moments of real intimacy with another person. She blinked and did not know what to say.
Then Seamus looked over at them, and his eyes narrowed at the sight of Edward still sitting at her table. He left the horse traders and came over,
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