Page 56 of The Blacksmith

“You’ve seen this?”

Lance stopped with her, and by God, he licked his lips. Nay, just the top lip. And just enough for her to see his tongue and be reminded of what it felt like on hers. She remembered the first time she’d seen him do that.

I am hopeless.

“I have.”

They stood in the middle of the road. Idalia knew she should move on, without him, but she had difficulty looking away.

“You could explain it to my father?”

He hesitated.

It was a simple question, but Lance did not answer for some time.

“Aye,” he said finally. “I could.”

“Good.”

When she began to walk again, he reached out to stop her. Then, likely realizing they stood in the middle of a crowded market, he pulled his hand back as if burned.

“Apologies, my lady.”

Idalia lowered her voice. “For touching me just now?” She lifted her chin. “Or for something else?”

“For all of it. And more.”

Idalia had no idea what he meant. She only knew she must get away from him. Lance made it difficult for her to use the wits she knew she possessed.

She took a step away from him, but he stopped her with his words this time.

“Will you meet me tonight?”

She froze.

Nay. The answer is nay.

Instead, she turned and found herself asking, “Will you show up this time?”

Though he looked apologetic, he did not utter any words of apology. Instead, he nodded.

“I will.”

Still, she planned to walk away. She might have done it too, if not for what he said next.

“Please?”

She should say no. Idalia knew enough to guard her heart against a man her father would never accept. One who clearly wanted nothing more than stolen moments of passion.

And yet, this man had a way of making her forget all that she should do.

“Aye. I will meet you.”

This time, he let her leave.

Fool.

Idalia wasn’t sure if she referred to the blacksmith . . . or herself.