Page 50 of The Scot

Roysa took pity on her.

“We did. But it was about as enjoyable as turning meat over an open fire all day.”

Idalia rolled her eyes. “You are no spit boy, Roysa. Have you ever turned meat even one day in your life?”

“Nay. But I’ve seen it done.”

“’Tis not the same at all.”

“You deliberately refuse to answer my question.”

Idalia crossed her arms. “’Tis wondrous. If he takes care to give you pleasure, there is no feeling like it. Are you satisfied?”

Nay, more like frustrated.

“Will it be like that for me?”

She paused as a servant walked behind them, the girl who always seemed so taken with Terric.

“For Terric and me?” she whispered, watching as the girl walked past them.

“Do you truly wish to marry Terric?”

“Courtship—”

“Often leads to marriage. You told me just a few days ago that you had no interest in remarrying, did you not?”

She hated the reminder. Marriage, as she had known it, felt like a prison, but she also did not fancy becoming the man’s mistress. Or walking away from him.

“I like him,” she said lamely.

“You desire him,” Idalia argued.

“There is more to recommend Terric Kennaugh than his looks.” She thought of his broad shoulders and thick arms. “Or his finely honed body.”

“I agree. There is much, much more. He truly is like a brother to Lance, and Lance has few true friends.”

Despite her new vow to live her life as she saw fit—and not to care so much about others’ impressions—Roysa was glad that her sister and brother-in-law liked Terric so much. He and Lance would actually become brothers in truth if the courtship did, in fact, lead to marriage. Had they realized the fact yet?

But she also understood her sister’s concern. Not so very long ago, she’d thought she disliked Terric, and now she was contemplating doing the one thing she’d sworn never to do again.

Giving control of herself, including her body, to a man.

“That finely honed body is coming toward us,” her sister said, lifting an arched eyebrow.