Page 8 of To Honor

If her father and the others looked at her strangely, there was no help for it. Aye, she usually did not speak so much when they welcomed recruits. Most had already asked for her hand in marriage by now, either by reputation or upon first meeting her, well before they knew Evelina at all. So she did little to encourage them.

Typically.

“’Twas not difficult for them to do so when they told me of the cause, as Lord Stirling said.”

“I am sorry to learn of your misfortune,” she said, lifting a wine glass to her lips. Taking a sip, Evelina allowed the conversation to flow around her. As usual, her father asked questions of the new recruit, all of which he answered amicably.

At one point, as the meal progressed, he looked at her. It was brief, and though she’d felt appreciative gazes from men many times before, Evelina’s heart raced now even as she tamped down such thoughts. As often as Eamon attempted to fan the flames between her and some of the recruits who had graced their halls, her father had discouraged it. She was to be betrothed to the Lady Maude’s son. At least, that was her father’s most fervent wish—that his backing of the Guardians, which would no doubt be successful in one day restoring her to the throne, would gain enough favor to see his only daughter wed to Henry Fitzempress and become the future queen of England.

A misguided dream, of that she was certain. But it served Evelina well for now, as it allowed her to remain unwed.

Such thoughts filled her head until Evelina’s father startled her as the meal wound down.

“Do you play chess, Sir Gareth?”

“I do,” he said as her father stood.

“Very good. My daughter is passing fair at it as well. I have a matter of some concern to address with you both,” he said to the instructors. “Evie?”

She took his cue and stood as well.

“I would be pleased if you would join me,” she said, indicating the seats near the corner of the hall where a fire raged. Though it was late spring, the keep always remained cool, courtesy of its stone walls, despite tapestries that adorned every wall. “For a game of chess.”

“Nothing would give me as much pleasure as doing so, my lady.”

Since the others had already taken their mugs and walked away from the table, his hushed words were for her ears alone.

Their eyes met.

This time, she had no doubt of his interest. But there still remained one difference between Sir Gareth’s gaze and that of the many others that had come before him.

She returned it.

5

He knew now why Alden and the others had been smirking.

Though he liked the man and could easily count him as a future friend, that he’d not warned Gareth but instead had let him flounder upon seeing Ashcroft’s daughter was something he planned to speak to the man about.

As he sat across from her, more than one possible warning flitted through his mind. Alden could have said she was the most beautiful woman in England, and he’d have been speaking the truth. He could have said her hair, lighter than his own, somewhere between black and brown, cascaded beautifully down her back in wave after wave. He could have said the smattering of delicate freckles across her nose were in contrast with every other feature on her face. He could have described her big, bold eyes, the color of which he’d spent the entire dinner trying to determine. Not brown, or blue or green, but some combination of all three.

Alden could have warned him that every move she made was with both confidence and grace, reflecting her noble birth and an inner strength he could admire. When she smiled, her eyes lit brightly as if from within, making it impossible not to return such a smile.

In truth, the woman was extraordinary, unlike any he’d ever met. Instantly drawn to her, Gareth was also aware that she was not the sort of woman for him and likely betrothed to some important noble.

Even so, he could not look away.

“Your move, Sir Gareth.”

With the fire beside them on their right, the table from which they came now being cleared by servants to the far left of them, the pair of them likely made a cozy scene sitting as they were. His mug of ale sat beside her wine at the side of the chessboard.

Gareth suddenly had the strangest notion that he could sit with her each eve like this. Absurd. He did not know her. Nor she him. Neither could they ever be together. But still . . .

He initiated the King’s Pawn Opening and was not surprised when Lady Evelina mirrored Player White’s move, responding in kind.

“I’ve heard it said you are the greatest tourney player in England. Is such a claim true?”

She spoke softly, each word enunciated clearly. What would it be like to make a woman such as Lady Evelina lose control? A dangerous thought indeed.