Page 32 of To Protect

“That word of it has not reached her does not surprise me. I am certain my father has yet to accept my decision even though ’tis done.”

He’s not betrothed.

“I . . . ” She struggled with her next words, surprised at his admission robbing her of anything more to say.

“I spoke with Lady Elara,” he said. “I realized she’d told you and did not want you to believe the worst of me. Unless, of course, my instructor has already turned you against me.”

An interesting choice of words to use. “Why would you say such a thing?”

Roland sat back, extending his legs out and crossing his arms. She tried not to notice either the muscles in his legs or those clearly evident beneath the thin linen shirt.

“She does not care for me, I am afraid.”

“Nay,” Amalia agreed. “She does not.” Amalia moved closer to the edge of her seat, toward the fire, soaking up its warmth.

“I simply wished to explain and would leave you to sleep.” Roland made to stand.

Perhaps not a wise decision, but she stopped him. “I am not tired.”

He froze. Sat back down. “You are not angry with me?”

“Why should I be angry if what you say is true?”

“It is true,” he said, ignoring her question. “I will admit to caring that you would think poorly of me after speaking with her.”

“I will admit . . . I did think poorly of you after speaking with her.”

“And now?”

“And now, I believe I will judge for myself.”

“You are an interesting woman, Amalia. No doubt you’ve been told that many times.”

She thought on it for a moment. “I do not believe any have said as much, in that way.”

“Not even the men you gave your heart to?”

If she did not know better, Amalia would think Roland was jealous. The way he looked at her, the tone he used . . . of course, he would have to care to be jealous.

He is here, explaining himself to you, is he not?

“Nay,” she said finally. “Neither used that word, precisely. I could say the same of you.”

“I would accept the compliment.”

“So it was intended as one, then?”

“Aye, Amalia. It was very much so.”

She tempered the flutters in her chest. For all his pretty words, Roland was as unavailable to her now as when he entered this chamber. And while she did not wish for him to leave, neither could he stay. Sighing, she resigned herself to the fact.

“I should not have asked you to stay.”

“I should not have come.”

“Aye,” she agreed. “You should not. You may not be betrothed, but neither am I interested in lying with a man who can never be mine to claim.” Proud she had said the words aloud, Amalia waited for Roland to respond.

“Neither am I interested in defiling you, Amalia.”

“Then why are you here? In my bedchamber.”

He did stand then, no less than she expected. “I came to explain. But you are correct in questioning my presence here. Good eve, Amalia,” he said with a nod of his very handsome head.

Before she could rise and walk Roland out, he strode to the door, opened it and, without a backward glance, he left.

She should be glad for speaking her mind, even if her heart wished for something different. Even if he was the most handsome man in all of England. Which he was. She’d known from the start there could be nothing between them.

It was done.

He had left, and the two of them understood each other.

And yet, as Amalia stoked the fire once more, blew out all of the candles in her chamber and climbed into bed, she could not help but smile, despite herself.

Roland was not betrothed.