“Did your family join the rebellion?”
She shook her head. “My grandfather did not wish to endanger our family and the people who relied on him. He also refused to let any tenants go in favor of more sheep.”
“An admirable man.”
“He was a proud chieftain and duke, but he was also a practical man. He loved this land far more than he loved war, and as far as he was concerned, the war had already been lost.”
“He wasn’t wrong.”
Her lips curved. “He’d have loved to hear you say that.” She tilted her head. “What of your family? I must apologize for Hugh’s remark about a gypsy camp on our lands.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. Could he get away with kissing her to make her forget her line of questioning? The first kiss had been ill-conceived. Another would be downright fatal.
“My family is complicated,” he evaded. An understatement. But she already knew more of him than he was comfortable with.
“What can be more complicated than a father, a mother, a sister and a brother?” she pried.
A murderous brother?
“Not if you put it that way,” Lash relented. “But a father, a mother, a sister, a brother and even a dog have these things called character, which can complicate matters.”
She huffed. “You are infuriating when it comes to parting with information, Lash Ruthven—anyinformation. Surely you can appease some of my curiosity? A scrap, even.”
“A scrap?”
“A tiny morsel.”
He tilted his head up to the silver sky. “I’m partial to moody weather.”
“Fascinating.”
Lash bit back a smile. “I also don’t like dogs.”
Her astonished gaze swung to him. “Who doesn’t like dogs?”
Lash merely bit down on his jaw.
“You are teasing me, I think.” She laughed. “You had me for a moment.”
Lash opened his mouth to reply, but like fog settling over an eerie forest, instant uneasiness settled over him. His senses—honed over years of misfortune and mishaps—sharpened, warning him to keep focused. A sudden wave of apprehension crashed over him, and his head whipped to the castle gate.
“Is something wrong?”
His eyes settled on her. “We should go inside, it’s not safe.”
“Why would it not be safe?” Her eyes narrowed. “And why do you look as though you expect an army of wild boars to storm the castle?”
A low hiss exploded from his throat and Lash yanked Honoria to the ground. Call it intuition, or divination, but something felt off—a sickening sense of foreboding coiled his gut.
“Get down,” he barked when she started to straighten again.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” she demanded. Her eyes flashed at him.
Lash said nothing, hunching low and peering through the branches. Then they heard it, the low beat of hooves heading in their direction.
Beside him, he felt her stiffen. “Are those the men who hurt you?”
“It’s too far to tell.”
“In that case, would it not make sense that I meet them? It could be tenants.”
“No,” he growled, his heart tightening in a vise. “Have you lost your mind?”
“My brothers would argue that I was never born with one to begin with.”
“They might be right,” Lash said, straining his neck to peer beyond the gates.
“If it is indeed the men seeking you harm, it stands to reason that once I deny knowledge of you, they will leave and not return.”
“Honoria,” Lash warned. He was not about to let her do something foolish. Dangerous. He would never survive if anything happened to her because of him. “You arenotmeeting those riders.”
