“Och well, I don’t, if that is what you are worried about.”
Honoria resisted the urge to wipe the strand of hair falling across his brow. He expected an answer, she could tell. He did not trust that she harbored no ill-conceived expectations from him.
He wasn’t entirely wrong.
Honoria did want something. She wanted him.
When had he become her new dream? How had that happened? She was not certain. But she did not want him by way of duty or expectation. She wanted him to want her back. She wanted him to want her for who she was, not for what they shared here today.
“You are right, I do want something,” she admitted. “But that has nothing to do with what happened between us.”
He arched a brow.
“Escort me to Edinburgh?”
The question, so forthright, came like a crushing blow. Chaperone her to Edinburgh? There are a thousand different reasons he could never do that. The first and foremost being, no matter what had transpired in this tower:she wasn’t for him.
And along with that reason entered another thousand reasons why she wasn’t for him, the first and foremost of that being,she was not of his kind.
And along with that entered yet another thousand reasons she could not travel with him anywhere, the first and foremost being,the incrimination that followed him would extend to her.
Andthat, beyond all other reasons, was the crux of the matter.
She had no idea the cost of what she was asking of him.
He withdrew from her, heart pounding. “What you are asking is impossible.”
“You are including Edinburgh in your search for your sister, are you not? I wish to go with you.”
“Honoria . . .” His mind whirled a thousand paces.
“My brothers are due back any day now. If I do not take this chance, I might never get one again,” she whispered.
He shut his heart to the vulnerable note in her voice. What she was asking of him . . . could never happen. He reached for his breeches, rising to yank them on. He still wore a shirt, though it hung loosely where the buttons had popped, so he tucked it into the band of his breeches as best he could. “I will pretend I did not hear that.”
“Why?” She rose to gather her apparel. “It’s a simple enough request.”
“There is nothing simple about it.” He exhaled a deep breath. “Do you know how irresponsible of me it would be to grant your wish?”
The irony slayed him.
He began to pull on his boots, but the rustling of skirts as she dressed drew his gaze back to her. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was blinking rapidly as if to keep from spilling tears.
Lash cursed. “Honoria . . .”
“You lose nothing by granting me this one small thing,” she whispered.
“But you do.”
“What if I don’t care about what I lose?”
“You know my brother wishes to see my head on a pike, and your brothers will accomplish the task if I take you from them.”
“I could argue you are taking metothem . . .”
“I will not have you embroiled in my troubles.”
“We can outsmart your brother.”
