Chapter 21
Lash was brushing down Balthazar—a gift from the duke for saving Honoria and an encouragement to clear off “peacefully”—and contemplated how he was going to set out without hurting her. He had denied her wish once and it had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. If she asked him to stay, or God forbid, demand he take her with him, Lash wouldn’t be able to deny her a second time.
Logically, it made sense to leave. Lash still needed to find his sister. And now his parents, too. Why then, did it tear his insides apart? Why did he feel like he belonged here with her?
Belong? I don’t belong anywhere anymore.
Ever since his half-brother’s mind-blowing revelation, one question had dominated his mind. Who was Lash Ruthven? No longer a full-blooded Rom, neither a full-bloodedgadjo,he existed somewhere in between.
What did that mean for him?
Lash did not know.
Except.
Except he knew Honoriafeltlike home.
Could it be that he had found hisatchen tan—his stopping place—with Honoria? It rarely ever happened to Rom, but he wasn’t all Rom. And how else to explain his desire to stay near her?
Hugh strode into the stables, a grim expression on his face. “You’re leaving.”
“You were there when your brother asked me to go peacefully or forcefully,” Lash said, brushing down Balthazar’s flank.
“Forcefully dragged from the property I can explain to the lass, peacefully leaving without saying goodbye, I cannot.”
Lash sighed.
“Would you have left even if Adair hadn’t tossed you out on your arse?”
“What do you want me to say, Highlander?” Lash turned to Hugh. “Nothing will change your brother’s mind. To him, I’m a filthy gypsy unworthy of your sister.”
“Aye, I just never thought we would get rid of you. I always thought of you as a barnacle.” He wrinkled his nose. “And I think my sister will disagree with you on the unworthy score, though I dare her to argue the dirty part.”
Lash cursed.
Unperturbed, the Highlander leaned back against a stall. “And if it makes you feel better, Rom, any man is unworthy of our sisters, be he titled or not. It’s how it is.”
“As I, too, have a sister, I understand that much. But this is different and you bloody well know it. I have nothing to offer her. I am no one.”
“I don’t know about that, Rom.” The younger man scrutinized him with brows drawn together. “But I do know that Honoria will never forgive you if you leave.”
Lash flinched. He knew that, of course. “My sister is still out there. I promised to find her. Honoria understands that.”
“Aye, but she also understands you do not have to leave to search for your family. We have contacts, Ruthven. Why not use them?”
“You know why.”
“Because you’re a big, bad, Rom that has to take on the world alone?”
Temper flashing, Lash straightened to his full height, glaring at the man. The Highlander wasn’t the first Scot to tell him that. Honoria had said those same words to him once.
“What happens when you find them?” Hugh pressed. “Do you all live happily ever after, drinking wine and humming merry tunes, and you forget about my sister?”
The question hit him square in the chest. Raised more questions Lash didn’t have the answers for. His thoughts drifted to Honoria, her sparkling eyes and trusting smile. His heart belonged to her. He’d leave it—and his potential for happiness—here with her.
But didn’t she deserve a man who knew his place in the world? Who wouldn’t cause her to be shunned? Could he be that selfish?
“Don’t you have anything better do with your time?” Lash growled.
