“Would you teach me?” he asked. “I mean, it will give us the perfect excuse to spend more time together,” he added quickly. It wasn’t as though he wanted to, but rather that they had to.
She nodded, turning her eyes back on the bell.
“Am I invited then?” she asked with a nod to the space.
He couldn’t keep the smile down. “Of course, my lady,” he said.
“Am I wearing another outfit of yours or will you allow me my grey?”
“I will get you something green,” he assured.
She smiled then.
***
When they entered the courtyard a few hours later, they were both on foot, leading their horses. They hadn’t engaged in much conversation during the hunt, mostly because they had been focused on tracking their prey. Perhaps too focused, as they’d come up short and were forced to return empty handed.
“I hoped we’d find one of the fatter forest birds,” he said. “A twirler or a ground goose.”
“Better luck next time,” she shrugged.
“Tomorrow?” he asked before he could stop himself.
It would be better to only see each other when his father was certain to notice. This frivolity had only been about lifting her mood so that she wouldn’t back out of the arrangement. Making it a reoccurring thing was stupid, to say the least. Especially since the sun catching in her black locks made him want to reach out and run his fingers through them.
“I thought we were starting social etiquette lessons tomorrow,” she remarked.
“I donotneed schooling in etiquette,” he protested.
“Let the teacher be the judge of that,” she smiled.
“Shannon!” a male voice yelled, making her smile stiffen and her eyes grow round with surprise.
The male in question was hurrying across the courtyard, arms outstretched and a broad smile on his face that made his dark brown eyes glitter with joy. He was shorter than Ewan, and stockier, with legs that were shorter than his upper body and a belly that was beginning to protrude over his tightly secured belt. He was wearing all-black velvet with gold details.
“Shannon,” he repeated. “What are you wearing?” He laughed heartily at the breeches and leather jacket, shaking his head at her in a way that Ewan didn’t quite approve of. Perhaps since the outfit was his own, or perhaps because it suited her so well.
“Father,” Shannon greeted, the shock at seeing him still not having left her face. They embraced. “You did not write.”
The lord pulled back to have a look at her but waved a hand through the air in brief dismissal. “Oh, I wrote to Ellard,” he said, hands on her shoulders. “You look well, daughter. I trust you are taken care of?”
Was she paling? She looked absolutely thunder-struck. It seemed an odd reaction, but perhaps it was relief taking an odd expression.
“Yes, of course,” she said. “I’m very well-tended. In fact, Ewan just took me out hunting. The grounds are truly stunning.”
“I know,” her father said, eyebrows raised to underline how he had spent many a happy hour hunting on the grounds himself. He then turned to Ewan. “My goodness, the last time I saw you must have been half an age ago. And even then, I believe you skulked out of sight before I could shake your hand.” He reached one hand out now. “Lord Taggart.”
“An honor, my lord,” Ewan said. “My father speaks highly of you. And thank you for stepping between his head and that wayward blade. He would not be here if not for you.”
“Oh, what does one not do for old friends, hmm? Which is why I was so grateful my wayward daughter was welcomed into your home.” He said it with a laugh and an arm around Shannon’s waist. She laughed as well, though Ewan got the impression she didn’t find it quite so funny. “I know I should have brought her home to discipline her myself.” The lord sighed. “But Fawha was proving less and less safe for her. You’re pleased to have been sent here, aren’t you, my fletching?”
“Of course, father,” she said, eyes briefly on Ewan’s before she looked away, growing self-conscious.
She wasn’t catching feelings, was she? Not this quickly. Not after one morning.
Her quick protest on the steps of the entrance hall came back to him in stark relay. Had she meant it? There had been no apparent artifice on her face in that moment, but then again, she was very good at putting it on, and he was very bad at spotting it.
He was overthinking. He needed to stop.
