Page 5 of In Darkness Forged
Aislin’s gaze caught on the smiling blue-eyed face of an indecently attractive young man standing just around the corner of the house from all the activity, his shoulder resting against the stone, one booted foot propped up as if in a surfeit of boredom.
“How exactly could I be lost in front of the largest house in the village?” she retorted, worry causing her to snap in irritation.
“Then I must suppose you came specifically looking for me.” And then he winked.
Winked ather, with the dirt under her fingernails, her braided hair, and her patched skirt, and for just one breathless moment, Aislin’s heart gave a tiny lurch of longing.
It had been some time since any man had called her pretty. To be sure, there was a shortage of men of marriageable age in the village. Or perhaps simply a shortage of men willing to overlook Aislin’s poverty long enough to offer even that small token of admiration. But there had on occasion been guests at Brannic’s inn whose pointed attentions had at least reassured her that she was not quite repulsive.
This man, however, was of a completely different class. A few years her senior, with golden hair, embroidered blue velvet waistcoat, white silk shirt, gleaming boots, and a signet ring on his finger…
Belated recognition of the crest dropped Aislin into an instinctive curtsy, her chin falling to her chest and her eyes shutting briefly with chagrin.
She hadn’t seen him in years, but if she hadn’t been distracted, she would have known in a moment who her insincere admirer was. The village girls had been sighing over young Lord Sandric since he was barely old enough to shave.
“No, my lord, not for you,” she said, with all the polite deference she could muster under the circumstances. “I’ve come to petition your father, but I meant no disrespect.”
Well, maybe a little disrespect. Sandric’s reputation for scandal was as well-known as his father’s unpredictable temper.
He seemed determined to live up to that reputation as he straightened and moved closer, his flirtatious gaze roaming from her head to her feet and back again. “I might be convinced to take you to him, for a price.”
Aislin held herself very, very still. She must not snap at him again. Nor could she risk receiving advances she would be forced to rebuff.
“I am here to make an offer of rent payment to your father, Lord Sandric. I’m afraid my purse cannot stretch beyond that.”
“Not that kind of price.” Those blue eyes gleamed, and a smirk creased the corner of his lips.
Temptation shook her to the core. She wanted so badly to lead him on, right until the moment she knocked him flat on his heels. To tell him exactly where he could stick his insulting offer. Hopefully teach him to view women as more than objects to be admired and used until he was bored of them.
But her very life, and that of her mother and grandmother, depended on her finding the lord’s favor. Which meant she must manage this spoiled young lordling with tact and diplomacy.
So she took a deliberate step back and was surprised to hear a sigh from in front of her.
“I supposed that means you’re determined to ruin my fun, eh?”
Aislin looked up, startled to hear amused resignation instead of anger.
“It wouldn’t have beenthatbad, you know,” Sandric informed her. “One harmless kiss in front of all these guests, and we could have caused enough consternation to throw off this entire negotiation. One lingering embrace would have served to horrify my voracious bride-to-be, offend her upstart father, and send these pretentious toads packing before the papers can be signed.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Lord Sandric tilted his golden head in the direction of the visitors, and his tone grew more bitter than amused. “They’ve come to celebrate my betrothal. The union of two noble houses for the betterment of everyone, except perhaps those sacrificed upon the altar of unwilling matrimony.”
“Oh?” That was all the response Aislin could manage in the face of so much blunt confession.
“But my father would have my head for dallying with someone from the village, so I suppose it’s just as well.” He shot her a wicked grin. “Though I suspect he’d have to stand in line. You look as if you’d be perfectly happy to take my head off for yourself.”
“I’m sure I was thinking no such thing,” Aislin said, trying to maintain her distance and reserve despite his hitting rather too near the mark.
“Do you have a name, pretty girl?”
“Aislin, daughter of Charys.” She answered without thinking and was rewarded with a cynical laugh.
“Then I suppose it’s doubly fortunate I did not kiss you. If you hadn’t gutted me for taking liberties, my father would have blamed me for every piece of ill luck our family suffered for the next twenty years.”
Fortunate he had not kissed her… Aislin was somehow torn between irritation and hurt at his words. Sandric was clearly a self-centered cad, but who could have started the ridiculous rumor that she was somehow a bearer of ill luck? It wasn’t as if her lack of magic could possibly be her fault.
“So you’ve… heard of me?”