‘No?’ Her voice was husky.
‘No.’ Oliver shook his head on a sigh. Her hair ran over his palm, like a caress. His gut clenched. ‘It’s a lover’s place to whisper compliments...and I am no maid’s lover.’ He looked down at the hand covering hers on the flask. Then he took the bottle and turned his back on her.
‘Why not?’ Rosamund had to ask. The bright day had made her bold. Today was not a normal day, if it were she wouldn’t so much as look at him, he was far, far above her. A bird soaring over a lowly worm. But today... ‘Why are you no maid’s lover?’
He laughed. It was a bitter sound. ‘No-one would have me.’
‘Why not?’
He swung round. ‘I live in the castle, it’s a different world in there. You know nothing of it and it is best it remains so.’ He scrubbed at his forehead. ‘You are not as I had imagined, you are quite able to take care of yourself. I should take my leave.’
Rosamund felt her face fall. He was angry, her impertinent question had angered him. ‘Please stay. I won’t pry. Please?’
Oliver caught up the reins, preparing to mount. Seeing her crestfallen expression, he felt himself weaken even though he knew he should be on his way. He couldn’t afford to become involved with this girl. But those eyes! The unguarded way they gazed at a man, as though he were the answer to her prayers...
Don’t look at her. He thrust his foot into the stirrup and threw himself into the saddle. He had no room in his life for someone like Rosamund, even if she did possess the most alluring eyes he’d ever seen. He must go.
There’d been no danger while he had thought her simple – no danger for either of them. She could be as beautiful as an angel, she could gaze on him like that forever, and he would never have touched her. An innate sense of chivalry that Oliver hadn’t even known he possessed would have saved them. But he’d been wrong about her – this girl was as sane and intelligent as he. With no disparity of mind to keep them safely separate, there was danger, definite danger.
He’d have the devil’s own job resisting the admiration in those eyes. It was candid and unashamed. Purely pagan. She was too much of a temptation. He must leave. Now.
He gestured along the distant shoreline. ‘What about your lover? Isn’t he waiting further down the beach?’ Lord, this girl made no attempt to shield her feelings, everything was scripted with painful clarity across her face. She didn’t want him to go.
‘My lover?’
‘The man you were thinking about when you made the garland.’
‘I don’t have a lover,’ Rosamund said. Her voice sounded flat, she couldn’t help it. Stooping, she scooped the trampled circlet from the ground and stared sadly at it. Alfwold didn’t count, he wasn’t her lover. And he never would be, not even when they were wed and he had the right to...to...she held back a shudder. Alfwold was kinder than most men, it wasn’t his fault she didn’t warm to him.
A few forget-me-nots had escaped ruination – the starry golden centres seemed to wink at her. Carefully, she twisted them from the garland.
‘Then why the garland?’ he asked.
Making sure both her expression and her voice were under control, she raised her eyes. ‘It was only a dream, a golden fantasy for a warm spring day. Here, take these, I think you need to dream a little too.’
Oliver found himself swallowing as, gracefully, she offered him a sprig of flowers. She had poise this peasant maid, he’d give her that. Glad she wasn’t going to make difficulties, he leaned out to accept it. Briefly, he carried her hand to his lips. ‘Farewell, Rosamund, I have enjoyed our little dream.’
‘And I.’ She peeped up at him through her eyelashes. ‘Oliver, do we have to awaken so soon? We both know it is just a dream....what harm?’
‘Rosamund...’ Oliver’s voice held warning, even as he found himself staring at her mouth. She had such pretty lips...
‘What harm?’ She tipped her head to one side. ‘I swear not to anger you – I won’t pester you with questions. You were happy enough to keep me company till then.’
‘It wasn’t your questions that spurred me to leave.’
‘What then?’ She caught hold of his stirrup, it really was quite flattering the way she wanted him to stay.
‘I thought you needed my protection,’ he admitted, stiffly.
The blue eyes went wide. ‘Why should I need protecting?’
‘I...oh, why indeed? Her hand was resting on his boot. It looked small. Feminine. ‘More likely I need protection from you. I neither want nor need a clinging vine.’