Her eyes widened and flew to his, the shock on her face confirming that it was a completely new feeling to her.
He stared into her eyes, fascinated by how they glinted green in the light of the lanterns, mirroring the colour he'd seen in her aura earlier. His earlier awkwardness faded, and he knew this was something more than just the surprise at finding a mage here on the mainland.
She jerked her hand back as though stung. Her expression changed so dramatically, that he instinctively stepped back, sure the door was going to hit his nose as she slammed it.
Had he pushed her too far? But she'd been the one to offer her hand to him. It was just the shock of their magic touching that had surprised her, that had to be it. If he gave her a little while to get used to the idea, she'd realise how amazing it was.
He wanted to tell her now, to explain it all, but he hardly knew her. And she didn't know him. He needed to take it slowly. So he took a quiet breath and made himself say calmly, "Goodnight, Brianna."
For a moment, he thought she wasn't going to reply. Then she said quietly, "Goodnight, Lyall."
He stepped back, and she hesitated a moment before closing the door. Crossing the short distance across the hall to his room, he was still conscious of her presence behind the other door. How would he sleep knowing she was so close?
He closed the door behind him and sank against it, knees suddenly weak.
He‘d just taken a great risk, one his father would have severely scolded him for. Seeking out a potentially hostile and powerful mage did not make any sort of sense. But that wasn't the reason for his lack of ability to stand.
The way her magic had slid through him, as though it could see into every corner of his being, was unbelievable. He'd never experienced anything like it before.
Even after he moved to the bed and lay down, it was a long time before he could sleep.
Brianna threw another pitchfork full of spoilt hay into the wheelbarrow, then glanced over her shoulder. The stable courtyard was as empty as it had been last time she looked. When she realised what she was doing, she scowled. She'd offered to muck out the stables this morning to avoid seeing the young man from last night.
It would be far better for both of them if he headed off to whatever task had brought him to the city without them seeing each other again. There was no point pining over something that couldn't be.
She forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Though the rain of the previous night had passed, its evidence was left behind in the form of wet, smelly hay. There was more than enough work to keep her busy for several hours.
After a while, the monotony of the task soothed her racing mind. She settled into a comfortable rhythm. Dig, lift, throw. Move onto the next stall, and repeat. Dig, lift, throw. She worked without pause.
Until a voice startled her. "I thought being a serving maid was beneath you-mucking out stables is even more so."
His voice set her heart racing even before she glanced up and saw the man from last night, leaning against a pole watching her. He was dressed as neatly as the night before, a stark contrast to her muddy and smelly overalls. She turned back to dig one more forkful of hay, trying to give herself a few moments to calm the thumping of her heart before she turned to look at him again.
His dark hair was a little longer than the men in her village, and it arched in even curves on both sides of his forehead. He raised his right eyebrow slightly, his head tilted to one side. It didn't help her composure any.
Leaning on the shovel, she focused on his words, not his looks. Feeling almost defensive, she said, "Nothing is beneath me. How can you possibly understand a job, or ask anyone to do it for you, if you have not done it yourself at least once?"
He looked taken aback. But after staring at her blankly for a few moments, a smile crinkled the corner of his mouth. "Wise words, beautiful Brianna. In that case, I think perhaps it is time I gave it a go then."
That was not what she had meant. She couldn't imagine him mucking out the stable in his spotless breaches and creaseless shirt.
But he was rolling up his sleeves.
"That isn't what I meant. I … " Her voice trailed off as he came across and took the pitchfork from her. She was too surprised to stop him.
"You'll have to give me some instruction though. I've never done this before."
He shoved the fork into the muck, straight up, clearly proving her point. She felt a guilty sense of satisfaction as he struggled to force it through the thick hay. For a few moments, she watched him, too amused to offer any help. He wriggled the fork until the prongs went into the hay a little, then tried to lift it, but the prongs broke through the wet hay, and he ended up with only a few strands of hay still clinging to it.
He looked over at her. "Yes, I see exactly what you mean. I realised it was an unpleasant task, but obviously there is some skill to it that I lack. Are you going to teach me, or are you going to stand there and laugh?"
Somehow, his easy admission of his lack of skill removed any of her earlier irritation at his comments. She took the pitchfork from him, careful not to let her hand touch his and starting at the edge of the hay, shoved it underneath and lifted and threw it into the wheelbarrow nearby with a practised move. "You have to get underneath it, not on top." She shovelled another couple of loads to show him as he watched intently.
"I think I have it now, may I?" He held out his hand for the fork.
"You really want to shovel hay covered in dung?" she asked in disbelief. "Your pants will get all dirty."
Lyall laughed. "I think it's too late to prevent that. And I'm determined not to be bested by a girl." Brianna was about to bristle at that, but he poked his tongue out at her, and she was so surprised, she laughed instead.
"Be my guest," she said, handing him back the fork.
She watched him for a while, but he seemed to have worked it out now. He fell to with gusto, so she fetched the second pitchfork, and they worked together in companionable silence.
Brianna tried to focus on what she was doing, but it was impossible not to keep glancing sideways at the man from time to time. This was the last thing she had expected to happen this morning. Even when she had been looking for him, she'd only expected to get a chance to glance at his face again, to see if it captivated her as it had last night.
Yet here he was, cleaning out stalls beside her. She couldn't make him out. He seemed so neat and tidy and correct, a little like Terion in some ways, but then he went and surprised her by being ready to step outside that.
But she didn't want to be intrigued. It could only lead to heartache because she wasn't looking for a relationship. Chances were, he would be leaving the inn in the next couple of days anyway, and she'd never see him again. Best to concentrate on her work, and stop all this nonsensical dreaming.
It took over two hours to make their way down to the last stall, but Brianna had to admit the work went much faster with assistance. She'd expected Lyall to give up after the first stall, but he worked on without pause.
She picked up the handles of the last wheelbarrow load, but Lyall laid his hand over hers. "Let me."
His touch sent shivers up her spine, and she quickly withdrew her hand, nodded, and stepped back. She watched for a few moments as he wheeled the wheelbarrow over to the muck heap. His clothes were now considerably dirty and wrinkled, yet he looked even more appealing than he had earlier. To distract herself from that thought, she turned away to fork fresh hay for the horses.
He returned just as she was finishing. He'd even rinsed the wheelbarrow clean with a bucket of water from the well. When his eyes met hers, he said, "I'm a quick learner."
"Apparently," she agreed, disconcerted that his stare produced almost the same reaction as his hands did. "Now you just have to hope there is enough hot water left for you to have a bath."
"Do I smell that bad?" he asked.
She stared at him for a moment, afraid she'd insulted him. But the twinkle in his eye said otherwise, and she burst out laughing. Was there no end to the surprises this man produced? He joined in, and as they walked back to the inn together, he asked, "What time do you get off?"
She'd known this was coming, but somehow, she was still surprised. Perhaps because she almost felt he was a friend.
And as a friend, she couldn't leave him thinking anything could ever come of this. She took a deep breath. "Look, I appreciate your interest, really, I do, but I'm not looking to get involved with anyone."
If she hadn't felt so bad or wanted to deny the attraction she felt to him, she might have laughed at how surprised he looked. He'd stammered like a boy last night, but this morning, he'd been all too obviously the man. Right up until now.