Harrison shrugged, like people beating each other was commonplace, and perhaps it was. “They’ll survive. Probably even be back for the hunt tonight.”
“Well, all right then.” Wyneth could see Lief moving in their direction now, and her stomach rattled with nerves. “Good. I’ll just be going, I suppose.” She gave them nervous smiles as she turned to leave.
“Are you all right, Wyn?” Harrison called, his voice tinged with worry.
“Aye, fine,” she responded over her shoulder.
When she was nearly at the gates, his smooth, deep voice called out to her. “My lady.”
Wyneth slowed, her stomach giving a massive stir of satisfaction, which quickly filled her with shame. Her hand clung to the gate, but she didn’t turn. The guards watched, and when Wyneth looked at them they turned their faces away.
“Are you well?” Lief’s concerned voice asked her.
Wyneth shut her eyes. “I’m ready for this cursed beast to be killed, and this hunt to be over.” Come what may, she meant that with all her heart. She was ready for this sense of doom to lift from the kingdom so they could all seek a normal life again, though “normal” would likely have a completely different meaning once the hunt finished.
“Walk with me?” He held out a bare arm, and Wyneth looked toward the guards. The self-preserving part of herself hoped the guards would suggest against it, as they would with Aerity, but they only moved aside. Wyneth’s heart flipped and then fell in a single swoop. Past Lord Alvi, she could see Harrison still watching her, a terse frown on his face. Guilt churned within her.
“My lady?” Lord Alvi was holding out his arm.
Wyneth tore her gaze from Harrison and hesitantly took the coldlandman’s arm, her fingers curling over a small portion of the muscle there, and he led her away from the castle. He felt so nice, so masculine and safe. But her brief feeling of comfort quickly morphed into one of misgiving. He wasn’t hers and he wasn’t safe. Nobody was.
“Lord Alvi,” she said as they turned the corner toward paths into the forest. “I should return to the castle. This—it’s not proper.”
“It’s merely a walk. I’ll have you back soon.”
She pulled his arm to stop him and dropped her hands, a sense of resolve settling over her. “This has to stop. Please. I don’t want to think about you anymore—”
“Have you been thinking of me?” His light blue eyes trapped her, and his white smile dazzled her senseless.
“I . . .” She cleared her throat. “I mean it, Lord Alvi. I can’t see you alone anymore.”
“Why won’t you call me Lief?”
“Your wife may call you Lief. But I will never be your wife.”
His head tilted downward. A brisk wind came up from the waters and rustled through the nearby trees, causing Wyneth to shiver. How could he stand there, half naked, and completely unfazed by the elements? He reached for her arms, as if to warm her with his broad hands, but she stepped back in a hurry.
“You can’t do that.” Her voice held a plea, and his eyes fell. “Doesn’t it bother you at all that you might be married to my cousin soon?”
He blinked, his lips pursed. “In Ascomanni, as it used to be here in Lochlanach, royalty marry for purpose—land, ties, wealth, politics, carrying on the bloodlines. Our commoners marry for companionship. It is understood that I will marry for the reasons all my fathers before me have married, but that does not mean I cannot have a separate relationship with one I love.”
Wyneth swallowed down a bout of bile, sickened by the bitterness. “I will not be your mistress. To even suggest such a thing is offensive. Here, in this time, it is a great dishonor to your spouse to love another. And I would never do that to my cousin. You should be warned that Lochlans would withhold their support of any prince who treated their princess in such a way.”
The look of ease never left his face. “Lady Wyneth, surely your king and your kingdom understand by his proclamation that Princess Aerity’s marriage is not likely to be one born of love. And if I kill this beast, which I fully intend to, it would be a great dishonor to refuse the king’s offer. I will treat your cousin with the utmost respect, but I will not deny myself or her, of taking another. It’s simply how it’s done.”
She gaped. “But you’ll lie with your wife to carry on the bloodlines?”
He let out a breath. “Yes.”
“Well, I will not be that other whom you take.” Tears welled in Wyneth’s eyes at the fact that Lord Alvi could be so cold. In that moment, it was no longer about herself or him, but about her cousin, who deserved so much better than the vision of union this Ascomannian was willing to offer. She couldn’t stand the thought that her cousin was doomed to such a marriage.