come.”
August laughed. “My brother would not miss a chance at a hall populated by women whose heads are full of domestic notions. He feels it makes them romantic and reckless, therefore bettering his chances of a conquest. He was sorely put out at missing the feast due to the unfavorable winds that kept him abroad.”
“I shall look forward to seeing him—and you—in one month, then,” Sybilla said.
At her words, her meaning quite clear, August sat up fully, his wrists resting on his lap. His expression was almost incredulous.
“So that’s it, eh? I am no better than the others?”
Sybilla turned her face away, so as not to have to meet his eyes.
“I thought perhaps you waited so long because we would be—”
“Different?” Sybilla supplied, looking at him now. He would become angry now, and Sybilla could acceptanger. “You thought that one night with you would cause me to fall helplessly in love with you? That we would be married and have children and live out our joined lives in incomparable bliss?” Sybilla forced a laugh. “‘Twas good, August, but not that good.”
His chiseled face ruddied and he stood from the bed. “You care for me not at all beyond one night of sex, is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m sorry if you thought it to be more. We are still friends, of course.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said quietly. “In fact, Sybilla Foxe, I think you’re lying through your teeth.”
Her eyes flew to his, and she could feel the shivery panic in her belly. God, what she would give to have a man like August Bellecote at her side permanently.
But she was spared from what he was to say next by an insistent rapping on her chamber door. That was no servant’s polite query.
“Sybilla! Are you awake?”
‘Twas Cecily.
“You should go, August.” She would not look at him again. “Yes, Cee.”
Her chamber door opened and her younger sister rushed into the room with a demure swish of drab skirt. As soon as Cecily saw August Bellecote standing at the bedside, she gasped and brought a hand to her eyes.
“Oh my! I am sorry.” Cecily turned bright red and her eyes were directed to the rug under the bed. “Sybilla, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t alone?”
“He’s not naked, Cee. And you didn’t ask if I was alone, only if I was awake. It’s alright—Lord Bellecote was just leaving.”
“Lady Cecily, lovely to see you again.” August bowed toward her sister.
“Lord Bellecote. Er … ah, good morning,” Cecily stammered.
August turned back to Sybilla. “I will be back, Sybilla.”
Sybilla met his eyes then, although she had been determined not to. It was the only way. “Don’t bother,” she said flatly and succinctly.
He stared at her for a long moment and then bowed to Cecily. “Good day.” Then he stormed through the still-open chamber door, slamming it closed after him.
Cecily jumped at the crash.
Sybilla only sighed. Then she turned to Cecily. “What is it, Cee?”
“Alys isn’t in her rooms. It doesn’t look as though she’s slept there, either. You don’t think she actually went to the ring, do you?”
“Oh, probably.” Sybilla threw the covers back and lighted from the bed nude, crossing the floor to her wardrobe. “Where else would she be?”
“I’ll send a rider to fetch her,” Cecily said and then turned to go.
“No.” Sybilla’s command stopped her sister.
“No? Sybilla, ‘tis December. She’ll freeze. Or starve!”
“Oh, Cee, she will not. If she gets hungry enough or cold enough, she’ll come home. And I’ll wager that when she does, Blodshire’s comfortable manor will have begun to appeal to her. Let her teach herself a lesson for once. I tire of it.”
“That’s mean hearted, Sybilla.”
“It is not. It’s quite fair, and Alys needs learn that not everything goes according to her wishes. This match is the best thing for her. You know it as well as I.”
“I do agree that Alys needs … handling, but
August laughed. “My brother would not miss a chance at a hall populated by women whose heads are full of domestic notions. He feels it makes them romantic and reckless, therefore bettering his chances of a conquest. He was sorely put out at missing the feast due to the unfavorable winds that kept him abroad.”
“I shall look forward to seeing him—and you—in one month, then,” Sybilla said.
At her words, her meaning quite clear, August sat up fully, his wrists resting on his lap. His expression was almost incredulous.
“So that’s it, eh? I am no better than the others?”
Sybilla turned her face away, so as not to have to meet his eyes.
“I thought perhaps you waited so long because we would be—”
“Different?” Sybilla supplied, looking at him now. He would become angry now, and Sybilla could acceptanger. “You thought that one night with you would cause me to fall helplessly in love with you? That we would be married and have children and live out our joined lives in incomparable bliss?” Sybilla forced a laugh. “‘Twas good, August, but not that good.”
His chiseled face ruddied and he stood from the bed. “You care for me not at all beyond one night of sex, is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m sorry if you thought it to be more. We are still friends, of course.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said quietly. “In fact, Sybilla Foxe, I think you’re lying through your teeth.”
Her eyes flew to his, and she could feel the shivery panic in her belly. God, what she would give to have a man like August Bellecote at her side permanently.
But she was spared from what he was to say next by an insistent rapping on her chamber door. That was no servant’s polite query.
“Sybilla! Are you awake?”
‘Twas Cecily.
“You should go, August.” She would not look at him again. “Yes, Cee.”
Her chamber door opened and her younger sister rushed into the room with a demure swish of drab skirt. As soon as Cecily saw August Bellecote standing at the bedside, she gasped and brought a hand to her eyes.
“Oh my! I am sorry.” Cecily turned bright red and her eyes were directed to the rug under the bed. “Sybilla, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t alone?”
“He’s not naked, Cee. And you didn’t ask if I was alone, only if I was awake. It’s alright—Lord Bellecote was just leaving.”
“Lady Cecily, lovely to see you again.” August bowed toward her sister.
“Lord Bellecote. Er … ah, good morning,” Cecily stammered.
August turned back to Sybilla. “I will be back, Sybilla.”
Sybilla met his eyes then, although she had been determined not to. It was the only way. “Don’t bother,” she said flatly and succinctly.
He stared at her for a long moment and then bowed to Cecily. “Good day.” Then he stormed through the still-open chamber door, slamming it closed after him.
Cecily jumped at the crash.
Sybilla only sighed. Then she turned to Cecily. “What is it, Cee?”
“Alys isn’t in her rooms. It doesn’t look as though she’s slept there, either. You don’t think she actually went to the ring, do you?”
“Oh, probably.” Sybilla threw the covers back and lighted from the bed nude, crossing the floor to her wardrobe. “Where else would she be?”
“I’ll send a rider to fetch her,” Cecily said and then turned to go.
“No.” Sybilla’s command stopped her sister.
“No? Sybilla, ‘tis December. She’ll freeze. Or starve!”
“Oh, Cee, she will not. If she gets hungry enough or cold enough, she’ll come home. And I’ll wager that when she does, Blodshire’s comfortable manor will have begun to appeal to her. Let her teach herself a lesson for once. I tire of it.”
“That’s mean hearted, Sybilla.”
“It is not. It’s quite fair, and Alys needs learn that not everything goes according to her wishes. This match is the best thing for her. You know it as well as I.”
“I do agree that Alys needs … handling, but
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