The Redeeming by Tamara Leigh

opportunity he would let slip by, but at least he could be truthful. “Aye, we have met.” Uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, he said, “Tell me, Lady Gaenor, since first you and I were acquainted, have you become better resolved to marrying the baron?”
    Bitter laughter escaped her. “Hardly.”
    Though she knew he had witnessed her prayers that first day, what next met Christian’s lips was too bold to speak, but he had to know. “Then you yet pray the Lord will release you from the obligation?”
    “Nay. If there is one thing I am resolved to, ‘tis acceptance that God shall not grant my request. Thus, as my family has determined I shall wed Baron Lavonne, there is naught for it.”
    “Unless you steal away again,” Christian reminded her of her flight that had nearly cost her sister’s life. Then, remembering her heart lay elsewhere, he added, “Or if someone were to steal you away.”
    Her reaction was delayed, but when it came, it was not as expected. This time, her laughter was playful. “Are you offering, Sir Knight?”
    Struck by the sparkle in her eyes and the bow of her lips that not only revealed white teeth but caused comely dimples to groove her cheeks, Christian stared at her transformation from almost plain to pretty.
    Her head listed right on her slender neck. “Are you?”
    It was as implied, though not as intended. “Pardon, my lady, but when I asked, I referred to the man to whom you have given your heart.”
    Her breath caught and she swept her gaze down.
    The minutes stretched, during which Christian chastised himself for mentioning that other one whose absence he preferred. Though not normally prone to speech without forethought, with Lady Gaenor, words stole past his lips before he could check them. Why? Because of this tightness in his chest at the thought or mention of the man who possessed the heart of the woman who would be his wife?
    She looked back at him. “He is in my past, and there he shall remain.”
    There was no mistaking the pain in her voice. Suppressing anger that reeked of jealousy he had no reason to suffer, he said, “That is good, as ‘twill make it easier for you when you wed.”
    She inclined her head. “I do not mean to sound self-pitying, Sir Matthew, but I fear there is little that will make it easier—unless you reconsider stealing me away.”
    Then perhaps she would run, given the chance.
    Christian stared at her, one moment offended that she so hated him that she would allow a man of whom she knew little to take her away, in the next flattered at the prospect she would entrust herself to him—rather, Sir Matthew. “Are you truly so desperate to escape marriage, my lady?”
    Her brow furrowed. “Do not worry so, Sir Matthew. I would not ask anything of you that would endanger your relationship with the Wulfriths.” As if to lighten her words, she smiled. However, the expression wavered, evidencing her forced gaiety.
    Had he reacted differently to her suggestion that he steal her away, how would she have responded?
    She looked down. “Be assured, I will do my duty to my family, for though I resent being reduced to chattel, I love them well.”
    Once more, his thoughts birthed words that slipped past his lips before he could consider them. “Then you would not go with me if I did offer to spirit you away?”
    Her fingers paused in the midst of smoothing her mantle. “I would not.”
    Did she speak true? Or did she fear he would alert her family to the possibility she might once more flee?
    “I am grateful,” he said, hoping to ease the tension, “for I would not like such a temptation set before me.”
    “Temptation?” She put her head to the side. “I should not tell you this, but I like you, Sir Matthew.”
    Progress. But was it enough with which to buy forgiveness when she learned he was the man she detested? Relieved that her shoulders had relaxed, he said, “Such a statement begs the question of why you like