Page 72 of Waking Roslyn

He leaned forward just a bit, a challenge in his eyes. “Do you plan to fall in love with me?”

My cheeks heated at the mention of love, and I looked down at my hands, which were clenched together in my lap. “Does anyone plan such things? I thought they just happened.” Sometimes I thought I was already half in love with him.

“All right, and if that happens, what then?”

“I…”

He took my chin in hand and lifted my face, urging me to look at him. “Will we resign ourselves to aching for one another because there can be no future for us?”

His fingers felt like they were scalding my face and all I wanted to do was lean closer, but his sharp words were cutting at the pleasant feelings his touch gave me. “Why can there be no future for us?” I asked, hurt by the thought.

He dropped my chin abruptly, almost pushing me away. “Don’t act naive,” he said, his words harsh. “You may be able to trifle with those below you and feel no regret over it—”

“Trifle? I would never—”

“But I don’t have the luxury of wasting my time on—”

I pushed away from him and stood, forcing my way out of the hovel. Dealing with the pouring rain was better than allowing him to accuse me of being a heartless noblewoman.

I was drenched in only a few seconds as I walked quickly in the direction of the manor.

“Rose, get back inside,” John shouted from behind me.

I turned back. “Why?” I demanded, ignoring the water dripping down my neck.

John stood in the doorway, clearly not eager to join me in the storm. “Because it’s raining,” he said in exasperation.

“Rain doesn’t hurt me,” I said. Not the way that he had just hurt me. “And if you have no wish to waste your time on someone like me, then I’ll go.”

He looked sad and stepped slowly toward me, spots of wetness appearing immediately all over his shirt. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I backed away, not allowing him to get close to me. “You don’t know who I am, or why I’m here.”

“You’re the daughter of a duke, and you’re here because your life is in danger. Do I really need to know more than that?”

His words bruised my heart. “I would hope you would want to know me.”

He shoved the water out of his eyes, clearly frustrated to be standing in the pelting rain. “I know that a duke’s daughter has no business spending time with someone as lowborn as I am.” He stood there, a mass of contradictions. So strong and capable, and yet his face was swathed in uncertainty and fear. “I’m a groundskeeper, a cook’s son. I have not even the faintest whiff of noble blood in my veins. That is who I am.”

“Well, thank you so much for reducing both of us to nothing but the circumstances of our birth,” I snapped.

“Of course we’re more than that. I know that and you know that, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re not going to lower yourself to be with someone like me.”

I made a noise of disgust and turned away from him. “That is the most insulting thing that anyone has ever—”

“It’s the truth!”

I whirled back to face him, my wet braid whipping around and hitting the opposite shoulder. “Don’t tell me what my truth is!”

He stopped in the face of my furious words. “Fine. I won’t tell. I’ll ask. What possible end can you and I have?” He spread his arms wide, daring me to contradict him.

“Any we want,” I answered. “You’ve showed me as much. You run around learning to be a soldier and fighting against the injustices in Murrwood, even though you claim to be nothing but a groundskeeper.”

“That’s not the same,” he insisted.

“If the relationship is strong enough, it can work.”

“How?” he pressed with a scoff.