Page 5 of Lady Tamsyn and the Pixie's Curse
He spared Tamsyn a glance, and shookhishead.
“Oh, but you must,” the otherschorused.
“Likely not tonight,” Gwyn continued. “Mama will be tired from traveling. But perhapstomorrow?”
“Girls,” Tamsyn said sharply. “You must not pester Mr. Cardew. He has declined.” She arched a brow at him. “Our visit is, of course, not a happy one. I’m afraid we won’t have much to offer in the way ofamusement.”
Goodness, that came out sharper than she hadintended.
His expression went rigid. “Of course. My sympathies to you all. I’ve no wish to intrude.” He paused significantly. “I never intend to push in unwanted, or make myself into an object that must be . . . avoided and castaside.”
Tamsyn frowned. Clearly he meant to send a message, just as she had. But what didhemean?
With a general bow to them all, he took his leave and strolled off towards thestables.
Her sisters all continued into the courtyard. Tamsyn started to follow—but then stopped—and stared afterGryff.
Ire rose inside of her. Why was he so stiff with indignation? She’d been mortified every time she thought of their last visit. Every time for the last eight years. She was the one who should beindignant.
Raising her shawl up over her head, she stepped out after him, hurrying down the flagstone path. The stable yard stood empty, the main stable door left propped open. She hurried forward and slipped inside—only to stop and gazeinawe.
Gryff was taking his horse from a groom—and what a pair they were. This was not the same mount she’d admired long ago, but one even more impressive, just like he had turned out to be. Large and strong, both of them, with powerful chests and long, sturdy legs and chestnut hair. She forced herself to ignore the picture they made and faced him with crossed arms. “Mr.Cardew.”
“Lady Tamsyn.” He busied himself with the girthstrap.
“I think we must cleartheair.”
“It’s a stable. Openthedoor.”
“You know what I mean, sir. We will be neighbors here. You must know that my sisters will not cease until they have you as a guest. And my mother? She has five daughters. She’ll encourage it in hopes that you’ll marry oneofthem.”
He shot her a sharp look. “That’s a very politic way of phrasing yourself,mylady.”
She blinked. “What doyoumean?”
“Your mother will fancy me for one ofthem. Not one ofus. If that is an oblique way to tell me that you are not interested, then there’s no need to exert yourself. That message was receivedyearsago.”
She still didn’t follow—and he was still trying to steal her indignation. “I’ve no notion what you mean, sir. When last we met, I think it was you who broadcast that message, very loudlyindeed.”
“Me?” He glared. “What did I do? Only issue an invitation. I assure you it was meant innocently enough, despite how youreceivedit.”
She drew herself up and sent him the most disdainful glare she could summon. “I received it with nothing but pleasure—until youruinedit.”
“Ruined it? You are the one who ruined the scent of lilacs for me. I did nothingtoyou—”
“You embarrassed me!” She felt the sting of it anew, facing him again. “How could you have laughed socruelly?”
“Laughed? I don’t know what you are talkingabout.”
“You do! Don’tpretend.”
“Idon’t.”
“Are you waiting for me to say it out loud? Must I describe myhumiliation?”
“Iwas humiliated when you never showed up for our meeting—and spurned meafterwards.”
“I didshowup.”
