Page 44 of Ironling
“But then…”
They debated the merits of the saying for another ten minutes, Hakon’s arguments growing more outlandish—she suspected just to make her laugh.
Her soul was lighter for the laughter, her heart a bit fuller at having a companion. She hadn’t realized how sorely she missed having a friend, someone to talk to. Fia was often her closest confidante, but Fia had a position to fulfill and her own life; her family ran a bakery in town, and she often visited to help them when Aislinn didn’t need her for the day.
To have someone’s attention, to gorge herself on companionship, wasn’t something Aislinn took for granted.
Especially once her refuge was finally found out.
Feeling the afternoon waning, Aislinn pulled herself up outof her seat. She was beginning to say her goodbyes when a little yelp fluttered in from the bailey outside.
Fia grasped the sill and leaned inside the open window, exclaiming, “Thereyou are!”
Blushing, Aislinn straightened her skirts. “Here I am.”
Fia blew out an exasperated breath. “Brenna has everyone looking for you.”
“Let’s not tell Brenna where you found me,” Aislinn said with a wince.
But the maid just waved her hands, dismissing Aislinn’s worries. “Never mind that. You’re needed in the great hall. Baron Bayard is here.”
The name of their nearest neighbor had Aislinn’s heart sinking—and just like that, the glow of the day faded.
It seemed she could hide all she wanted—her duties would find her no matter what.
11
Aislinn bobbed her head in acknowledgement of Baron Bayard’s fine courtly bow upon her entrance to the great hall.
“Ah, Aislinn, there you are,” said her father in relief. Neither of them overly enjoyed entertaining Padraic Bayard when their neighbor decided to grace Dundúran.
Bayard strode forward to meet her, holding out his hand. Aislinn bit her cheek, offering as little of her hand as she could. She’d never cared for this custom, especially when it meant being touched and kissed by strangers—or worse, Padraic Bayard. Using the fingertips she offered, he pulled her closer and bowed his head to kiss the back of her hand.
“Lady Aislinn, you are a beautiful sight this day and every day,” he pronounced.
“And your compliments are numerous, as always, Baron Bayard.”
He smiled warmly, making her stomach clench. That was the problem with Bayard—she could never quite tell how much of him was true and what was prevarication or tact.
Similar in age to herself, Bayard had inherited the estate ofEndelín and its vast vineyards at a young age. He had a boyish charm to him—although, this was perhaps fading as the both of them neared thirty. Still, he was a handsome man, with chestnut curls and sparkling blue eyes that he used to great effect.
He and Jerrod had been friends—of a sort. Mostly, they enjoyed outdoing the other. They lived to see who could goad the other into the more preposterous prank or throwing the most lavish banquet. If Bayard purchased a new gelding, then Jerrod had to have one, too—if Jerrod seduced a beautiful widow, then Bayard had to woo an even more beautiful heiress.
Unfortunately for Aislinn, she was the latest in his string of attempted courtships. She’d made her feelings about him, about marriage itself, clear multiple times, and yet he wouldn’t be dissuaded or discouraged.
She’d hoped, with Jerrod’s fall, perhaps Bayard would relent. Part of her suspected his interest was motivated by a desire to somehow get the better of Jerrod by bedding his sister. That she could believe it of him, and her brother, filled her with disgust for both.
Now that she was heiress, Bayard had only grown more ardent.
Like Brenden, and Alisdair too, Padraic Bayard was an ambitious man. The hand of Lady Aislinn Darrow carried weight, offered prestige, and promised position.
Not that it changed her opinion of him, but Aislinn couldn’t say for certain that Bayard’s professions were all conceit. Sometimes he seemed…genuine. In those times, she thought perhaps there was a person beneath the smart clothes and suave manners she might come to like—or if not like then tolerate.
The charm was on full display today, though, as he threw smiles her way and at her father.
“Has something happened, to bring you back so soon after the council meeting?” Aislinn asked. She doubted it, but itwarranted asking since Bayard would be the type to bring up the plight of his commonfolk last.
“The harvests have begun, and I opened the cellars just yesterday.” He waved forward his manservant, bearing a green glass bottle of wine, the cork sealed with black wax. “This was a particularly good year, and I thought we might celebrate.”
