Page 84 of Sweetling
More arched brows.
“Betrothed?” repeated the noblewoman, her pearl earrings bobbing as she looked to her companion.
“Dunne,” said the man, “I’m not familiar with the name.”
Both looked to Molly as if she could spout some rich estate or noble line to sate their curiosity and make sense of her beside Allarion.
Her throat seized. She didn’t dare open her mouth for fear of croaking.
The couple asked more questions—wherever did you meet, how long have you been engaged, why hadn’t their handfasting been announced—which Allarion answered in the fewest syllables possible. If she could think beyond her own panic, she might’ve thought him annoyed with their questions, but she couldn’t do much beyond forcing her stinging eyes from unleashing her embarrassed tears.
“And your gown…” said the woman.
Molly’s gaze snapped to hers, and she bit her cheek.
Don’t, don’t, don’t.
“Forgive me, but who are you?” Allarion asked suddenly.
The question took all the humans aback.
The woman recovered first, trying to smooth the awkwardness with a tinkling laugh that grated on Molly’s nerves.
“As I said, we are the Braithwaites of Longmere.” She bobbed her head. “I am Fiona and this is my brother, Dougal.”
“Have we met before?”
The brother and sister exchanged looks of growing alarm. “No,” said Dougal, “we haven’t.”
“Which is why we made introductions.”
“You ask many questions of those you haven’t met before,” was Allarion’s observation.
Color bloomed on Fiona’s cheeks. “Well…how are we to get to know one another without questions?”
“Are we neighbors? Do our lands share a border?”
“No…” answered Dougal.
“Do you wish to present business prospects?”
“No, we…”
“Then why should I want to get to know you? I will allow yours aren’t my customs, and I am still unfamiliar with your Eirean ways, but for my kind, your questions are presumptuous.”
Fiona’s mouth opened and closed like a fish on a hook.
It was Dougal who had the sense to bow and apologize. He drew his sister away by her elbow, and they disappeared back into the crowd.
Molly might’ve laughed at their retreat had her insides not been twisted in so many knots.
“They are very strange people,” Allarion muttered.
Something between a laugh and a relieved huff of air erupted from Molly, and she turned to drop her forehead onto Allarion’s arm, hiding her manic giggles.
She didn’t look up again until she’d gotten herself under control. When she straightened, she found Allarion’s concerned gaze upon her again.
“I’ll be all right,” she assured him. “This is just…very new to me.”
