Page 70 of To Belong Together
“The dragon is dead, my lady.” Deep scratches across the chest of Sir Ambult’s armor attested to the fury with which the beast had fought.
“I am no lady.” Abigail lowered her face. “A lady ought to be restrained and wise, patient and kind, more likely to mend her hero’s cloak than to don it and hunt a dragon herself.”
Sir Ambult laughed with warmth that lifted Abigail’s chin. “And a knight?” he asked. “What qualities must such a man possess?”
“He should be brave and courageous.”
His eyebrows lifted as if he knew the list would go on.
She took a breath and continued. “A knight is willing to face unknown dangers in defense of the weak. His leadership must be just, defined by respect for God and man, and marked with chivalry. By wisdom, he overcomes despite overwhelming obstacles.” She hesitated again, but her heart would not be denied its chance to speak.
And so, Lady Abigail—or, rather, her heart—said, “You embody these qualities and more.”
“I survived obstacles,” Sir Ambult conceded. “But rather than by wisdom, I survived by strength and help you and the Almighty lent. You are wrong, too, about the makings of a lady, for I never loved on first encounter until I witnessed you in your poorly mended cloak, prepared to fight off a dragon with a stick.”
“You speak of love? To me?”
“Yes, because I have found my lady, and I pray she’s found her knight.”
Somewhere mid-story, the doors had rolled open, and Erin continued toward her room, reading and walking blindly. The last word devoured, she folded the paper.
And there was John, pacing outside her room. He may have followed through on seeing her in, but his face was as stony as the marble in the lobby.
He should’ve knownErin would one day use her spunk against him. “Satisfied?”
Her lips quirked as she surrendered her stolen prize. “Thoroughly.” But the sheepish dart of her glance said she was well aware that she’d annoyed him.
He folded the paper and shoved it into his pocket, but the story and the abandoned speech were still there, between them, something they’d have to talk about now that she’d made such a big deal of his choice to abandon his plan. He should’ve torn up the page and thrown it out at the restaurant.
She leaned her shoulder against the wall beside the door. “I know why you didn’t read it. It’s basically us in the story. Me, out to do a man’s job, and you—”
“Too weak to take on the world without help.”
Her eyebrows lifted toward the blue and raven ends of her hair, which fell in side-swept waves across her forehead. “Isn’t everybody? But that’s not what I was going to say.” She stepped closer, eyeing him with shy interest, as if she didn’t know if she was welcome to flirt with him or not.
She was—or she would’ve been, if she hadn’t forced them into this corner.
“I was going to say you’re as chivalrous as a knight.”
Right. Because chivalry was his defining characteristic after the panic attack. He tapped his thumb against his pant leg. To think this was the easier part of the conversation, the part about how the couple in the story wasn’t them. Any minute now, she’d be back on him about—
“Actually, you picked this passage long before we met, so obviously your choice to read it or not had nothing to do with me. Why not follow through?”
So many reasons, and none he wished to share, but his options were to answer or to run. He mustered up the easier excuses. “Kate would’ve heard the passage as criticism, and the videos of me reading would’ve gone viral.”
“The reading would’ve been sweet. If Kate heard something else, that wouldn’t have been your fault. As for videos, being a sensation doesn’t stop you from drumming. Why would it stop you from showing your sister how much you love her? And don’t tell me you were too embarrassed to read a sappy story. You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who can’t put his ego aside for a good cause.”
“I’m fresh out of ego after the day I’ve had.” Instead of operating on pride, here he was, in survival mode, evading questions.
“Apparently not, because you wouldn’t put yourself out there.”
“And you’re mad at me for it.” Calling this a date wasn’t supposed to give her carte blanche to probe his psyche.
But then, one small part of him thought his history might not be too bad to put into words for this woman, who peered at him so intently.
“I’m not angry, but there’s more to the story. When I joked that your heart must be sparse because you don’t say much? I don’t think that’s true. I think you feel everything. There’s some other reason you don’t say much.” Her forehead furrowed.
Did his silence hurt her?
