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“You had a list of reasons.”

“I’m not–” But she didn’t finish her thought and shook her head, unable to voice how she was the one who was objectionable. Backed into a corner, she’d blustered about ways they didn’t suit, but really it was just her and her fear that he might look closer and see her for what she was: a weak woman. She couldn’t be a queen.

“Fuck, Tarley,” Lachlan said, still kneeling before of her.

She wished she could see his face.

“I never said I didn’t want to marry.”

Tarley shivered. “There is physical connection between us, but in the long run, you would be miserable, and I would be angry and bitter.”

Lachlan stood and adjusted himself. She heard him refasten his belt. He started for the door but stopped and turned. “Would marrying me be so bad?”

She didn’t answer. To say ‘no’ felt like a betrayal of herself, except she couldn’t honestly say that the idea of marrying him was any more abhorrent than marrying any man would be. “You don’t love me. I don’t love you,” she said instead, as if that alone dictated things.

His shadow stood near the door for several more breaths, before he said, “Give me a chance to change your mind.” Then without waiting for her to reply, he disappeared, shutting the door behind him.

20

After leaving Tarley, Lachlan climbed into the loft, hopeful not to wake Trevis. Turned out the boy was a light sleeper.

“Everything okay?” Trevis asked from the dark.

“Yes,” Lachlan lied and laid on his own palette.

Trevis returned to sleep, but it eluded Lachlan despite his exhaustion and the early morning hour.

So much had changed in the last few hours, and yet nothing had. He’d agreed to maintain the pretense of being Ollie for the time being, he was still stuck in Kaloma, and he was still reliant on the goodwill of others. But Tarley knew who he was, and he’d hurriedly negotiated a treaty on behalf of Jast which included he marry Tarley for the kingdom.

Now he had to find a way to get her to agree, but as much as he considered it—framing it as his duty—he couldn’t banish memories of the heat between them. He wasn’t opposed to marrying Tarley. And as much as she said she abhorred the idea, her body made a liar of her.

The problem was her stubbornness. He needed her to come to heel and getting that done was just going to make her dig her heels in deeper.

Proving his worthiness to his father meant making sure this treaty worked. That meant figuring out a way to get Tarley to agree. For the good of Jast. He had two weeks to change her mind, and he excelled when there was a strong inducement. A willing Tarley in his bed was a strong motivator.

Lachlan finally fell asleep smiling, considering the challenge.

Several days later, Tarley was making it impossible. He’d taken to hoping for glimpses of her as he moved through the various chores around the inn. She was avoiding him, and then he’d find himself pouting about it as he repaired cobblestones in the courtyard, or angry as he helped cart wood for the fireplaces, begrudging the fact that Prince Lachlan had never had to work so hard for a woman.

Then, he’d picture Tarley outside the tent, her hair free as the rain fell, and his breath would catch. He’d remember her standing in the river and recall his own thought that he hadn’t wanted their encounter to end. Then he’d think about their last kiss and the riotous passion between them, and his mother’s wisdom would flit through his thoughts:anything worth your time should require your effort. It makes the acquisition so much sweeter.

Lachlan knew he wasn’t the most patient of men. He was impetuous, mostly, and probably a bit spoiled now that he thought about it. But he was smart. And he was loyal. And he was willing to do what needed to be done for something he wanted. Which was to see this treaty to fruition. For Jast.

If he had to marry for Jast, he wanted a partnership, and though he hadn’t known Tarley long, he was sure that could be achieved. Only, he was going about wooing her all wrong, somehow, but for the life of him couldn’t figure how to go about it right. When had he ever had to chase anyone?

For the last hour, he’d been with Mrs. Barnwell cleaning and chopping vegetables, then cleaning and chopping more vegetables as his mind wandered beyond Mrs. Barnwell’s boring but pleasant chatter.

Besides the attack, he wondered about Ollie and the guards. He thought about his mother and father, his brother and sister. He wondered if the falcon message had arrived in Jast and how they would react knowing he was alive in Sevens. He wondered if his father would be proud he’d negotiated a treaty for Jast. And when those thoughts ran dry, every noise beyond the kitchen drew his attention. When it was Credence or Horance, disappointment weighed him. But every so often, Tarley would flit in and out without a glance his way. He tried to catch her eye and felt foolish for doing it, and yet he tried anyway. And occasionally, Tarley would give him a tentative glance, then look away and disappear once more.

“Ollie? Have you never helped your mum in the kitchen?” Mrs. Barnwell asked, her face scrunched at his latest attempt at chopping carrots.

He could confidently say even Ollie hadn’t done that. “No, ma’am. I’ve wielded a knife while hunting.”

She nodded. “So you know how to dress out the animal.”

His eyes widened because no, he’d never done that either. Servants did that.

She sighed. “What are you? A lordling?”