Jarrod had been drinking deeply of the dark red wine since the serving woman had brought it. He had returned to the keep tired in both mind and body. Yet he knew that if he climbed into the bed, he would not sleep. He would lie awake thinking of the compelling young woman who had managed to so disturb his peace without even trying. A young woman whom he was unlikely to ever see again. Even when he found Christian, there would be no reason for him to return here.
He would be free to go on as he had before with no ghosts to haunt him but those of his past. Yet he drank more wine than was his custom in an effort to dispel the reluctance he felt at leaving Bransbury. Surely it was because he was so tired. The journey from Avington had been long and he’d had precious little sleep since arriving. And he was to set out again in the morning with nothing more than the name of a remote village as guide.
His unrest had nothing to do with the blue eyes of the female who had so forthrightly declared herself a woman and then insisted that he had some reason for not seeing this.
The very thought made Jarrod reach out for the cup again. He raised it to his mouth just as an imperious pounding sounded at the door. He sprang up, knocking over his stool as a jolt of adrenaline raced through him. Quickly he strode to pull the door open, his mind whirling not only from the wine but concern as he wondered what could be amiss to warrant such a pounding.
Jarrod stopped short. For on the other side stood a wide-eyed and diminutive Aislynn Greatham. Diminutive, he reminded himself, but very much a woman.
He spoke quickly. “What is amiss?”
She shook her head quickly. “Nothing. I simply wish to speak with you for a moment before you retire.”
His heartbeat eased only slightly as he scowled down at her. “When I heard that drumming, I thought something had occurred, that something was wrong.”
“Nay, there is nothing wrong.” His frown deepened and she finally noted his displeasure as she sputtered, “Forgive me, Sir Jarrod, I…”
Nothing, she had pounded upon his door like that for nothing. His head was spinning from the wine as well as irritation, and without stopping to think, he took her arm and pulled her inside the chamber.
Her eyes widened in shock. “What are you…?”
He let go of Aislynn, closing the door with a decided firmness, before rounding to face her. “I have no wish to discuss the matter in the hallway. What do you mean summoning me thusly in the dead of night?”
Now it was her brow that creased in not only displeasure but defiance as she glared up at him. “I attempted to beg your pardon for that. But you would drag me in without listening.”
“I am listening.”
She took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm her own anger, though he could still see traces of it in the high color along her cheekbones. “My father asked me to ready a few items for your journey. I simply wished to tell you that I had done so.” She looked down. “You are leaving in the morning, are you not?”
Jarrod was amazed at the amount of regret that stirred inside him as he looked down at her bent head. “Aye, I am leaving in the morning.” With no small effort he called himself to task and added, “There was no need to ready any supplies for my journey. I shall not be taking them. I prefer to travel light, making my way as I go.”
She shrugged those slight shoulders. “Nonetheless, my father asked me to make the things ready for you.” She looked at him then, her gaze direct, her nose tilted at a proud angle. “I was simply doing as he requested of me. He is a kind and thoughtful man.”
He nodded, not willing to try to fathom the strange expression in her gaze. “Aye, that I will uphold. Your father is a kind man.” He paused, honesty making him add, “And you are also kind, Aislynn.”
“You do much for us.”
He knew she meant his search for her brother and again felt a strange sense of regret. He pushed it aside. “I have told you that I have my own stake in finding Christian.”
Aislynn watched him closely. “So you have said. Have you no one of your own?”
A shaft of pain pierced his chest, a pain that shocked him, for he had thought himself long over this ancient hurt. The hurt of not having a home, a family of his own.
He felt her continuing to watch him as he moved to the table and picked up his cup. He downed the remainder of the contents and filled it again. And without knowing why, or even that he had been going to do so, Jarrod told her the truth. “Nay, my father is dead. And my half brother, who is now baron of his lands…” He shrugged. “Let it suffice to say he would not exactly welcome me with open arms.”
He did not look at Aislynn, but he felt the difference that came over her, a compelling softness that seemed to call to him, to urge him to rest in her womanly warmth. Again Jarrod emptied his cup.
The wine warmed him as it flowed out into his blood, warmed and numbed him, but did not ease that inner wanting. Slowly he sank onto the chair beside the table.
When she began to speak, his gaze found her face, the loveliness of her in the candlelight, which played over each delicate feature. So caught was he in just looking at her, in seeing the beauty he had not wanted to see, it was a moment before her words really registered in his mind. “I can not imagine what it would be like to be so very alone. Although there has been sorrow in my life, there has always been the promise of my dreams coming true, of my brother coming home, our family being whole again. My family, my father, my brother, marrying and having my own home and children someday, these things mean the most to me.”
Married, that was right. Aislynn was to be married.
Jarrod felt a renewed sense of unrest. He listened carefully as she went on, “My mother died when I was quite young. My father…he was not himself for a time afterward and it was during this time that Christian left us.” He looked at her, saw the sadness in her gaze, the glisten of tears she refused to shed. “You have no notion of how good it was to have him returned to us. He brought new life to Bransbury—to my father. He must be found. I can know no true happiness until it is so.”
Jarrod took the unused cup from the tray on the table and poured some of the wine into it. Without saying a word, he held it out to Aislynn.
Taking a deep breath, she moved forward and Jarrod rose. As she took the cup, he motioned her onto the chair. She took a drink of the wine, her gaze fixing on the flickering glow of the fire in the hearth.
Jarrod drank from his own cup. Even in his wine-clouded state, Jarrod wished he had some words of comfort. He did not, but her distress weighed heavily upon him. He told himself that it was her own sympathy for him, misplaced as it might be, that made him wish for some words of comfort.
Aislynn drew him back from these thoughts, whispering, “Have you discovered anything more of this Ashcroft? Have you any notion of how to get there?”
Jarrod shook his head. “Nay, but with the name in my possession all I need do is ask directions along the way.”
She sighed. “I am so glad that you have learned this much and am grateful for your efforts, but my worry has been little eased. It still makes no sense that Christian would remain away from Bransbury lest something had happened. I can not credit that he would break a promise to me lest something was dreadfully awry.”
He could not argue with that. Christian did keep his promises. “It is true, he does. Yet that does not mean something has happened to him. There could be any number of reasons for his being delayed.”
She turned to him, her gaze direct. “You do not really believe that naught is wrong or you would not have come all this way to find him.”
Jarrod could not meet those wide blue eyes,