Chapter Seven

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"You don't mind

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"You don't mind... riding half a day with me by horse?" I narrowed my eyes. "And Ser Willough– Oh, damn. Ser Willoughby." I felt horrid. A quick glance around the quarter did nothing to help the worry; he was gone. "What time is it? God. He'll be absolutely pissed."

"Shit, damn," Askar cracked. "Pissed."

"What?"

"Your language, my lady. Never have I heard a woman so crass. Let alone someone so rich."

"I apologize. I—"

He shook his head. "I think it's refreshing... You don't hear a lot of variety in words when you're stuck in polite affairs. ...Alright then...? Might I be allowed to help you find your knight? Ser Willoughby. He's likely more worried than he is pissed. Unless, of course, you do this sort of thing often?"

"Escape his company to flirt with strangers?" I asked.

"Your words, not mine."

"I... No, I don't... I mean, I do escape his company, but never for such nefarious reasons," I confessed.

"Then I shall tell him I found you lost and forlorn and how insistent you were that we find him." When I didn't answer, he added, "Unless, of course, you don't intend to find him? At least quite yet?"

"I'm not sure I know your meaning, sir."

"Is Ser Willoughby unkind to you?" he asked.

"What? No. How dare you insult him; Willough is very ki– Ah. You're baiting me again." I stopped.

"At this point, it's really more of a beg."

"A beg?" I met his eyes.

"Aye, I'm begging. Tell me there is some reason you wish to spend more time with me. Do not cut down another idea I suggest; I am running low on excuses."

"Excuses? For what?" I asked.

"For but a moment longer with you. And by any excuse, if that was not clear."

"Your Grace, I..." I giggled, then covered it. He bore the sound like a badge of honor.

"If you are weary of this interaction, allow me to return you to your guard," he said. "Then I will leave tonight's festivities knowing you've made it back to wherever it is you're from and safely so."

I paused. "And if I'm open to continuing our interaction, Your Grace?"

He grinned.

I frowned. "There's just one problem. Ser Willoughby isn't stupid. He won't be happy with you when he finds us together," I explained. "He'll be very mad, and I suspect, beneath his maniacal cheer, he might have a secret temper. My father says the nice ones always do. And as you guessed, it's not like this is the first time I've deceived him. Not even this week, if I'm being honest."

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