For the first time that evening, Sylvan Ashford found himself unable to answer a question.
“Why do you want to see me every night?”
Rosylin sat beside him beneath the old tree, her brown eyes fixed on his face.
His oversized coat rested over her familiar black shawl, almost swallowing her small figure.
Her long burgundy hair spilled over the dark fabric, while the untidy hem of her faded dress brushed against the stone bench.
She was waiting.
Sylvan looked at her for several seconds before leaning back against the tree.
“Perhaps I find your company entertaining.”
Rosylin blinked.
“Entertaining?”
“Quite.”
“What exactly is so entertaining about me?”
He closed the book resting on his lap.
“Where should I begin?”
She frowned.
“Begin with the truth.”
“Very well.
You pretend to be a maid, disappear whenever I approach, make promises you immediately break, and run faster than most soldiers I’ve trained.”
Rosylin’s mouth fell open.
“I do not!”
“Which part?”
“All of it!”
“Interesting.
Shall we begin with the night you pushed me onto the floor?”
Her cheeks turned crimson.
“That was your fault!”
“Naturally.
I was foolish enough to release you.”
“You wouldn’t let me leave!”
“And yet you managed to escape.”
Rosylin folded her arms indignantly.
Sylvan studied her expression, a faint trace of amusement appearing in his blue eyes.
“And now you’ve stolen my coat.”
She immediately reached for its collar.
“Then take it back!”
“Did I ask for it?”
Her hands stopped.
She stared at him in disbelief.
“You’re impossible!”
“So you’ve told me.
Several times tonight, in fact.”
Rosylin turned away, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her smile.
Unfortunately, the corners of her mouth betrayed her.
Sylvan noticed.
He noticed almost everything about her.
The way she became defensive whenever she was embarrassed.
The way she tried to appear indifferent when she was nervous.
The way her eyes brightened whenever she spoke about books.
And the extraordinary difference between the girl sitting beside him now and the frightened young woman who had cried in his arms the previous night.
He had wanted her to stop running.
Now that she was finally sitting beside him, he discovered that he rather enjoyed making her stay.
“Are you angry now?”
Rosylin continued looking toward the rose bushes.
“No.”
“Then look at me.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Another lie.”
She turned toward him indignantly.
Only to discover that he was already looking at her.
“Why do you keep doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Making fun of me!”
“Because you make it remarkably easy.”
Rosylin narrowed her eyes.
“Do you always behave like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like an extremely unpleasant person!”
Sylvan raised an eyebrow.
“Usually.”
She gave an exaggerated sigh.
“Your poor sister.”
“Rizel appears to tolerate me.”
“Perhaps because she has no other choice.”
“Perhaps.”
Rosylin laughed before she could stop herself.
Sylvan’s gaze lingered on her face.
It was becoming an increasingly familiar problem.
Whenever she smiled, he found himself looking.
Whenever she laughed, he wanted to hear it again.
He had spent three years remembering a mysterious girl who had refused to tell him who she was.
Now that she was sitting beside him, he was beginning to discover a far more troublesome truth.
He enjoyed her company.
Far more than he had anticipated.
Rosylin suddenly tilted her head.
“Can I ask you another question?”
“Will you accept my answer this time?”
“That depends.”
“How reassuring.”
She hesitated before speaking.
“Do you behave this way with every woman you meet?”
Sylvan’s faint smile disappeared.
“No.”
Rosylin blinked.
“Never?”
“Never.”
“Why?”
“Because I generally have no interest in entertaining them.”
She looked at him.
Then she looked away.
For some inexplicable reason, the answer made her heart beat a little faster.
Sylvan noticed her sudden silence.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Rosylin.”
“And you’re terribly arrogant.”
“I’ve been told.”
She lowered her eyes to her hands.
“Then why are you behaving this way with me?”
Sylvan looked at her for a moment.
Had she not asked almost the same question earlier?
Apparently, she had no intention of letting him escape it.
He opened his book again.
“Perhaps I’ll answer that tomorrow.”
Rosylin stared at him.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“That’s unfair!”
“Life is rarely fair.”
She leaned forward.
“You promised not to ask me questions, but you never said I couldn’t ask you!”
“An unfortunate oversight on my part.”
“Then answer!”
Sylvan turned a page.
“Tomorrow.”
Rosylin folded her arms.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t come tomorrow.”
His fingers stopped moving.
Slowly, he raised his eyes.
“Careful, Rosylin.”
She suddenly felt rather pleased with herself.
“What?
Are you afraid I’ll disappear again?”
Sylvan closed his book and staring her with his deep blue eyes.
“Are you threatening me?” he said.
“Perhaps,” she smile.
He studied her for several seconds.
“You’re becoming rather brave.”
Rosylin lifted her chin.
“Perhaps you’re not as frightening as you think.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“Is that so?”
She nodded confidently.
“Yes.”
Sylvan leaned slightly closer.
Rosylin immediately became aware of the distance between them.
Or rather, the sudden lack of it.
His blue eyes remained fixed on hers.
“Then why are you moving away?”
She glanced down.
Without realizing it, she had shifted toward the far end of the bench.
“I wasn’t!”
“Of course not.”
“You’re doing it again!”
“Doing what?”
“Making me nervous!”
Sylvan raised an eyebrow.
“Am I?”
Her cheeks turned pink.
“You’re absolutely unbearable!”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
Rosylin froze.
She had heard him laugh earlier, but there was something different about it now.
His usually cold expression had relaxed, and the amusement in his eyes made him look almost like another person.
For several seconds, she simply stared.
Sylvan noticed.
“What?”
Rosylin shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“Then stop staring.”
She immediately looked away.
A moment later, however, she glanced at him again.
And without thinking, she spoke.
“You should laugh more often.”
Sylvan looked at her.
“Why?”
Rosylin answered before her mind could catch up with her mouth.
“Because you look handsome when you do.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Rosylin froze.
Her brown eyes widened.
She had said it.
Out loud.
To Sylvan Ashford.
She wished, with every remaining fragment of dignity she possessed, that the ground would open beneath her.
Sylvan, meanwhile, had gone completely still.
For a brief moment, even he seemed caught off guard.
Then his blue eyes narrowed slightly.
A slow, unmistakably amused smile appeared on his face.
“Handsome?”
Rosylin’s entire face turned crimson.
She immediately looked down.
Sylvan leaned back against the tree.
“Would you care to repeat that?”
Rosylin shook her head vigorously.
He watched her, thoroughly entertained.
“Rosylin?”
She refused to look at him.
“Nothing to say?”
Her fingers tightened around the edges of his coat.
Then she suddenly remembered something considerably more urgent than her embarrassment.
She was still wearing it.
His expensive coat.
Over her black shawl.
If one of the maids saw her returning to her room with a prince’s coat, there would be questions.
And questions in Valemont Mansion rarely ended well for her.
Rosylin immediately stood.
Sylvan looked up.
“Where are you going?”
She did not answer.
Instead, she hurriedly removed his coat from her shoulders.
The cold night air touched her arms as she folded it as neatly as her trembling hands allowed.
Sylvan watched her.
“Keep it until tomorrow,” he said.
Rosylin shook her head…
She glanced nervously toward the distant mansion.
Then she held the coat out to him.
He noticed the sudden change in her expression.
The embarrassment was still there, but beneath it was something more familiar.
Fear.
His amusement faded slightly.
“Rosylin?”
She pushed the coat into his hands.
Sylvan accepted it without another question.
He understood enough from the way she kept looking toward the mansion.
Someone might see her carrying it.
And she was afraid of what would happen if they did.
He placed the coat beside his book.
“Very well.”
Rosylin pulled her familiar black shawl tightly around her shoulders.
Her long burgundy hair tumbled over the dark fabric as she stepped backward.
Sylvan looked at her flushed face.
“Are you leaving because it’s late?”
She said nothing.
“Or because of what you just told me?”
Her eyes widened even further.
A mischievous smile returned to his lips.
“Rosylin, I haven’t thanked you for the compliment.”
That was enough.
She turned around.
And ran.
Without another word.
Her messy dress swept across the moonlit path as she hurried between the rose bushes.
Her black shawl fluttered behind her, and her long burgundy hair streamed down her back.
Within moments, she had disappeared into the darkness.
Sylvan remained seated beneath the old tree.
For several seconds, he simply stared after her.
Then he lowered his gaze to the coat she had hurriedly returned.
A smile slowly spread across his face.
He shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him.
And beneath the moonlit branches, he whispered,
“Always running away from me.”