Keeping Kinley

by Annette K. Larsen

  He shook his head, but a corner of his mouth turned up. “So tell me about the fellow that’s been haunting your stall at the market.”

  My face instantly heated, and I turned it toward the merriment around me, in hopes that he wouldn’t notice. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “There’s always something to tell when it comes to Rylander Baylor.”

  My head whipped toward him and I stared. “You know Rylander?”

  He lifted an accusing eyebrow. “First names, is it?”

  I refused to look away this time and hoped that my blush wasn’t too obvious. “What do you mean, there is always something to tell about him?”

  He lifted one shoulder, and his eyes returned to the dance, no doubt locating Ella and Gavin in a matter of seconds. “Merely that he’s not a typical noble.”

  “Because he spends his time with me?”

  “For one,” he said with a nod.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “And for another?”

  He took a moment to study my face before returning to his vigilant watch. “Be careful not to take him too seriously.”

  I smirked and bit down on a laugh. “I don’t think there’s any risk of that,” I said, thinking of my many encounters with Rylan and how seriousness had little to do with them. It was one of the things I enjoyed most about Rylan. I was sure he would have been amused if he could see me here, poking fun at a royal guard.

  Rowen nodded. “Good, then run along. You’re distracting me.”

  I put a dramatic hand to my chest. “Why, Rowen, that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I can now die happy knowing that you’ve admitted I have the ability to distract you.” I pushed away from the wall. “Pardon me while I go wave to my admirers.”

  He cracked a smile, and I left him there, throwing a grin over my shoulder.

  I spun my way through the dancers, trying to find my way back to Suzannah or Fynn. Instead, Zander found me in the middle of the dance and swept me into it. I complied, in far too good of a mood to worry about anything more complicated than the dance steps.

  After two consecutive songs, we scooped a drink out of the fountain and sat on a bench to rest. It wasn’t long before Fynn and Suzannah separated themselves from the crowd and came to join us.

  My eyes fixated on their hands, which were joined together despite the dance having ended. They both looked happy and relaxed. Did they even realize they still clung to each other?

  Suzannah must have noticed my wide-eyed stare directed at her hand because she looked down, her own eyes widening before she dropped her hand from Fynn’s.

  Fynn didn’t seem to notice. How could he not notice? He just increased his pace, jogging over to Zander and me with a smile.

  Suzannah’s smile faltered as she watched Fynn walk away from her, and my heart ached. If my fool of a brother ended up breaking Suzannah’s heart, I didn’t know if I’d ever forgive him.

  Suzannah slipped her arm around mine, and I tried not to overreact. Yes, Fynn seemed a bit oblivious, but he had been holding her hand, for goodness’ sake. I would worry about curing my brother’s blindness later, and for now, I would enjoy the evening.

  I spoke with Suzannah while we watched Ella and Gavin dance. As far as I could tell, they hadn’t taken a break since arriving, yet they didn’t appear tired. It was quite amusing to see the way the commoners watched them, with their own smiles stretched wide as they saw the way Gavin and Ella enjoyed themselves. They laughed while they danced, smiled as they greeted those around them, and never seemed to realize how wonderfully disruptive their presence was.

  When the evening came to an end, Gavin offered Fynn, Suzannah, and me a ride home in their carriage. Mama and Papa had left earlier, as was their habit, and Janie had left with Agnes hours ago.

  Fynn and I took the invitation in stride, but Suzannah didn’t seem to know what to do with herself. She sat stiffly on the cushion until Fynn put his hand over hers and encouraged her to enjoy the smooth ride. I smiled to myself. It was a short distance to Suzannah’s house, since she lived in the village. We arrived, and I was about to get out after Suzannah, but Fynn stayed me, saying, “I’ll walk her,” before jumping down. He saw her to the door and left her with a wave, simple as that. It wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was something. Fynn hopped back in, and we were on our way.

  As the carriage rolled along, I allowed myself to be lost in my own thoughts. My feelings for Zander this evening had been lukewarm at best, and the reason wasn’t hard to find.

  The time I had spent with Rylan, especially over the past week and a half since our argument in the market, had made me completely forget my aspirations for catching Zander’s attention. I never had to work to enjoy Rylan’s company. He had inserted himself into my life, making me smile and laugh and helping me at every turn. He was also the son of a lord.

  However . . . what was it that Rowen had said? I shouldn’t take Rylan seriously? What did that mean? I had assumed he was simply referring to Rylan’s personality, but why warn me about that?

  What if he meant that Rylan wouldn’t take my feelings seriously? Would Rylan tire of the novelty of my different way of life and move on? I half expected him to do exactly that—to disappear as suddenly as he had appeared in my life.

  That thought left me almost bereft.

  Chapter Eleven

  JANIE CAME THE next morning to help Mama with the wool since the harvest was fully upon us, and the orchard demanded all of my time. She brought Owen and Agnes along, and after much begging, I allowed them to accompany me to the orchard, though I made it clear they would have to make themselves useful or I would banish them back to the house. Truthfully, I probably could never have been so strict, but I did need to work, so I hoped that a five-year-old and a seven-year-old would at least not slow me down.

  There was a bit of squabbling at first, but once I had come up with specific tasks that each of them could do, the morning went quite well.

  We returned at midday, and the ravenous beasts threw themselves into eating with gusto. Afterward Janie cajoled them into the wagon she had brought, and I waved them off before returning to the orchard. I went to a section that I’d already harvested, going back to collect the lackluster or overripe apples to make cider. Herman pulled the wagon for me, and it was easy to climb into the branches and toss the leftover fruit down into the wagon. No need to worry about bruising them. When the lower branches were taken care of, I climbed into the upper branches, picking and dropping, picking and dropping. It was mindless work, but also soothing in a way.

  I moved on to the next tree and the next, stopping for a few minutes to eat one of the good apples when I got hungry. I was on my fourth or fifth tree when someone hollered, “Ho, there. Is it raining apples?”

  I recognized Rylan’s voice and felt immediate heat rush to my cheeks. Last time I had seen Rylan, he had kissed me. And I remembered precisely how pleasant it had been.

  But how did one act after such an exchange? Would our interactions be different now? Awkward and stilted and no longer comfortable? I looked down through the branches and found him at the bottom of the ladder, well away from the wagon where I was tossing fruit. “Afternoon, Mr. Baylor,” I said, and then mentally flogged myself when his eyebrows jumped. I was already making it awkward.

  His bright eyes looked up at me. “Feeling the need for formality, Kinley?”

  I tossed an apple at him, though it was a halfhearted throw and he had to reach out to catch it. He tossed it from hand to hand as he fought a smile. He couldn’t hide the glint of mischief from his eyes, though. “You do remember how things ended last time you tossed your wares at me, don’t you?”

  Could my cheeks get any warmer? I suddenly felt vulnerable, stuck up in the tree, so I backed down, focusing on placing my feet on each branch so that I didn’t do something truly mortifying like falling to the ground. Finding the ladder with my feet, I descended, speaking while I kept my eyes on the rungs.

  “Did y
ou come to make fun of me, Rylan?” I stepped to the ground and found him there waiting, a cheeky grin on his face.

  “Never.”

  I raised a challenging eyebrow. “You’ve teased me plenty of times before.” I leaned in, narrowing my eyes at him. “So we both know that’s a falsehood.”

  “Yes, but I would never tease you about this subject.” He leaned his shoulder up against my ladder, bringing him even closer, but I found that I didn’t mind. Instead I wanted to erase the distance between us completely. I gave an inner sigh at my wanton thoughts.

  “What subject?” I asked, sweeping my hair away from my eyes, feigning ignorance. There was no need to let him believe that I’d been dwelling on that subject ever since it happened.

  His mouth twisted, like he was trying not to smile, but his eyes gave him away. “I kissed you, you know.” He raised his eyebrows, challenging me to deny it.

  I fought a smile, unwilling to stroke his ego. “Was that you?”

  His grin escaped again. “Shall I remind you?”

  Curse him and his adorable teasing. My face flamed and I dropped my gaze to the ground. “As if I could forget,” I muttered under my breath.

  “What was that?”

  I looked back up at him, lifting a shoulder and smiling sweetly. “Nothing.”

  His smile broadened, like he knew how much it made my stomach twist and twirl—like he wanted to see me squirm. So I broke the moment by yanking the ladder away from the tree, forcing him to stop leaning on it. It took only a moment for him to find his footing, and I let myself feel the smallest bit triumphant over ruining his relaxed pose.

  I picked up the ladder and headed for the next tree, but Rylan quickly relieved me of the burden. “So if you didn’t come here to make fun of me, then what has brought you to my little corner of the kingdom?”

  He leaned the ladder against the tree I indicated. “You attended the village dance last night, didn’t you?”

  It wasn’t an answer to my question, but I allowed the change in conversation. “Yes, I did. I rarely miss them.”

  “It’s a shame you don’t go to the balls they hold at the palace. I might find reason to attend if I knew you’d be there to entertain me.”

  “I’m certain you would.” I climbed the ladder and started yanking overripe fruit and tossing it in the wagon. “No doubt I would create a laughable distraction.”

  “Why do you say that?” he asked from below me.

  I looked over my shoulder at him. “Do I look like I own a ball gown?”

  “That’s easy enough to—”

  “Or like I have any idea how to dance at such a gathering?”

  He shrugged. “I thought perhaps your brother . . . ”

  I went back to picking. “Gavin endures palace gatherings. I wouldn’t dare ask him to teach me.”

  “Have you ever wished to learn?”

  I lifted one shoulder. “I suppose all common girls are curious at one time or another.” Pluck. Drop. Pluck. Drop.

  “I could teach you.” His voice was low when he said it.

  My fingers wrapped around an apple, but I couldn’t get my arm to pull. I wanted Rylan to teach me to dance. Of course I did. But that would mean being close together. It would mean touching fingers and palms and wrists and shoulders.

  Apparently I was silent and still long enough that he noticed. “Why so hesitant? Afraid you won’t be able to learn the steps?”

  I yanked the apple free and threw it at him, but he managed to avoid it. He even laughed. “Come on, Kinley. It will be fun.”

  I turned around on the ladder so that I faced outward, reaching out with both arms to brace myself with a couple of branches as I looked down on him. “You do realize I have work to do?”

  He climbed the ladder—practically ran up it, really—and I held on for dear life until he stood a mere rung below me, blocking my escape, his own arms holding on to the same branches I clung to. We were eye level and he was right there in front of me, grinning in that irresistible way that came so naturally to him. “Yes. And I will help you like I always do,” he cajoled.

  Good heavens, how could I say no to that? I cleared my throat. “I don’t expect you to do my work for me.” I would hate for him to think that I only enjoyed his company because he offered free labor.

  His hands remained anchored to the tree, but he leaned toward me. “I would think you would know by now that I enjoy helping you.” He leaned in farther and placed a soft, sweet kiss to my mouth, just long enough to remind me that my heart was in serious jeopardy. Then he glanced at my lips and smiled before backing down the ladder. “Are you coming?”

  Of course I was coming. The man was too charming for his own good. Or at least too charming for my good. I turned toward the tree again, took a stuttering breath, and then climbed to the ground. The moment I turned toward him, he swept into an elegant bow, extending his hand toward me in invitation. I accepted it, trying to forget that I was not meant for a ballroom.

  He launched into his impromptu lesson, explaining how I must curtsy when I accepted the hand of a dance partner and the way I would hold the skirt of a ball gown out of the way as I walked onto the dance floor on the arm of a gentleman. He even told me how to pull back my shoulders and raise my chin as I walked. It seemed silly, but I admitted to myself that I felt the tiniest bit regal.

  “Now we bow and curtsy before starting the dance.”

  “More curtsying?”

  “The dancing is next, I promise.” He came out of his bow and stepped toward me.

  We were toe to toe, and he put one arm around my waist, resting his hand on my lower back. My breathing shallowed, but I tried to hide it.

  “Now go up on your toes, and we turn until we’ve traded places.”

  He hummed a little tune, and I followed his lead, making the turn with my hands at my sides since he had not told me to put them elsewhere.

  “Now two steps back.” He released my waist and backed away while I did the same.

  I took a deep breath once I was free of his . . . aura? Presence? I didn’t know what to call it.

  “Step forward, take my hand, and we walk, walk, walk, then turn. Take my other hand and walk, walk, walk.”

  That bit was easy enough.

  “Step toward me but a little to the side.”

  I did, and he took my arm, crossing it in front of him to rest at his side, then he did the same with his own arm, resting his hand on my hip. It was very similar to a step I was used to performing at the village dances. There we would have thrown our other hands up and skipped around in a circle, leaning out and anchoring ourselves against the other. Rylan’s version was much more sedate.

  “You will take hold of your skirt and hold it out to the side, and I place my fist at my lower back as we circle.”

  I held out my skirt and did as he instructed. It was just walking. It would have been boring if not for the fact that I was staring into his eyes the whole time. Common dances were vibrant, exhilarating. This dance was intimate and potent. The slower tempo and constant coming together and pulling apart forced the dancers to examine how they really felt about their partner. Or perhaps I only felt that way because of the man partnering me. Either way, the situation took me by surprise, latching on to my emotions and holding them hostage. He taught me the next step and the next, our hands brushing, our arms twined together. Perhaps I didn’t want to attend a royal ball. I would make an utter fool of myself, unable to hide my feelings.

  “What is this dance called?” I asked in hopes of breaking the tension that hummed between us.

  “The filara.”

  Learning only one dance didn’t satisfy me, so we moved on to a second and then even a third. We continued that way for an hour, maybe two, sometimes tripping over the uneven ground, other times having to maneuver around the trees. He never seemed to tire of teaching me or get frustrated with our crude dance floor, and I was enchanted by the entire situation. It became a challenge. I wished to master th
is small bit of Rylan’s world, to prove that I could be an asset in such a situation, instead of an embarrassment. It was a silly thought because it would never happen, but dancing with Rylan made me feel like things were possible. Like I was possible, and he was possible, and we could be possible together.

  Once he had taught me three different dances, we went through each of them in their entirety, one after the other. It wasn’t perfect, but when we reached the end, I was proud and exhilarated. We sank into our final bow and curtsy, and he beamed at me.

  “Very well done. Next time you will have to show me some of your dances, but for now, I believe there’s work that needs to be done.”

  The spell broke, and I turned my face to the sky, judging the position of the sun. When I looked back at him, he was rubbing his palms against the side of his trousers, glancing away guiltily. “I hope I didn’t put you too far behind.”

  Seeing him sheepish made me smile. “So long as you’re willing to help me work, you will be forgiven.”

  His put his arms out to his sides, presenting himself for inspection. “Just tell me what to do.”

  I turned back toward the tree with the ladder. “Any apples left on the tree go into the wagon.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it. This load will be good for sauce and cider.”

  He nodded once. “All right.”

  We set ourselves to the task, and Rylan’s work ethic, as well as his ability to move in the branches more easily than I could in my skirt, made him quite an asset.

  The shadows lengthened, and my eyes roved over the trees we had unburdened, checking our work as I climbed down from the last one. I was happy with the number of trees we had cleared. “Thank you for your help. I think I finished earlier than I would have by myself.”

  He dropped to the ground beside me. “Even with the interruption?” he asked as he brushed at his clothing and ran his hands through his hair.