very good choice, my lord.”
Jarrod made no reply to this obvious innuendo as the tinker reached to his own purse, for the sovereign Jarrod had placed in his hand was far too dear a price for a bit of ribbon. Jarrod stopped him. “Nay, pray keep it. As I said, you have done me a service.”
The tinker bowed and said, “And now I am in your debt, my lord.”
Jarrod nodded absently as the man’s assumptions brought a surge of discomfort. With the bit of ribbon in his hand he now felt somewhat uneasy, especially as the image of Aislynn’s delicate face and those wide and beguiling blue eyes came strongly in his mind.
He suddenly realized he could not give it to her. It might only further confuse things between them. She might very well misinterpret his action, as the peddler had.
An honorable man did not give such gifts to a woman who was to be married. The Dragon, who had been the man to teach Jarrod so much of honor, had never mentioned this specifically. But Jarrod knew, in spite of the fact that he had little experience with gentlewomen. His sense of right told him as much.
Nay, he could not give it to her, but neither did he wish to keep it. Only the fact that he would cause the peddler to speculate further kept him from dropping the bit of silk to the ground where he stood.
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