But the desire to be more than a stranger forced him to hunker down beside her. “I apologize, Lady Blythe. For everything.”
“I did not give you leave to use my given name,” she muttered into the blanket without raising her head.
He couldn’t blame her for being angry. “Again, I am sorry, my lady.”
As he expected, she ignored him.
“Are you cold?”
Was he hoping she would say yes, so he could offer to keep her warm. He was tempted to take her in his arms and chase away the fear and uncertainty.
“No.”
His hopes fell. “Very well. We can talk on the morrow. I bid you good night.”
He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t reply.