Free Shackles of Honor by Marcia Lynn McClure Page A

broad expanse of shoulder. He stopped abruptly in the next instant and turned to look directly into Cassidy’s face.
    At once Cassidy was mesmerized by him. Never had she been so close to him ; never had her face been an expanse of mere inches from his handsome features. In that very brief yet somehow lingering moment, Cassidy studied his face, his very countenance, with more scrutiny and detail than ever before. His eyes were truly fascinating, for the dark of their brown was deep and rich — filled with secretiveness and something else hidden. Cassidy checked herself immediately when her eyes fell to his lips, moist with the rain.
    She was startled when a grin spread across his face and he mumbled, “A poignant moment, perhaps.” The richness of his voice was soothing and yet unsettling at the same time.
    “I beg your pardon?” she stammered. Realizing that she still struggled not to stare at his mouth, she tried to look indifferent and somewhat fierce.
    “I suggest that this moment may in reality be of some significance,” he said in a lowered voice.
    “How so?” She felt his hand tighten at her rib cage as he held her and scolded herself inwardly as her entire body tingled with some newish pleasure.
    “Significant in that this very threshold will be the first over which I pass with you in such close proximity as this, Miss Shea.” His mocking grin broadened as Cassidy gasped with indignation.
    “I should slap your face for such a remark,” she scolded him as he stepped over the threshold and into the inn.
    “Why so?” he inquired, letting her feet drop to the floor and then releasing her.
    “Because…because…”
    “ ’ Twas a true enough observation, was it not?”
    She had no response to him. No quick wit would inspire her mind , and she simply stood glaring up at him.
    Grinning once more, he removed his hat and coat, handing them to a rather largely curved woman who appeared.
    “Come now,” he said to the woman, still looking at Cassidy triumphantly. “We need warming, and something for our…appetites.”
    The woman giggled flirtatiously , and Cassidy, though knowing there was something of a riddle in his words, was lost to the meaning of it. Obviously, the serving woman was not.
    
    “He’s a fine figure of a man, that one,” the serving girl who had previously taken Mason’s hat and coat whispered as she sat down in the chair across from Cassidy. Gesturing toward Mason, who sat in conversation with Cylia and Fieves at a table some ways across the room, the serving girl asked, “Is he yours then?”
    Cassidy wished her mother had not chosen that moment to inquire about Fieves’ s well-being. They had been sitting for some time, she and her mother , having enjoyed a warming broth and sweetly buttered bread. And now she found herself in unwelcome conversation with the repugnant female. She was completely shocked by the question and took several moments too long to answer. “I…I have no claim on him to speak of,” was all she could mutter. The girl smiled, obviously well pleased with Cassidy’s answer. Cassidy was immediately angry with herself for some odd reason for not telling the girl that Mason Carlisle was bound to her by a promise.
    “That news makes me gladder than I’ve been in a year,” the girl whispered. Cassidy watched as the young woman rose and walked, rather provocatively, toward the table where Mason, Fieves , and Cassidy’s mother sat.
    “Anything I can get for you further, sir?” the girl asked Mason.
    “No. Thank you,” he answered kindly, smiling pleasantly at the girl.
    “Well, let me know if we can provide you with anything else refreshing.” With a smile that made Cassidy’s skin crawl, the girl let her hand rest for a moment on Mason’s shoulder before she walked even more suggestively into the kitchen and out of sight.
    Cassidy angrily stripped off her shawl. She felt hot—fiery hot—as if she were indeed taking ill.
    “Did you see that