A Warrior's Bride. Margaret Moore
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“Was Rufus one of the few?” she asked, her heart beating fast with hope.
Her father eyed her warily. “No.” Disappointment pricked her bubble of excited expectation, and then her father burst it. “Speaking of Rufus, before he left, he asked me to tell you that he was very sorry if he had led you to believe...” His expression grew more stern. “Have I anything to worry about, daughter?”
She knew what he meant and answered in a low, but firm, voice. “No.” She was a virgin still.
“Good. Besides, even if he had asked, I would have refused him my permission.”
“Why?” Aileas demanded, even more surprised.
“He’s a good man and a fine soldier—and the kind of fellow who will always be seeking adventure. He will not be content to stay at home. He would leave you often, for long, lonely days.”
While she could appreciate the truth of her father’s words—more so than she could credit Sir George’s description of the type of husband Rufus would make—she was not content to have him discounted as a possibility. “Sir George has traveled much,” she reminded her father.
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