And certainly the only one who smiled in that sincere way, with a glimmer and light that dimpled her cheeks and met her eyes.

But he wasn’t the only one who was going mad. Or perhaps it was his hearing that was failing him. Because those were the only two reasons that accounted for what he’d heard.

Val turned slowly back. “I beg your pardon.”

“Join me,” she said with another one of those sun-filled smiles. Holding up two fingers and pointing them toward the floor in an upside-down V, she made a motion of walking.

“Is your fire out?” he asked bluntly.

Myrtle shook her head. “No. You will be very pleased to know I’ve done a very good job of making sure that the fire doesn’t go—”

“Are you hurt?”

This time, Myrtle’s smile dipped, and she proceeded to touch her arms and stomach, as if searching for some injury. “Why, no.”

“Have those brigands attempted to sneak in and steal off with your father’s collectibles?”

Myrtle stopped the automatic search of her frame and held an index finger aloft. “No.” She paused. “That is, not ye—”

He cut her off for a second time. “Are you without food?”

“No, quite the opposite. That is—”

“Then, Myrtle, there is absolutely no reason for me to accompany—”

“One of the reasons I’ve come.”

“—you to your household.” Val finished his sentence over her speaking.

“It is my birthday,” she blurted.

He cocked his head.

And this time, there was a hesitation to her, an unsureness the likes of which he’d never before seen from her. She wrapped her arms around her middle, giving herself a solitary little hug. “I have turned eighteen today.” She repeated the admission in a different way. “And I’d . . .”

“Rather not spend it alone?” he asked gruffly, and she gave a little nod, dropping her eyes to the floor.

Now the reason for her presence and request this day made sense. Even so, it was too dangerous . . . for both of them. And for so many reasons.

God rot her family. Val resisted the urge to unleash a stream of black curses about the mother and father and siblings who’d left her behind. What manner of parent forgot a child? And at that, this woman? A woman so vibrant as to light an entire room, and whose bright smile challenged even the darkest day. And it was why, against all better judgment, he wanted to say yes. He yanked a hand through his hair.

“Perhaps you’d like to join me?” Her bell-like, clear voice emerged with its usual cheer, and relief filled him at finding her restored to her natural way. The way it was most right for her to be. And it also restored him to reason, and propriety.

Val opened his mouth to issue a gentler declination. That was, as gentle as he was able anymore. “I can—”