“You are a knight, and I am a serf,” she reminded him, unable to look away. “It would be unseemly.” Her hands, with the comb, lay still in her lap, forgotten. The smile changed his face from merely handsome to something breathtaking, and she was lost. She bit her lip, then whispered, “Isaac.”
“And who would know, other than you and I? And if we’re going to be travelling together for quite some time, I’d like to get to know you if you would allow me that honour.” Sir Isaac pointed out, before his eyes widened in delight as a bright grin unfolded onto his lips. “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
She finally seemed to realise she was staring, and ducked her head again, playing with the comb. “No,” she whispered. She should be angry with him, she realised dimly, but it was impossible when he smiled like that.