There was something torturous about being so well-versed in social situations. Even if Galt didn't quite know what answer he wanted from her, or had convinced himself that he'd be content with any response she gave, she was confident that wasn't true. There was a passive expectation that she would say something kind, or witty, or deeply insightful. What was neither anticipated or welcome were sincere thoughts that were darker, morose, jaded, or disturbing in any way. That wasn't to say that the former thief had made a negative first impression on him- quite the contrary; it was just that she couldn't be as forthcoming bout [i]everything[/i] she thought when they met, as it would include her cynical sense of self.

"I thought you looked a little uncomfortable," she said slowly. "You masked it well with a smile," Silke continued with a slight smile of her own. "After the tale of what happened to Duke Valdemar spread, and your daring rescue, there were more than a few skeptical nobles that thought you had saved him for the glory and possible reward, and that you were a shrewd, ambitious man that seized a very rare opportunity. If you were that sort of man, you would have embellished and exaggerated your accomplishments, and added to them to boost your image. Instead you seemed... I'm not sure how to describe it, but it was clear to me that you didn't crave the spotlight quite the same way someone more coldly calculating might have."

Letting her eyes flutter closed for a moment, she let her mind slide backwards to the feast, to the smells of all the freshly cooked food decadently strewn across the tables, the overflowing cups of wine, the brightly colored dresses, and the soft murmurs of conversation. "Knowing you were an actual hero made me hopeful and it also made you dangerous. It had always been my plan to avoid romantic entanglement and marriage," she sighed, not cognizant of what she had just admitted. Drowsiness and a mild fever had lowered her guard enough she wasn't cognizant of what she was saying aloud, much less the consequences thereof.

Silence fell over them temporarily as Silke's breathing slowed and she dozed briefly, for no more than a few minutes, before jolting awake of her own accord. "I can't fall asleep here," she murmured, more to remind herself than to inform Galt. While her family, and the courts, gave her much more independence and latitude than another unwed woman of her age, there would be a price to be paid if the two of them were found to have shared a cabin alone together for too long (despite the rain). His reputation would suffer little, if at all, since men having trysts was accepted with little fuss, especially if they were discreet. A lady, however, was permanently stained by the mere implication she had physical relations with anyone before marriage.

Galt was a man of honor, she knew. If they tarried at the cabin for too long, and it was discovered by her father, brother, or anyone else that might hold him accountable, they'd demand an immediate union. He would likely agree. Silke didn't fear being 'damaged' and abandoned as she might with someone else, but she hardly dreamed of rushed nuptials to try to salvage herself from a scandal, when it was still a possibility to her that her fiance would change his mind about their compatibility.

Reluctantly she started to stand, struggling to her feet. Both her clothes and hair were still damp. The fire had removed some of the moisture, so she was no longer dripping wet, yet it was a far cry from dry. There was only so much a hearth could do in a short period of time." Are you confident you can stay in your saddle on the ride back to the estate?" she queried with concern. As it was, she already planned to lash herself to her horse with rope, in case she didn't manage it in her current state. There wasn't much help she could offer except doing the same for him, unpleasant as it was.