He laughed along with her - nowhere near as heartily, for he couldn\'t do so at his own expense - watching with glittering eyes the silken way she moved and the lovely tilt of her mouth. It was probably the drink in him, but he finally allowed himself to quietly wonder at how she\'d feel pressed beneath him in the dark, how those lips of hers would taste.
"No, not swooning," he chuckled, once she\'d finished her review. He wasn\'t at all offended because his words had done what they were intended to do - get him out of guessing her age - and she\'d laughed at him instead of pursuing an answer from him. That was a successful dodge, in his book. "Laughter is fine; you look a lot softer and livelier than a rose when you laugh, anyway," he murmured, taking another swig of his drink, surprised to find it empty when he slammed it down on the table - not so hard it would shatter, but it gave a resounding thump nevertheless.
"Oops," he announced calmly, not looking too perturbed as he blinked at his companion. He\'d had enough to drink because he was actively pursuing lines that might make her swoon in his head - and rejecting them all - and that was a very bad sign. He was supposed to be going home with his cousin, not seducing a foreign princess just because her skin was tantalisingly dark and she moved liked a snake... he cleared his throat and made an effort to get back to their game, combing the fingers of his right hand through his curls and rumpling them, but lifting them away from his eyes.
"Let\'s see," he pondered, watching his work-roughened hands link together on the table before him, still in his sprawled position (his right leg had taken to swinging beneath the table, perhaps in an effort to brush hers inadvertently). She\'d heard all about his family and she\'d learned his history with the stables - including his jaded view that people weren\'t better than horses. What else was there to tell her that still fit within the spirit of their light-hearted conversation? Even as he thought about it, though, his emotions took over his mouth, before his brain got a look in.
"I had my first kiss when I was six," he grinned (one of the boys from the next farm over - but she didn\'t need to know that), "before I\'d even learned to ride a horse, but I didn\'t manage to have a proper evening out with anyone until I was nineteen. I\'ve never been married and don\'t plan to anytime soon, though I wouldn\'t mind having a pack of kids. Wouldn\'t go over too well at the stables, though," he giggled, imagining groups of his offspring pelting through the stables, throwing mud and jars of linament at each other while his employees cursed him and tried to avoid dropping their burdens of saddles and blankets, "nor with society, I guess, if I don\'t marry," he added as it occurred to him. He appeared to give it some serious thought for a full two seconds, then he shrugged and grinned at her again. "Still, I haven\'t ever been in a relationship that lasted longer than a month - and that only happened because I was so busy I couldn\'t be found to be yelled at for my neglect. I\'m married to my job, I think. Everyone else is just... a mistress," he told her with a wink.
Although he was still smiling, there was an element in his statement that appeared to have him concerned. He knew he worked too hard and as much as he made light of it, he also knew he did want a family. He just didn\'t seem able to mend his ways to have both. She spoke of her age but his was a niggle at the back of his mind; by his age, his father had established a farm, married a fabulous woman and had five children. Gallagher had... established an excellent reputation as a horseman and raised the profile of the castle\'s stables. What good did that do him? The fact was, he hadn\'t ever even allowed himself enough time to find someone he\'d be able to marry (someone he\'d find worthy, at the least) because, frankly, he enjoyed his... open ways too much.
