This is how the exchange went, directly quoted from the book;
“My respects for your loss,” Shandris quietly said. “The Mother Moon guides her spirit now.”
The general of the Sentinels moved as smoothly as a nightsaber and, to Jarod, seemed much unchanged physically from when they had last met. She carried her helmet in the crook of her arm, which allowed him to study close her face. As usual, Shandris’s true emotions remained hidden, save for a brief flash of what he read as either anger or uncertainty.
Shandris had been adopted by Tyrande, but they looked enough alike in the face to have passed for true mother and child. However, the high priestess had a softness to her expression that Jarod had seldom seen on Shandris. The general was also clad very true to her nature, her sleek, violet armor covering most of her form. The armor had been designed as much for swift movement as protection; even the shoulderguards were set so that Shandris could raise a bow or sword at a moment’s notice without any hindrance. The helmet—which only covered the upper half of the face—had also been forged with those two thoughts in mind. It could be easily set atop or pulled off of the head without ever catching on the long, tapering ears of a night elf or, in Shandris’s case, tangling with her long, dark blue hair.
“Thank you.” As she strode toward him, Jarod straightened to better face her. Her somber expression matched well his own.
“I recall her,” the general continued, looking at the still figure. “She had much merit.”
“She had life. She breathed life. The world brightened wherever she went.”
Shandris turned more toward the body, in the process her expression becoming hidden from Jarod’s view. “You truly loved her.”
“Of course.”
“Then I envy her.”
He gaped. “Shandris—”
The female night elf looked back at him. Her eyes were moist, but the tears were clearly not entirely for the deceased. “I am sorry. I have been rude. You know that you have my deepest sympathies. To lose her so suddenly after so long . . . it is not right.”
“Shandris . . .”
“I must go,” she muttered, looking even more uncomfortable than Jarod felt.
He tried to gently take her arm, but Shandris evaded his touch without seeming to try. She could not keep him from following her, though, and thus the two walked in silence out of the chamber.
Jarod looked around, saw that no one was near, then quietly said, “I have owed you an apology for a long time—”
“You owe me no such thing. Nothing ever truly happened between us.”
He looked back at the chamber, his face radiating guilt. Then: “I do not deny I was enchanted by your attention, especially once you had grown up, but we were heading in opposite directions in life. Those years right after the war were hard on all of us. All I wanted was to try to forget the carnage and the deaths. I never wanted to be a leader . . . a hero. . . . ” Jarod said the last word with much self-derision. “I felt out of place, something you did not. You had purpose. You had your duty to the temple and the high priestess.”
“She has—”
Jarod held up a hand for silence, and, clearly to his surprise, Shandris obeyed. “That you would be devoted to Tyrande not only for saving your life but for becoming the mother you lost is hardly something with which I would find fault. Yet she . . . and through her, our people . . . have been and always will be your foremost focus.”
Shandris opened her mouth, then shut it. There was no denial in her eyes. Instead, she leaned up and suddenly kissed him on the cheek. There was not even the mildest attempt at seduction; this was a token of sympathy for his plight.
“I am here if you need to talk,” the general said.
With that, she turned and departed. Shandris did not look back, and Jarod did not say farewell. He only watched as she headed in the direction that he knew the high priestess’s sanctum lay.
Wolfheart, pages 40-41
Even conceding saying Shandris tearfully propositioned Jarod was an exaggeration, the fact remains that Shandris brought up her feelings for Jarod, was holding back tears that weren’t all for Jarod’s loss, kissed him… and did all this at his wife’s wake with her body lying right next to them. It was gauche at best, recklessly selfish at worst.
And she still carries a torch for him after all this time!? If she didn’t have those feelings anymore, why the envy?
She invited him to talk, yes… because it’s never happened that two people meet to “just talk”, then one thing leads to another and then they have sex, right?