Follow Your Heart

by Ruth Kaufman

  “I was too angry last week to ask,” he admitted. She must want to hurt him in some way, for not caring about her or some such womanly grief.

  Joanna thought for a moment. “I also remember hearing that your grandmother had a part to play. What happened to her?”

  The urge to unburden himself, to share at least some of his past, was overwhelming. For the first time in years, he wanted someone to know more. No, he wanted Joanna to know more. He could acknowledge now the fragile tie that bound them from the instant they met. Adrian wanted to strengthen that intangible connection despite the price he might have to pay.

  Then again, telling her would make him vulnerable, which no man wanted to be.

  “My father thought my mother’s mother was a witch because she had the Sight and had visions of the future. In his eyes, her death was the only way to protect the family from her taint,” he explained. “When I was twelve, he turned her in to the authorities. I saw her burned at the stake.” Truth won out. Vulnerability was as unpleasant as he’d thought, though tempered by a sense of freedom. “How horrible! Such a sad tale,” Joanna said. “How could he betray her?”

  Were those tears glinting in her eyes?

  Adrian wouldn’t let her sympathy affect him. “He believed his actions were for the best. That he was protecting the rest of us.”

  Thank God his father never learned Adrian too had uncontrollable visions of the future. Or he’d have sizzled along with his grandmother.

  Joanna swiped her cheek. “Wait. You said ‘Sir’ when you told me your true name. Why not ‘Lord?’ Didn’t you inherit your father’s title?”

  She noticed too much. He didn’t want to go into that, having said too much already. “Perhaps another time.”

  What had he been thinking? His father’s demise was common gossip at court, as was the tale of his grandmother’s death. Joanna couldn’t know the truth of his affliction. No one did, except his twin. His dire need to have someone understand what could not be understood had made him jump to hasty conclusions.

  Joanna sat up straighter and squared her shoulders. “Do you want children?”

  He started. This had to be the most unusual conversation he’d ever had. And how had he wound up revealing so much of himself when what he wanted was to learn more about her?

  “I would like an heir of my body, as most men do.” A truthful, but not a complete answer.

  He hated the way the secrets he had to keep interfered with daily life. Only one reason he often kept to himself.

  “Of course you would,” she replied with a nod.

  She leaned forward, her curls covering her injured cheek, tempting him to touch. He could see flecks of gold in her eyes. Her gaze was so intense, he couldn’t break away. Not that he wanted to.

  Heat pooled in his groin. He had to kiss her. Now. He leaned toward her.

  “What I’m about to ask is most irregular and seems quite sudden, but I don’t know where else to turn.” She swallowed. And swallowed again. “Sir Adrian, would you marry me?”

  He almost fell off his stool. He had no idea that this was where she was going with her questions.

  “Will I marry you?” he parroted, stunned.

  “I wanted to be independent,” she said, her gaze steady. “And to believe that a woman alone could succeed. Maybe some can. But recently I’ve had…difficulties with my brother William and John, as you’ve seen.” She looked down, as though what she was about to say embarrassed her. “I don’t know how far they’re willing to go to get what they want. After what happened today, I must accept that a man’s protection would be valuable. My shop must thrive or—”

  “Or what?”

  Her expression was unfathomable. “Or I’ll lose it. My father left me the studio and his supplies in his will, but if I don’t earn enough profit by a certain date all goes to William. He’s promised John more responsibility and money if I fail.” Joanna took a deep breath, as though she fought back tears. “John has been undermining my work by lying to clients. He destroyed a window I’d almost finished and blamed me.

  “With a husband like you, I’d have enough power to keep them at bay. I wouldn’t have to fear them.”

  “But—”

  “Please, let me finish.” She focused her complete attention on him. He could feel her trying to persuade him. “I wish I didn’t, but I need a man like you. You may not be noble now, but you’re still a knight. You have connections to people with money, people who might commission a window.

  His surprise faded as he absorbed her explanation.

  “Equally important, you don’t work with glass,” she continued. “After my father died, a master glazier offered for me. He hoped to combine our shops. Of course I couldn’t take the proposal seriously. For he only wanted one thing.”

  “To marry a beautiful woman?” Adrian dunked the damp cloth in the water pitcher and replaced it on his aching eye.

  She flashed him a look saying she hadn’t expected him to understand. “He was interested only in my painting and designs, and wanted to own my talent and have me under his control. The advice of a mentor is one thing, to be ordered about like a servant is another. I refuse to be a mere employee serving a master. I’ll be an equal partner, nothing less.”

  Joanna looked away, perhaps disconcerted by exposing her innermost thoughts. She walked to the corner, picked up the broom and clenched the handle. “I realize this is unexpected. And that, whatever happened to your title, you come from nobility while I don’t,” she continued over the tinkling sound of broken glass as she swept. “I believe we can reach an amicable arrangement. Unless you hope to marry for money. Though I imagine rich heiresses are in relatively short supply these days, what with the problems between the king and the Yorkists.”

  Her unforeseen offer intrigued one part of him and appalled the rest. What was he to make of her dismissive attitude toward such a serious subject? Nobles and tradesmen…tradeswomen…rarely wed.

  “Most marriages are transactions arranged for financial reasons or political gain by parents or relatives. Not the spouses themselves,” he said, setting the now-warm cloth on the counter.

  “I have no parents and don’t trust my brother. We’re both far older than most when they marry,” she replied. “People like us, people with goals, must take matters into our own hands. We must look to the most practicable way to achieve our dreams.”

  “You don’t harbor romantic visions of marrying for love?”

  “Once I did. As a girl hopes and dreams. But few women, even the most highly-ranked, can choose whom they’ll wed. Pleasure is fleeting. It doesn’t merge great holdings or pay for sheets of glass or food. I can’t afford to waste time trying to find someone whose kisses make me sigh, however pleasant that might be. Can you?”

  “I suppose not,” he agreed. For more reasons than he dared reveal. “But you don’t even know me.”

  “Many marriages are made without the spouses knowing each other well. And I do know you. You are kind, determined, and very strong,” she said. “You’ll be wealthy again, for I know you’ll accomplish your goals. I assume you have all of your teeth. What more can a woman ask of a spouse?”

  Her implicit faith overwhelmed him. No one, even his own brother, had ever offered him such trust. Everyone else insisted on proof first. Even then people were wary of his next venture until it too succeeded.

  “You might not want to bind yourself to a craftsman—”

  Adrian cut her off. “It’s not that. You can’t know what you are asking.”

  He bit his tongue to keep from telling her why he couldn’t marry her, though he wanted her with him and beneath him.

  She continued, “I’ll provide your heirs, and as much gold as I can. You’ll support me in my glass-painting as needed. I warn you: my work comes first.” She rested the broom against the wall and sat across from him. “Cooking and sewing have no place in my repertoire. Is that understood? Perhaps we should write the terms into a contract. And attach our
seals, so we know exactly where we stand.”

  “Joanna….” Adrian didn’t know what to say.

  He reluctantly acknowledged her idea had some merit. An impersonal marriage might be the solution to his problems, too. As the older twin by five minutes, he’d once dreamed of continuing the family line after restoring his estates, but feared marriage was too great a chance for him to take. She was right that if he could marry, his bride should be noble, to enhance his family’s standing in society. On the other hand, until he recovered his estates and title, he’d have little chance of finding a noble bride. He’d never considered marrying a merchant or other commoner. It wasn’t often done.

  And what about Andrew? He’d be furious if Adrian had children, for he expected to remain Adrian’s heir, assuming there’d be something to inherit. His twin had suffered too, and had kept his foremost secret. Thus far. Would Andrew remain silent if Adrian accepted Joanna’s proposal?

  He noted the expectant look on Joanna’s face. She was industrious and determined. She was lovely and he desired her. Most important, she trusted him. But it was too soon for him to trust her no matter how much he wanted her or how sincere she seemed.

  Too well he knew the temptations of betrayal. His own father had succumbed. What could hurt more than betrayal by those closest to you, those with the power to cause the most pain? Nothing could crush trust more than losing faith in someone you loved.

  Who knew when a friend might become an enemy?

  Joanna waited, idly twisting a curl around her finger. A small smile hovered on her lips.

  Adrian wanted to kiss her. Many times. He needed to know how she’d taste, how her body would feel in his arms. He hardened at the thought of her pressed against him.

  “Well?” she asked. “Perhaps you need some time to consider.”

  If only he were like other men… “I cannot.”

  Her face fell, sending a bolt of sorrow through him. Though he hadn’t meant to hurt her, he hadn’t anticipated he’d care if he did. She doesn’t know me. She can’t know what she’s asking.

  “Thank you for giving my proposal such serious consideration,” Joanna said, her voice harsh with sarcasm. “I’m sure I’ll find another solution. However, I find I am no longer in a creative vein today. When can you return to sit for me?”

  She looked down her slender nose at him, any remaining disappointment hidden behind her controlled expression. Her eyes looked hard as marble as she squared her shoulders.

  Never was the answer that might best serve them both. He couldn’t deny his attraction to Joanna, the desire that ignited when she was near. Her intelligence, talent and determination had snared his interest.

  Though her plea touched his heart, he couldn’t solve her problems without sacrificing his own goals. On the other hand, he needed to rescue his priceless stained glass windows and preserve his family home.

  But more time spent with her meant more chance of a vision overtaking him in her presence.

  Dare he take the risk?

  Chapter 4

  “Your sister is a bitch!” John exclaimed as he stormed into William’s chamber. He slammed the door, then pounded his fist against it, denting the decaying wood. “She refused me. Then she bit me.”

  William concealed his fury by jumping off his narrow cot and attempting to brush wrinkles from his well-worn garb. He snatched up a slightly wilted apple and scraped the peel with his eating knife. If John weren’t careful, he’d take the knife to his thick neck.

  “What am I going to do now?” he demanded. “You promised you’d succeed. Try again.”

  “She won’t have me. Maybe before. Not now,” John said. “She’s got a man looking out for her.”

  His heart sank. Joanna had a protector? How did that happen? “What? Who?”

  “Don’t know, but he’s almost as tall as me and he can hit. Talks like a lord.”

  “A lord? Maybe he’s a new client. Damn,” William muttered. The knife bit into the fruit deeper than he intended, sending juice dribbling down his fingers and onto the floor along with his plans. “Didn’t you woo her with sweet words as I told you? Tell her how pretty she is?”

  “Not exactly.” John scuffed the dirty floor like a frustrated boy. “All should still be well. Most of her clients believed the lies I told.”

  William slapped his knife onto the cracked wooden table beside him, then bit into the apple. “Why did I trust you? I’ve wasted too much time. Now I’ll have to deal with her myself.”

  “You can’t marry her,” John scoffed. “What else can you do? Kill her?”

  At that moment, he sorely wished he could. Fury at his own ineptitude replaced dread. William paced the small chamber, sending puffs of dust into the air. He took another bite, only to uncover a rotten spot. He spit the mouthful onto the floor and tossed the core after it.

  “If you’ve raised enough doubts about her as you said, I won’t have to resort to violence. Her clients will cancel their orders. With no coin coming in, she’ll have to give the studio over to me to keep a roof over her head,” William said through clenched teeth. “Then I’ll give her to you. If you serve me well.” John needed incentive to follow through, after all. “Can you picture that, John? Joanna in your bed?”

  “I just told you she refuses to marry me,” John said.

  William tightened his lips to keep from snapping at his sole henchman. “She’s lost the chance to be your bride. Now she’ll merely be your mistress. And you can still marry someone else.”

  “Joanna deserves whatever befalls her. She should have let me take care of her. That’s her duty as a woman.”

  How William would enjoy having his proud sister at his mercy. Just like the apple, they were. She was the sweet fruit and he the rotten, smushed spot. Deep in his core, a small seed of guilt sprouted for what he’d already done and would soon do to his only sibling. But he was in far too much trouble to worry about her.

  John leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “When do you have to pay up?”

  The change of subject made his gut churn. As did the smug expression on John’s face. “Leave. I’ve plans to make.”

  “I know what I know. When do you have to pay?” John towered over him.

  William stood his ground. He flexed his fingers over the hilt of his knife, yearning to use it. “Any day now they’ll be back to collect. I’d better have their gold this time. But I’ve nary a groat to my name.”

  William hid his left hand behind his back, as though he could conceal the still-painful evidence of his creditors’ brutality. With the glove he wore, no one else could tell that the bastards had cut off his little finger. He’d rather die than suffer the indignity and pain of losing another part of his anatomy.

  “What happened to the coin you won dicing?”

  “I lost it all back,” William confessed. “If I’d had enough to place one more bet, surely I’d have triumphed.”

  “Hazard is a dangerous pastime, my mother always said.”

  Fury ensnared him. “Out. Out!”

  With a snide chuckle, John left. William threw his knife. The blade sank into the closed door with a satisfying thud.

  What to do? William rubbed his elbow on his tiny window to remove some of the grime. All would be clear, in time. He smiled as he looked through the wavy glass out onto the bustling street. Though he couldn’t trust John, he could trust himself. He’d prevail and the glass-painting studio would be his at last. Then John would work for him and Joanna would be under his thumb, where she belonged.

  Assuming by then he still had a thumb left.

  Nervous anticipation clung to Joanna like dust from the glass she’d ground as she gathered the materials necessary for Adrian’s sitting. She hoped he wouldn’t mention her impulsive marriage proposal. She’d act as though the embarrassing incident never took place. Just like a good window design required planning before execution, she should’ve developed her reasons and laid out her strategy before discussing marriage with
him.

  Uncertain whether she’d prefer charcoal or ink for her drawing, she set out both on a small table near the window. She had all prepared more than a quarter hour before he was scheduled to arrive, yet kept checking to be sure all was in order.

  Her spontaneous suggestion that he sit for her still surprised her. What about him made her act and speak without thinking? Any excuse to look at him for long periods of time suited her. She could see his features clearly in her mind, but wouldn’t tell him so. He’d promised her three sittings and she’d enjoy every minute of them.

  She dried her damp palms on her skirts. She was making too much of this visit. He wasn’t coming to see her, merely fulfilling his obligation in return for her saving his stained glass windows. That was all.

  At last Joanna heard a knock. She ran to the door, taking a deep breath to compose herself before she opened it.

  Her memory hadn’t done Adrian justice. He was far more attractive in the flesh. Talented as she was, could she capture his high cheekbones, square chin, perfect nose and well-shaped face on parchment? His flowing, slightly wavy hair with its intriguing white streak would be easy to represent. His most compelling feature, his bluest of blue eyes, would be her biggest challenge. They shone with intelligence and fascinating mystery. A large purplish bruise marred one eye, remnants of John’s hostility.

  “Shall I enter?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes, of course.” Embarrassment washed over her, for she’d been staring unabashedly. And the session hadn’t even started yet. “Sit here, if you will.”

  She’d arranged the chairs so he’d face the window and catch the best light.

  Adrian turned briefly, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his tunic. Then he sat, his long legs crossed at the ankle. He seemed at ease, while nerves teased her skin at his mere presence.

  “Your eye, does it hurt?” she asked.

  “No, now that the swelling has gone down. Your cheek looks much improved.”

  Joanna moved her chair and table a little closer. In contrast with her chilled fingers, a strange heat formed deep within. She rubbed her hands to warm them, hoping her fingers wouldn’t tremble as she drew.