She walked passed him and into the room. The bed looked as if carved from a giant maple tree, or maybe several. The four posts stood at each corner of the bed and she doubted she could wrap her arms around any of them. The etchings of roses and leaves were smooth to her touch. Emerald sheets and blankets invited her to lay in their softness. Her sitting area beside the hearth included a chest propped open and stuffed with clothes and jewelry, and a table.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Wait until you see the gardens.”
*
Outside, the scent of roses, lilies, and honeysuckle filled the air. In the middle of the garden was an archery target. Beside it lay her bow and arrows.
“Wha—”
“In your wedding haste, I saw that you had left these. Your father told the baron of your love of the bow and throwing knives. I packed your belongings after you went to sleep last night.” He walked with her to the target. “Feel free to practice. Mistress Margery will see to your needs while I am gone.”
“Where are you going?”
His grin made her stomach flip again. “I’ll be back. I haven’t left your side since the ceremony and I’m afraid I’ll make the flowers here wilt if I do not bathe.”
Margery snorted, but went back to pruning a rose bush. She was an elderly woman with grey hair, which poked out from underneath her head covering.
“I will bathe, change, and then return to you.”
“What about the baron?”
“Ah, yes, I will check on the baron as well. Do you wish me to relay a message to him? Your new husband?”
“Aye. Tell him … tell him I hope his health improves so I may see him and he, me.” She felt foolish saying the words when her heart did not mean them. Yet the elusiveness of the baron, peeked her curiosity. Watching Nicholas leave, she thought she would rather be married to him than some stranger especially an elderly one.
She shook her head and picked up her bow. Fear must be making her lightheaded for she would never marry a servant. No matter how handsome he was when he goaded her.
*
After she shot all the arrows twice, Caroline told Margery she would walk the grounds.
She had just made her way to the courtyard when she saw Nicholas talking to a servant. His hair was still damp from his bath. She wondered how soft his hair was. Surely, it would be softer than the coarse grey hair of the baron.
When he caught her eye, she spun around and murmured a prayer to Mother Mary to rid her mind of these wanton thoughts. She was married.
“Did you finish with your bow?”
“Aye. Thank you, Nicholas.”
“The baron was overjoyed by your words and asked me to give you your wedding gift.”
Caroline took Nicholas’ hand as he offered to help her up the steps to a marble bench. He held a wooden box in the other.
The engraved mahogany wood was the length of her forearm. She knew it was too short to be a new bow. Perhaps it was jewelry. She had enough gems.
Opening the box, she thought she felt an intimate look from Nicholas as he watched her as though anticipating her enjoyment. She gasped in surprise. There inside the velvet lining, laid three silver throwing daggers.
“They’re beautiful.” She picked one up and tested the weight. Perfectly balanced.
“And I’ve something else to show you.” He gestured for her to rise, then placed his hand on her back as they strolled.
She stepped away and scowled.
He apologized, “I’m sorry Caroline. In your company, I sometimes forget that I am merely a servant sent to entertain you until the baron calls for you. Please forgive me.”
Giving a curt nod, she turned to see where he had led her. “A scarecrow?” she asked.
“Not just any man of straw, but your target for the knives. It’s packed with straw and boards to mimic a real person wearing padded leather amour as the baron’s old fencing teacher told him.”
Still, she could not believe it. She ran her hand down the dummy’s tunic. The guilt that the baron would go to so much trouble for her when she wanted him to leave her alone or die caused a lump to form in her throat.
“What does the baron like?”
“You,” he whispered.
Her cheeks heated. “No, I mean, as gratitude for his wonderful gift.”
“He will be pleased you like them.”
When he said nothing else, she lifted the blade and took aim at the target. It bounced off a leg and fell. She was used to the ground or the archery board as a target. Both were more forgiving.
“May I?” He gestured to another knife lying in the box. When she nodded, he picked it up, and then hurled the blade. It sunk up to the hilt at the target’s throat. “Now, let me help you. Skill is the most important thing. You could be a giant, but if you don’t have the technique perfectly, it will not work. If you will allow me to show you?”
“Please.” She felt his warm hands on her. One was around her waist so he was partially behind her, the other on her hand.
“Don’t flick your wrist, keep it straight like this.” He moved her arm closer to her head. “Hurl it in a downward motion.”
It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying with his breath tickling her ear. Her heart beat so fast she worried that he would hear it.
She smelled the bread with honey he had eaten to break his fast and wondered what his lips would taste like. But she pushed the thought away.
For hours, she threw the blades with the baron’s proxy giving her encouragement and advice. Nicholas was better than many servants in her father’s home. His patience as he taught her would rival a saint’s and she had tried the tolerance of many teachers. Nicholas seemed to anticipate her need and mood before she even knew what she wanted.
Finally, she threw one of the knives and the tip stuck into the scarecrow’s head.
She was so excited she clapped her hands and leapt into Nicholas’ arms. Her enthusiasm faded as he brushed his lips across hers and her legs nearly buckled.
“I—I cannot. Forgive me.” She turned and ran back to the keep.
Chapter Four
Her lips still tingled where he had kissed them. It was a soft brush of a kiss, but it made her want more. She took a shuddering breath as she paced in her chambers.
How ironic, she thought, that I would succumb to a commoner so easily yet noblemen have tried for months and not gotten so much as a real smile from me.
It would not do to fall in love with a servant. She would not. Too often, her mother scolded her about being too friendly with the help. Now, she saw the danger. Love had no place in her life—and now certainly not in her marriage. Thanks to an old man and her parents, she was trapped. Even if her anger toward the baron shifted into something more pleasant, she doubted he would live long enough to realize it. Despite what Nicholas had told her about the baron’s long lived relatives.
She flung open the door to her chambers and marched to the baron’s. He should bed her and be done with it. As soon as she got pregnant, she could relax a bit. These hours of not even knowing the sound of his voice while he piled praise and gifts upon her through Nicholas was unsettling.
I must remember these things and attention are from the baron, my husband, and not Nicholas.
From her tour with the proxy, she remembered the way to the baron’s chambers. She had been here a week with not so much as a greeting from the baron. If nothing less, she should meet him and maybe kiss him … on his cheek perhaps.
Instead of knocking, she pushed open the chamber doors. In the room, embers from the fire glowed. She rubbed her arms from the chill. The bed was mahogany with spiral columns and dark velvet curtains. It was hard to tell the color in the light. Emerald like the ones in her chambers, perhaps?
Now that she was here, she bit her lip. What if he was sleeping and her waking him would exhaust him? Still, she had to at least see him. Maybe he was not as bad as his portrait. Maybe the artist had failed to capture the life and m
erriment in his gaze?
She drew back the curtain and for a glimpse saw only tangled bed sheets.
“What are you doing in here?” Nicholas snatched her arm.
“Wh—nothing. I-I mean I came to bid my husband thank you for the gifts.”
He ushered her outside of the chambers and slammed the door shut behind them.
“Where is he? I thought he was too weak to move from his bed?” She jerked her arm free.
“He can move around a bit … now and then.”
“Then why has not greeted me?” Tears clouded her vision, but she refused to let them fall. “Or does he intend to pounce upon me with his seed and be done with it while I sleep?”
“He is not like that!” His voice echoed in the hall. “He must be in the baths or taking his medicine.”
“Then I will go to the baths.”
“I don’t think it would be decent for you to see him naked.”
“Why not?” She called over her shoulder. “I’m his wife; I’m supposed to do more than see him without clothes.”
His footsteps smacked the stone floor behind hers. At the baths, she strode in and a thin male servant shrieked.
“Sorry. I’m looking for the baron—” She turned to Nicholas. “What is his first name? I can’t call him the baron forever.”
“William is his Christian name, my lady.” The servant wrung out a linen cloth into the bath. Then he moped up excess water from the stone floor.
“Have you seen him? He’s not in his chambers.”
The man glanced behind her to Nicholas, she turned her head to see why, but the proxy merely smiled.
“You missed him. He was just here.”
“So he is in good spirits and health?” Maybe he had seen me, his new bride, and decided I was not worth the trouble. Caroline thought. If that was the case, let her leave and go to the nunnery. Anywhere, but here as she waited for either his death or an unwelcomed nightly visit.
“Do you know where he went?”
“Pardon, my lady, but my lord does not tell me his whereabouts. It’s all we can do to keep up with his demands.”
“Demands?” She looked from Nicholas to the servant. Had Nicholas lied to her? Perhaps the baron was not as kind as he had led her to believe, but a tyrant. “What burdens has he placed on you?”
The servant turned red and sputtered, but Nicholas grasped her elbow to lead her away. “Obviously, the servant spoke out of turn.”
She tore from his hold and spun around to face him. “Why can I not ask him? Or did you forget to have him lie for you and the baron too?”
“What do you speak of?”
“That perhaps this baron is not as kind and feeble as you led my parents and me to believe. I will meet him now … or I leave.”
He sighed. “He is more than you know and more than I can tell you. Please,” he pulled her hand to his lips, “trust me a little longer.” When he kissed her fingers, a shiver ran through her body. “He told me this morning that he wishes to woo you with words first. He will send love letters to you, and then you shall meet.”
“He may send me one letter. Then I want to see him. Regardless if he is ill or not.” She didn’t tell him that she couldn’t read. She would find someone to read the baron’s letters to her.
“One letter and no more.” Her hands betrayed her as she held on a moment longer when he released her. Still, she ached for his hand upon hers. “Then I will meet him and make my decision to his character and whether or not to annul this marriage.”
Chapter Five
That evening, Caroline found a sealed letter on her pillow. She traced the letters, then flipped it over. The baron’s seal of a bird of paradise pressed into the red wax. She ripped open the letter and saw writing marked up the entire page. If only she could read. That he took the time warmed her heart a bit. He probably worried with his old age and looks that he would disgust her. Perhaps that was why he hid away?
But he did not know she could not read. It would be embarrassing to tell him. Even more so for him to realize his attempts at her heart were pointless with words on parchment.
“The baron will see you for dinner. However, he asks that you stay at your end of the table, for he has a bad cough and does not want you to catch it,” Nicholas said from her doorway.
She snatched the letter to her chest. “Of course.” Her stomach twisted in excitement and dread.
“The food is ready, if you are?” he asked.
Instead of leaving the baron’s words, she folded them up and tucked them between her breasts. Well, he did say he wanted his words to go to her heart. She chuckled to herself as she took Nicholas’ arm.
Inside the dining hall, candles flickered near her seat. The high table was turned so that the baron sat at the opposite end and mostly in the dark. She could make out his white hair and his back looked more bowed than his portrait suggested.
“Thank you for your letter. I-it was very kind.”
She heard him harrumph as Nicholas made his way to the baron’s side of the table. He stood close to the baron’s side.
“Did you like how I described your beauty and how handsome and strong our sons will be?” His voice croaked.
“Sons?” She thought he only wanted one heir and that he would die soon. Did he think to live longer and make her have many children? She took a gulp from her wine.
Nicholas whispered something to the baron.
“Yes, we will have many sons,” he waved a hand at his proxy as though shooing a fly. “And many daughters too.”
“Of course.” She blanched. “Could we not have a meal alone? Without servants? I don’t think we need Nicholas to-”
“What was that?” he asked.
“The baron is hard of hearing, my lady. I have relayed anything he hasn’t heard clearly from you.”
“If I could sit beside him,” she loathed the idea of his wrinkled hands upon her, “then he would not need you.”
The baron began coughing and Caroline thought he would choke or stop breathing. “Forgive me, Caroline.” He rose and shuffled from the room. “I am not as well as I thought.”
*
Days later, Caroline was certain that Nicholas was hiding the baron from her. Often, when she walked by a servant would bow and say the baron was feeling better. However, when she strolled to his chambers, either she was not allowed passage by guards typically posted there these few nights or told that he was somewhere else in the manor.
Still, every night, she found another of the baron’s letters on her bed. Now he had begun adding a violet rose, which stood for love at first sight. Pity she did not feel anything for him. Perhaps if she could have someone read her the letters? Then she would know his heart and at least tolerate his company.
Nicholas spent every waking moment with her. Rarely did he leave her alone. When she put aside her anger at him and baron, she realized he was probably just following orders like any servant would.
When he was gone briefly, to check on the baron and handle any business the man wanted, she felt alone and lost. Margery often kept her company and told her stories of the baron as a child.
“How is it you know so much of his childhood and with such description when you are only my mother’s age, not as old as he?”
“Oh, my grandmother told me stories. She was such a great storyteller; I must have inherited her way of relaying the past.”
Still, she wondered what kind of man the baron was to be such a recluse from his own wife. Part of her wished he would stay away so she would have more time before he bedded her.
Nicholas stood in the distance talking to a nobleman. Whatever he said, the man thrust a piece of paper at him, and stomped away.
“Excuse me,” she said to Margery, then hiked up her linen dress and climbed the hill to Nicholas. Her heartbeat increased at being near him, but she told herself it was merely from the climb.
She stopped short when she was a few feet from him. “You can read?”
&nbs
p; He glanced around, then met her eyes. “Aye.”
“But you are a servant.” She did not mean the words to sound so harsh, but his arms tanned and freckled belied the position and responsibilities the baron had placed on him.
“All the baron’s servants read.”
“Even the cooks? And—and …” She could ask Margery about the baron’s letters.
“Everyone. Don’t you?” he asked with a teasing tone, but it felt as though he had stabbed her with a throwing knife.
She ran.
At the back of the keep, he caught her and spun her around. “Wait. You truly do not know how to read?”
She tried to push him away, but he pinned her to the stone wall. “I was never taught. Father thought it a waste of time to teach a woman things meant for monks and men.”
“The baron will teach you.”
“How? When? I have not seen him except at dinner.”
“Then I will teach you. You have a quick and determined mind. I have no doubt you will be better at it than me … especially at writing, my penmanship is horrid.”
“You can write too?” Perhaps there was more to this baron than she had begun to believe. There was certainly more to his servants, especially this one.
“When the baron first taught me, my letters were no better than chicken scratches.”
She laughed. His green eyes held her and she could not catch her breath. He leaned in and kissed her.
She gripped his shoulders so as not to fall.
His hand grasped her waist and the other tugged off her head covering. “I would like to see your hair in the sunlight. The color of gold many would envy.” He whispered against her mouth.
His fingers in her hair made her feel rebellious, wild, and beautiful. Too soon, he pulled away from her, panting. “We had best go inside for the evening meal.”
*
After the evening meal filled her, and Nicholas’ dancing lightened her mood. Guilt riddled her about their kiss, but she could not stop thinking about his mouth upon hers.
Six Shades of Romance Page 18
