by Jody Hedlund
Sir Bennet stopped suddenly, and his dark brows furrowed over his flawless, handsome face. I took in his beautiful eyes with long lashes, as well as his perfectly straight nose and chiseled jaw. “I know a rare treasure when I see one.” His voice dropped. “And you are one of the rarest, my lady.”
“You’re too kind, sir. I’m not without flaws —”
“If you have any, they are most certainly hidden beneath your beauty.”
His praise warmed me to the tips of my slippered toes. It was indeed high praise from one so handsome and schooled in discovering treasures.
“Lest you think me vain,” he continued, heedless of the artists and tents around us, “I believe that you’re made more beautiful because of the sweetness of your inner spirit.”
What was I to do with such compliments? I simply didn’t know. I glanced down at the grass, which had been clipped to form a level plain for Sir Bennet’s art show.
As if sensing my discomfort, he politely held out his arm, his expression once again dignified and calm. “I have a surprise for you, my lady.”
I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm, conscious of his hard muscles beneath my fingers. Sir Bennet matched his step to mine, and we strolled leisurely toward the last tent, one we had yet to visit.
Underneath the canopy, in the middle, stood a painter, his palette already filled with paints, his paintbrush in hand. He bowed to Sir Bennet and then to me. Then he waved at a chair placed in an area of soft light. I was surprised to see that it was my golden chair, the one from the Great Hall. It was elaborate, due to its elegant carvings, but I had no particular fondness for it. In fact, most of the time it only served to remind me of how much I had and consequently how much more I could be doing for my people.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “You’re commissioning a painting of my chair?”
“It is a very fine chair.” Sir Bennet’s ready smile was heartstopping. “But I would much rather have a painting of you, my lady.”
Finally, understanding began to dawn.
“I would be greatly honored if you’d sit for a portrait, one that I might take with me and have forever.”
“Of course,” I said. But what if I didn’t choose him as my husband? Then what would he do with the portrait? Or was he so confident that I’d fall in love with him that he disregarded all else?
“I thought the chair would make a remarkable backdrop.” Sir Bennet led me toward the chair. “Although it could use a bit more polishing.”
At Sir Bennet’s declaration, the painter spoke quietly to his young assistant, a boy not older than ten. The child rushed forward with a rag. It wasn’t until he reached the chair that I saw his fingers — or at least what was left of them. Most were nubs of varying lengths, and those left were masses of flaking, peeling skin.
Compassion stirred in my chest, making me all the more ready to sit for this portrait and by so doing provide the painter and his assistant a purse of coins they likely hadn’t encountered in years.
But the moment the boy lifted his rag to the chair, Sir Bennet held out his hand. “Don’t touch it.” The knight’s attention was fixed on the rotting flesh still left on the boy’s few fingers, and his eyes registered first shock, then revulsion.
“I don’t mind if he polishes my chair,” I said, hoping to allay Sir Bennet’s concern.
The handsome knight swallowed hard, looked away from the assistant’s deformed fingers, and then cleared his throat. “I think the chair is just fine after all. It will not require additional polishing.”
Thankfully, Sir Bennet was quiet about the matter for the remainder of my portrait. Mostly he ignored the boy’s presence and focused the whole of his attention on me and on the likeness that was growing on the easel. Nevertheless, I was determined to double the painter’s payment. It even crossed my mind that maybe I should just give him my chair.
But with the growing delight I witnessed on Sir Bennet’s face as the portrait neared completion, I soon lost thought of the chair and couldn’t keep from wondering: What would it be like to be married to a man who adored me heart, body, and soul? Was that man Sir Bennet? He certainly seemed like it.
If I had to pick between him and Sir Collin, how would I ever be able to make the choice? They both seemed like the kind of men who would cherish me — unlike Sir Derrick, who hadn’t spoken with me since the night I’d chanced upon him playing chess with the duke.
I frowned at the mar to my otherwise perfect week. Although I’d caught Sir Derrick watching me a time or two, I’d sensed his silent challenge — a challenge to stand up for myself and be a stronger leader. At times, I even wondered if he really wanted to be there at all, that perhaps he was simply waiting things out until it was time to leave.
I wasn’t sure why the thought bothered me, except to blame it on my vanity. I couldn’t expect that every man would find me attractive and wish to woo me.
Chapter
9
Sir Collin’s hearty voice rose in the air above the braying of hounds, making me smile. His song was silly and light and cheerful. As the bright noon sunshine glittered through the arches of branches and leaves overhead, I hummed along with him. Our hunting party rode through the lush forest, the coolness of the shade a welcome relief from the heat of the summer day. Our pace had long since slowed, the dogs having lost the scent of the game several times during the chase.
I couldn’t remember a time when I’d felt quite as carefree and happy. Perhaps since the Plague had taken my parents, since that last hunting party when my life had changed forever. The beauty of the forest was something I’d missed — the dense green, the lush moss, the rushing of the river. But more than that, I’d missed the companionship, laughter, and conversations that were all but a distant memory, as if of another life altogether . . . and I realized how much more I would miss if I chose to enter the convent.
Could I willingly relegate myself to a life of quiet and solitude? I’d always thought I could. It would be a noble service and sacrifice to God. But could I do it? And did I even want to anymore?
I was disconcerted by how quickly over the past week I’d adjusted the thoughts of my future. Where once I’d resigned myself to the idea of life as a nun, now I wasn’t sure I’d be able to endure it. And that was more than a little frightening, for what if I failed to fall in love and had to go to the convent after all?
Sir Collin finished the last words of his song and then grinned from his steed next to me. “Do you think I missed my calling, my lady? Should I have become a minstrel instead of a knight?”
I laughed, once again noticing how little I’d done so in recent years. I suppose I’d had little to be merry about. “Your songs have brought me great cheer this day.”
“Are you sure Sir Collin’s songs haven’t soured your appetite, my lady?” Sir Bennet jested from my opposite side, where he’d been riding for most of the hunt. “I usually lose mine when I have to listen to so many.”
“Then perhaps I should switch to my stories,” Sir Collin countered. “Since I know how well you enjoy those.”
“Please. Spare us all. Your stories are the worst kind of torture imaginable, worse than a skinning alive.”
At Sir Bennet’s words, my stomach did indeed sour. I’d suffered too many nightmares of late, especially of gruesome torture.
Upon seeing my subdued expression, Sir Bennet’s laughter died away and was replaced with concern. “I’m sorry, Lady Rosemarie. I pray you will forgive me for speaking so glibly about torture methods.”
I shivered and nodded. “You meant no ill will, sir.”
Both of the knights grew silent and exchanged looks over my head. Did all of them know about my aversion to torture and the incident with the criminals in the town square?
I still hadn’t discovered which of them had been the one to dash to the rescue. If only they or their horses wore their family emblem. The coat of arms with the fire-breathing dragon would certainly identify the re
scuer and put an end to my curiosity. As the days passed, I longed to acknowledge how much I’d admired the knight’s courage, and properly thank him for his daring deeds.
I could simply ask which of them had done it. Today was the perfect day to pose the question, while we were all together.
If only we were all together.
My gaze strayed to the forefront of the hunting party. I could barely see Sir Derrick from where he rode at the head of the group. Nevertheless, the rigidness of his back and the broadness of his shoulders made him easy to recognize.
A tiny prick of irritation needled me as it did every time I thought about the fact that he hadn’t yet planned his special day for me. After Sir Collin’s garden dinner and entertainment and then the art fair with Sir Bennet, I’d begun waiting to see what Sir Derrick would plan for me. I didn’t know how he could devise anything more lovely than what I’d already experienced.
It had been two days, but surely he would plan something. He wouldn’t be so cold that he’d do nothing at all with me. Would he?
He certainly didn’t appear eager to single me out and spend time with me. Of course he was always polite whenever we were together, but he lacked the enthusiasm of Sir Bennet and Sir Collin.
Had I done something to offend him, to make him dislike me? Part of me whispered that I shouldn’t care, but for a reason I couldn’t explain, I did.
“My lady, this looks to be the spot the duke has chosen for our picnic.” Sir Bennet reined his horse as we broke into a clearing.
I halted next to him and smiled at the scene that met me. In a meadow dotted with the most beautiful array of wildflowers, a canopy had been erected. Underneath the canopy were blankets for us to sit upon. And upon those blankets lay an arrangement of platters of fruits, cheeses, breads, and pastries.
“It would appear that our leader is a romantic at heart,” Sir Collin winked.
Sir Derrick had already reached the picnic spot and dismounted his horse. As we got closer I could see him handing the reins to one of his squires, who led the steed away to a distant area where the rest of the hunting party would relax and eat. We spurred our horses into a trot and arrived at the canopy laughing and breathless. Sir Bennet helped me dismount and led me into the shade of the tent. He situated me on the center blanket as carefully as if I’d been one of the colored glass creations we’d seen at the art show.
“Thank you, sir.” I smiled up at his eager face. My heart fluttered at the nearness of his presence, his strong muscled jaw, the smooth shaven skin, and how every wavy strand of dark hair stayed in its proper place.
He hovered above me, taking in my appearance as I’d just done to him. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to become any lovelier than you already are. But every day that I see you, you grow more beautiful.”
His words caressed me, making me want to curl my toes. His gaze dropped to my lips and blue heat flared in his eyes. He licked his lips, and my pulse fluttered at the thought that perhaps he was seriously considering kissing me. He wouldn’t, would he? So soon? So publicly?
My heart raced. Did I dare let him?
“No fair, Bennet,” Sir Collin said while ducking under the canopy. Even though his words were lighthearted, something hard flashed in his eyes as he glanced at his friend. “You can’t whisper endearments into Lady Rosemarie’s ear. I’m the only one who gets to do that.”
I bestowed a smile on Sir Collin as he tossed himself onto one of the three blankets that surrounded me. His fair hair flopped over one of his eyes endearingly and his grin cocked higher on one side.
What would happen if I fell in love with them both? Was it even possible to fall in love with two men at the same time? And how would I know if I was truly in love and not simply infatuated? A sudden rush of confusion swirled through me, and I tried to take a deep breath and remind myself that I didn’t have to make any choices today. I still had three weeks until my eighteenth birthday.
Sir Derrick bent under the canopy, and as he made his way past me his smoky eyes snagged mine. I waited for a smile, for warmth, for some kind of interest to appear in his eyes, just as I’d seen in the other two men. Instead, he merely gave me a nod, moved on, and then lowered himself to his spot on the last empty blanket. I could only stare at his back, at the taut leather of his jerkin, and will him to turn around and say something to me.
As if hearing my unspoken request, he tilted his head and stared at me boldly while reaching for an apple. All the while holding my gaze, he took a crunching bite and a small smile tugged at his lips, as if he’d sensed my reaction to him and was pleased with it.
I snapped my gaze away from his, flustered and irritated at the same time. I plucked one of the wild strawberries from the dish. “All the activity this morning has made me ravenously hungry.” I nibbled the berry and tried to ignore Derrick’s hard-muscled, intense presence that was entirely too noticeable.
I wanted to tell him to hold his pride in check, that I wasn’t enamored with him the way I was with the other two. But since saying so would have been presumptuous of me, I determined to show him that I didn’t long for him, that it didn’t matter to me whether or not he made any effort to win me as Sir Collin and Sir Bennet were doing.
During the leisurely mealtime, I allowed Sir Collin and Sir Bennet to monopolize me and entertain me with their lively banter. I entered into their jesting, all the while trying to pretend I didn’t notice Sir Derrick reclining lazily and not minding in the least that he wasn’t the bearer of my attentions.
But in reality, the more standoffish he remained, the more annoyed I began to feel and the more I wanted to show him I didn’t care. I knew it was irrational to be insecure about one knight’s inattention, but I didn’t have the power to stop it.
As the noon hour passed, Sir Derrick soon excused himself with some of the leftovers and headed toward the hunting dogs lying in the shade of the nearby glen. Sir Bennet also took his leave at the beckoning of the duke. The knight’s parting glance to Sir Collin was dark and filled with warning. I wasn’t sure what his warning was, but I sensed a growing rivalry that caused me to fidget in unease.
Sir Collin smiled more cheerfully at his friend’s departure, juggling several grapes like a court jester. “You didn’t know I had such talent, did you, my lady?” he asked, letting the grapes fall into his lap save for one he caught between his teeth.
“You are indeed a man of many talents,” I replied. I felt suddenly weary, ready to lie back upon the blanket and close my eyes in slumber. The troubled sleeplessness of the past few nights was beginning to assail me.
He chewed the grape but then paused in his eating. “I see my antics are only putting you to sleep.”
“’Tis not you, sir. You’ve brought smiles and laughter back into my life after too many years without. And I thank you for it.”
“But . . .” He paused, his green eyes gently probing me.
Had he heard about my nightmares? Had he heard my screams in the night?
The abbot and Thomas had been with me that day four years ago when I’d unknowingly ridden upon the gruesome sight on the outskirts of town. I’d known that the Plague must be contained, that we needed to punish anyone who broke from the quarantined areas. We couldn’t risk it spreading any further than it already had.
But I hadn’t expected the sheriff to exact such swift and severe punishment upon the two men who’d disobeyed. In fact, I’d become violently ill at the sight of their tormented bodies displayed outside the walls of town for all the land to see.
Since that day I’d outlawed the use of torture devices. Even if I’d been able to eradicate torture from my land, I had been unable to erase the memories from my mind. The visions still haunted me. And seeing the criminals in the boiling pot of water and stretched on the rack had unleashed the memories again . . .
“I haven’t slept well the past week,” I finally admitted softly to Sir Collin, who still awaited my answer.
“I’m sorry.” He studi
ed me, his expression serious, as if he sensed the depth of my turmoil.
Even if torture was an accepted method of punishment throughout the realm, I was convinced that there were kinder, more humane ways to dispense discipline when it was needed. I could only pray that the sheriff wouldn’t disobey me again in such matters, although I had the sinking feeling that the battle had only just begun.
Sir Collin broke into a grin. “I have the perfect solution to not sleeping well.”
I waited expectantly for him to share his deep and profound secret. He plucked another grape, tossed it in the air, and then caught it in his mouth with a widening grin. “You simply need to stay awake, and we shall dance and sing all the night through.”
I tried to muster a smile at his jest, but at that moment I wanted more than playful antics. Maybe there were no easy solutions. But at the very least, I needed someone to listen and understand how I felt.
Before I could continue, something suddenly flew by in my side vision. A sharp whistling noise rent the air, followed by a thud and a pained cry from Sir Collin. I turned to find him fallen onto his back against the blanket with an arrow sticking from his shoulder.
Sir Collin’s face first rounded with surprise and then crumpled with agony.
The sight was so unexpected and disturbing, I couldn’t contain the scream that slipped from my lips. An arrowhead had embedded into his body — altogether too close to his heart. Blood had already started to flow out of the puncture and seep into his fine linen shirt, staining the area around the shaft a deep crimson.
Sir Collin gasped as if breathing his last breath and grabbed at the shaft.
The spot of blood on his shirt widened, and I cried out. “Help! Please help! Sir Collin has been shot!”
Already, I could hear the commotion and yells of the others reacting to my previous scream. Urgency prodded me to my knees next to him. I grasped one of his hands and found it slick and sticky with blood. At a loss for words, I whispered the beginning of the Lord’s Prayer. “Our Father in heaven . . .”
