by Jody Hedlund
“I am riding east to Delsworth to the royal court,” he said. “Among my other business there, I will petition the king for your hand in marriage and purchase a royal seal. I am sure that is what your aunt and uncle would want now that you are nigh to twenty. It is far past time for you to be wedded.”
The idea of Lord Mortimer bringing the matter before the king sent a rush of anxiety coursing along my veins. “No, I think not—”
“Your aunt will look down from heaven and rejoice to see your future secured.” His smile and voice patronized me as if I was still a young child needing tutoring rather than an adult with a mind of her own.
“My brother, Lord Mitchell, will return soon enough from Delsworth. He will want some say in the matter.”
“The king’s authority is all we need.” Lord Mortimer lifted his chin as he spoke. “Now, I and my men shall accompany you back to Kentworth Castle. In the future, see that you do not ride out without a chaperone.”
“’Tis but a short distance, my lord.” I prayed Christopher would remain hidden. Like most, Lord Mortimer wouldn’t hesitate to go directly to the king with news of Christopher’s return. Even if he wished Christopher no ill will, he wouldn’t chance any hint of disloyalty by refraining from reporting an outlaw’s presence.
“Besides,” I continued, “I do not wish to inconvenience you or delay your travels.”
Lord Mortimer was already motioning for his squires. “It is no inconvenience, my lady. It would be a great pleasure to have a few moments of your company and to gaze upon your beauty.”
I closed my mouth over the caustic response begging for release. I couldn’t rebuff or anger Lord Mortimer. But neither could I marry him. In our case, I was the iron shield and he the lance—we would shatter rather than sharpen each other.
I didn’t know how I’d halt his plans to marry me. But I knew with certainty I must try. Without delay.
Chapter
5
Christopher
With only a few kitchen staff and chambermaids left, the great hall was strangely quiet, as had been the inner bailey that had once boasted of stable grooms, a horse master, a falconer, yard servants, a butcher, and a blacksmith.
I sat at the trestle table, a pewter cup of ale in front of me. Gone were the silver goblets, plates, and utensils. The cushions from the benches were absent, leaving the hardness of the planks. The white walls were empty where embroidered tapestries had once hung. Only the most rudimentary of the furniture remained.
The direness of the situation in Langley had been a dagger in my side, as had Adelaide’s conversation with Lord Mortimer from the previous evening. I’d respected the neighboring lord for accompanying Adelaide home. I’d have done no less had I come across her alone. However, he’d imposed quite strongly to insist she marry him.
Later, after Mortimer had gone on his way and I’d come out of hiding, Adelaide had explained she had no intention of marrying the widower, no matter what permission the king might give him.
Yet how could she refuse, especially if the king agreed to it? If she declined, she’d cause trouble to herself not only from Mortimer but perhaps even from the king. Especially from the king.
The king, though he claimed to be the defender of Mercia and Warwick, had ruled as a tyrant since the day he’d taken the throne from King Francis. Not only had he killed any magnate or nobleman who’d opposed him, but he’d declared the laws of Bryttania were within his own mouth, that the lives and property of his subjects were at his mercy and to be disposed of at his judgment. With his formidable army standing behind him and every enemy in the land subjected or vanquished, he ruled without judicial process, imposed illegal taxes, and had little concern for how justice was served on any local level of the realm.
I took several gulps of the ale noting its inferior quality compared to what I drank in Norland at King Draybane’s court. Wiping a sleeve across my mouth, I shoved my mug away. Ethelwulf controlled the people with fear. Now as I considered Adelaide’s fate, I felt the fear of the king once again, and my resentment came rolling back as strong as a summer storm.
I’d pondered the issue all day as I’d toured the estate with her and taken stock of what remained. And still, I had not formulated a viable solution to Adelaide’s predicament. Perhaps the best plan was to find her a more suitable husband, a person of her choosing. If she divulged the name of another nobleman for whom she harbored some fondness, Mitchell could make arrangements with the family before I left. Then I’d be able to depart with a clean conscience, knowing she was secure and happy.
I drummed my fingers on the table now barren of its fine white linen covering. Somehow the idea of Adelaide marrying a different nobleman besides Mortimer didn’t settle well either.
The door at the side entrance near the buttery opened. At the sight of Adelaide, I rose from my bench to greet her. As she moved into the light of the wall sconce, my salutation lodged in my throat. Her beauty stunned me to silence.
Her rich rose-colored gown was the same hue as the wild roses which grew on the hills. The vividness highlighted her eyes, making them bright and intense. The cut and style of the gown hugged her body, outlining a womanly form that had been hidden beneath the men’s garments she’d worn since I’d arrived. Her hair, too, was fashionably styled into wavy curls that fell over her shoulders and down her back.
She held herself with a mature, almost regal bearing, one I’d noticed in her before but that now seemed to highlight how ladylike and elegant she’d become. As she glided across the rushes toward me, I couldn’t make myself look away, and I couldn’t find my voice. It was almost as if Adelaide’s beauty had cast a spell upon me, turning me into a spineless, besotted fool.
No wonder Mortimer wanted Adelaide as his wife. He’d obviously witnessed her loveliness and had been captivated by her.
Even though I’d spent nearly every waking moment with her all day, and even though I’d been enamored with the changes both in her appearance and outlook on life, now seeing her this way suddenly awakened something inside me.
She stopped on the opposite side of the table from me and lifted a hand self-consciously to her hair. “Is something amiss, my lord?”
“Yes.” I swallowed hard. “Your beauty has rendered me speechless.”
Her lips curved into a smile. “Speechless? I cannot imagine you without anything to say.”
I mimicked the inability to speak, moving my lips without uttering a sound. At my jest, she laughed. The merriment lit her face, making her features even lovelier. The sound of her laughter seeped into my blood, spreading warmth through my chest with each pulse of my heart.
“Believe it or not,” she said, smoothing a hand over her snug bodice, “I listened once in a while to Aunt Susanna’s instructionn on how to behave and dress like a lady.”
“She would be proud to see you so beautiful, as am I.” I tried to keep my voice from betraying my reaction to her and silently chastised myself. Adelaide was like an adopted cousin. How could I think of her in any other way?
At the reminiscing of Mother, some of the sparkle diminished from Adelaide’s eyes, replaced with sadness. Before I could contrive a witty remark to divert her attention from the melancholy thoughts, the doors at the far end of the hall swung open with a bang that echoed against the walls.
She produced her dagger faster than I unsheathed mine. Her speed and agility with weapons had matured as well, and I wasn’t sure whether to feel proud or mortified that Adelaide was so accomplished in weaponry.
Her instincts and reactions were honed. Once again, before I could comprehend the situation, she tucked her dagger back into its resting place beneath her skirt and hastened to the newcomer even as he rushed toward her.
I moved into the shadow of a nearby passageway, knowing I needed to be wary about who I allowed to see me. Though I could trust the household staff not to betray my presence, I no longer knew who else might be friend or foe.
From my hiding spot, I barely h
ad time to assess the visitor attired in chain mail before Adelaide threw her arms around him. “Mitchell!” she cried. “I had not thought to see you for another day or two.”
Mitchell? My youngest brother? When last I’d seen him at Father’s funeral, he’d been a thin, gangly youth who had refused to speak with me. This man, while not much taller than Adelaide, exuded strength and purpose. He reciprocated Adelaide’s enthusiastic greeting by wrapping his arms around her in a welcoming embrace. Even from my distance across the room, I could see the delight on his features. And something more—something she couldn’t see but that I clearly could.
Mitchell loved Adelaide. And not just as a cousin.
At the realization, my pulse rammed into my ribs with alarm. What did this affection mean? Did Adelaide love Mitchell too?
She pressed a kiss to his cheek. He laughed with pleasure, holding her, obviously unwilling to break his contact. “If this is to be my reception after a fortnight apart, I shall have to go away more often.”
Adelaide smiled. “You would not dare to leave me behind again.”
He pulled her back into his arms and held her tightly for another moment, his adoration for her evident once more.
“Then you purchased more food supplies and finished business early?” she asked.
“I hurried,” he replied, “because I wanted to return in time to wish you happiness on your birthday.”
I started with the news. I’d known Adelaide would soon turn twenty. But I hadn’t remembered the actual day. Though Mother had always had a feast each anniversary of our births, I’d never memorized the dates the way she had. Even so, if I’d known today was Adelaide’s birthday, I would have wished her felicitations and perhaps had the cook prepare a special supper.
“Now that you are here,” Adelaide said, finally extricating herself from Mitchell’s hold, “I must inform you that Christopher has come home.” She searched for me among the shadows.
I stepped out into the open.
Mitchell’s head jerked up, his sights locked upon me, and his expression hardened. The more severe expression reminded me of our father. In fact, Mitchell seemed to have much of Father in his noble countenance.
“Good eve, Mitchell,” I said. “I am heartily pleased to see you.”
Mitchell eyed me, all jubilance and excitement gone. “Why have you come?” The question was the same Adelaide had asked upon our meeting. Only Mitchell’s was less curious and more hostile.
I decided to be as honest with him as I’d been with Adelaide. “I came to sever my rights to the earldom and Kentworth.”
His eyes flickered with something akin to relief, but his face remained stalwart. “You needn’t have bothered. When Father disowned you, you lost your inheritance.”
Disowned me? The word raked at my insides. Even though I should have expected the consequence, and even though it shouldn’t have mattered, the realization stung anyway.
Mitchell watched my reaction and didn’t seem to take any joy in my surprise. “What did you expect? With a son as a rebel, what other choice did Father have if he wanted to keep his family safe from the king’s suspicion that we were all traitors?”
“I understand. He was wise to cut himself off from me.” Ethelwulf had killed noblemen for much lesser infractions. Thankfully, Ethelwulf had respected Father’s wisdom enough to overlook his wayward son.
“I have just come from petitioning the king to officially pass the title and lands to me,” Mitchell continued.
“You did?” Adelaide’s voice contained a surprise that mirrored mine.
Mitchell rapidly turned his attention back to her. “With Mother gone, and now that I am twenty, I believed it within my right to do so. Since Father had already disowned Christopher, the matter was easily settled.”
“You could have told me of your intentions.” Adelaide studied Mitchell’s face.
“I was planning to eventually,” he said. “But I thought it prudent to wait until I had word. I did not want to trouble your mind.”
“Or were you afraid I would ask you to do the right thing by seeking Christopher’s willingness first, rather than sneaking behind his back?”
Mitchell pulled himself to his full height, which was not much taller than Adelaide, and a surliness I’d seen many times in our childhood darkened his features. “I need neither Christopher’s willingness nor his permission.”
Adelaide, too, seemed to rise, her shoulders stiffening in readiness for a verbal battle. I inwardly smiled, already knowing who would win. Adelaide was the stronger of the two. She always had been.
“Whether or not you need Christopher’s willingness or permission,” she was saying, “you must covet it nonetheless. It is the right thing. To take his inheritance without discussion would be the same as stealing it.”
Mitchell glared at me. “Christopher gave up his inheritance when he left Langley. Thus, I cannot steal what no longer belongs to him.”
“Lawlessness may be the rule of this land,” she said, lowering her tone. “But it will not be the rule of Kentworth. We do things honorably or not at all.”
The two held each other’s gazes in a battle of wills. Finally, Mitchell looked away. “Since Christopher is here and has verbalized his intentions to give me his inheritance, let us cease our arguing.”
Adelaide didn’t respond.
“After all,” Mitchell said. “I have something for you—something that will make you forget how peeved you are with me.”
For an instant, I felt like an outsider watching their exchange. I didn’t belong here or fit in. Nevertheless, I was too captivated by Adelaide and couldn’t walk away and occupy myself elsewhere.
Mitchell retrieved a sack he’d dropped to the rushes. He loosened the drawstring and removed a small package tied in brown cloth. As the folds fell away to reveal a square piece of cake, Adelaide’s smile returned.
“One of your favorites,” Mitchell said smiling in response. “Gingerbread.”
“Oh, Mitchell.” She accepted the sweet treat, then lifted the cake to her lips and took a bite. As her lips closed around the delicacy, her lashes fell and she released a soft moan of pleasure.
My sights locked upon her ecstasy, and I watched each bite, wishing I’d been the one to bring her a sweet treat instead of Mitchell. If I’d but taken a moment to think about her, I would have remembered how fond she was of desserts. Over the past year of starvation, she likely hadn’t had many opportunities for indulgences.
Mitchell watched her with as much fascination as I did. As before, his interest in Adelaide was as unsettling as my own. Perhaps Mitchell had already reconciled himself to the fact that Adelaide was no longer just a playmate and was indeed an eligible and heart-stopping young woman.
However, I was having a difficult time adjusting to her changes, scolding myself for viewing her as anything more than my cousin, and at the same time unable to keep my newfound enthrallment at bay.
Her eyes flew open, and she lifted the cake to Mitchell. “I am being selfish. You must have a bite as well.”
He shook his head. “And give up the gratification of watching you devour it? No. I could not.”
She smiled at his gallant answer. Then she turned to me and held out the cake. “I would share with you, too, my lord.”
I began to cross the room, knowing I should deny her request as Mitchell had done, that I should allow her to eat the entire rare treat. But something drove me that I didn’t understand.
When I stopped in front of her, I opened my mouth.
She broke off a corner and placed the piece past my lips, being careful not to touch them. Before she could remove her hand, I closed my mouth trapping her fingers inside.
It was the kind of trick I would have played on her if we’d been children. But as my lips closed around the cake and her fingers, a strange jolt rocked me at the same instant she sucked in a rapid breath.
I expected her to yank her fingers loose, to take a step back, to even shove me away
for my antics. Instead, she froze, her gaze riveted to my mouth. I could only stand stupidly, letting the cake liquefy on my tongue, tasting the honey and molasses. More than the sweetness of the cake, the feeling of her fingers against my lips was a sensation that caused me to forget about food altogether.
Her eyes widened, her growing embarrassment reflecting mine, though I had no wish to let on my conflicted reaction. So I languidly released her, as if I made an everyday practice of allowing young women to feed me.
She withdrew her hand and stared down at the remaining gingerbread, refusing to meet my bold gaze. Only then did I become conscious of Mitchell’s dark glare—one that said he was well aware of the changing dynamics with Adelaide, a change he liked for himself but didn’t support for me.
Adelaide took another quick bite, clearly attempting to hide her discomfort. “It is delicious, Mitchell. I thank you for the gift.”
“I would give you a whole cake if I could.” The moment Adelaide ducked her head in acknowledgement of his compliment, he sliced me with another sharp glare.
“You are always so thoughtful.” She squeezed his arm.
He placed his hand over hers.
I paused in my chewing to watch their exchange. Understanding finally penetrated the haze of my conscience. Mitchell not only loved Adelaide. He also wanted her for himself every bit as much as he wanted the inheritance.
Adelaide might not recognize Mitchell’s feelings and intentions yet. But I did. Though something inside me resisted Mitchell’s claim on her, I realized he was the solution to Adelaide’s woes. She could marry Mitchell instead of Lord Mortimer and become the Countess of Langley. Once the arrangements were made, I’d be able to leave knowing she was safe and that Mitchell would do everything within his power to make her happy.
If only the prospect brought me more joy . . .
