by Alexa Aston
Dare she consider this rash offer of marriage from a stranger?
Marrying Peter Le Roux could solve all of her existing problems. She would have a roof over her head, as well as a titled husband that would bring her instant respect. If lucky, even friendship might grow between them.
Or mayhap . . . love.
That thought jarred her from the fantasy she wove. For if she married Peter Le Roux, she would wed a pale shadow of Raynor—the man who held her heart.
And what would it be like when Raynor took a wife? Naturally, he would bring her to live at Ashcroft. Beatrice would be expected to befriend the woman while she saw her interact with her husband each day. Beatrice would watch as they shared a trencher at every meal. She would see when Raynor stole a kiss from his new bride when he thought no one was looking. And she would be heartsick when the couple mounted the stairs at night, knowing another woman warmed his bed and birthed his children.
Beatrice could never live that way. Starving would be preferable over having another piece of her die each day as she watched the man she loved make a new life with another woman.
But it meant perpetuating the lie she had told—the seemingly innocent lie that she’d used to protect herself when a passing stranger came out of the dark and rescued her that night in the forest. She needed to add to it in order to convince Peter Le Roux from pressing his suit.
Searching the face of the man who had just offered for her hand, Beatrice chose her words carefully.
“My lord, I am flattered to receive this proposal of marriage from you. ’Twould be an honor to become your baroness and raise fine sons and daughters here at Ashcroft. I wish I could accept, but I fear I cannot.”
Puzzlement crossed his features. “Why not? I am in good health. I have no wife, as you pointed out. Ashcroft is in need of a woman with a steady hand and sharp eye.” He smiled and she saw his white, even teeth. “Surely, my lady, you could work wonders with not only the castle, but with me.” He gave her a wider smile and, again, she could see the ghost of Raynor within him.
“I cannot wed you because I am promised to another. Betrothed,” she said more firmly, using the word that would put an end to him seeking her out. “I was traveling to Sir Henry Stollers’ estate in the north when I was accosted by highwaymen. Sir Henry was my grandfather’s oldest, dearest friend. He has a grandson close to my age and we are to be married in three months’ time.”
There. She’d said it. It would take hours of prayers asking for forgiveness from the Virgin Mary for such a grievous sin—but at least it would end the baron’s pursuit of her.
The nobleman’s hands fell from her shoulders in defeat. “I see,” he said quietly.
“If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I still have much to attend to.”
Beatrice fled the bedchamber. She paused in the corridor. Her heart raced and her knees trembled. More than that, her head pounded something fierce. She leaned her forehead against the cool stones of the wall and closed her eyes, her thoughts whirling.
Had she made a grave mistake? Should she have accepted Peter Le Roux’s sudden offer? Could she have learned to live with him, while she watched Raynor with another woman?
No.
She resigned herself to spending another few weeks at Ashcroft in Raynor’s company, longing for him every day. He would accompany her to the north and Beatrice would never see the knight again. Every day of her life would be full of misery.
How had she gotten into such a mess?
If only she could have defended herself and Tolly from those highwaymen. Mayhap, then the two of them would still be on the road toward Brookhaven. Raynor Le Roux would never have stopped and come to her aid. She would never have known the warmth of his arms. The concern that filled those green eyes.
The kisses he had bestowed upon her.
Beatrice would never have known any of it, for they never would have met. Or if he had come upon them as she vanquished the robbers, they would have exchanged a few brief words before going their separate ways.
She knew now what she would ask of Raynor when she next saw him.
Returning downstairs, she asked for hot water to be brought to her chamber. The servants arrived and also gave her a cake of scented soap. As she scrubbed the filth from her body, the scent of roses wafted about her. She dried herself and dressed carefully in a different cotehardie. This one was the color of warmed gold and fit her better than her earlier choice had.
As she descended the stairs, the noise coming from the great hall let her know the evening meal would be served soon.
When she walked through the large room, a hush settled over the hall. Beatrice smiled with satisfaction as she approached the dais, knowing the many days of toil were appreciated by those who gathered inside.
Raynor stood to greet her and offered her a hand to help her up. They seated themselves on the bench.
“My lady, I must compliment you on the miracle you have wrought in the great hall. My spirits were lifted to enter and smell the sweet scent of fresh rushes and see the clean floor.” He brushed his hand over the smoothed tabletop. “And I can even feel the difference in the table before us. If this were the only contribution you made during your visit, ’twould be more than enough.”
“I hope those present appreciate it as much as you do, my lord.”
He waved a hand through the air. “Look about, my lady. Your efforts have been noted.”
Beatrice glanced across the room and knew his words to be true by the happy expressions on the faces of the people.
“It’s a good start, but I have much more to complete in my time here.”
A passing servant poured each of them wine. She gave a hesitant smile as Beatrice thanked her.
“How did you fare in the herb garden?” Beatrice asked, recognizing the girl as one of the servants Hilda had taken with her to collect herbs.
“Very well, my lady. I hope you’ll be pleased with what we picked.”
“Would you like my help in drying and pressing what was collected?”
The girl’s eyes lit up. “That I would.”
“After we break our fast tomorrow, we’ll work together.”
The servant bobbed her head and left.
“So, you delegated the task of picking herbs?”
Beatrice caught the teasing light in Raynor’s eye. “I did, my lord. I had other tasks to carry out. I examined each of the chambers in the keep and made note of what should be done. Not everything may be finished before I depart from Ashcroft, but I should make a good start on my list.”
A shadow crossed his face as she referred to her departure. She decided to address what had occurred between them before he did. Beatrice believed there was no sense in letting it brew and fester.
“My lord, you know I am beholden to you for your help. I was in a dire situation when you came across me and I appreciate that you brought me back to Ashcroft with you.” She paused. “I hope that we can become friends while I’m here. That nothing which occurred today will keep us from becoming so.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “I would like that, my lady.”
“I hope that things will not be awkward between us because of—”
“My ungallant behavior,” he said. He looked at her earnestly. “I can’t apologize enough for my untoward actions. I pray you will find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” she said softly. “I was as much a participant in those kisses as you were, my lord.” She swallowed and then pressed on. “But I hope that will not keep us at a distance during my stay at Ashcroft or when we journey to Brookhaven.”
Raynor smiled. Beatrice noted it was tinged with sadness. “Then if you’re willing, so am I. Let’s put the unfortunate incident behind us. I promise to keep my knightly vows in mind, and I would welcome the chance to become friends during your stay in my family’s home.”
She lifted her pewter goblet. “To friendship.”
He did the same. “To f
riendship.”
They touched their cups together, but how Beatrice wished they had touched lips instead. Though she told Raynor she wished for friendship, what she longed for was something more. Knowing that could never be, she would treasure any time spent in his company. She would lock the memory of them away for now and then take it out to savor over the years to come.
Hoping to gather some courage, she downed a huge swallow of wine and set her cup on the table. “I have a request of you.”
Raynor frowned. “Is something amiss? What can I do to correct the matter?”
“Nay, all is well. I simply have need of your skills. I . . . what I mean is . . . I would like to learn to fight. To protect myself. I know you can show me how to do so.”
He looked surprised. “But I am here, my lady. You have no need to learn to protect yourself. ’Tis what I—and every other man—should do for you.”
Beatrice shook her head. “Nay, I do want to learn. You will look after me here and on the road. But I’ll be left at Brookhaven where I don’t know a soul.” She took another sip of the wine. “I found myself at a terrible disadvantage when accosted by those highwaymen. I keep telling myself that if I could have stood up to them, Tolly might still be alive.”
“I doubt that. ’Twas three of them to your one.”
“Still,” she pleaded, “I wish to learn how to defend myself. I beg of you to teach me. Oh, I know I’m not strong enough to wield a sword. But mayhap if I had a small dagger. Or if I knew how to fend off an attacker so I could protect myself and those around me.”
Raynor laughed.
“I am serious, my lord.”
He held back a smile. “I know you are. All right. I’ll do as you ask. I’ll teach you a few tricks. I’ll find a baselard that you can keep on you and instruct you in how to use it. If that will make you feel better, then I am at your disposal.”
Beatrice relaxed, happy to have him honor her request. She still felt guilty over not having been able to save Tolly. She would take to heart whatever Raynor taught her and hope she never had to use it.
“Greetings, Lady Beatrice. Brother.”
Her head jerked up at the words. Peter Le Roux stood before them. Gone was the disheveled man she had met earlier this afternoon. The baron had shaved and wore new clothing. She noticed the resemblance between the brothers more now, but Raynor still outshone his brother in every way.
“Good evening, Peter,” Raynor said. “I am glad you could join us. I would like you to meet—”
“No need for introductions, Raynor. I have met the bewitching lady.” He swept a hand across as he looked out over the room. “And I now bear witness to the transformation of the great hall at her hands.”
Peter turned and gave Beatrice a knowing smile. “I believed you could work wonders and so you have.”
“Where did you meet?” Raynor asked.
“In my bedchamber.”
Raynor leapt to his feet.
“I saved the solar for last as I toured the keep this afternoon. I was deciding how to freshen up the room when Lord Peter entered, and I introduced myself to him,” she said quickly.
Humor sparkled in Peter’s eyes. “Aye, Lady Beatrice certainly put me in my place.”
Beatrice’s cheeks burned. “I am sorry, my lord. I did not mean to offend you.”
“Oh, I think you fully intended to insult me. Even jolt me into action.” He shrugged. “It did the trick. After my conversation with Lady Beatrice, I am a new man.”
“You certainly look more like the brother I once knew,” Raynor noted as he sat again. “I’m happy you’ve come to the great hall for the evening meal. The people need to see you.”
“Aye, Lady Beatrice chastised me for that, as well. She let me know how derelict I’d become in my duties. I intend to change all that.”
Peter’s eyes lingered on her. He came to sit on her other side. She was now dwarfed by the Le Roux brothers and felt quite small.
The same servant from before rushed over and brought a cup of wine for the baron. He nodded his thanks as she scurried off.
“Tell me, Brother, when do you plan to escort the lady north?”
“In a few weeks, Peter. I want to see that the harvest is in good shape and that the soldiers are, once more, a disciplined unit. Why?”
“I wish to accompany you on this journey.”
“Why would you choose to do so?” Raynor asked.
“Because I have decided to marry Lady Beatrice. I’ll need to see about breaking the marriage contract with her betrothed.”
Chapter Thirteen
Anger flooded Raynor—as well as jealousy—for not having thought to do the same. “Are you mad, Peter?”
Beatrice sprang to her feet, her eyes downcast and her face beet red. “Excuse me, my lords.” She lifted her skirts and raced from the great hall as if the room had caught fire.
Raynor watched her go and then faced his brother. “I demand to know why you wish to pursue the lady.”
Peter’s features softened. “She is like no other woman I’ve ever met. I’d grown discontented these past few years. I had no interest in my life or those around me. Yet, one encounter with Lady Beatrice altered my perspective. She spoke to me as no one has dared to, calling me out for my lack of leadership. Suddenly, I could clearly see all the possibilities and opportunities available to me because of her words.”
His voice dropped. “It’s odd to even say this, but she made me want to be a better man. For her. For those around me. And for myself.”
Raynor knew what Peter meant because he felt exactly the same.
He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I have not known her long, but I do know that she is a principled woman, Peter. Her parents are deceased. She is to go to her husband-to-be. I’m happy to have the brother back I’ve missed, but I beg of you. Don’t force her into an awkward situation. Let her journey to Brookhaven and meet her obligations there when she arrives.”
When his brother didn’t speak, Raynor squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “She is as good as married because of her betrothal. You must not try to force her union to be dissolved on a whim.”
Peter threw off his hand. “My feelings for Lady Beatrice are not merely a whim.” His eyes narrowed. “If I cannot have her, I want no other woman. Do you hear me? I want to be left alone!” The baron’s angry outburst drew the eyes of everyone present as he stormed from the great hall.
Raynor understood his brother’s dilemma, but he would do his duty and fulfill his promise to escort Beatrice to Sir Henry’s and leave her in good hands.
And then? Raynor would never divorce himself from the world as Peter had, though he knew no joy would be found without Beatrice in his life.
A servant served his meal without comment. He realized that Beatrice had left before eating. As he ate a few bites, the food tasted like sand in his mouth. Raynor decided to take the meal to her. She had labored long and hard today and needed to eat in order to keep up her strength. Motioning a servant over, he asked for a tray of food he could take upstairs.
Within minutes, it was ready for him. Raynor slipped from the great hall and carried the tray to her bedchamber. He hesitated to knock, afraid he would find her in tears. Poor Beatrice had been through so much since he’d stumbled upon her.
Rapping on the door, he received no answer. He knocked harder a second time. Still, she didn’t come to the door. Concerned, he stepped inside the chamber.
Beatrice was seated in a chair by the only window. She’d combed her hair out and seemed lost in thought as she hummed softly to herself. Her beauty humbled him and he didn’t know what to say.
He had tender feelings for this woman and truly admired her spirit and quick temper. Raynor’s gut wrenched painfully. The temptation of Beatrice Bordel dangling before him like forbidden fruit, forever unable to touch her, nearly brought Raynor to his knees.
She spotted him.
“Are you well?” he asked, closing the door behind him. “I m
ust apologize for my brother’s strange behavior. He truly hasn’t been himself since he lost his wife and child.”
“I promise you, my lord, that I didn’t encourage Lord Peter in any way. I’m confused how this came about. One minute, I lost my temper and chastised him for his neglect of Ashcroft and its people. The next, he asked for my hand in marriage.”
She stood, distress marring her lovely features. “I explained to him that I was betrothed. He must be mad to think Sir Henry would consider breaking the marriage contract.” She paused. “I don’t want him on our journey north, my lord. I cannot have him barge into Brookhaven demanding to set aside the contract. Can you see to that?”
“I already have,” Raynor assured her as he fought the urge to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless. More than anything, he wished to be the man who stormed into Brookhaven and demanded the contract be cancelled so they could find the nearest priest and get married, then consummate their union.
Yet, what did he have to offer Beatrice? Nothing. Peter was the Baron of Ashcroft, holding both the land and title. Even if, by some miracle, Raynor could break the betrothal contract and Beatrice was free to marry him, how could he bring her back to Ashcroft and flaunt their marriage before his brother? Nothing would be more uncomfortable than having Peter constantly watch Beatrice as a hungry cat did a mouse.
Raynor worried about Peter’s instability. The swings from isolating himself for long spells to this wild talk of sweeping aside Beatrice’s betrothal and marrying her—then proclaiming he wanted to be left alone again. Mayhap Beatrice did need to learn how to protect herself. He couldn’t be by her side all the time. What if Peter came across her and forced himself upon her? Though the thought pained him, Raynor realized he no longer trusted his brother.
Raising the tray he carried, he said, “I brought you something to eat.” He placed it on a nearby table. “And I haven’t forgotten your request. We should arrange a time for your lessons.”
Before he could suggest they start immediately, Beatrice yawned. Tonight wasn’t the time to teach her how to defend herself after such a long, tiring day.
