by Julia Latham
“When this crisis is over, I promise to give you more pleasant memories.”
She stared at him in confusion.
His smile returned. “Ah. Have you been kept so sheltered with your lady that no men have played with you?”
“Played with me?” she asked faintly.
“The play of words between men and women.” He grinned. “I know that it is not the time for teasing, but when I look at you, it is easy to forget that I mustn’t talk about ‘pleasant memories.’ You are a beautiful woman; you should be used to men forgetting themselves with you.”
She knew she was blushing, and she despised herself for it. When men forgot themselves with Lady Elizabeth, it was with a poem too romantic, or holding her hand for too long when a dance was done. There were no remarks hinting at unsuitable intimacies.
But she had heard that unmarried men never waited for the marriage bed, so it was with maidservants that they had…experiences.
And Elizabeth was a maidservant now. She had to make Sir John understand that she wasn’t interested in a dalliance with him.
“Sir John, I am not a woman you can tease,” she said softly, hoping no one overheard. “I have a duty to my lady and this castle, and that is all I can think about.”
He leaned closer. “I am simply enjoying your company. Your prettiness and your ability to flirt simply make me forget—”
“Now you’re blaming me for your behavior?” she whispered.
He laughed, drawing the gaze of many people around them. Adalia gave the two of them a surprised look.
“Anne, it is far too enjoyable to tease you, but I will do my best to restrain myself.”
“Please do,” she said between clenched teeth.
During the meal, she spoke to him as little as possible. Philip came in from the tiltyard briefly to join them. He must have sensed the tension, because soon he was looking between them in confusion. But he shook his head and remained silent.
When Philip got up to leave, Sir John said, “You seem to be enjoying your duties as the captain’s clerk.”
Philip grinned. “I was doing inventory in the armory when someone insisted that a mere clerk could not hold his own amidst trained soldiers.”
“And you showed them otherwise.”
“I am in the process of it. Have a good afternoon, Anne.”
She frowned and said nothing.
Philip glanced at his master. “I don’t seem to know what is going on today.”
“I have been assigned your duties,” Elizabeth finally said.
“And I have been assigned to my own,” Sir John said. “I will be able to earn wages while I recover.”
“That is a good thing.” Philip studied Elizabeth. “I think. Anne, have you good writing skills? Sir John is a demanding master.”
Before Elizabeth could speak, Sir John said, “Oh, she will be quick to assure you that I am not her master. We are only temporarily working together.”
She could not take their laughter for another moment. She rose to her feet to leave.
“Anne, come out to the stables when you are ready,” John said.
“And you will be able to ride with your leg broken?” she asked.
“Nay, I plan to ask for the use of a cart. You can ride at my side.”
“Not behind you, like a good maidservant?” she asked sweetly.
“At my side will do,” he said softly. “Someday I’d like to show you other ways to ride.”
When they both started laughing, Elizabeth looked between them in confusion. She guessed he had said something lewd that she did not understand. In a huff she turned away and almost strode right toward the head table, where Sir Charles lounged like the lord of the castle, a position he obviously coveted. She ducked down the first corridor she came to, and wished she could escape from all men.
When Anne left them, John’s smile faded.
“Whatever you’re doing,” Philip said, “I don’t think ’tis working.”
“I’m not so certain about that.”
“She seems angry.”
“I think she’s angry because she likes me too much.”
“And you’re angry because…you like her too much?”
“When I rescue Lady Elizabeth, how can I allow Anne to remain as her servant, after the way I’ve treated her, after how she makes me feel? Anne will never be able to trust me.”
“’Tis not she who needs to trust you, it is Lady Elizabeth. And she’ll be so grateful for the rescue, that she’ll forgive your methods.”
“But Anne will be hurt,” John said quietly, looking at the empty doorway through which she’d disappeared. “I fear flirting with her is becoming far too easy. But I cannot stop.”
Elizabeth perched on the seat of the small cart as Sir John guided it beneath the portcullis in the gatehouse and out into the countryside. The sun was warm on her face, and for a moment, she reveled in it, closing her eyes and letting the heat soothe her after the never-ending damp chill of the castle. The road jarred them repeatedly, and she had to catch hold of the crutch so that it wouldn’t bounce right out of the cart. She kept it between them, like a line neither of them should cross.
Sir John glanced at her occasionally, his eyes inquisitive and amused. The sun glinted off his light brown hair and sparkled in his blue eyes, and she found herself feeling…breathless. She told herself that the scar represented a man scarred within as well, but she couldn’t believe that.
He was taking her away from prison and into freedom, and for only a moment, she imagined being a simple maid, courted by a handsome knight. But even simple maids often weren’t free to choose their own destiny, and if she ran away with her handsome knight, Anne might be killed when the deception was discovered. Nay, the burden of Castle Alderley was Elizabeth’s. She would bear it and free her people.
As the road curved and the castle disappeared from view, she leaned back, cupped her hands around one knee, and glanced at Sir John. “By your title, you are a knight,” she said, hoping that by keeping him talking, she could distract them both from other things.
His lips curved in a small smile that she found mischievous.
He flicked the reins. “Aye.”
“You have no land of your own?”
“None. I am the youngest son—like your lady’s betrothed.”
“Ah, so you feel you understand him.”
“Nay, I only know my own situation. My father had but one estate, and it went to my brother.”
His voice and eyes were serious, and she sensed there was much he did not say. He kept his gaze on the road ahead, and she was able to study his profile.
“But you think you could have done better than your brother?” she asked.
“Aye, there is no doubt of that, but it is useless to talk of the past as if one could change it.”
“So you studied to be a bailiff while you were training as a knight?”
“Before. It was my father’s suggestion that I learn a trade, and I always had a good head for numbers. I was a small, awkward child, and it did not look as if I would ever make a useful knight. So I followed our bailiffs from estate to estate, learning.”
“And you were content in your father’s plan?”
He grinned at her. “Nay, I was furious. But it was better than the priesthood, which I refused outright. I knew I would do well as a knight, and it angered me that he could not see that I would grow into my body. But my brother had been active and good at everything almost from the moment he was born.”
“So it was difficult to follow him.”
“Difficult, but also the challenge I needed, mayhap. I learned about account books and farming methods, enough to know if we were being cheated by our own bailiff. But then I took up a sword.”
“And you were good at it.”
He arched a brow. “It is so easy for you to believe that of me?”
She eyed the width of his shoulders and blushed. “You simply look…like you carry a sword well.”
“But I
didn’t then. Even a blunted training sword was too unwieldy for me.” He sighed. “My father despaired, and then he died before I could prove to him that I would succeed.”
“But you proved it to your brother.”
“Nay, not even that. He had little interest in my achievements. And though I earned knighthood, it is expensive to keep armor and a well-trained horse for combat.”
The lack of money had stopped his dreams, she realized, finding herself feeling sorry for him.
“It is lucky my father insisted on my learning a trade,” he added.
“Mine did, too,” she said, speaking as Anne.
“And you succeeded.”
“I’m going to marry well—then I will have succeeded.”
“And who does a maid aspire to marry?”
She opened her mouth, but found herself hesitating. “A maid aspires to marry a yeoman, a man with his own property, and the chance to rise higher.”
“That is quite the aspiration.”
She glanced at him quickly, wondering if he was teasing her, but he was not. “And who does a bailiff aspire to marry?”
She held her breath, hoping he would not say, “a maid.”
He laughed. “I am a poor bailiff. Until I earn enough wages to deserve a bride, I fear I am destined to remain a lonely man.”
“I cannot imagine a man such as you is ever lonely,” she said dryly, thinking of her own quick attraction to him.
“A man such as me?” he echoed, smiling.
She cleared her throat and stared at the road again. Thankfully, the small village of Hillesley was coming into sight on the edge of a low hill. “A man who flirts with every maid he meets. Surely some woman eventually agrees to be the recipient.”
“Have you seen me flirting with every maid I meet?” he asked with interest. “Are my movements of such interest to you?”
She felt flustered and out of her element. Men did not treat her so familiarly, and she could easily fall under the spell of this…flirting. “I just assumed you flirted with every maid, Sir John, since you flirt with me.”
“And think you that I don’t find you worthy of all my attention?”
She frowned at him. “I don’t know what to think about your motivations. We’re here.”
He looked at her, his blue eyes probing, but then he pulled on the reins and brought the cart to a halt near a small village green. A well dominated the center, and several sheep and cows grazed nearby. Stone buildings clustered where the crossroads met, and off in the distance, Hillesley Manor, made of yellow Cotswold stone, sat on a hill. She wondered if Master Wilden, the ill bailiff, was being cared for there.
After Sir John climbed awkwardly out of the cart with his splinted leg, he was introduced to Master Wilden’s assistant, Hugh, the village reeve. Hugh commiserated with Sir John about the bruises on his face. Elizabeth tried to remain in the background, pretending that she had little to say. That was easy enough when Sir John seemed so very interested and asked intelligent questions. She fell behind the group and admired the peacefulness of the village. She’d been here before, of course, but always on the way somewhere else, as if her life had so much more meaning than did the lives of these villagers.
But now she watched a husband and wife working together in the kitchen garden behind their small two-room stone cottage. A child crawled in the dirt row behind them. They had little, but they shared all, including the work. There was a fondness in their shared gazes that spoke of love and loyalty. This man did not consider his wife above him, an object of supreme devotion, as so many of the romantic poems implied. Elizabeth knew that that was how William would have treated her. She still longed for the comfort and familiarity of that. But there was something about the way that this simple farmer looked at his wife…
As the afternoon went by, John found that, when he could forget about his growing attraction to Anne, he enjoyed having her at his side. She was knowledgeable about the village and the manor itself, although at first he had to coax her into speaking. She kept shyly ducking her head and looking at the villagers from beneath her lashes, as if taking her out of the castle made her unsure of herself. And Anne was one woman he would have sworn had confidence in any situation.
Hugh spoke with John about the service owed by each of the villagers, and assured them that no one was causing trouble. They met with the hayward about the hedges that kept the sheep from wandering too far. Even the crops were doing well.
At last, John paused, balancing with the aid of his crutch, and looked up at the manor. “And how is Master Wilden?”
Hugh, pale and blond, ran his forearm across his damp forehead and frowned. “Master Wilden suffered from the fever for many days, yet the healer believes he will recover. But he is old, and it will take him a long time.”
John nodded, relieved that the man would live—and relieved that he himself could continue to do the bailiff ’s work for a while longer. “Do you know if he would like to speak with me?”
Hugh shook his head. “He sleeps much of the day yet, milord. The next time ye’re here, perhaps. Would ye care to stay for supper?”
This time Anne showed more emotion—in fact she looked worried.
“It is a kind offer, Hugh,” John said, still watching Anne, “but we want to return before dark. Our cook sent along food for the journey.”
She looked away, although he could have sworn she sighed with relief.
When they were once again riding in the cart, headed back to the castle, several villagers waved at them as they came in from the fields, a day’s labor done. Anne showed more enthusiasm now, waving in return. When she faced forward again, she sighed and closed her eyes.
“That was difficult for you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I am just uncomfortable as your assistant. They all know who I am.”
“Uncomfortable? I didn’t even ask you to write in an account book, yet. There was little for you to do but listen and learn.”
“Then I fulfilled your expectations,” she said.
She seemed a little too pleased with herself. John let the silence build for half a mile, and then he said, “Ah, there is the small stream I remember. We’ll stop here.”
Her eyes opened in a hurry. “Stop? But we need to return before dark.”
“But we have to eat. Adalia packed the satchel in the back of the cart.”
“I can eat and ride.”
“Well, I cannot. The food will bounce out of my hand. We’ll stop here.”
He guided the cart beneath a small cluster of trees. Once again, getting down from the cart proved a delicate, dangerous act, but when he was safely on the ground, he looked back up at Anne. She was still seated on the bench, and she was frowning at him.
Chapter 9
Elizabeth remained perched on the bench of the cart, looking down on a confused Sir John. It was too secluded here. Trees grew protectively around a small stream, and she could hear its gentle babble.
They were alone. Truly and completely alone, no one within calling distance, no one to stop him should he try—
What? What did she think he would do to her? After all, she’d known him only days, and this fragile feeling of friendship that had formed between them could be an illusion. Perhaps it was part of a wicked plot.
A plot to seduce a maidservant? Why would he bother, when with his face and good nature, he could have any woman he wanted?
“Anne?” Sir John said, reaching up a hand. “May I help you down?”
He was the one injured, a splint on his leg. She meant to turn and put her foot on the wheel, but he caught her about the waist and lifted her off her feet. Startled, she clutched his shoulders as she was lowered easily to the ground. For a moment they stood thusly, their hands on each other while they stared. She had felt the strength in him, the way the muscles in his shoulders bunched and moved. His hands were large on her waist, making her feel delicate. And for a woman who was considered tall, she didn’t even reach his shoulders
.
She took a step away, looking anywhere but in his eyes. “So you brought us a meal?”
“Of course.” He reached down within the cart and brought forth a stuffed satchel.
“We could eat right here,” she said, looking about the grass clearing.
He smiled knowingly. “I suggest beneath the trees, by the stream. We’ll be thirsty. And we wouldn’t want your fair skin to redden. You unpack the satchel, and I’ll see to the horse.”
Elizabeth gritted her teeth and turned away from him, striding toward the water.
“You look as if you’re marching off to battle,” he called, amusement in his voice.
She ignored him. It was cooler back beneath the trees. The stream flowed over a tumble of rocks, then wound down a hillside away from them. Wild-flowers peaked from beneath ferns and from within the stand of trees. It was a peaceful place, and she felt her anger cooling, her dismay being replaced by resolve. They would eat and leave. There were still plenty of hours of daylight left for the journey home.
Adalia had thought of everything when she packed the satchel. There was a cloth to sit upon, and Elizabeth spread it wide and knelt down. She set out a round loaf of bread, cheese, almonds, and strawberries. There were two horns with ale in them. Simple fare, but she found her mouth watering as she looked at the feast.
She heard Sir John’s uneven gait and looked up in time to see him coming toward her. She almost thought she saw resolve on his face, but then he was smiling, and she forgot the strange thought.
“You set a fine blanket, Anne,” he said, as he dropped his crutch.
He bent forward, braced his hands on the cloth, then turned and seated himself right beside her, rather than across the cloth, where she’d intended. Nothing about this day was going as she’d planned, and she feared it could only get worse.
“Almonds?” he said, surprised. “Your cook thinks highly of you to spare such a luxury.”
She nodded, hiding a wince. Perhaps that had been foolish of Adalia. She broke apart the bread and handed him a piece, only to see that her fingers were trembling.
He noticed it, too, for his smile faded, and he glanced up at her. “Anne? Is there something you fear, some cause for nervousness? Tell me it is not because of me.”
