His words were kind and encouraging, and in spite of the terrible circumstances, they made her feel better. He was speaking to her as if she were a woman grown, a woman of character, and she’d never heard him speak to her that way before.
Suddenly, she felt quite grown up.
“I will do whatever you wish, Torston,” she said. “If you wish for me to be kind to Lilia, then I will be. But know… know it will not be easy for me.”
He nodded, pulling her to him and kissing her on the forehead. “I know,” he murmured, his lips against her head. “Nor will it be easy for me. But tomorrow, I plan to go into the village and visit the priests at St. John’s and speak to them on dissolving this contract. I need their advice to proceed.”
Alyx fell against him, swept up by his power and warmth. His big arms went around her, holding her tightly, and she drew strength from him.
“Torston?” she said, her face muffled against his tunic. “Do you think you could grow to love me someday?”
He paused a moment before replying. “You and no other, Alyx.”
Her arms went around his waist, squeezing him tightly. “For me, that day has already arrived. I cannot remember when I have not loved you. I promise that I will make the best wife in all of England. I will be devoted to you and only you, forever.”
She could feel him kiss her head again. “And I shall be the most fortunate man in the world,” he said, releasing her. He looked around, through the vines of the arbor they were standing under. “As much as I would like to continue this conversation, I am not comfortable doing it out here. It is possible that we will be seen.”
Alyx understood. Reluctantly, she stepped away from him, also looking around to make sure no one was about.
“I should return home,” she said. “I did not even tell my father I had left. I am sure he is panicking, thinking I have gone out to wander when I promised him I would not.”
Torston shook his head. “It will be dusk soon,” he said. “You are not going anywhere tonight. I suspect your father knows where you have gone, so you will stay here tonight. I will have Jess return you home tomorrow morning.”
Her face darkened. “I do not want to stay in the keep with Lilia,” she said. “I do not even want to attend supper in the great hall tonight because she will be there. Is there someone else I can stay, hidden away until I return home tomorrow? Forgive me, but I do not wish to see her while I am here. I’m simply not ready to face her yet.”
He looked at her, immediately thinking of a place for her before quickly chiding himself on such a thought. But there was a very large part of him that agreed with her. He wasn’t ready to introduce her to Lilia yet, either. And no one but Jess knew she was here. He knew it wasn’t the best idea, but he couldn’t help himself. Against his better judgement, he knew just where to put her.
“Come with me,” he said softly.
Curious, Alyx did.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“What is this place?”
Alyx stood in the doorway of the dusty little cottage, one that was in a lower section of the stable yard and built against the great wall. Because The Lyceum was built on a slight hill, parts of that hill had been terraced for the stable yard and also an annex of the main bailey. There were sections, reached by a wide path, that were positioned lower than the others.
This was one of those sections.
This was the terrace that had a secondary corral for the goats that produced milk for the cheese for the castle. The entire pathway leading down to this section was blocked off by a big gate that had many teeth marks on it from naughty goats who liked to chew. The yard itself was barren, with broken pieces of barrels and other rubbish, tossed over the fence for the goats to gnaw on because they were so destructive.
But this level also had two little cottages, one used for storage and the other one that had recently seen human habitat. It was into this cottage that Torston took Alyx, shoving open the door as dust rained down from the ceiling. He waved it away as he answered her question.
“The man who used to tend the goats lived here,” he said. “He died a few months ago, but the cottage was never cleared out. Everything is here to make you comfortable for a night’s stay.”
Alyx was very interested in her surroundings. She went to the bed, which still had blankets on it, and smacked a hand down upon it. Dust billowed up and she coughed.
“Mayhap a new coverlet would be in order,” she sputtered. “One that is not so dusty.”
“I will see what I can do.”
She looked at the hearth, darkened. There were pots and other implements to tend both a meal and a blaze.
“If you bring me some wood or peat, I can start a fire,” she said. “And since I do not wish to attend the feast tonight, I can cook my own meal. I’ll go into the kitchen and collect my own ingredients.”
Torston was aware that she knew the cook and nearly all of the other servants at The Lyceum. They would let her take whatever she wished, but they would also wonder why she was doing it. The Lyceum had no shortage of gossips when it came to the servants.
“They may tell others that they have seen you,” he said. “If you are trying to hide, that may not be wise.”
She looked at him. “Then you can go to the kitchen and bring me things to cook,” she said. “In fact, if you bring enough, I will cook for you, too.”
He was amused. “Do you actually know how to cook?”
She cast him a long look. “Did you not know that about me?” she asked. “I have been supervising the kitchens since my mother’s death. I know a great deal about cooking. I know everyone’s jobs at Makendon. That is what a good chatelaine does, you know.”
He conceded the point. “Forgive me for questioning you,” he said. “What would you like from the kitchens, then?”
“Bring anything you can find.”
“Very well.”
“And a new coverlet that is not so dusty.”
He turned for the door. “I will return as soon as I can.”
Alyx simply smiled, waving at him as he quit the little cottage. Once the door was shut behind him, she began to look around, thinking that it was a cozy little hut, indeed. Perfect for spending a lovely evening with Torston, just the two of them.
The thought made her feel a bit giddy.
Perhaps it was wrong of her, but Alyx didn’t much care about that at the moment. To pretend she and Torston were married and that this was their very own little cottage was such a foolish, girlish dream, but she couldn’t help but entertain it. Pretending they belonged to each other, pretending they were married…
Foolish, indeed.
But given the torment of the past few hours, she was willing to indulge in some foolery. For just a few stolen hours, he would belong to her and her alone. No outside world, no betrothal.
Just them.
And with that, Alyx became industrious. The cottage was dirty and dusty, with cobwebs in the hearth, and she set about cleaning it all up. There was a bucket outside the door and a broom leaning against the east side of the cottage that hadn’t been chewed up by the goats, who were very nosy with Alyx’s appearance.
As she gathered things to sweep and clean with, they followed her around, trying to pull the bucket out of her hands or nibble on her skirt. Alyx found herself shoving them back as she drew water from a large rain barrel near the corral. As she lugged the water over to the cottage, the goats followed and tried to drink from it. Her clean water soon had bits of dirt and chaff in it from their mouths. Finally, she ducked into the cottage and slammed the door on the lot of them.
Then, she went to work.
There were still rags left behind, and a lumpy blob of white soap that had goat teeth marks in it. Alyx set about washing everything in the water she’d brought in. Surprisingly, the floor was stone, so she washed it along with the table, the two small stools, the hearth, the bed frame, and everything else she could get her hands on.
Alyx had always been qui
te industrious, so she wasn’t deterred from hard work. She enjoyed it. Once everything was cleaned and rinsed and dried, including the cobwebby hearth, she went about finding something to put in it for a fire.
This far north, many of the castles and villages depended on peat. There were great bogs of it that were carved up for just that purpose. They would find it in the moors and cut it up, lugging it back to burn. Alyx didn’t see anything to burn in the cottage or even around the corral where the goats started to follow her around again, but she found dried chunks of peat in the second cottage that was used for storage. She collected as much as she could and brought it back into the now-clean cottage.
There was a tinder box with old things in it – an old firesteel and a piece of stone that had seen a lot of use. Alyx gathered a bunch of dry hay from the goats’ feed and used that to strike the sparks on. Soon enough, it began to blaze, eventually catching on the chunks of peat. In little time, a fire began to gain strength in the old hearth, filling the small cottage with a comforting glow. As she sat on the ground and tended the fire, the door suddenly lurched open.
“Damn goats,” Torston said, his arms full as he tried to get in without letting the goats in with him. Alyx had to rush to the door and push them out so he could make it in. Once inside, he looked around with surprise. “You cleaned this place?”
She nodded, taking items from his arms. “It was filthy,” she said. “I found a bucket and some soap, so I cleaned it up.”
He set everything down on the table, still looking around. “It looks very inviting,” he said. “You did an excellent job. I didn’t know you had it in you, Pigeon.”
She smiled bashfully as she began to organize what he’d brought in. “Did you think I was only good for wandering in the woods and getting into trouble?”
He grinned as he pulled up a stool next to the fire. “I will admit that it never crossed my mind,” he said, looking at her. “In fact, much about you didn’t cross my mind until lately.”
Alyx took that as an excellent sign. Their relationship seemed to be growing by the day in a manner she had always prayed for. He was interested in her, attentive toward her, and not simply in a polite way.
In an adult way.
In a way that made her heart sing.
“I promise, I am good for much more than aggravation,” she said, watching him chuckle. “You and I have known each other for many years, but I cannot recall, in all that time, us spending time in deep conversation coming to know one another. You and I have talked about so many things over the years – horses, politics, allies, parties, my determination to marry you… but very few things that were deep and meaningful. In fact, I hardly know anything about you except you come from Yorkshire.”
His eyes glimmered as he looked at her. “What would you like to know?”
“Everything. Where were you born?”
“Netherghyll Castle.”
“Where is that?”
“South of Skipton. Do you know where that is?”
“I have heard of it, though I’ve not been there.”
He threw a thumb in a general southwardly direction. “That way,” he said. “What else do you want to know?”
“You mention that you have a brother. Just one?”
“Just one. He is almost two years older than I.”
“And your mother and father?”
“Both dead. My brother is Baron Cononley, Warden of the Yorkshire Dales. It is a hereditary title for the Lords of Netherghyll.”
“But what about you? What will you inherit?”
He lifted his shoulders. “Nothing,” he said. “Except my brother has already told me that he wishes for me to become his garrison commander at Bowes Castle. That is another de Royans property, brought into the family by my grandfather, Juston de Royans. He was a very great man.”
“You knew your grandfather?”
Torston nodded. “I did,” he said. “In fact, when I was very young, I was a page at Bowes Castle because it was my grandfather’s favorite property. He taught me a great deal before he died.”
Alyx was listening to him intently as she put the food he’d brought into different piles: onions, garlic, carrots, a sack of dried peas, a half-full sack of barley grains, a loaf of day-old bread, and a half-full jug of wine.
“I never knew my grandparents,” she said as she pulled aside the carrots. “I never really knew my mother, either. We do not have any family that I know of. My brother will inherit Makendon but I have heard my father say that he will give the castle to my husband. Dyl is not capable of command, which is a sad thing. I think he would make a very kind commander.”
Torston knew Dyl de Ameland, a proud son who appeared completely normal in all aspects until one spoke to him. Then, it was a child who spoke in return.
“Being a commander takes more than kindness,” he said. “Especially with a strategic castle like Makendon. It takes a man of skill and knowledge.”
“May I have your dagger?” she asked, extending her hand. When he handed it to her, hilt-first, she began carefully peeling the carrots with it. “Torston, you have been so good to Dyl. He has learned so much from you and he considers you his friend. Why could you not teach him how to command? That way, he could assume his birthright.”
Torston watched her peel the vegetables with his razor-sharp dagger. He almost scolded her for using it, but there was no other knife for her to use, so he let it go.
“Do you honestly believe your brother is capable of command?” he asked softly.
Alyx didn’t. If she was honest with herself, she knew Dyl wasn’t capable and it greatly saddened her. “Nay,” she said after a moment. “But when we are married and Makendon becomes yours, you can help him. You can at least make him feel as if he is part of his legacy.”
Torston didn’t reply right away as Alyx continued to chop. In fact, she went to collect one of the big iron pots she’d cleaned out, dumping the carrots into it before realizing the conversation had stalled. She looked over at Torston as she brought forth the onions to be chopped up next.
“What is wrong?” she asked. “Why are you silent?”
He was looking at her thoughtfully. “Because it did not occur to me,” he said. “What you said about Makendon becoming mine if we marry.”
She stopped fussing with the onion, standing there with it in her hand as she looked at him. “Of course it would be yours,” she said. “It would belong to our children. I do not think my father expects you to assume the de Ameland name because you would be receiving it through the de Ameland family, but…”
“I would not change my name.”
“What’s wrong with de Ameland?”
“Nothing. But it is not as if I am inheriting a dukedom. That would make a difference. I would only be inheriting a border castle and nothing more, and I intend to keep the de Royans name.”
Alyx couldn’t decide if she was insulted by that attitude or not. Slowly, she returned to the onion, peeling off the brittle outer skin before she began chopping it up.
“Whatever name you decide to take or don’t take,” she continued, “the castle would become yours once we were married. So, you see, breaking your betrothal with the de Weese woman wouldn’t leave you entirely destitute. I have something to offer, too.”
Torston watched her as she finished with the onion and started in on the garlic. She worked with confidence, which was something he’d never seen from her before. Or perhaps he’d just never paid enough attention. The annoying girl had grown up before his eyes and he was only now realizing it. She was accomplished, intelligent, and beautiful. Like an angel, she was beautiful. But the reality of what they faced was weighing heavily on him.
Never more heavily than now.
He could see a domestic life with her and it was the most comforting thing he could imagine. To have a life with Alyx, in a little cottage like this or in a castle like Makendon, could only be something men dreamed of. A life where he adored his wife, where she was
devoted to him, and they could spend their days loving and laughing. What could be more perfect?
Unfortunately, the path to that perfection would not be easy.
In fact, he was coming to have his doubts that it could happen at all.
He waited until she put the dried peas in the pot and put it over the fire, and then took another smaller pot, filled it with water, and put the barley in it. When that one went over the fire, too, he reached out and grasped her by the wrist.
“Come and sit,” he said softly. “We must speak.”
Alyx wiped her hands of on her skirt, going to sit on the other stool but realizing he was pulling her onto his lap. Quite happily, she curled up on his big thighs, her arms around his neck.
“What is it?” she asked.
His muscular arms went around her as he pondered his answer. “I told you that I intend to go into the village tomorrow to speak to the priests about breaking this betrothal,” he said. “I do not want you to be under any illusions that this will be a simple thing. The one thing I must have is the bride’s agreement, or at least her family’s agreement, and in just the short interaction I have had with her, I do not think that is going to be easy.”
Surprisingly, Alyx didn’t become overly upset. She leaned her head against his as they both gazed into the fire. “If she does not agree, what else can you do?”
He sighed, shifting so she was pulled closer against him. “I can buy my way out of it if I have enough money,” he said. “But the main reason my father brokered this contract was so I would have control of the de Weese wealth. They do not need the money, so I am sure that buying my way out of this would take more money than I have.”
“What about my money?” she asked. “I have money, too. I will gladly give it to you.”
He patted her leg gently. “That is sweet of you, but I could not take it. This is my problem, Pigeon.”
Alyx was thinking of a way out. Naïve as she was about such arrangements, she was still clever.
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