by Jody Hedlund
“If you ask her, I promise I’ll stop hounding you,” Pitt said. “At least for a few minutes.”
“For the rest of the night?”
“For an hour.”
“Very well.” I pushed away from the table and ignored Pitt’s satisfied grin. I’d give him what he wanted and then get an hour of peace. By then, the festivities would likely be nearing their end, and I would be free to retire for the night.
As I approached the women’s table, several of the maidens watched me, their anticipation growing. Silently, I berated Pitt for putting me in the position where I would need to break their hearts. I simply wasn’t interested in a match no matter how pleasant or pretty they were.
Olivia was actually the perfect choice as a partner for the evening because she wouldn’t place expectations upon me for an attachment, not when she was anticipating a union with Lionel Lacy. In fact, even if she didn’t have designs on Lionel, she’d never consider me, not when she believed I was nothing more than a lowly knight. Of course, she’d likely taken stock of my wealth. But for a woman like Olivia, wealth would never be enough.
I passed the length of the women’s table until I reached the far end. I could sense her attention upon me much the same as the other women. She was interested, or at least curious, in my next choice. That realization bolstered my courage as I halted next to her.
“My lady.” I bowed and offered her my hand. “Would you honor me with your company for the next dance?” It was the same question I’d posed to the other women, nothing more and nothing less.
Yet, Olivia’s eyes flashed as though mocking me for my unoriginality. “Since you are clearly weary of the proceedings, I shall not tax you further.”
I was surprised she’d read me so well. But I attempted to keep any further emotions from showing. “I’m not too weary to dance with you.”
“And what if I am too weary to dance with you?” She toyed with the stem of her goblet, turning it around. Next to her, Isabelle watched our exchange, her blue eyes wide with trepidation, likely worried what Olivia might say or do next.
From the lift of Olivia’s chin and set of her mouth, I sensed she had no intention of dancing with me, especially if she believed I was only asking her out of obligation and had no desire to be with her. She was a proud and stubborn woman, one who wouldn’t be easily swayed, and I had no wish to battle her this eve.
Yet, from the corner of my eye, I could see Pitt watching my interaction with Lady Olivia with almost gleeful interest. He wouldn’t be satisfied if I returned to the table without engaging this feisty prisoner of ours in a dance. He might even order me to return and ask her again.
Having now garnered the attention of the other women as well as nearby guests, I would need to persuade Lady Olivia to dance. And there was one way to make her do anything.
I bent so that I was close to her ear. “If you don’t accept this dance, you’ll force me to ask Lady Isabelle. And I know you don’t want me drawing attention to her any more than I do.”
My whisper had the desired effect. Olivia stiffened and lifted defiant eyes to me. “You would not dare.”
“You might leave me no choice.”
She released her goblet and gave me a cold look. “Very well. I shall dance with you. But you should know most women prefer to be enticed onto the dance floor, not forced.”
“Do you wish that I entice you, my lady?” I asked, holding out my hand to her again.
“I doubt you could even if you put the whole of your effort into it.”
Her declaration issued a silent challenge, one that made my insides quicken. I wanted to prove her wrong, wanted to show her I was capable of wooing and winning any woman I set my sights upon.
She rose from her spot on the bench as regally as if she were a queen, her shoulders squared, her chin high. When she placed her fingers into mine, however, she couldn’t hide the tremble, the one that told me I affected her the same way she did me.
I was normally a rigidly self-controlled person and could hold myself aloof in most situations. But this woman caused me to lose all sense of objectivity every time she was near.
One dance, I silently admonished. I’d keep her at arm’s length, just as I had with all the other women. Then I’d be done for the night.
I led her to the center of the hall where the tables and benches had been pushed against the walls to make room for the dancing.
“You might be quite inept at wooing a woman,” she said, positioning herself in front of me for the dance. “But rest assured, you are quite accomplished at playing the part of a poppet on a stick for Lord Pitt.”
“Poppet on a stick?” I couldn’t contain my humor. Laughter bubbled up, and I found myself chuckling at her analogy.
Her chin rose a notch higher, tilting her pretty face up to mine. “I have no doubt if Lord Pitt asked you to jump up onto the table and entertain him like a jester, you would.”
I laughed again, and the release made me feel lighter. With one hand I took hold of her waist, and with the other directed our hands upward so that they were pointed together. “Pray tell, what else do you think I would do as Lord Pitt’s poppet?”
As I began to lead her through the motions of the dance, she followed. Her footsteps tapped out the rhythm as expertly as mine. She’d been taught to dance just as I had, and the movements required very little thought and allowed us to continue bantering.
“Lord Pitt wants his favorite poppet to find a wife.” Her lips curled into a semblance of a smile, one that lit her eyes.
“He only wishes for my happiness.”
“And would taking a wife make you happy, sir?”
“Not in the least.” She already knew my stance on remarrying. Her questions were only an attempt to goad me, and I wouldn’t give her the pleasure of reacting.
“Then am I to assume Lord Pitt is wrong in his assessment of what you need.”
“He meddles where he shouldn’t.”
“So you will deny him what he wants?”
“I give him what he wants by keeping his coffers full and his enemies subdued.”
She studied my face. “Does that mean you will defy your master and refuse to take a bride from among these women as he bids you to do?”
“I think you know I am no one’s poppet, my lady.” My voice came out low, almost a growl. She had to know by now I wasn’t a weakling. If she didn’t then I would find a way to show her.
Her long lashes swept down and made my stomach do a strange freefall. It was a sensation that made me forget about all the reasons why I shouldn’t feel attracted to her. Why did this woman seem to have the power to disarm me by one look, one touch, one bat of her eyelashes? Was I wrong? Was I a poppet after all?
“It is easy to see that Lord Pitt regards you affectionately, more like a father than a master.”
“He’s not my master.” I relished the gentle curve of Olivia’s hip beneath my fingers. The sway was graceful and womanly and made me all the more conscious of how lovely she was. “I’ve chosen to serve him and could release myself from that servitude at any time.”
“Then he has awarded you land and a home for your daring deeds?”
“No.” I had no need of land or a home. Maidstone was sufficient enough. “You have seen for yourself what Lord Pitt awards me, my lady.”
At my reference to her earlier appearance in my chambers, her sights dropped to the pin that fastened my mantle. It was oval and studded with sapphires that matched the rich blue of my garments. The pin had once belonged to my father and the previous Barons of Hampton before him. I rarely wore anything but my simple woolen soldier’s hose and tunic. But tonight I’d taken more care with my appearance. With Olivia in such close proximity, I was suddenly glad that I’d worn garments and jewels befitting one of my status.
“Yes, indeed I have seen what Lord Pitt awards you.” Her voice dripped with disdain. She released her hold at my waist and reached up to touch the pin.
“That pin belo
nged to my father and his father before him.” I didn’t normally feel the need to rise to my defense. But I couldn’t allow my father’s name to be defamed, especially after my past action had already damaged my family’s reputation and fortune.
My father had come from a long bloodline of Norsemen who had once pillaged and raided the land. During those raids, my ancestors had taken an interest in relics, books, and artwork and secretly rescued them from burning monasteries, saving the items from going up in flames with everything else.
Although my great-grandfather had tried to return some of the stolen treasures, many of the old monasteries were gone and those that remained were no longer interested in housing the ancient works. As a result, my family had taken the role of being guardians of the treasures. My father had done so before me. And now it was my duty as baron.
I pressed my hand against the sapphire pin. Underneath my shirt, I felt the outline of the golden chain and the ring it contained. The ring was another treasure my father had given me long ago when he’d entrusted me with Maidstone’s treasures.
I was grateful that during the year of drinking and squandering my family’s wealth, I’d revered the relics, books, and artwork enough not to touch them. They’d remained safe as had the ring. Of course, most people wouldn’t see value or worth in them the same way my family did. So usually we had no worry of anyone attempting to steal from us.
Nevertheless, if Father had been alive, he would have been sorely disappointed in me. Perhaps that was part of the reason I’d yet to return to Maidstone. Everything there would remind me of my failures.
At least here, very few people knew about the man I’d once been. Everyone respected me, not for my birthright but because of the way I lived and all I’d accomplished.
“You speak with admiration for your father,” she remarked after a moment. Her expression and tone had softened as if she’d decided she’d had enough dueling with me for one night. While I rather liked dueling words with her, this softer side reminded me of the conversations we’d had during the long ride to Tolleymuth, the times when she’d let down her guard and we’d talked like friends.
“Will you tell me about him?” she asked.
“My father?”
“Yes.” She touched my family heirloom again before caressing the brooch she’d pinned to her bodice. She traced the cross pattern at the center and the emeralds.
“I’ll tell you as much about my father as you’re willing to share about your mother.”
At my suggestion, she smiled with genuine pleasure. The upturn of her lips only made her more beautiful and made me feel suddenly winded, as though I’d been sprinting in one of the battle drills I did with my men every day.
We talked until finally I realized several tunes had come and gone and that I’d danced with her far longer than I had with anyone else.
As I became silent, she did as well. She looked everywhere but me, clearly self-conscious. At the close of the melody, I escorted her back to the women’s table, bowed my head, and then turned away, resisting the urge to let myself gaze upon her face again.
I could feel the attention from the other women on my retreat and wondered if she was watching me too. Although I was tempted to look back, I refrained and instead forced myself to walk directly to my seat next to Pitt. With what I hoped was a stoic expression, I lowered myself.
Before my hindquarters hit my chair, Pitt’s elbow connected with my ribs. “You’re smitten with her.”
“She’s untamed, undisciplined, and has a sharp tongue.” I grabbed my goblet.
“Then she’s exactly what you need.” Pitt’s tone was smug.
Though I wanted to glance at her, I made myself stare straight ahead. I needed no one. Above all not a woman like Olivia.
“You’re a strong man, Windsor,” Pitt said, digging his fingers through the bowl of sweetmeats that the servants had delivered to the table during my absence. “You need a strong woman who won’t be intimidated or crushed by you.”
Had I intimidated Giselle? Was that what I’d done wrong? She’d always been quiet and meek. I’d been surprised when she’d grown increasingly unhappy in our relationship. I hadn’t understood what I’d done to push her away and so had only worked harder to keep her close.
In the end, I’d lost her anyway.
I’d failed at being a husband. My mistakes had cost me too much once, and I wouldn’t take another chance at failing again.
I gulped down several long sips of my ale then set my goblet down with a resounding clank. “I can’t deny that Lady Olivia is a very fine lady. But I have no wish for a bride, strong woman or no.”
Pitt sat back in his chair, tossed several honey-covered nuts into his mouth, and then gave me a calculated smile. “Very well, Windsor. If that’s your wish, then I’ll drop the matter.”
“Thank you, my lord.” But even as I spoke, I knew I hadn’t heard the end of his scheming to find me a wife. For some reason, he believed I wouldn’t be whole and happy until I made peace with my past and got married again.
The trouble was, I’d never make peace with my past. And I didn’t want to bring any woman, no matter how strong, into the turmoil that haunted me.
Chapter
12
My gown rustled too loudly in the silence, and I fisted the layers to keep them from giving my presence away.
I couldn’t believe my fortune. The oaken door to Lord Pitt’s solar had been ajar. None of the servants had been in sight. And the inner door to his treasury had been unlocked.
With a glance over my shoulder into the deserted solar, to his empty writing table and chair, to the quiet bedchamber beyond, I assured myself I was alone before I turned my attention to the shelves and the numerous chests on the floor.
Surely the Holy Chalice was in this treasury somewhere.
I held out my candlestick in its ceramic dish, the flame casting a glow over the lowest shelves revealing an assortment of old armor coated with dust and spiderwebs. I lifted the candlestick to the next shelf noting glass vials of all colors and sizes.
A noise outside the solar—like a banging shutter—brought me to a standstill. I held my breath and listened. My nerves were strung as taut as an embroidery stitch. I had only a few minutes to search before I needed to return to the sewing circle.
I’d pricked my finger with a needle and had asked Lady Glynnis if I might return to my chamber to bandage it. She’d eyed me coldly but also with a glimmer of animosity that had been growing since the dance two nights ago.
The other ladies had been more standoffish as well, regarding me with antagonism that I guessed had something to do with my dance with Sir Aldric. Izzy had commented that the ladies were merely jealous because he’d spent three dances with me and only one with them.
I wanted to tell the other ladies they had nothing to worry about, that since the dance, Aldric had gone out of his way to avoid any encounters with me. He had no designs upon me any more than he did them.
Not that I wanted him to have any designs for me. Yes, I could admit I found him attractive. And yes, I understood why young maidens vied for his attention, especially if the mere sight of him made their pulses quicken as it did mine.
However, he’d been clear he had no intention of marrying again. I could only surmise he’d loved his wife deeply and couldn’t fathom loving anyone the same way.
Even if he wasn’t in love with his late wife and even if there was something growing between us, I was leaving Tolleymuth soon and would likely never see him again, not after Father finalized my betrothal to Lionel.
The last two nights as I’d lain in bed, I’d tried to picture Lionel and conjure feelings for him. But nothing about him moved me, nothing in his appearance, his speech, or his conduct. I wanted to remember conversations we’d had or smiles we’d shared, but nothing came back to me, except the conversations and smiles I’d shared with Aldric.
“I’ll make memories with Lionel,” I’d assured myself. “And eventually ov
er time, love will grow between us.”
Not all marriages were love matches. Even if my marriage to Lionel never developed into one of love, we would still work together for the greater good of our families. That’s what mattered the most—loyalty to family. Feelings would come and go, but family would remain steadfast.
I glanced around the closet, scanning the rest of the shelves, searching for anything that might be worthwhile. So far, the room was turning out to be a storage area for junk rather than treasure.
Stifling a sigh, I dropped in front of one of the chests. I placed the candlestick on the top of another chest before I pulled a pin out of my hair and inserted it into the keyhole. With a few jiggles and jabs, the lock clicked open. Cecil had taught me well.
The chest in Aldric’s chamber had been just as easy to open. I still needed to find a way to return to his room so I could finish my search there. And I needed to do it soon. Time was slipping away. Father would be expecting word of my accomplishment any day. He’d placed his faith in me, and I couldn’t let him down.
After all, he’d approved of my combat training with Cecil, especially in the days before Charles had been born. In those days, I’d been like a son to him. He’d also allowed, even fostered, my education in languages, mathematics, and the sciences. He’d checked on my progress regularly. And I’d always looked forward to the opportunities to impress him with my knowledge as well as my physical prowess with the sword.
His visits, while infrequent, had been a highlight for me. The rare approval in his eyes had kept me training and learning diligently so I would one day make him truly proud of me.
After Charles’s birth, it had taken time for me to notice my father didn’t visit me as often at Ludlow, and that when he did, he was no longer interested in my training and education. He took me on fewer hunts and excursions, until eventually he’d stopped altogether.
I’d tried to discover ways to draw his attention back to me. But I’d finally resigned myself to the reality that Charles had replaced me. Father had finally gotten the son he’d longed for, and I’d been relegated to my proper place as a daughter.
