Her hands shook as she gathered the parchments and retied them the way she’d found them. Just as she started placing the garments back into the chest, voices sounded outside the solar door.
Rosetta quickly returned the items to the chest. As she started to close the lid, she hesitated, opened it again, and retrieved the eating dagger. Ash wouldn’t miss it—not like the daggers he had stowed within easy reach atop his clothes.
She fastened the lock. Just as she kicked the knife and hairpins under the edge of the patterned rug, the door opened.
“Milady.” Looking flustered, Herta walked in with a large earthenware pitcher. Her eyes widening, she abruptly halted. “Oh, goodness, I think I forgot to knock. Please forgive me, Lady Montgomery. Several maidservants went to bed early complaining of upset stomachs, so there are fewer of us to do all of the evening tasks. Now, the healer is making another herbal drink for you, and ’twill arrive shortly. I have heated water here for your nightly wash. Shall I help you untie your gown so you can bathe?”
Chapter Six
Swallowing a warm mouthful of cooked oats and milk, Ash looked out across the great hall illuminated by early morning sunshine streaming in through the hall’s high, horn-covered windows. A sense of pride filled him at the sight of the men, women, and children gathered at the trestle tables to break their fast. Damsley Keep was a fine fortress, a place he was proud to call his home. If all went as he hoped over the coming days, Rosetta would soon be dining at his side as his wife, the servants equally beholden to her as well as to him.
Seated beside Ash at the imposing, carved oak table on the raised dais, Justin poked at his bowl full of oats. He yawned, put his head down on his left arm resting on the table, and with his spoon, sloshed milk against the side of the bowl.
“Eat up,” Ash said, downing another mouthful. His bowl was almost empty.
Sighing, Justin set down his spoon. “I have eaten enough oats, Uncle.”
Ash frowned. “Have you eaten any?”
“Aye.”
“How many spoonfuls? One? Two?”
Sitting up, Justin set both arms on the table and grimaced. “I hate oats.”
Ash resisted a chuckle; he’d hated eating oats as a boy, too. “They are very good for you. They will help you grow into a strong, skilled warrior.” God above, but he sounded just like his father when Ash had been a child.
“What if I do not want to be a warrior? Does that mean I do not have to eat the oats?”
A silent groan welled within Ash. How in hellfire did he respond to questions like that? He didn’t want to be a mean uncle, but he did want the boy to eat well and be fit for his training. Justin was old enough to learn the duties of a page, to start the years of training that would see him progress to being a squire, and then, one day, a knight. Ash’s brother would have wanted his son to achieve knighthood—although Ash had believed it best not to enlist Justin as a page until the boy had adjusted to his new home and recovered from his sire’s death.
When no good answer to Justin’s questions came to mind, Ash shook his head and drew over the pot of honey. “Whatever you wish to be when you are a man, you will need your strength and good health. Therefore, you must eat your oats.”
“But—”
“How about sweetening your portion with extra honey?”
Justin scowled. “I do not like too much sweetness.”
“What about some more milk? That should make the spoonfuls easier to swallow.”
“Naught will make them easier to swallow,” Justin grumbled.
“Dried fruit, then? I will ask one of the maidservants to fetch some raisins and currants. How does that sound?”
The boy rolled his eyes. “Uncle…”
At the sound of boots crunching on the straw and dried herbs strewn across the hall floor, Ash glanced up. A man-at-arms approached the dais. What a timely interruption.
“A missive for you, milord,” the guard said.
’Twas early to be receiving a letter, unless the matter was urgent. Had Niles sent word of another discovery of ancient gold? Ash accepted the parchment from his soldier. “’Twas delivered today?” Ash asked.
“Moments ago,” the man confirmed. “Delivered by a rider who did not stay to receive your reply.”
The missive was sealed with wax bearing the imprint of a nobleman’s ring. Ash’s jaw hardened, for he recognized the design pressed into the dried wax. The note was from Edric.
He’d wondered how long it would take for the bastard to contact him.
Ash dismissed the man-at-arms, who bowed and strode away.
“A letter?” Justin asked, clearly intrigued. “Who is it from?”
“’Tis a matter of estate,” Ash said, his chair scraping back as he rose. “Once you have finished your meal, I want you to practice a while with your bow.”
Justin averted his gaze. “Do I really have to finish my oats?”
Ash patted the boy’s shoulder. “You do.” He winked and added, “If you eat the whole bowl full, I will tell you two stories about knights and damsels at bedtime tonight, not just one.”
Justin grinned and snatched up his spoon.
Chuckling, Ash stepped down from the dais. Nodding to several folk who said good morning, he headed into the torch lit shadows of the forebuilding and down the stone steps to the door that opened into the bailey. He strode out into the morning breeze scented with the smells of baking bread and roasting fowl.
As the wind tugged at his hair and garments, he broke the seal on the parchment and read the note written in black ink:
Rosetta is missing. If you are in any way responsible, I will make you pay.
***
“Cooked oats with honey and milk, a mug of wine, and some bread and butter, milady.” Herta crossed to the bedside and set the wooden tray on Rosetta’s blanket-covered lap. “The cook even gave you some of her special plum jam. She makes it from fruit grown in the castle’s orchard.”
Sitting propped up against her pillows, Rosetta said, “It all looks delicious. Thank you.” The fresh bread smelled heavenly.
“When you are done, I will help you dress. Your clothes, veil, and shoes are cleaned as thoroughly as they can be. I am afraid some of the stains in your gown will never come out. A shame, when ’tis made from such expensive silk.”
Rosetta frowned. ’Twas Ash’s fault that the exquisite gown was ruined; he had caused her to fall from her horse. However, Rosetta didn’t see any sense in drawing Herta into what had happened in Clipston. “I see. Well—”
“The garments can still be worn, though. I just need to fetch them. One of the other maidservants would have brought them to the solar, but as I mentioned last night, three are unwell—told to stay in bed, I heard—and the week’s orders just arrived from the miller, ale wife, and fishmonger. That means extra help is needed in the kitchens at the moment.”
“I understand,” Rosetta said. “Please thank the women who worked on my garments. I will be glad to have my own clothes to wear.”
“I can imagine, milady. Did I mention that his lordship asked me to show you the gardens today? There are still a number of roses and other flowers in bloom, and on such a nice day, ’twill be a pleasant stroll.”
Her mouth full of bread, Rosetta murmured her consent.
Herta beamed. “I will return as quickly as I can.” She hurried out, leaving Rosetta to her meal.
After she’d finished eating, Rosetta set aside the tray and rose to wash her face and hands. She still had a bit of a headache, but ’twas far less intense than yesterday. The lump on her head wasn’t as large or painful, either.
Last night, she’d returned the hairpins to the rest of the pile on the side table, and she’d tucked the eating dagger between the mattress and bed ropes. The weapon wasn’t very accessible, though, under the bed. ’Twould be best if she could conceal the knife within her garments somehow.
She bent to retrieve the dagger, and the solar door opened.
�
��Here we are. Oh, and please do forgive me; I forgot to knock again.” Herta hurried in, carrying Rosetta’s shoes. The embroidered cloak, gown, and veil were draped over the young woman’s arm. Seeing Rosetta quickly straighten from the side of the bed, Herta halted. “Milady? What are you doing?”
“Stretching,” Rosetta said, bending at the waist to touch the bottom of the mattress and then straightening again. “I was still feeling a bit sleepy, and have been told that doing stretches is an excellent way to wake up in the morning.”
The young woman looked uncertain.
Panic fluttered in Rosetta’s breast—if Herta found the eating dagger, there would be no pleasant walk in the gardens—but she smiled and bent once more. “The stretches really do work. I am feeling much more awake, which is what I had hoped, for I do not wish to stumble or fall on our outing and get another bruise.”
“O-of course, milady.” Herta set the rustling heap of garments on the trestle table. “How much longer will you need for this…stretching?”
Rosetta reached her arms up to the beams overhead and then let them fall back to her sides. “I am done now.”
Chatting non-stop while she worked, Herta helped Rosetta into her sheer lawn chemise and the exquisite, light-copper-colored gown Rosetta had worn on her ride into Clipston. The sensation of silk gliding against her skin, a tactile reminder of who she was, sent frissons of both relief and disquiet racing through Rosetta, for so much had happened yesterday. What were the coming days going to bring for her, Edric, and Ash?
There was so much she still didn’t understand, including why Ash and Edric were no longer best friends. Edric had never mentioned his falling out with Ash to her. She’d have to ask Ash, then. After her many years of knowing them both, she surely deserved to know what had destroyed their friendship.
At last, Herta fashioned Rosetta’s hair into a single braid and helped her don her shoes. Since the day was sunny and mild, Rosetta decided to forego the cloak. The young woman stepped back, looked her over from head to toe, and nodded briskly. “Lovely. Now, for that walk.”
Herta opened the solar door and gestured for Rosetta to follow. Armed guards stood outside, but as Rosetta passed them, they nodded a polite greeting. Ash must have told them she was allowed out of her prison for a while.
The passageway, lit by flickering reed torches set into iron brackets along both walls, led to a narrow wooden landing overlooking the great hall. As Rosetta descended the stairs, she took a quick glance around, her gaze skimming the heavy, carved table and chairs that dominated the raised stone dais, the whitewashed walls, and the orderly lines of trestle tables and accompanying benches that maidservants were scrubbing to a rich gleam. Even the straw and dried herbs scattered over the floor seemed clean—which made for a far more pleasant smell than she remembered from her visits to Edric’s castle.
Herta led Rosetta through the hall, down the forebuilding stairs, and out into the bailey drenched in sunlight. Servants were busy with daily chores: washing clothes by the well; beating dust out of rugs with wooden paddles; grooming horses. Herta pointed out different folk and buildings of interest, until they came to a waist-high stone wall set with a wrought iron gate.
“I hope you like surprises,” Herta said, lifting the latch on the gate.
Rosetta hesitated. Ash’s kidnapping of her had certainly been a surprise. Did he have another unexpected event planned for her?
“That depends on the surprise,” she answered.
Smiling, Herta preceded Rosetta into the garden.
***
While talking with a guard on his way to the gatehouse, Ash glanced over at the forebuilding. Herta and Rosetta were walking across the bailey. Rosetta’s braided, golden hair gleamed in the sunshine, and she wore her own gown, the one he really hadn’t paid much heed in the thrill of snatching her away from Edric. Now, Ash could only stare, the rest of his sentence fading to a stunned rasp, for he vowed she was the most captivating woman he’d ever seen.
The shimmering copper-colored silk of her dress hugged her bosom and waist and then flowed out into a sweeping fall that brushed the ground. Her sleeves also fit tightly to her arms and then flared at the hems, as must be the latest court fashion. Years ago, she’d told him how much she hated having to walk slowly and with elegance, as befitted a noblewoman; she’d much preferred running through fields and forests, splashing in the creek, and rolling in the verdant meadow grasses. Today, she nigh glided as she walked, as graceful and regal as a queen.
At the sound of a man—the guard he had been speaking to—clearing his throat, Ash snapped his attention back to the conversation. He didn’t usually lose focus when ogling a woman. “Did I make my instructions clear?” Ash asked.
“Aye, milord.” The guard bowed and walked off to his post.
Ash dragged his fingers through his hair and started for the keep. Reconsidering, he turned and strode for the stables. Last night, Justin had been concerned about one of the pups—the one he’d chosen for his own—and Ash wanted to be sure they were all thriving. The boy didn’t need any more heartache to keep him from a good night’s sleep; the lad hadn’t had a full night of uninterrupted rest since he’d arrived at Damsley Keep.
The earthy scents of hay and horses enveloped Ash as he entered the shadowed interior. He nodded to the stable hands cleaning out the front stalls and headed to the rear of the building. The mother and her four pups, all latched onto her teats, lay on an old blanket in the end stall. Justin was there, too, kneeling beside them—not practicing his archery as Ash had instructed. The bow and quiver of arrows were lying on the straw a short distance from the boy.
Ash knelt beside the lad. “Justin.”
The child didn’t meet his gaze. “I wanted to see the puppies.”
“You were supposed to practice with your bow. You assured me last night that you would, if I allowed you to keep one of the pups.”
The boy’s shoulders tightened, his posture clearly defiant. “I did eat all of my oats. You can ask the maidservant with the curly gray hair if you do not believe me.”
Ash inwardly sighed. He did believe the lad; however, Justin needed to learn obedience. Obeying one’s superiors without question was an essential part of chivalry, the code of honor that defined every part of a knight’s life. “Justin—”
“I do not want to use my bow.”
“Why not?”
“’Tis hard to nock the arrows.”
“The more you practice, the easier ’twill become.”
“I know, but—”
“’Twas not easy for me either, at first. When I was a boy, and my father gave me my first bow—”
“I just do not want to!”
At Justin’s harsh words, the mother dog lifted her head and studied him. The puppies, jostled from their meal, whined and struggled to latch on again. With a frustrated sigh, the boy stroked the mother’s head until she lay back on the blanket.
The boy’s tenderness caused a warm ache to spread through Ash’s chest. The lad’s compassion was admirable. Justin’s wellbeing, though, was important too.
“Look, Justin—”
The child clenched his hands into the straw. “Uncle, enough!”
Keeping his tone gentle but firm, Ash said, “You have seen the pups and found them all to be well. The one you were concerned about seems all right this morning, aye?”
The boy nodded.
“Now, you will go and spend some time with your bow.”
Justin glowered. “I will not. I do not want to become a knight.”
“Mayhap not at this moment, but you have the rest of your life to consider. I am your guardian and lord of this castle, and I want what is best for you not just for now, but years from now.”
The boy’s face reddened with anger, while tears glistened in his eyes.
Ash fought the overwhelming urge to yield; for the boy’s own good, he must be taught the importance of obedience. “You will practice with your bow or there will be con
sequences. Go.”
A sob wrenched from Justin as he lunged to his feet, snatched up his weapon and quiver, and ran out of the stall.
Ash sighed and bowed his head. He hoped he’d done the right thing, for he hated the guilt knotting up inside him.
The mother dog whined, and he patted her head before pushing to his feet. He would wait for Justin’s temper to cool a little, and then they’d talk again. In the meantime, Ash had other responsibilities to attend, including Rosetta.
While she was out of the solar, likely wandering the garden with Herta by now, he would fetch a few items he needed, including the chess set. Ash made his way to his chamber and stepped inside, pleased to see the servants had tended to the fire and tidied the chamber.
His gaze slid to the made bed. His bed. Heat spread through his loins, for he wanted Rosetta in his bed every night, her slender body curled against his while he held her close.
Mentally forcing aside the tantalizing thought, he crossed to his linen chests and drew a ring of keys out of the bag tied to his belt. He opened the smaller chest to retrieve the roll of parchments.
As he did so, misgiving sifted through him. He stilled, his gaze traveling over the knives set on top his folded garments. The daggers were where he had left them, but not in the right order.
Someone had been through his belongings.
Chapter Seven
Rosetta had never seen such an exquisite garden. An orchard of apple, plum, and pear trees filled the section to the left of the gate; the thick, leafy boughs cast pleasant shade upon the ground below. Another area was devoted to orderly beds of vegetables and herbs. Herta led Rosetta across a grassy area dotted with wildflowers to where curving beds with knee-high, mortared stone walls ambled like the rose bushes they contained, drawing Rosetta and Herta down stone-covered paths to a pond covered in water lilies. Dragonflies and other insects dived across the water.
“Goodness,” Rosetta said, sinking down onto the stone bench beside the pond. “There is a great deal to see.” As she marveled at how much more elaborate this garden was than the one at Wallensford Keep—neither Edric’s father nor Edric had seen a need to grow more than vegetables and herbs—a fish surfaced in the water and caused rings to ripple across the surface.
A Knight's Desire--World of de Wolfe Pack Page 6
