Once again Corin and Master Brinsell looked at one another. For a moment, I feared that I had been too impertinent, and that my husband might take me to task for speaking in such a way of our lord and master. However, he only smiled and shook his head, saying, “No, he regards this as our little celebration, and would not think to intrude. He has Master Brinsell to report back to him on how the crush fared, and that is all he requires.”
“Yes, and remember that he will be hosting a great harvest ball a week from now anyway, with all the grand ladies and gentlemen from the surrounding estates in attendance,” Lynnis put in. “So he certainly has no need to come and watch our rustic amusements.”
“I don’t think they’re rustic,” I protested, looking around at all the people present, their smiling faces, the brightly colored flags hanging from the trees, the torches that had just been lit, for the sun was beginning to sink low in the sky. “I think it’s all lovely.”
“And she has had only a few sips of wine,” Corin said, dark eyes glinting with mischief. “So you know she is telling the simple truth.”
Several retorts sprang to my mind, but because I knew he was teasing me, I settled for sticking my tongue out at him in a most unladylike manner. I was sure that Sendra, had she been there to witness my behavior, would have fainted dead away from shock.
But Corin only laughed, then said he would fetch us our dinner. Hal joined in, and the three men walked away to the refreshments table so they might load up some plates with food for us.
“Yes, this would be a good way to live,” Lynnis said. “To have someone wait on you at all times, to never have to lift a finger to do anything you did not want to do.”
“Oh, I would think even that would become tiresome after a while,” I replied. “For there is a certain pride that comes from doing things for oneself. Besides, if you had someone who waited on you hand and foot, you would never have learnt all the practical skills you have now. Why, look at how ignorant I was, and that was only because my stepmother did not wish to teach me anything. I am much more content at the end of the day now, knowing that I have accomplished something worthwhile in taking care of my household.”
“You may have a point.” She was silent for a moment, watching the men as they joked with one another, good-naturedly squabbling over which of them would bring his wife the choicest morsels from the food laid out before them. “Still, I think it would be quite grand to live like that just for a short time — say, a week or so, just to have a little space of time in which to rest. I do not think that would be enough to spoil me for all future domestic endeavors.”
“No, I suppose it would not,” I agreed. “It would only be enough to allow you to relax, and to have more energy when you did return to your usual life.”
“And it gives me something to dream of,” she added. “I know such a thing will never come to pass, but it is pleasant to think about.”
Corin and Hal approached us then, both of them carrying plates so loaded with food that I was secretly surprised some of it had not spilled over the edges as they made their way across the glade to us. Lynnis and I shifted on our benches so the men could sit down, and the feasting commenced.
It was such simple food compared to what I was used to, and yet it tasted better than anything I had eaten for a long time. Perhaps it was only my exertions from earlier that lent the dishes an extra spice, or perhaps it was sitting outdoors, feeling the fresh breeze ruffle across my tightly braided hair. Those soft breezes brought with them the scent of warm grass and dried leaves, and a faint, sweet-sour tang I thought must come from the vats of crushed grapes themselves.
All around us, people ate and laughed and talked, and Lynnis and Hal and Corin and I did the same, discussing the harvest, discussing the prospects for the winter ahead — would it be mild, or harsh? — talking of Master Brinsell’s announcement that the duke planned to have five more cottages built here in our little settlement, so he might lure more workers next spring to help expand the duke’s already extensive fields and vineyards.
It was a pleasant time, and I found myself sated soon enough, my head leaning against Corin’s sturdy shoulder as he and Hal argued the merits of planting larsonne grapes on the upslope parcel where Lord Sorthannic intended to extend the vineyard, or whether the siris grape could manage the sandier soil there. The conversation became quite technical, and I realized I wasn’t listening to the content of their discussion any longer, but merely enjoying the sound of their voices, especially Corin’s warm baritone. My eyelids fluttered, and I knew I was very close to dozing off. Not that surprising, I supposed, after being out in the warm sun and exerting myself in such a way, and then eating and drinking so very much.
Corin tapped my shoulder, and I startled. “It is far too early to be sleepy, my wife,” he said. “Look, Master Brinsell has his viol out, and Trey is going to play his drum. Now that the sun has set, it is time to dance.”
Indeed, when I blinked and looked around, I saw that several couples had already gathered in a clear area where the grass had been beaten down to the bare earth. It was not quite the same as the grand ballroom in my father’s castle, with its wrought-iron chandeliers and polished wooden floors, but I supposed it would do well enough.
I let Corin take me by the hand and help me up from the bench, then lead me over to stand with the other dancers. Once again, a little thrill went through me at his touch, although this time I knew there was nothing truly intimate about it. At the same time, I could not help but be slightly nervous. Yes, some country dances were included in my repertoire, along with far more courtly ones such as the verdralle and the linotte, and yet I could not know for sure whether the people here would perform those country dances in the same way that I had been taught.
Well, I told myself, you were always counted a quick study on the dance floor, so if they are slightly different, you should not have too much difficulty learning how to go along.
I also had to hope that Corin was a competent dancer. This was the first time we’d had the opportunity to participate in such an activity, and so I had no idea whether he was the epitome of grace, or someone possessed of two left feet.
Well, I supposed I would find out soon enough.
Within minutes, we had enough people gathered in the little clear area to make up a circle. The men stood on the outside facing in, while the women made up a smaller circle facing out. Master Brinsell played a few chords on his viol, and Trey tapped on his drum, and then the music began in earnest, with all of us joining hands with our partners and moving first to the left, then to the right.
This was the “Bannot Bar,” a very old dance, one of the first I had ever learnt. Nothing about how it was danced this night was very different from what I had been taught, and so I found myself relaxing slightly. The only pity of it was that one changed partners with every chorus, the two concentric circles moving in opposite directions, and so I did not have much opportunity to truly dance with my husband.
Perhaps that was for the best. I knew they would probably not dance the verdralle, and so I would not have to worry about spending an entire dance with his arm around my waist, and my hand clasped in his. I already had a difficult time controlling my reactions around him, and if he proved to be proficient in that courtly dance, it would be that much harder to remain calm and not allow myself to be carried away by his mere presence.
Would that be such a bad thing? I wondered, and did not know if I had the courage to answer the question. Corin and I had been growing closer each day, but still I found myself reticent, not able to take that final step toward being his wife. One might argue that it had not been all that long, that we had not been married even a week yet. However, I knew I could not keep up this very different kind of dance with him indefinitely.
The next piece was the very lively “Black Nag,” and Lynnis and I switched partners for that one, all of us laughing as we tried to keep up with the ever-increasing pace of the music. Afterward, I begged off, saying
I needed to rest for a bit. This was nothing more than the truth, for I was still wearing my bedraggled slippers, as we had not had the opportunity to acquire a new pair of shoes for me yet. Even though the ground was flat and even and free of stones, it was hard enough on those slippers, which had never been intended for this kind of treatment.
Corin did not seem to mind sitting out, however, and went to fetch me more wine as I sat down in my former place on one of the benches. A few others were also resting after the exertions of “Black Nag,” but they were involved in their own conversations, ignoring me. Not in an unfriendly way, of course, only talking with their partners, or their neighbors, rather than someone who was still very much a newcomer to their settlement.
I smiled at my husband as he brought me my wine, then sat down next to me. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he inquired.
“Very much so.” I sipped some wine, then lifted my head to gaze up at the heavens, brightly spangled with stars, a waxing yellow moon just barely visible through the oak trees that stood to the east of the little glade. The torches flickered and danced in the breeze, which by now was much cooler. However, I barely felt it, still warmed by the dancing I had just done. “It is so beautiful out here in the night air.” I hesitated and looked around, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to us, or what we were saying. “I wonder why my father never held a dance outdoors in the summer, for I must confess that the ballroom could get very stuffy in warm weather.”
“Ah, well, dancing outside is for peasants, I suppose.”
Was it my imagination, or was there a note of subtle condemnation in his tone? Possibly, although I didn’t think it was directed at me. Because I was having such a pleasant evening, I decided to let it go. “The peasants have the right of it in this, I think. Of course, such an event would not be possible in the wintertime, but it is good to enjoy this weather while it lasts.”
Corin nodded and drank some of the wine in his cup. I really had not been paying attention, and so I did not know for sure how much he had consumed this evening. Probably at least three cupfuls, for of course the men had started early, had begun to drink their wine while I and the rest of the women who were up to the task had still been stomping around in those vats full of grapes. However, he did not seem any the worse for wear, or unsteady at all; I had attended enough parties where some of the men in attendance had over-indulged to recognize the signs and was glad not to see any of that in my husband. Sometimes men could get so unruly when they were in their cups.
Several more dances were played, and then Master Brinsell played the first chords of the polshare, a first cousin to the verdralle. It was not quite as breathless, but required some of the same proximity to one’s partner. Corin set his cup down on the table and rose, extending a hand. “Let us dance this one.”
I did not dare refuse. To tell the truth, I did not want to decline his invitation, even though I trembled a bit at the thought of him holding me close throughout the length of the dance. I set down my own cup and stood, and let him take me over to the impromptu dance floor. He pulled me close, and I had to draw in a breath at his nearness. We did not spend much time thus, so I had to tell myself to remain calm, to not allow him to see how much the feel of his arm around my waist, his hand in mine, made my heart pound in my chest.
There were not as many dancers for this one, possibly because they were already wearied, or possibly because they did not know it as well as some of the more rustic dances. I noticed that Lynnis and Hal chose to sit down, her head pillowed on his shoulder, their hands clasped together. They always seemed so easy and comfortable with one another, and I hoped that one day Corin and I would share that same kind of friendly intimacy.
But then I had no thought for anything except the steps of the dance, the way we wove in and out with the other couples participating, the pressure of Corin’s hand on my waist. In that moment, I wished we might be alone so I could lift my face to him and he could kiss me again, those kisses that inflamed me simply because they were so cautious. Always I had the sense of him holding back, and knew that my own reluctance and inexperience must be the cause of his reticence. What would it be like if he truly let go?
No, it was better not to contemplate such things while in the company of others. We swirled around and around, and the stars glittered overhead, and the smoke from the torches filled the air with its sharp, aromatic tang. When the dance was over, I laid my head against Corin’s shoulder, just as I had seen Lynnis doing with her own husband. It did feel good to feel his strength, to know that this man was mine and no one else’s.
We applauded Master Brinsell and Trey’s playing, and walked toward the benches. Corin lowered his head to my ear and murmured, “Shall we go home?”
I wanted to, very much. At the same time, anxiety stirred within me. After such an evening, I was not sure what might happen next.
But I nodded, saying, “Yes, let us go home.”
We walked away from the company. I noticed we were not the only ones to slip off at that point, as though everyone had begun to recognize that the party was winding down. Corin twined his fingers in mine, helping to guide me through the uncertain moonlight to the back door of our cottage.
Within, all was quite dark. However, I always left a candlestick in its pewter holder on the countertop there, along with a box of matches. I reached for it, letting go of my husband’s hand so I might strike a match and light the candle.
He let out a breath as I did so, although I could not be quite sure whether that was from annoyance at my letting go of him, or because he did not think we needed the illumination. However, he did not say anything, only stood there for a moment, staring down at me. Then, still without speaking, he reached up and pulled at the pins in my hair, letting the braids fall to my shoulders. His fingers worked at the plaits until my hair was freed, lying in a wavy mass over my shoulders.
“There,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “That is better.”
I supposed it probably was; the hairstyle had been chosen for its practicality, not its loveliness. But there had been something intimate, something tender, about the way he loosened my hair, taking a liberty that no one save my husband might. “It would have gotten in the way,” I pointed out, not sure why I had bothered to state something so obvious, except that speaking of such commonplaces seemed like a way to lessen some of the tension I could feel building between us.
“Yes,” he replied. “But it is not in the way now.” He reached up and passed a hand over my hair, the caress very gentle.
And yet I could feel the way his fingers trembled.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “When I first laid eyes on you, I realized I had never seen a woman so beautiful.”
Blood rushed to my cheeks, but I managed to lightly say, “Indeed? For I seem to recall a comment about being ‘rather comely.’”
“I was referring to your portrait, not to you. It did you no justice at all.”
How should I reply to that remark? And how should I react to these bold-faced paeans to my beauty? More than once I had caught Corin gazing at me and thought that perhaps he admired me more than he had spoken of aloud, and yet I was still not quite prepared for such open admiration.
“I never thought much of that painter,” I said. “But Father insisted on hiring him.”
“Your father should have listened to you.”
But then Corin seemed to decide speech was no longer necessary, for he bent his face to mine, kissed me in a way I had never experienced before — his arms tight around me, his lips insistent on mine. I tasted wine on his lips, sensed his loose hair brushing against my cheek. I felt as though I was drowning, and yet somehow, I had no desire to fight my way back to dry land.
After an interminable moment, one that seemed as if it should have been counted in centuries rather than in seconds, he let go of me and stepped away. His chest rose and fell as though he had just run a race, and he passed a hand through his hair.
“
My apologies, my wife.”
I stared at him, startled. What in the world was he apologizing for? The gods only knew that he had kissed me before now.
But none of those kisses were like this one, I thought. Something has changed, although I am not sure what.
“It was a very good kiss,” I told him. “I did not mind it at all.”
“Yes, but I swore to myself — ” He broke off there, as if realizing he was about to reveal something he had intended to keep to himself. “It is no matter. It is late, and you should go to sleep.”
The way he said those words made it clear that he wished me to go to sleep in my room, rather than join him in his. Only a few hours earlier, I would have been relieved by such an intention, but now I was not sure what I thought. The wine had mellowed me, and the dances we had shared had told me that we already knew one another’s rhythms. For the first time, I thought I might be brave enough to let him make me his.
Unfortunately, it appeared as though he was having second thoughts.
“If that is what you wish, Corin,” I said.
“What I wish — ” Again he stopped himself. “I am not sure what I wish. Good night, Marenna.”
Before I could open my mouth to protest, he had turned from me and walked out of the kitchen. Sadly, I knew there was nothing I could to do to stop him.
Repressing a sigh, I bent down and blew out the candle.
CHAPTER 10
Once again Corin was gone when I awoke the next morning. I would have wondered at his absence, since now that the harvest was done, he did not have to be up before dawn…except I was fairly certain he did not wish to encounter me first thing, and so had left before we had a chance to see one another.
The Song of the Thrush Page 13
