by Alexa Aston
“So, the teams are productive?”
“Aye, though I had to make an adjustment once we began. We lost Donaldus that first day.”
“Donaldus? Ah, the carpenter. I remember when he made a wooden sword for me when I was a boy.” Raynor smiled at the memory. “I watched every minute while he carved it. In fact, I made two myself for my cousin’s children recently.” He stopped. “Is Donaldus ill?”
“Nay, my lord. Lady Beatrice sent for him.”
He wondered why Beatrice would need a carpenter to aid in cleaning the keep. “I think it would be better if he spent his time in the fields. I’ll speak to her now and see that he returns at once.”
Raynor gave John a nod of dismissal and took the last bite of his apple. He tossed the core into a basket full of them. As he returned to the main gates, he noted a man sat in the gatekeeper’s perch and that two soldiers patrolled the wall-walk. It pleased him that Lucas had already implemented a schedule. He would speak with his new captain later regarding it and how the rest of the day’s training had gone. Raynor wanted to be fully involved in this aspect of Ashcroft.
He made quick time through the outer and inner baileys. Both were deserted, with every available hand now dedicated to the wheat harvest. As he approached the keep, he saw a small group of women outside. They surrounded one of the tapestries from the great hall. Drawing closer, he saw a servant beating it. Dust erupted in a dark cloud around her.
Raynor was aghast when he drew closer and recognized the woman was Beatrice. She stepped back and handed the stick to a servant. He rushed over to the group.
“Lady Beatrice!” he barked, drawing her attention—and that of every woman present.
She twirled around and he saw that she was filthy. The plain, unadorned clothing she wore was covered in dirt. Dark smudges stained her cheeks and chin. Even her hair had a covering of dust.
“Yes, my lord?” she said demurely, as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
“You’re not meant to do menial tasks, my lady.”
Surprise crossed her face, and then she fisted her hands and brought them to her waist. “And how do you suppose things will get done, my lord? I wouldn’t ask any servant here to do something that I myself am not willing to do.”
Gritting his teeth, he said, “My lady, you should instruct them. They are the ones tasked with the activity.”
“What do you think I was doing?” she asked, looking at him as if he’d gone mad. “I was demonstrating how to beat the dirt from a tapestry. They were being far too kind to the dusty weavings.”
Raynor frowned. “You may tell them what they must do, but you’re not to get your hands dirty in the process.” He looked her up and down. “Or any of the rest of you, for that matter.”
She glared up at him. “I will get my hands—and the rest of me—as dirty as I must in order to see that your family’s home is brought back to a desired level of cleanliness. The job will get done better and faster if I participate.” She raised her chin a notch, daring him to contradict her.
His own anger rose. “And since it’s my family’s keep and I have been charged to bring it back to expected standards, I will tell you what you can and cannot do.”
Her nostrils flared. “Is that so?” She snorted in disgust. “I’m sorry to tell you, my lord, but you gave me authority over the domestic chores within the keep. And I shall do as I see fit. You told me you know nothing of these matters. Now let me get back to—”
Raynor locked his fingers around her upper arm and began leading her away from the group of servants who watched their verbal exchange with interest.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, trying to escape his grasp.
“Quit being so stubborn,” he whispered. “And quit causing a scene.”
Beatrice stopped. She bit her lip and frowned.
He took the opportunity. “Come with me,” he said softly, his tone calmer. “I would like to speak with you.”
“Yes, my lord.” Her words may have been compliant, but she tried to jerk her arm away again. His fingers did not budge. “Let me be.”
Raynor released his hold on her. “Follow me,” he ordered. He set off, not turning back to see if she followed. He only hoped she did.
As they entered the keep, he heard her footsteps on the stone floor behind him and sighed silently in relief. Leading her to the records room, he opened the door and ushered her inside.
Beatrice entered, her arms crossed over her chest. He shut the door behind him.
“Have a seat.”
“I prefer to stand.” She began nibbling on her bottom lip again.
Raynor refused to be driven to distraction by the gesture. He brought his hands behind him, locking his fingers together.
“You can’t go against me in public, my lady,” he said. “I am trying to make many changes at Ashcroft. Not everyone will be happy with what I’m doing.”
She remained silent, but her gaze fell to the ground.
“We should act in harmony and present a united front to everyone. You wouldn’t wish to be a bad example to the people, would you?”
Her eyes met his reluctantly. “I won’t disagree with you in public,” she said. “But I have a right to my opinions, you know.”
“You do. And I did tell you to take full charge of the changes inside the keep. I didn’t mean to question your ability in managing the servants.”
“I am sorry, my lord.” She sighed. “Grandfather always said I was the most stubborn person he’d ever come across. I simply want to have everything done correctly for you. If that means working alongside the others, then I must do so.” She gave him a contrite smile.
He ignored the dimple flashing in her cheek. “Then I agree that we may talk in private, especially if we have a difference of opinion or if either of us has any questions. And you’re right to state that you have full authority inside the keep.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I promise that you’ll begin to see a difference, especially in the great hall tonight.”
“But I would ask you to reconsider physical labor, Beatrice. Try to manage the servants instead.”
Anger sparked in her eyes. “See? There you go again, telling me what to do. Raynor, it won’t get done right unless I pitch in and become one of many hands at Ashcroft. I’m not some delicate flower. I may be small, but I’m strong.”
Beatrice stepped back and took a seat. He saw that she trembled.
“I am the one who cooked all the meals in our manor house and cleaned it from top to bottom. I gathered the eggs and fed the animals. Well, all but our horse,” she admitted. “I sewed our clothes and mended them when they needed repair and tended my ill mother, all with no servant to help me. I’m not a stranger to hard work because I’ve done it all my life.”
She flushed a deep red. She had gotten quite worked up. He crossed to her chair and knelt beside her. He wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek with his thumb. Her fair skin was softer than the down on a newborn’s head.
Without thinking, he narrowed the distance between them and put his lips upon hers.
Chapter 11
The anger that coursed through Beatrice stopped as Raynor pressed his mouth to hers. His scent, a mix of leather and sweat, filled her senses. Her arms fell limply to her sides as his lips brushed softly against hers, calling out to her. She opened her mouth to reply and found his tongue slipping inside. It began running along her own tongue, teasing and drawing away and then returning in a game she hadn’t known existed.
But one she was more than ready to play.
Instinctively, her arms rose and locked around his neck, pulling him closer. He responded by wrapping his hands about her waist, lifting her from the chair as if she weighed no more than a feather.
Beatrice leaned into his hard, muscled chest, taking in his heat. His tongue continued to plunder her mouth until her mind was void of any thought but this moment. Tingles of pleasure rippled through her. Large hands splayed again
st her back, spanning it.
And still he kissed her.
’Twas almost more than she could bear. Her insides melted like snow did in spring. Her knees weakened. She held on to him tightly, afraid to let go, afraid he would stop. A low moan echoed in the room, and Beatrice realized that it came from her. An intense longing for something she didn’t understand but wished to lay claim to spread through her.
Suddenly, she found herself back in the chair from where she had started this journey. Raynor had put her there. He took a few steps away from her, looking confused.
Something had happened that baffled him. Had he felt the same intense feelings she’d experienced? What did they mean?
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Staring at her with hunger, he merely shook his head before he took another step back.
“My . . . my lady,” he whispered, his voice low and hoarse. “I . . . am . . .”
The knight struggled to find words. She longed to reach out and touch him. Beatrice wanted to stroke his cheek. She needed to place her head against his chest and listen to his beating heart.
Raynor finally found his voice. “I am sorry for the distress I’ve caused you,” he said brusquely. “It will not happen again. I give you my solemn oath.”
Before she could reply, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Beatrice brought her fingertips to her lips, touching where his mouth had been locked against hers. Everything she had ever thought she’d known had shifted as sands did when the tide rolled in and out. No longer did she feel simply indebted to this knight, thankful that he’d rescued her and brought her to the safety of his family’s home. Instead, Beatrice acknowledged the growing attraction to him stirring inside her—something that could be dangerous to act upon.
She realized now why such a look of concern had crossed Raynor’s face. He thought he’d violated his code of chivalry. Knights were sworn to protect the honor of women. By kissing her, Raynor had betrayed her trust in him and taken advantage of a betrothed woman. Beatrice longed to run after him and explain that she was unattached. She wanted to tell Raynor that she cared for him and was free to return any feelings he might have for her, for surely the knight’s kiss told her he also sensed the connection developing between them.
But how could he trust her after she had lied to him?
A river of hot tears came and she thought she might be sick. She wanted to curl up and die from humiliation and loneliness.
Then the practical woman she’d long been forced her tears to subside. Of course, she didn’t want to die. She was young and had many years of life ahead of her. Her grandfather would have been ashamed of the way she’d behaved.
A few nights ago on the road, though, she could have lost her life. The highwaymen who’d ransacked their cart had killed Tolly and they could easily have killed her, as well. Beatrice was alive—thanks to good fortune bringing Raynor Le Roux her way at a critical moment. Raynor deserved an honest woman with an ample dowry, not a penniless liar such as herself.
Beatrice decided that she must act as a knight on a mission and repay the Le Roux family for the kindness Raynor had shown to her, a complete stranger. When done, the keep would shine. It would be a place that Raynor, his brother, and all the people of Ashcroft would be proud to live.
More importantly, her longings would remain unspoken. She would not encourage Raynor Le Roux in any way. It didn’t matter that his kiss made her feel utterly feminine. No more dwelling on his beautiful, green eyes and burnished hair. She’d ignore his towering, muscled frame and, when the time came, allow him to escort her north to Brookhaven.
Most importantly, Beatrice would never let him see her cry again.
She composed herself and then returned, unseen, to her chamber where she washed her face with cool water before she headed to the great hall.
As she expected, the women had finished with the tapestries. They had borrowed Donaldus from his duties so he could climb the ladder. With the women’s help, he hung the third of the four tapestries. She watched from the doorway as the final one was put into place.
“You’ve done excellent work today,” Beatrice praised. She was happy to see the pleased looks upon the servants’ faces. “Hilda, take two of the women to the herb garden. Have them pick the herbs we discussed earlier. The rest of you may return to the kitchen to help Cook. She’ll have need of you in preparing the evening meal. The workers coming in from the fields will be hungry. Tonight, we will all gather in the great hall for our evening meal.”
“What’s next, my lady?” Hilda asked.
“I plan to spend the rest of this afternoon touring the keep. I’ll note what is stored and what should be replenished, then visit the occupied chambers to see what should be done in them. Those will be our first priorities, then we can work on the empty rooms. We can meet after we break our fast tomorrow. You’ll receive your duties then.”
Beatrice watched as Hilda selected two women for the herb gathering from the garden, while the rest returned to the kitchens. Donaldus had already gone back to work on the furniture. She decided to see how far he had gotten.
“How do you fare, Donaldus?”
“Right well, my lady. ’Twere only a few places that needed to be evened out today. I should be finished in the next hour or two.”
“I appreciate your hard work,” she told him.
The carpenter laughed. “And I appreciate even more that you asked me to work with my tools. Harvesting is hard. All that bending and swinging of the scythes. You saved my poor back, at least for these past few days. I shall return to the fields tomorrow.”
“Do you believe the benches and trestle tables are in good condition then? Or do new ones need to be built instead?”
He cocked his head in thought. “It would be wise to replace some, though most are fine. Oak is a durable wood.”
“Then I would prefer you start work tomorrow by crafting the replacements. And I may find more for you to do once I have toured the keep.”
Donaldus gave her a quick nod. “With pleasure, my lady. I much prefer working with wood any day.” He frowned. “Are you sure Sir Raynor will agree to this? He said every able-bodied man should be in the field.”
“If he truly meant that, then he would have sent all those soldiers there to help. Don’t worry. You’re excused from the harvest. If you finish what I need done, only then will you rejoin the serfs in the field.”
“Aye, my lady.” The carpenter bent his head and returned to the bench before him.
Satisfied with the progress made in the great hall, Beatrice climbed the stairs to the top of the keep. She found a turret room that seemed unused, with thick layers of dust covering every surface. She shook her head at its horrible condition, wondering why Raynor’s brother hadn’t been a more reliable baron. Why hadn’t the nobleman married again? Why did he vanish for days on end, not living up to his responsibilities?
If the roles were reversed, she believed Raynor would never have let the estate fall into such disrepair.
Beatrice descended the stairs and viewed the next floor’s chambers. It soon became apparent that no one occupied any room on this floor, so she proceeded to the next level. This was where she stayed. Beatrice investigated each room carefully and knew instantly when she came upon the one Raynor had slept in the night before because his scent filled the air.
Walking around the room, the smell was uniquely his. She paused in the center of the chamber and closed her eyes and relived their kisses.
One had led to another—and another—as he took command of her mouth. Just the memory of his body next to hers, his lips on hers, their tongues swirling, mating, brought back a deep sense of satisfaction.
And desire.
Being in Raynor’s presence was the first time she’d experienced male companionship. She opened her eyes, marveling over the surge of new feelings she’d experienced in his presence. The knight continually occupied her thoughts. She could hear his hearty laugh. Fe
el his strong, calloused hand as it covered hers. Taste his essence. See his chiseled cheeks and piercing green eyes.
Beatrice stomped her foot in frustration. Raynor would most likely avoid her after what had happened between them and only speak to her when necessary. He’d do his duty and see that she journeyed north to Sir Henry’s, but he would never kiss her again. His knightly code would see to that. Yet, a part of her wondered if he would feel differently knowing she had no betrothed awaiting her at Brookhaven.
For a moment, Beatrice gave in and imagined telling him the news and seeing his reaction, picturing the look of disappointment as he watched her. Raynor Le Roux was a man marked by honor. He would not look lightly upon her lies, no matter the reason behind them.
And when had she become such a liar? She had written a falsehood to Sir Henry Stollers when she told him that she and her grandfather would soon visit him. She had lied to Amfrid and told him she had a future husband who would pay for the return of her mother’s necklace. Then she misled Raynor into believing she would soon be married. It frightened her that these lies would soon catch up to her. Though she couldn’t recollect ever telling a lie before, now her life seemed to be made up of nothing but untruths. Even if she’d done it to protect herself, she didn’t recognize the woman she’d become.
Beatrice lifted a tunic the color of rust from Raynor’s bed. She brought it to her nose and inhaled as she held it against her and stroked it. This was as close as she would ever get to him. The thought brought a stab of pain to her. She quickly placed the tunic on the bed again and thoroughly inspected the bedchamber, deciding what must be done to make it clean again. After that, she visited the remaining rooms on the floor, finding most of them in similar shape.
Then she reached what had to be the solar. The manor house she’d grown up in did not have one due to its smaller size, but vague memories of the solar in the castle where she’d been born flashed in her mind. She knocked on the closed door, wondering if the Baron of Ashcroft might be inside since Raynor said his brother had returned, though she hadn’t caught sight of him. No one answered, so Beatrice pushed the door open.