by Lynn Kurland
“You couldn’t build one.”
“And you could?”
“I could.”
This wasn’t proceeding as he had planned it should.
“I cannot accept this,” he said with a frown. “Women are not equal with men. They are far too different.” He struggled for an example. “We have a king. If women could rule, we would have a queen.” That was something that would never happen, he could assure her of that.
“Well,” she said with a smile, “I won’t go into a list of who has sat upon the English throne over the past seven hundred years. It would just depress you.”
He could only manage a grunt.
“Let’s talk about your time instead,” she continued. “I think you’re forgetting Eleanor of Aquitaine.”
Ha. As if he could ever forget tales of that headstrong female. Sir Hamlet didn’t let an hour pass without some bloody reference to the blighted woman.
“You don’t think she was as smart as your King Henry?” Jessica asked archly.
Richard snorted. “How wise was she? The king locked her up.”
“And she still managed to control the Aquitaine. That didn’t require intelligence equal to his?”
Richard found himself almost tempted to consider the like, and that was enough to make him look for another direction to go. “The women I’ve met,” he argued, feeling that to be safe enough. “None was equal to me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Aye.” He said the word, but he had the feeling it hadn’t come out as strongly as it should have. By the saints, now he was beginning to doubt his own mind!
Jessica turned his hand up and put his ring into his palm. “Richard, I can’t plan a siege. I can’t ride out and defend this keep. But there are many things I can do.”
“Such as?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“I can design your hall.”
“Nay,” he protested.
“How do you know I can’t? Are you afraid I’ll prove you wrong?”
He managed a grunt that he sincerely hoped conveyed the idea that even the thought of such a thing was too ridiculous for words. On the other hand, it was almost tempting to allow her to try. Perhaps that would finally put an end to all this foolishness of her being on an equal footing with him.
Unless, of course, she could actually do what she claimed.
He was beginning to feel a bit light-headed.
“Come on, Richard. What can it hurt? You describe what you want and I’ll sketch some ideas. If you don’t like them, you’re not out anything. If you do like them, then your hall will be built. It’s better than arguing with a carpenter who can only follow directions, not imagine them, isn’t it?”
He jumped to his feet before he did something foolish, such as give in.
“I’ll think on it,” he said quickly, turning and striding for the door. “Make yourself useful this afternoon. Do womanly things.”
“Whatever you say,” she called after him.
He slammed the door before he had to listen to more. He took himself down to the lists, where men were men and did things he could understand.
Sir Hamlet had half the garrison on their knees with the hands over their hearts practicing their looks of longing.
Richard thought he just might scream. He looked around frantically for something solid, something dependable, something that would never change. And his eyes fell upon the last thing he ever would have thought he would be happy to see.
Gilbert de Claire, staring out over the field.
Sullenly.
Richard smiled in relief and went to do his manly duty of training his squire.
16
Jessica blew across the last line of wet ink, then leaned back and looked down at the finished creation. Four precious pages of drawings stared back up at her. Now that they were completed, she wondered how she’d pulled it off. She had spent enough summers working for her father to have acquired a bit of knowledge about architecture, but being in charge of the building was another thing entirely. But her pride was on the line-and this was one task at which she definitely had to succeed or die trying. Respect for women everywhere hung in the balance—not to mention that future wife of Richard’s who would thank her every day of her life for having shown him the truth.
That future wife.
Jessica found, disconcertingly, that even thinking about that unknown woman put her in a bad mood.
She wrenched her mind away from that unappealing subject and turned back to her work. She’d done only the great hall, kitchens, and the chapel. The garrison hall would come later, when she was certain the main hall would remain upright. The men could sleep inside the great hall until the other was finished. It would be luxurious compared with the hovel where they were now packed in like sardines.
Luxury? Jessica smiled. How much she had taken for granted. To think she had considered an apartment without a dishwasher, disposal, and fireplace a dump. Now she was merely grateful for a roof over her head, marginally edible food, and a nice fire. Things changed.
The door opened and Jessica jumped in spite of herself, even though she knew it was Richard. He was the only one who entered without knocking. She got to her feet, shoved the chair under the table, and turned around to face him. She hoped she was hiding her work. She wasn’t ready to have him see it yet.
She suspected that day might never come.
Richard stomped the dirt off his feet and stripped off his cloak. He looked at her with suddenly narrowed eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said, turning and stacking her drawings. “Have a seat and I’ll go see what’s for dinner.”
“Gilbert is bringing it,” he said from directly behind her. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing,” she said, spinning around to face him. “Just go sit. I’m not ready for you to see these yet.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding and wearing what could have been construed as a look of sympathy. “Then you found you couldn’t do it after all.”
Jessica had to count to ten before she could even manage a false smile. In those few precious moments she came to a monumental conclusion: Richard wasn’t being purposefully rude, he was just being Richard. She doubted he would think her capable of building his hall even when he was sitting inside it. Maybe it was hard to change thirty years of thinking. He had wanted to try that night he’d offered her his ring, but once she’d started speaking to him again, his enthusiasm had worn off. He wouldn’t even play chess with her, saying she wouldn’t be sport enough for him. She was tempted to demand his ring, then demand he play her. She wasn’t the best chess player, but she wasn’t bad either. A composer didn’t pull off a symphony without some concept of planning and strategy.
She held out her hand.
“What is it you want?” he rumbled.
“Your ring.”
He frowned. “And if I’m not inclined to give it?”
“Then you’ll have a few silent days to look forward to.” She lifted her eyebrows in challenge. “And you know how good I am at that.”
He muttered under his breath as he pulled off the ring and handed it to her.
“I do this of my own volition,” he reminded her. “Not that I fear your puny threats.”
“Of course not,” she agreed. “After all, I’m only a woman.”
“Precisely.”
Well, at least he was predictable. “Go sit, Richard,” she said. “I hear Gilbert shuffling up the stairs.”
He sat, stretching out his legs and sighing deeply. Jessica started to drag over another small table, but Richard rose and did it for her.
“I could have done it.”
“I think not.”
She sat down and smiled at him. “Well, thank you. Your chivalry is showing.”
“I’ll try to be more careful in the future,” he said, with a yawn. He rubbed his face wearily with both hands, then stretched his arms high above his head. He slumped back down with a sigh. “Saints
, what a day.”
Jessica sat back in her chair and watched Gilbert lay out their dinner. The boy shot them both a look of loathing before he shuffled back out the door.
“Did you see that?” she whispered. “That look he gave us?”
“Fondness?”
“Hate.”
Richard shook his head. “You’re imagining things.”
“I’m not.”
Richard sighed. “He tires of me trying to force him to be a man. ’Tis naught to fret over. Here, take some of this fine boar. You’re likely just distraught over your failure this afternoon.”
She made a mental note to stay out of Gilbert’s way, then helped herself to the boar. With enough of Cook’s spicy sauce, it wasn’t bad at all. It wasn’t coq au vin, but it was tasty in its own way.
She stopped after only a few bites. Before Richard had come up, she’d been perfectly satisfied with her efforts on the designs, but now she wondered if that hadn’t been a mistake. What would Richard think? Had he seen better? She didn’t know much about his travels, for the simple fact that he didn’t like to talk about anything further in his past than yesterday, but surely he’d seen marvelous things. Would he find her drawings crude and childlike?
Why did she care? It wasn’t as if he were primed and ready to fall to his knees and praise her for her efforts. The man wouldn’t recognize a compliment if it broad-sided him, so it was highly unlikely he’d ever given one out. He would take one look at the stupid things, then clean the toe of his boot so he could more easily draw with it in the dirt!
“Jessica?”
“What?” she snapped.
Richard blinked in surprise. “The fare doesn’t suit you?”
She pulled his ring off her thumb, where it was too big to fit anyway, and slapped it down on the table. She rose without another word, crossed the room to gather up her drawings, then stomped back. Might as well get it over with now.
She thrust the rolled sheaves at him.
“Here. Look and laugh. I couldn’t care less what you think.”
Richard dipped his fingers in the bowl of washing water Gilbert had left, dried them on his tunic, then reached for the roll. He met her eyes briefly before he unrolled the parchment and glanced over the first drawing.
He froze.
Slowly, he came to his feet. He pushed the table aside with one hand and shoved his chair back with his foot. Then he dropped to his knees and spread the parchment out on the floor in front of the fire. Jessica stepped over to his side and looked down.
“You’re blocking my light,” he said impatiently.
Jessica moved aside. She wanted to sit down and see what his expression was, but she didn’t dare. He didn’t seem to be on the verge of throwing up. Maybe that was a good sign.
The first drawing was of the outside of the chapel. She’d done her best with the perspective, but it still wasn’t perfect. All she’d wanted to do was give Richard an idea of what she thought he wanted, based on his descriptions. Unfortunately, his present silence wasn’t telling her anything about whether or not he thought she’d succeeded.
She looked down over his shoulder critically. The chapel was rather nicely done, even if she did say so herself. She’d wanted to make a mini Notre Dame, but that had seemed a bit ostentatious for Burwyck-on-the-Sea, so she’d taken the same basic architecture and simplified the lines. The inner bailey was very large but Richard hadn’t given her much of a square-footage allowance. She’d done the best she could with what she’d had to work with.
Richard carefully lifted the sheaf and put it aside. The next was a two-part drawing, one of the layout of the chapel and the other her conception of how the interior of the chapel would look when viewed from the threshold.
Richard laid that one aside just as carefully after he’d perused it for several minutes. The next drawing was the blueprint for the great hall. She’d put in four fireplaces, two on each side of the hall. Spare rooms would be added between the back of the hall where the dais would be and the perimeter wall. She figured with enough planning, she could get at least a dozen good-sized rooms, most all of them with fireplaces. Since Richard had insisted on stone, there wouldn’t be much danger of fire. Warren had told her how Hugh’s keep had almost burned to the ground because of a stray ember. Richard’s disdain for wood didn’t seem to be such a bad idea with that in mind.
She’d saved the best for last. Richard caught his breath when he saw the drawing and she felt a smile fight its way to her lips. It was something to be proud of. She’d done a front and a side view of the completed hall. It was the side view that had taken her so long, probably because of the windows. She knelt down next to him and gestured to them.
“Once it’s complete, you’ll be able to sit on the dais and look up and see all four,” she said. “The four seasons will be portrayed in stained glass. I don’t know how you want them ordered, but I put them winter, spring, summer, and fall. You said once that you liked autumn, so I thought you’d want that to be the one you could see the best. You can do colored glass, can’t you?”
He nodded, silent.
Jessica clasped her hands. “I don’t know how practical it is. I mean, all it’s going to take is some jerk catapulting through the glass to compromise the security of the hall, but you said the inner bailey wall couldn’t be taken, so I assumed the great hall would be more for pleasure than protection. And,” she added, “you could always retreat to this room if things get too bad. Couldn’t you?”
Richard nodded again. He didn’t move other than that, though. Jessica wiped her hands on the leggings of his she wore.
“Richard?”
He slowly took off his ring, then sat back on his heels. He handed it to her solemnly.
“Start tomorrow. Tell me what materials you’ll need—”
“Oh, Richard.” She laughed, throwing her arms around him and hugging him. “You liked it—”
“I wasn’t finished telling you—”
“Just tell me you like it.” She laughed again, giving him another squeeze. “I’ll worry about the rest later.”
He wasn’t moving. Jessica’s enthusiasm faded in time to leave her with that realization. She released him and sat back.
“Richard?”
He looked so solemn that she started to regret her impulsiveness.
Then he pursed his lips. It wasn’t a smile, but it was close.
“You like it,” she stated.
“’Tis tolerable.”
“Tolerable?”
“I gave you my ring. That will tell the men that you’ve my approval in whatever you choose to do. Isn’t that enough?”
“Whatever I choose to do?”
He muttered a curse. “Aye. And if that isn’t praise enough, you’ll have to suffer. Never in my sorry life have I let a maid be free with my purse.” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “I must be daft to be agreeing to the like now.”
“I won’t be extravagant.”
“If four bloody windows of colored glass isn’t extravagant, I don’t know what is.”
She sat back. “You don’t like them? I just thought—”
“’Tis an extravagance I’ll gladly pay for. The only thing I would change is the number of guest chambers. Once England hears of what you’ve done, people will arrive in droves to gape at it. We may as well plan for your fame from the start.”
She was beginning to acquire a taste for backhanded compliments. Having to sift through his words to find the meaning behind them wasn’t bad at all.
“I just want you to be happy with it.”
“I can see why you felt a debt of gratitude.” He nodded. “I have rescued you numerous times from unsavory encounters.”
She shook her head. “A thank-you would have been enough for that.”
“Would it?”
“It would have. I just did this to please you. No other reason. Now,” she said, “look this over with me. Are you certain there aren’t things you’d change? I’m afraid I re
ally don’t remember all that much about thirteenth-century architecture. I only went from your descriptions. Do you like the front door?” She knelt down with her elbows on the floor and looked at the drawing. “I think I like the arch, but if it’s outdated, we can change it. I’m still not sure about the roof. I know you don’t want to use wood, but there are definitely going to have to be wooden beams for the frame. I just don’t think using stone shingles is going to cut it, though.” She looked next to her, then over her shoulder at Richard, who hadn’t moved. “What?”
He continued to look at her, his expression unreadable.
“Come down here,” she ordered, waving his ring at him. “We’ve got to talk about these details before I get started on this. Come on, Richard. I’ve got your ring, so you have to do what I say.”
He leaned forward on one hand and she thought he might just obey her.
Then his other hand slid under her chin. He held her in place as he leaned down, turned his head, and pressed his mouth full against hers.
Jessica would have jumped in stunned pleasure, but her knees and elbows seemed to have become permanently attached to the stone floor. Her eyelids came down of their own accord and she trembled. Richard brushed his lips across hers once, twice, maybe half a dozen times. Jessica didn’t have the presence of mind to count. The softness of his mouth on hers and the slight trembling of his fingers beneath her chin disarmed her.
And then, just as suddenly as he’d come, he was gone. Jessica forced her eyes open and looked up. She pushed up to her hands and then sat back slowly. Richard was again sitting on his heels, watching her steadily. Jessica felt the tension between them crackle like a live thing. She’d just shared the second most earth-shattering kiss of her life with this man and now she had no idea what to do.
She wanted to throw herself into his arms and cling to him. She wanted to start talking, wave her arms, jump up and pace, anything to ease the intense pressure she felt. They couldn’t go back and she wasn’t sure she knew how to go forward, or even if that’s what he wanted. Or she wanted, for that matter. At least the last time he’d solved the problem for her by hopping on his horse and riding away. Now they were stuck in the same room together.