Warrior's Moon A Love Story

by Jaclyn Hawkes

  Once bathed, she dried off, rewrapped herself with the bandaging Emmy had brought in, and then near basked in the clean, white underclothing that had been left her. Never in her life had she owned clothing so fine and soft. Even over the wound it felt as smooth as silk. Which was good, because the chemise was uncomfortably tight, and she let the lacing out as far as she could over the bandage.

  The dress was easily the most elegant thing she’d ever had the privilege to wear as well. Indigo blue, it was made of a shiny, crisp fabric that had a subtle pattern to it that caught the light wherever it hugged the curves of her bosom and small waist and then fell into a graceful full skirt to the floor. ‘Twas unspeakably lovely, and yet understated at the same time. The cut of it accentuated her superior height and set off her figure perfectly. As she attempted to do up the dozens of tiny, indigo buttons, she wondered how under heaven the princess had been able to find something that just fit her so well.

  Emmy came back in and was indispensible in assisting her with the buttons and then exclaimed over Chantaya’s curls as she helped her smoothly gather them up into an elegant cascade the small matching hat perched upon. Indeed, when Chantaya stood to stare into the looking glass before going out to meet Peyton, she wasn’t sure who that exquisite, poised, genteel woman was who stood there, almost regally, looking back at her. It most definitely wasn’t the tired and grubby stable hand who had dragged in, in the middle of the night last night. It would seem she was going to be able to play her part for this royal masquerade ball after all.

  Moments later, as she walked out to meet Peyton, she was hard pressed not to laugh at the expressions of both Matthew and Shaun as Peyton approached her to give her a light hug and lead her to a laden table. They were apparently stunned speechless at her transformation and Peyton grinned at her as he said serenely, “Good morning, or rather, good day. It’s just the four of us this morning. Did you get rested then? You look lovely.”

  He pulled out her chair to seat her as she replied, “I’m quite rested, thank you. And famished. This repast looks heavenly. How did you sleep?”

  “Well.”

  She turned to Matthew and Shaun and asked, “And you gentlemen? Are you rested as well?” Shaun didn’t even stop staring to answer. Matthew merely nodded and she went on, “I need to thank you again for all you did to see me safely here last night. I am indeed grateful to the both of you. Thank you. Truly.”

  Matthew finally answered, “'Tis that you are most welcome, Miss Chantaya. ‘Twas our pleasure.” After a pause, he said more frankly, “I can hardly conceive you are the same soul who rode out to the woods to greet us last even. You look fair transformed. ‘Tis sore scrambling my sensibilities.”

  Chantaya laughed lightly at this and said just as frankly, “Please. Let us keep my sensibility scrambling escapades of last even to ourselves. Poor Sir Peyton would be fair mortified if anyone but you, his closest friends, knew of my disgraceful behavior. Unfortunate man, he’s forever trying to make me behave like a lady.”

  “Well, ’tis sure he’s succeeding. You are every bit the lady today, Miss Chantaya. Wouldn’t you agree, Sir Peyton?”

  Peyton chuckled as the three of them sat down beside her, and said, “Looking the lady isn’t the hard part for Chantaya. She’s been this lovely since first I set eyes upon her when she was but three. ‘Tis things like heights, and half wild horses that I have trouble containing with her.”

  Chantaya pursed her lips. “You poor man. You haven’t gotten any gray hairs yet from me that I can detect. Shall we pray, Sir Knight? Your friends are undoubtedly starving. No more tattling on me now.” She smiled and meekly bowed her head and Peyton chuckled once more before reaching for her hand under the table and saying a short prayer.

  Several times during the meal, which was positively strange because it had been long since she had been served, instead of doing the serving, he again reached for her hand. Although he hadn’t overreacted to how she looked, she knew he was proud of her here before his friends and it made her incredibly relieved. She’d been worried from the first time he mentioned the ball, and in truth, probably even before that, that he would be embarrassed by his young, unsophisticated girl from the country.

  Shaun never did interject much conversation into that meal. Every time Chantaya chanced to look his way, he still seemed a trifle stunned for some reason. Matthew livened up and commenced to tease Peyton nigh unmercifully, and she was gratified to know Peyton had found good friends here to make up for having to leave the rest of his life behind in Navarre. That knowledge would ease her mind tomorrow when they went back to living far apart from each other again.

  When they were finished, Peyton gently helped her up from the table and away from the others and asked, “Shall we be off to have your gown fitted, then?”

  She looked up at him in concern. “Do you not think it fits well enough? I thought it a remarkably good fit for me never having tried it on before.”

  He only looked at her in momentary confusion and then smiled and put both hands on her shoulders to explain, “Chani, my love. This frock was from me. ‘Tis only a lovely gift to ensure you are comfortable here among my friends and the nobles we will be around. This isn’t your ball gown. Indeed, I’ve never yet set eyes on your dress for this evening, but this isn’t it. The princess has arranged for your ball gown as a sort of gift of gratitude for our help in preserving the kingdom. Come. I’ll take you to the dressmaker’s shop to have it fitted, although it will have to be lovely indeed to be more beautiful than you look already this day. You are a rare vision.”

  Watching her eyes, he leaned and gently kissed her and then kissed her again, this time more thoroughly, before repeating, “An exquisitely rare vision. I was near struck speechless at your loveliness when you appeared this morning.” He laughed softly. “Shaun was indeed struck dumb. ‘Twas quite funny, actually. I’ve never seen the like with him. He’s usually such a sharp witted fellow. Poor lout. Alas, it only proves you are beautiful.”

  A measure out of breath, she murmured, “Thank you.” Then she smiled as she asked, “Pray, tell, how did you come to find a dress that so perfectly fit me?”

  He grinned down at her. “I simply told the woman who helped me that you were about this tall.” He put a hand to the top of her head. “About this big around.” He wrapped his hands about her waist. “Had a heavenly figure. And fit perfectly inside my arms.”

  Chantaya laughed. “And she knew exactly how to gauge my size from that?”

  “Exactly.”

  Chantaya rolled her eyes and laughed again as she shook her head. “I do wish I’d been there to see you say that. It seems to have worked. The dress fits well and is the loveliest I’ve ever dreamed of. Thank you.”

  “You are welcome, my sweet, intrepid Chantaya. Thank you for being willing to come here with me. I know it has been difficult for you. And I am so deeply sorry for what happened last night. But I’m so proud and happy to have you at my side. I’ve missed you so, Chani. And I’ve wished so to be able to share some of this life with you. Today is that rare chance. Thank you. Come. Let us away to that ball gown.”

  He settled her in the carriage, directed the coachman and then climbed in to try to fold his own large frame into the seat. He smiled across at her and it was fair strange. Back home, they had walked most everywhere for near the whole of their lives. Or ridden in the cart or even horse back. Never had she been in such a carriage as this and although it was exciting, in a way, it was troubling. For just a moment, she wondered if they would lose the sweet, carefree childhood friendship that had been so precious to them for so many years.

  As if reading her thoughts, he turned and pulled her gently to him, leaned her head against his shoulder and said, “'Tis a shame Tristan can’t be here with us today. Isn’t it? He would have enjoyed this. A fairytale moment before returning to our real lives. An adventure of sorts. Although, I must admit, I’d truly rather tramp about the countryside with you and your herb basket th
an pretend to hobnob with the gentry.”

  He nuzzled her temple where her curls had been so painstakingly arranged. “Still, ‘tis festive for a time. And this will all become a portion of our lives, now that I am a knight. Not a large portion, but necessary, all the same. I’m so proud that you are educated and astute enough to make the transition so gracefully.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes to enjoy his breath against her skin and admitted, “I do so hope I can indeed make the transition, Peyton. Truly, I’m quite frightened. But yes, what an adventure. I just pray I don’t embarrass you.”

  “You won’t. In truth, you look so stunning that I’m feeling nearly wicked, I’m so proud. Rather than worrying you’ll embarrass me, I’m worried you’ll over do. How are your ribs? And your cough? Last night I worried we’d set you completely back again.”

  Just the mention of her cough made her throat tickle and then she wondered if the bandage on her ribs showed through her elegant dress, but she only said, “I’m well, thank you. Perfectly well.” She made a point of looking out the carriage window and added, “I’ve never been to a city. ‘Tis almost a portion intimidating. I keep wondering if they all can immediately tell that I’ve hardly been outside of the village of Navarre. Valais feels huge by comparison. How far must we travel to the dressmakers?”

  “You needn’t worry. The only thing people can tell immediately is that you are uncommonly lovely. Surprisingly, most of these have never ventured further than their immediate part of the city. I would assume they would be just as intimidated by life in the countryside. The dressmaker we are to visit is but a short drive toward the castle you can see on the hill there. We’re nearly there. ‘Tis just up ahead. Are you ready then?”

  She gave him a hesitant smile as the carriage slowed to a stop. “I must be. Please.” She put a hand on his arm as he went to get out. “Please don’t let me make too great a fool of either me or you.”

  Grinning, he reached to hand her out and said, “You truly needn’t worry. ‘Tis a masquerade ball. Even if we make utter fools of ourselves, none will have an idea of who we are. We have nothing to fear. Come, my love. Your ball gown awaits.”

  Stepping lightly from the smartly drawn carriage into the bustling street, she decided he was absolutely correct. She had nothing to fear in this night. ‘Twas a fairytale dream and she was going to enjoy it.

  Peyton took her inside, and once she was presented to the dressmaker there, he assured her he’d be back soon and left her there to have her gown fitted.

  If Chantaya had considered the dress from Peyton elegant, the ball gown the seamstress helped her into was positively magnificent by comparison. A brilliant, cerulean blue that set off her eyes, it was of satin, with a full skirt, made even fuller by layers of individual gathers that were tucked one upon another from the slim fitting waist all the way to the floor. The close fitted bodice had swirls of tiny blue glass beads and a sculpted neckline that plunged just enough to be lovely without becoming immodest. Three quarter length sleeves narrowed to a point above her wrist.

  The dress was again remarkably well fitting for those here never having seen her and the motherly seamstress needed only several minutes to mark where the necessary adjustments would need to be made. She helped her out of the dress again and then while she began the alterations, she sent Chantaya two doors down the busy, narrow street to the shoemaker there to select from matching shoes he had ready to accompany the exquisite gown.

  Upon her return with the shoes, Chantaya was surprised to find two more people there waiting for her. One, a portly and amiable jeweler, who was apparently in the employ of the royal family, had a necklace that seemed to drip brilliant blue stones of the exact color of the gown, with dangling earrings and bracelet to match.

  And Chantaya wasn’t even quite sure what to call the other woman who stepped forward. Dressed in a bright, flowing robe of sheer, filmy layers, draped with multiple necklaces made of colorful stone beads, she was a striking beauty, with snapping green eyes, in spite of the wrinkles that testified she was no longer young. Her salt and pepper gray hair had been styled in a unique, twisting plait woven with ribbons and dried flowers that hung down her back and she wore ornate rings on nearly all of her fingers.

  She smiled at Chantaya, then studied her face and hair for several long moments that made Chantaya wonder just what she was thinking inside that aging, but exquisite bone structure. She looked long enough that Chantaya had begun to get nervous, but then the woman nodded silently with apparent satisfaction.

  Putting her hands into Chantaya’s long tresses, she fingered them for another moment and mumbled, “Glorious. Simply glorious.” She then proceeded to create an ornate, up swept hair arrangement that accented the silky, sable waves and curls. When it was sufficiently pinned to her liking, she wove in slim, iridescent peacock feathers and more of the same blue glass beads that adorned the bodice of the gown.

  When Chantaya’s hair was finished, the woman then produced a feathered and glittering masquerade mask in the same iridescent blues. It fitted against Chantaya’s face above her nose and around her cheekbones and forehead, leaving a surprising large area around her eyes free.

  At first, Chantaya was concerned with how little of her face the mask covered until the woman added a gossamer sheer wisp of veil with fine threads woven through it that caught the light. Draped like a harem girl, it almost imperceptibly concealed her lips and chin while acting as a frame to make her eyes appear a shocking blue. It allowed just enough sensuous shadows of her features to give her an ethereal mystique and yet hide her identity.

  With that done, the woman then produced three small pots of paint and proceeded to paint the exposed area around Chantaya’s eyes in shades of cerulean blue, metallic sapphire and shining silver. Next she added a hint of inky smudge at the base of Chantaya’s eye lashes and then painted the lashes themselves with some substance that made them longer and thicker than ever.

  When she was finished, she stepped back to inspect her efforts, then nodded her head with a small smile of satisfaction and said, “Yes. I believe 'twill do. The princess wanted you to have a lovely disguise. You are lovely indeed.” She handed Chantaya a handled looking glass. “Pray, what do you think? Will you be recognized?”

  The effect was nothing short of masterful. The mask, veil, and paint accentuated, yet disguised her natural loveliness until Chantaya was truly taken aback. The design around her eyes turned them an azure that held the intensity of a bolt of lightning in the evening sky. It gave her an almost catlike look that was fascinating and all but seductive. She suddenly felt a bewitching enchantress, but there was also something faintly mystical and innocent about the allure. Something was reminiscent of a glittering, winged forest fairy nymph she’d seen pictures of in one of her mother’s secreted books.

  The whole of the image was strikingly beautiful, but there wasn’t a chance anyone could recognize the scullery maid of Rosskeene Manor. In truth, Chantaya didn’t even recognize herself. She could hardly believe the near wickedly, alluring woman who glittered back at her in the looking glass.

  She turned in amazement back to the woman artisan who laughed at her expression and asked, “Do you like it?”

  Nodding, Chantaya smiled in thrilled disbelief and asked, “Who is it? Surely that can’t be me.”

  Packing up her materials, the woman smiled, “‘Tis you. An uncommon beauty in any kingdom. The good Lord was generous when he gifted you. Whoever your suitor is tonight, ’tis sure he’ll be enchanted. As will be the rest of the poor, defenseless louts at your royal gathering. ‘Tis true that it almost makes me wish to be young and foolish again. Almost. Enjoy yourself. You look divine.”

  With that, the intriguing beauty hefted her bag of apparent magic, smiled one last time and went out the door to leave Chantaya slightly stunned in her wake. Slipping off the mask and the veil, she laid them aside and turned back to the demure seamstress who had been patiently stitching nearby, shook her head in wond
er and asked, “Was she a mere mortal with a gift for miracles, or a sorceress? Is this going to be like the minstrel’s story of Cinderella where the spell lasts only until midnight and then I turn plain again?”

  The seamstress clucked her tongue, “As if you were plain. For shame. You’d best voice more gratitude for your extraordinary beauty than that, my dear, else the good Lord might think you ungracious. He might take it all away. 'Tisn’t a spell. But you may be wishing it ‘twas when it comes time to take that paint off. Nephritirie’s potions can seem indelible at times. You look very nice, child. I pity the poor, mortal men there. They truly will be defenseless against such a one as you. Here. ‘Tis that I’m finished. Help me wrap it up would you?”

  Chantaya bent to help wrap her ball gown in a protective layer of light fabric and was securing it when the door opened. She turned at a sound and found Peyton standing just inside the door, nigh as speechless as Shaun had been earlier that morning. She straightened and walked up to him, wondering if the look on his face meant that he liked her hair and eyes, or if he thought she looked disreputable. When he didn’t say anything, she finally prompted, “Well. Do you like it?”

  He only nodded thoughtfully and she said, “Peyton, please. Is it suitable? Or shall I take it all back off? Is something wrong?”

  He reached out to gently touch her cheekbone on a swirl of the color and smiled. “Nothing is wrong. You simply look like something out of a dream. A truly nice dream.” He smiled and stepped back to take in her hair as well and added softly, “Possibly even a truly intimate dream.”