by Jody Hedlund
Mother had risen from her seat, her face pale, her eyes beseeching me to do something. Rapidly.
“Excuse me, your ladyship,” I said as I extricated myself from Lady Sabine. “I need to attend to business.” No matter what Aldric was going through, now wasn’t the time for him to make an appearance. Not when we were trying so hard to make a good first impression on Lady Sherborne and her granddaughter.
I rushed to him, needing to hide him away before he said or did anything to ruin this last chance we had at restoring Maidstone.
Chapter
5
I carefully turned the page of the ancient manuscript on botany, devouring the neat handwritten print as though starving. My stomach rumbled with the pangs of the morning meal I’d long past missed. But my hunger for knowledge far surpassed my hunger for food. I had no intention of putting down the book until I reached the last page.
My fingers and toes were stiff from cold. No fire had been lit in the small room I’d stumbled upon earlier during my self-guided exploration of the castle. Now, after spending an hour reading, I was chilled to the bone.
Still, I hadn’t let either my frigid limbs or my growling stomach draw me away from the book. In fact, once I was finished, I might even be tempted to read another. The floor-to-ceiling shelves that covered the wall opposite the fireplace contained more books than I’d ever seen anywhere else, and they tempted me beyond endurance. To be sure, they were all bulky and aged and musty. Nevertheless, the words were alive and burned inside me.
Thankfully, the room had a cushioned window alcove, where I’d been able to sit with enough light to see the fading ink on the brittle parchment pages. And no one had bothered me. Except for rushed footsteps in the hallway outside the closed door, I’d been utterly and delightfully secluded.
For the first time since stepping inside Maidstone, I’d been able to forget about the heirlooms and relics that graced the castle, which I’d yet to see. My disappointment of the previous evening still lingered. After Sir Bennet had ushered the ailing man from the room, he hadn’t returned. His mother had made excuses for him and had done her best to entertain Grandmother and me, but I hadn’t been able to enjoy the conversation because I’d been too wrapped up in watching and waiting for his return.
I’d told myself that I was only excited to view the rare jewels that he’d spoken about, especially after having restrained my enthusiasm over the art and relics all throughout dinner. Of course, Grandmother’s ever-present stare had kept me in check. So when Sir Bennet finally broached the possibility of seeing some of his collection, I’d been more than a little ready.
Yet a part of me had been strangely eager to retain the company of Sir Bennet. I couldn’t deny how much I’d enjoyed our conversations throughout dinner. I’d never talked to a man with such ease before. And, surprisingly, he’d appeared eager to talk to me as well. He’d seemed interested in me, had asked me questions about myself, and had even indulged me in discussing things that normally made most people yawn and excuse themselves from the conversation.
I glanced up from the page and stared in the direction of a cobweb in the corner of the alcove. My heart gave an involuntary thump as I pictured Sir Bennet’s chiseled face—the angular lines, the strong, square chin, and the perfectly sculpted nose. His brows arched above velvety, sapphire eyes that complimented the dark shade of his thick hair.
I wasn’t the type of girl to get giddy over a man’s looks. In fact, I hadn’t really thought about his looks until he’d left my side and rushed down to the crazed man who’d entered the great hall. Sir Bennet had acted with the utmost consideration and kindness. He’d put his arm about the man’s shoulders and gently steered him back to the door, all the while talking to him quietly. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been such tenderness. And it was only then that I realized Sir Bennet Windsor was truly an attractive man, both inside and out.
I sighed and returned my attention to the page of meticulous script. It didn’t matter how handsome and noble Sir Bennet was. Dull men weren’t interested in me. Certainly a bright and attractive man would be even less inclined. Even though Sir Bennet had been friendly, I couldn’t read more into his chivalry. He was obviously kind to everyone, including me.
The door handle rattled, then the hinges squeaked as the door opened. A manservant’s head popped through the crack and scanned the room before landing upon me. Without a word, he backed out and disappeared, closing the door behind him.
Perhaps I wasn’t supposed to be in the room. Perhaps I wasn’t allowed to touch the books. I’d already considered as much when I’d first happened upon them. Nevertheless, I’d told myself that if anyone knew the value of books and how to handle them, I did. I certainly wasn’t about to mistreat them in any fashion.
I picked up the text where I’d left off, only to be interrupted a few moments later by the door squeaking open again.
“I promise I’ll return the book unscathed once I’m finished with it,” I said, bending my head so the servant would get the message that I didn’t wish to be disturbed.
“There’s no need to return it.” The voice that answered me was laced with humor.
I glanced up to find Sir Bennet standing inside the half-open door. He wore a dark leather doublet over a crisp white shirt. The doublet fell fashionably to his thighs and buttoned up the front. Partnered with his dark hair, it lent him a hard, rugged look that would have been intimidating had I been his enemy.
“You may keep the book if you’d like.” He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms, which pulled the linens of his shirtsleeves tighter.
“I couldn’t possibly.” I unfolded my frozen limbs and stood from the alcove bench. “This book is worth more than a chest full of gold.”
“Not quite.” His smile was wistful, reminding me of his financial problems and my need to be sensitive.
“I find learning to be the most valuable of all the treasures in the world. It’s priceless.”
“Wise words, my lady.” He pushed away from the door and walked toward the bookshelf, where he stopped and reverently fingered the spines on several books. I wondered if they were his favorites.
“Most of these volumes are the spoils of pillages from long, long ago,” he said. I listened raptly as he shared stories that had been passed down to him, tales of Norse raids against monasteries, of the looting and burning by clansmen. His ancestors had apparently had an interest in relics and books, for they’d secretly rescued them at every burning monastery, saving them from going up in flames with everything else.
“My great-grandfather tried to return some of the relics and books that his ancestors had saved, but it was too late by that time,” Sir Bennet finished. “The monasteries that had housed the treasures were long gone. Thus, my family has considered itself to be the guardians and safe keepers of such treasures. Like my father before me, I believe it’s my duty to preserve these sacred and ancient artifacts.”
“You have a noble charge,” I said, attempting to hide the sinking feeling deep inside that told me I couldn’t take away any of his treasures. His family had worked hard to save them through the years. They’d cherished and protected them. Who was I to step in now and separate him from his duty simply because of my hobby? Even if I did my best to protect and take care of anything I purchased, didn’t the items deserve to stay together here at Maidstone? In spite of Grandmother’s insistence on this buying excursion, had I made a wasted trip to Maidstone after all?
He peered at the book I still held. “So you are interested in botany, my lady?”
I shook off the sudden melancholy and tried to force cheerfulness to my tone. “I’m particularly fascinated with the colors and shapes of the various types of woodland fungi.”
He cocked his brow as though unsure whether to take me seriously or not.
I smiled. “I was also particularly enthralled with the section discussing the generation of ferns from spores. It’s such a useful thing t
o know for everyday life. Don’t you think?”
This time his lip quirked. “Incredibly useful.”
“Perhaps you can direct my attention to any other books that you find to be similarly helpful?”
His grin widened. “You might enjoy this book that explores the uses and value of cow dung.” He touched the spine of the thin book, and I laughed. For a short while he pointed out other books that had silly topics. Then he pulled out several that were of a more interesting nature and some that he’d especially enjoyed.
I lost track of time until a knock sounded on the door. The same manservant who had looked in on me earlier stood there. “Shall we continue with the afternoon plans, sir?”
Startled, Sir Bennet glanced out the window as though to gauge the passing of time. “I’m sorry, Charles. I lost track of the hour.” He closed the volume in his hands and replaced it on the dusty shelf with the care one would give a piece of glass. “We shall be down shortly—that is, if I can tear Lady Sabine away from the books.”
“You will need to beg and plead on your knees,” I said.
Sir Bennet surprised me by dropping to one knee and reaching for my gloved hand. With a teasing smile, he peered up at me. “I beg you, my lady. I earnestly plead with you to join me for a walk in the gardens this afternoon. If you don’t, I will go mad for want of your company.”
My stomach gave a funny flutter, like that of a newborn bird beginning its first attempt at flying. Certainly he couldn’t be serious about wanting my company. Certainly he was only jesting with me the same way I did with him.
But when he waited on his knees with his dark eyes pleading so sincerely, I couldn’t think of any excuse not to go with him. I soon found myself strolling by his side through the tall hedgerows that formed a maze on the grounds behind the keep. In the lush greens of early May, the garden was an artwork unto itself, especially with the layout of numerous varieties of flowers blooming in a painter’s palette of colors.
Sir Bennet led me through the maze while describing each nuance and answering all my eager questions until we finally reached the other side of the path, situated in a pleasant glade. I gasped with delight at the sight of a lovely table for two arranged with currants, nuts, cheese, and wafers. Atop a pristine, embroidered white tablecloth sat silver place settings that gleamed in the afternoon sunshine. A crystal vase with an arrangement of all variety of roses graced the center of the table.
“I can see that you have a keen eye for beauty,” I said as I took the seat Sir Bennet held out.
“My father did as well,” he replied, and then took the seat across from me. “I assume I inherited the ability from him.”
A servant standing a discreet distance away approached and poured mead into our crystal goblets. The sunshine turned the amber liquid into gold. The light also spilled gently across Sir Bennet’s hatless head, illuminating the richness of his hair, a black so fine it seemed to have threads of blue.
I took a sip of the mead, noting its distinct honey-almond flavor, different from the mead we’d had last night but just as delightful. I could feel Sir Bennet’s dark eyes regarding me with a seriousness that sent my pulse pattering in a strange tempo. “Do you treat all of your guests so royally?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Or am I more deserving because of my winsome nature?”
He glanced down to the white linen cloth and brushed away a fly, but not before I caught a shadow of guilt in his eyes. “No, my lady. I don’t treat everyone this way. Only special guests.”
I was confused by his slight emphasis on the word special. I really wasn’t anyone all that special, unless he was hoping that by selling me his collections he’d gain a new safekeeping for the treasures. I could easily reassure him that I’d do my best to take care of his family heirlooms, but somehow I didn’t feel quite right in saying so, especially now that I was learning just how important they were to him.
“Truthfully,” he said without looking up, “I haven’t been home often enough over the years to do much entertaining. So you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t do everything correctly.”
“You’ve been a superb host so far,” I assured him. “Except for one thing.”
His brows shot up.
I leaned forward and adjusted one of the roses in the vase a fraction, studied it, then adjusted it again, feigning what I hoped was intense seriousness. Finally, I sat back and crossed my arms. “There. Now everything is absolutely perfect.”
The anxious lines in his face smoothed into a smile. He sat back too, his shoulders relaxing. “When we couldn’t find you this morning, your grandmother was worried you’d run away.”
“Find me?” When I’d left Grandmother this morning, she’d been in the garderobe. I’d instructed our maidservant to tell her I was going exploring. Why would she think I’d run away?
“She was quite worried for a while, until I had my servants search every nook and cranny of the castle until one finally found you.”
“If she’s worried, then I must go to her.” I started to rise.
Sir Bennet motioned for me to stay seated. “I already had my servant deliver the news of your whereabouts and reassure her that you’d be in my company this afternoon.”
I settled myself again. “She worries herself silly at times,” I said, more for myself than for him. “I have absolutely no reason to run away. That’s ridiculous.”
“Good. I thought perhaps I’d scared you away already.”
“Far from it.” The words slipped out before I realized I’d said them. If I’d been a blushing type of girl, I’m sure my cheeks would have been as red as the currants sitting before us.
“It’s good to know that I’m not too frightening,” he said in a low voice that for some reason sent tingles up my arms.
A warm breeze brushed my face, rustling loose curls and stirring the sweet scent of the roses so that I felt light-headed. Even though we sat in the shade of the hedgerow, the spring sunshine reached out to caress me as well, so that all traces of the chill I’d experienced in the library earlier dissipated completely.
I didn’t quite understand what was happening between us, but I sensed something there, an interest that went beyond just the love of art that we shared. Did he actually like me as a woman? For a moment, I wanted to dismiss the silly thought, but when he held out a small plate of cream-filled wafers and my hand brushed against his, I again felt that tingling sensation at our contact.
I stopped breathing until he moved back. But then my heart accelerated to twice the speed. This interaction with him was unlike any I had experienced before, and I didn’t know what to make of it. So I decided to pretend like none of this was happening, that he wasn’t affecting me in the least. After all, what good would it do to allow anything to happen? If he really knew the truth about me, he certainly wouldn’t want to sit with me in his garden. In fact, he likely wouldn’t sell me even a worthless bauble from among his vast collection.
Grandmother was right. I had to keep my gloves on and hide my blemishes until I was far away from Maidstone.
Chapter
6
The minstrel strummed his fiddle softly, the notes twisting my heart with their sweetness. He started the third stanza of “When the Nightingales Sing.”
Sweet loved one, I pray thee,
Be of love one speech;
While I live in this world so wide,
None other will I seek.
Next to me at the head table, Sir Bennet shifted. I could feel his attention upon me rather than the minstrel, and I inwardly flushed. Throughout the evening feast, I’d felt the heat of his gaze watching me off and on. And the more I felt it, the more I liked it, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
We’d spent a delightful afternoon in the garden, where he’d regaled me with tales from his past, his boyhood years as a page for the Duke of Rivenshire, his two closest companions, Sir Derrick and Sir Collin, and their many escapades. I’d entertained him with stories about my childhood as well, lea
ving out the part about the lonely little girl who missed having parents and instead focusing on all of the antics I got myself into as a result of being left to my own devices. We talked for hours until we finally parted ways to retire to our chambers before the evening feast. Upon seeing me, Grandmother had scolded me severely until she discovered that I’d been with Sir Bennet most of the day. She seemed taken with him. With every passing hour, I could see why.
Grandmother had gone to great trouble again to make sure that I was bedecked in another of my new gowns, this time with a diamond necklace from her personal collection—a stunning but simple teardrop pattern that again turned my otherwise plain neck into a tower of beauty.
The minstrel’s songs had delighted us for the past hour, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see Grandmother stifling a yawn. She would want to retire to our chamber soon, and I wasn’t sure why that brought me a sense of disappointment, except that I wasn’t quite ready to leave the banquet yet. The night still seemed young. And I couldn’t deny that I was eager to spend more time with Sir Bennet.
As the minstrel began the last part of the verse, Sir Bennet flashed me one of his charming smiles, which never failed to take away my breath. He leaned in and whispered the lyrics of the song as the minstrel sang:
With thy love, my sweet beloved,
My bliss thou mightest increase;
A sweet kiss of thy mouth
Might be my cure.
The warmth of his breath fanned my cheek, and I shivered at the implication of the words. Surely Sir Bennet meant nothing by whispering them aloud. It wasn’t as if he was saying them to me directly—was he?
I chanced a glance at him only to find his gaze fixed directly upon my mouth, as though trying to determine if he dared steal a kiss from me right then and there.