by Jody Hedlund
The mere thought was so delicious, it rivaled the sweetness of the honeyed crumb cake we’d just eaten. I’d never been kissed and never thought I would be, since I’d long past resigned myself to a life of spinsterhood. But what if I’d been wrong? What if Sir Bennet kissed me?
Surely I was reading him completely wrong. He wouldn’t want to kiss a plain girl like me.
I quickly focused on the minstrel with his bright green-and-yellow cotehardie that flared at his knees and over his equally eye-catching purple braies. Even as the minstrel finished the last notes of the song and I clapped along with the other guests, I could feel Sir Bennet watching me. But I didn’t dare look at him again for fear that I’d shame myself by misinterpreting his attention.
As I walked next to Grandmother out of the hall a short while later, Sir Bennet raced after me. “My lady,” he said, falling into step next to us. “Since I wasn’t able to show you some of my family’s rare collection of jewelry last evening, I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me tonight.”
I looked to Grandmother for her reaction. We’d been at Maidstone for almost two days and I still hadn’t seen what I’d come for. Surely I’d let enough time pass. Surely Grandmother couldn’t disapprove of my viewing the items now.
Grandmother tilted her head just slightly and pursed her lips as though displeased. “It is rather late, Sir Bennet.”
“On the contrary, my lady. It’s rather early for some of us.”
“You know I’ve never needed as much beauty rest,” I said. I’d always told Grandmother whenever she chastised me for staying up too late reading that I wasn’t a beauty and therefore didn’t need as much sleep as others.
Grandmother leveled a pointed look at Sir Bennet. He responded by giving her a grin that was clearly intended to melt the hardest of hearts. “Very well,” she finally grumbled.
He bowed and kissed her hand with a flourish. “Thank you, my lady.”
She pulled her hand back and snorted under her breath. But from the glimmer in her eyes, I could tell she was actually pleased by Sir Bennet.
With Lillian walking a short distance behind us as a chaperone, I strolled next to Sir Bennet down one of the long hallways on the second level of the keep. He’d been explaining the architectural structure of the castle when I stopped abruptly at a row of paintings that graced the length of the hallway. Although a lit wall sconce illuminated the opposite wall, there was not quite enough light for me. I drew closer to the intricate mosaic that formed a picture of the Madonna and Child. Sir Bennet moved next to me, close enough that our arms inadvertently brushed together. The warmth of his presence in the unheated hallway sent a shiver through me, and for a moment drew my attention away from the masterpiece in front of me.
Since when had a man’s mere presence ever distracted me, especially in the attendance of such precious artwork?
He stared at the mosaic even as his arm touched mine again. He seemed completely unaffected by our close proximity, so I tried to focus on the artwork in front of us and pretend he wasn’t having any effect on me either. Fortunately, I was soon overcome by the sheer beauty of all of the individual pieces, and I lost myself in them and in the history behind each of the works that Sir Bennet so skillfully related. By the time we reached the end of the hallway, I’d completely lost track of time. From the tired slump of my maid’s shoulders and the droop of her head, I knew hours had likely passed.
“Forgive me,” I said to Lillian, who had maintained her vigil even though she was clearly exhausted. “I have been completely insensitive to you.”
She gave a tired smile. “I haven’t minded, my lady. You’ve enjoyed yourself, and that’s what matters.”
“I beg you both forgiveness for getting so carried away.” Sir Bennet glanced out a narrow window at the end of the hallway. “It appears that we’re on the break of dawn, and I’ve kept you up all night.”
I gasped at the realization that I’d stayed up so late. “The hours seemed like minutes.”
“I suppose that’s a good sign,” he said. “Most people find my lengthy explanations of the history behind each piece wearisome. And if the history doesn’t tire them, then my discourse about the various mediums used by the artists do.”
“You’ve enthralled me,” I admitted. “It’s obvious you love each piece deeply, like a father would each of his children.” Or at least a kind father who wasn’t repelled by his child—like mine had been.
He smiled at my analogy. “Ah, yes, my many, many children.”
We stood side by side, staring at the masterpiece at the end of the hallway. It was a gold leaf painting of the Archangel Michael slaying a dragon and was as magnificent as the others he had shown me. If I had to choose at that moment which of the paintings I would purchase, I would be hard pressed. They were all of the highest quality.
As Sir Bennet reverently swiped a smidgeon of dust off the frame, guilt attacked me afresh. Not only would I have difficulty choosing which items to buy, how could I take them away from a man who was clearly passionate about them? I’d never met anyone as knowledgeable or fascinated with art—except myself. And I had the feeling once again that parting with any of the works would be like cutting out a piece of his heart.
“Even though my paintings are like my children,” he said, “I look forward to one day having living and breathing offspring.”
I smiled at the image of him as a father with little sons running around his feet who possessed his dark good looks. “The job will be a bit more complicated than now, but I’m sure you’ll do well.”
“What about you? How many children do you hope to have?”
His question caught me off guard. I’d honestly never intended to have any since I’d never planned to be married. But I certainly couldn’t say that and dash the intimacy of our sharing. “I haven’t really made too many speculations. After all, it’s somewhat out of my control.”
He didn’t speak for a long moment. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he continued to stare straight ahead. So I did likewise.
“Have you ever been in love?” he asked. Even though his tone was casual, as if he was speaking about the weather conditions, my blood rushed faster at his question. How could I answer him without making myself look like a pathetic, plain girl who never attracted men? Who had in fact never even tried?
“Of course I’ve been in love,” I said, forcing bravado to my voice. “Plenty of times. And my latest love is a sweet little fellow named Stephan.”
“Stephan?” Sir Bennet’s voice rose with what could only be described as a note of alarm. Was he jealous? No, it wasn’t possible. Only a simpering idiot would think a man like Bennet could be jealous over me. Nevertheless, I couldn’t resist teasing him.
“Yes, Stephan is incredibly handsome and sweet and cheerful and loving.”
“I didn’t realize you had someone else, that you were already spoken for, that you care for another—”
“Oh, yes. He’s wonderful . . .”
“I see.”
“For a bird.”
Sir Bennet’s head snapped up. “A bird? You mean Stephan is your bird?”
I laughed. “Yes, he’s my one and only.”
Sir Bennet chuckled, a shaky, almost relieved sound.
“Don’t tell me I had you worried, sir.” Once the question was out, I ducked my head, not sure I wanted to hear his response.
“I still am worried,” he said. “I don’t know how I can possibly compete with a bird for your affection.”
At the implication of his words, my heart thumped wildly. Was he trying to win my favor? “You have every cause to worry,” I teased back. “He’s quite the chivalrous male.”
“I can be chivalrous too.”
“And he’s quite charming.”
“I’m the epitome of charming.”
My pulse was thrumming. This conversation was taking a decidedly interesting turn, and I didn’t quite know how to continue the banter.
�
��And don’t forget, when you’re making your difficult decision between the two of us, that I’m decidedly less fluffy.”
I laughed. “Thank you for the reminder. I’ll take that into consideration.”
A comfortable silence settled between us. I didn’t know exactly what all of our interactions meant, but I did know that I liked these new feelings.
“I’ve had an enjoyable night with you, my lady,” he finally spoke. His voice was low, barely audible. The rumble in it made my stomach flip.
“You’re too kind, sir. I’m not sure that any other man living or dead would quantify having to answer hundreds of questions about art as enjoyable.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not like any other man—living or dead.” Again, his voice had that rumble that did funny things to my insides.
Although I hadn’t been around too many young men, I wasn’t entirely naive. I could tell Sir Bennet was different from others. Besides that, we seemed to have so much in common, especially a shared interest in art and books. And we could converse about an endless array of topics without the discussion ever waning.
“Did you enjoy spending time with me, my lady?” he asked softly, turning his dark gaze upon me.
I was helpless to keep from looking at him. The moment my eyes met his, there was something intense there, a stark craving that sent a current of warmth through me.
What could he possibly want from me?
As if he’d heard my question, his attention dropped to my lips and focused there. Again, as when we’d listened to the minstrel earlier, I had the distinct impression he was thinking about kissing me.
The midnight blue in his eyes changed to the shade of a pond glistening with moonlight. He studied my lips the same way he’d examined the paintings. When he leaned in just slightly and tilted his head, I sucked in a quick breath.
He was definitely considering kissing me. The question was, should I allow him to do it? We’d only just met.
I cast a quick glance at my chaperone only to find that she was studying one of the paintings with overly exuberant raptness. I could tell she was trying to give me a moment of privacy, although I wasn’t quite sure why.
When I shifted to Sir Bennet, he bent closer, his attention still unswerving upon his destination: my lips. I was too fascinated by the curve of his mouth drawing near to move back. Even if I’d only met Sir Bennet yesterday, we’d spent an enormous amount of time together during the past day, so that I felt as though I’d known him much longer. I liked him. Perhaps even liked him immensely.
“I can admit,” he said, his lips hovering a mere hand’s span from mine, “that I’ve enjoyed spending time with you. To be honest, I’ve more than enjoyed it. I’ve adored it.”
“You’re not too terrible to be around either,” I whispered.
“Not too terrible?” His hand slipped to my waist and burned through the layers of my gown to heat my skin. “You’re so flattering.”
“I try to be.”
His breath lingered above my lips.
Part of me anticipated what was to come, but the other part warned me that if I allowed him the liberty of kissing me, I might give him the impression that I was an easy conquest. That I didn’t think I was valuable enough to wait for. That a physical connection was more important than developing a relationship first. That I was willing to give away precious kisses and intimacy outside the bounds of a loving commitment.
As attractive as Sir Bennet was, I certainly needed to preserve my dignity.
I took a step back and rubbed my hands over my suddenly chilled arms. “I think I shall retire to my chamber and attempt to thaw my limbs.”
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” Sir Bennet said, clearing his throat and straightening. “I was completely insensitive to the fact that you might have become chilled in this long, unheated hallway. I do pray that you’ll forgive me.”
“Perhaps.” I spun away, but not before I caught sight of his stricken expression. His eyes were wide with remorse and—dare I say it?—disappointment. Was he saddened we hadn’t kissed? “Perhaps I can find it in my heart to forgive you. But only if you promise to keep me up all night again and show me the rest of your collection.”
There, I’d said it. I’d finally admitted my desire to see his artwork. Would it scare him? Would he refuse to sell me anything now?
“I promise,” he said as I started down the hallway past the great masterpieces I’d admired all night. “In fact, I promise the whole night and all of the next day as well.”
“Then the night won’t come soon enough.” A swell of pleasure filled my chest, so keen that I had to keep walking, lest he catch sight of my delighted expression. I couldn’t tell which thrilled me more: the thought of seeing the rest of his art or spending another night with him.
“You may want to bring a cloak along next time,” he called after me as I followed my lady’s maid. “Then we won’t have to worry about any unexpected chills interrupting our time together.”
At his words, I shivered again, but this time it wasn’t because of the cold.
Chapter
7
“You risk compromising your virtue in staying out all night with a man,” Grandmother reprimanded sternly from her chair in front of the hearth. Even as she spoke the words, however, I sensed a lack of conviction in her voice. From where I still reclined in my bed after having slept half the day, it almost appeared as though Grandmother’s expression was one of eagerness.
I sat up on my elbows. “He’s invited me to stay out with him again this coming night.”
Grandmother paused in her embroidery stitching, her eyes widening. Did I see pleasure there? If I did, it immediately dissipated as the older woman shook her head. “No, Sabine. I forbid it. You must retire at an appropriate time.” She bent her head back over the lush tapestry.
“But I thought you’d be happy that a man wants to spend time with me, since you were relinquishing the job of running my life and attempting to find someone else to take over.”
Grandmother didn’t look up this time. “Have you found a likely candidate in Sir Bennet?”
Had I? I certainly hadn’t planned on finding a husband on this particular journey, but I knew Grandmother was constantly looking. She only had my best interest in mind when she spoke of matchmaking. She wanted to secure my future and my happiness.
I hadn’t believed it possible that anyone would ever want me, had always assumed Grandmother’s plans for me were a bit too lofty. But were they? Was it possible to find a husband after all?
“Well?” Grandmother said as she poked her needle into the tapestry. “What do you think of Sir Bennet?” Although she tried to keep her voice nonchalant, I could hear a wavering of hope.
I stretched my toes against the now-cold warming stone at the foot of my bed. “Aside from the fact that he’s too handsome, too sweet, and too good to be true, I think he’s rather nice.”
A knock upon the door sent me back down under my coverlets. Lillian answered and soon approached my bed with a bouquet of flowers that was almost as large as she.
“Sir Bennet said to give these to you, my lady. He sent a message with his servant.”
I scrambled to sit up against the plush feather mattress and pillows as Lillian laid the mixture of roses, peonies, irises, and larkspur on my lap. The reds, pinks, yellows, and blues were arranged so purposefully, almost artistically, that I had no doubt Sir Bennet had done it himself. I bent down and buried my face in the velvety mixture and took a deep breath of the fresh-cut aroma. A thrill cascaded through me at the realization that he’d been thinking of me and had taken the time to put together such a lovely bouquet.
“What is his message?” Grandmother asked without a break in her steady stitching rhythm.
“A new work of art arrived today, and he requests Lady Sabine’s presence at the unveiling.”
I sat up straighter. This time the thrill rushed all the way to my toes. I didn’t know why he was paying me this at
tention, sending me bouquets and almost kissing me in deserted hallways. But I didn’t want to question it. I just wanted to revel in my new feelings and enjoy this time with him. I knew it would pass all too quickly. Something so enchanting couldn’t last forever, could it?
Lillian dressed me quickly—or at least as quickly as Grandmother would allow as she nitpicked at every detail, from what gown I should don to how I should wear my hair.
“Remember,” I said with an exaggerated sigh, “I’m not here to woo a husband. I’m here to purchase art.” Even with my complaint, secretly I had to admit I rather liked her fussing and help with my appearance. Certainly there was nothing wrong with wanting to look prettier. And I wasn’t doing it to impress Sir Bennet.
Was I?
Grandmother stood back and appraised me from my head to my toes, pressing her lips together so that they all but disappeared. She pointed to my right sleeve, and the maid tucked my glove in place more firmly. Then Grandmother cocked her head at the dangling curl by my left ear. The maid fiddled with it a moment.
Finally, after one more inspection, Grandmother nodded curtly. “You may go now.”
“Are you sure we shouldn’t curl this hair right here?” I said, plucking at a single wispy hair that tickled my neck. “Or perhaps check again for flecks of dust in my hem?”
Grandmother waved me away.
I smiled and crossed to the door.
“I would like you to wait several more days,” Grandmother called after me, “before discussing the purchase of the art.”
Her words stopped me. “Several more?”
“Yes.” Grandmother was already retreating to the hearth and offered no further explanation, even though I waited an endless moment for her to do so.
“We’d only planned to be here for a few days,” I finally said. “Won’t we be overstaying our welcome to impose on our hosts longer?”
“They have invited us to stay longer,” she replied as she lowered herself into her chair.
“They have?” My heartbeat leapt at the thought. Although I had the feeling it was because I anticipated spending more time with Sir Bennet, I didn’t want to examine those feelings right now.