The Wishing Well (Legends of Love Book 1)

by Avril Borthiry

Lora fought, and failed, to keep the blood from rising in her cheeks as her mind fumbled with a denial. “I was not. ’Tis simply that I had much on my mind and sleep would not come. Had I known of your intentions today, I would have asked my maid to awaken me sooner.”

  The sound of a hammer against metal drifted across the bailey and Lora’s eyes flicked to the corner of the keep. Edward followed the direction of her glance and his eyes narrowed. “I wanted to surprise you,” he said.

  Lora cursed inwardly at her reaction to Gareth’s chiseling.

  “That was thoughtful of you.” Desperate to distract him, she turned to the gray horse and gathered up a handful of skirt. “Will you help me, my lord? Are we venturing out alone? Should we not bring an escort?”

  “We have no need of an escort.” With ease, Edward hoisted her into the saddle and slipped her foot into the stirrup, his hand lingering on the soft suede of her shoe for a moment. Lora saw a frown settle on his face as his gaze drifted back to the direction of the well. The steady ring of Gareth’s hammering still wandered through the air.

  Nay. Turn away. Please, turn away. “He’s beautiful, my lord. Does he have a name?”

  Edward turned to look at her, his brow still creased. “Who?”

  “This horse.” Lora leaned forward and patted the sleek gray neck, feigning ignorance. “He’s quite lovely.”

  He blinked and his brow lifted. “He? The horse is a mare, and you may call her whatever you like. She’s yours. An early wedding gift.”

  Lora sat back and gasped with genuine shock. “Mine?”

  Edward swung into his saddle. “Yours.”

  “I-I don’t know what to say. Oh, my goodness. Thank you, my lord.”

  He nodded. “Does she please you?”

  “Very much.”

  “Then I chose well.” A gleam lit his eyes. He leaned over, took her hand, and pressed it to his lips. “I trust she’ll be a pleasure to ride, my lady. Shall we go?”

  The mare was indeed a pleasure. Lora felt obliged to be at least polite to Edward, although he said little as they traveled. Since leaving the castle, he’d become preoccupied and all but ignored her. Occasionally, she’d hear him take a slow deep breath, as if trying to control some simmering, hidden emotion.

  She did not dare voice her curiosity about what distracted him, for she feared the answer, and shuddered inwardly at her suspicions. Yet, as they rode deeper into the countryside, Lora’s apprehension dispersed. Her spirit, tasting freedom, could not help but embrace the glorious world beyond Rothwyn. Summer had prepared a magnificent feast for Lora’s senses, and she indulged them without restraint.

  A fresh breeze skittered across the surrounding hay fields, stirring the silken grasses into soft waves of silver and green. It washed over Lora’s skin and showered her with the smells of warm earth and sweet apple blossom. The air buzzed with the sound of tireless bees, and somewhere far above the skylark sang his exquisite song. Swallows flitted all around them, darting and swerving as they snatched insects in midflight.

  Lora’s growing euphoria evidently affected the little mare, who danced on her hooves and began to shy at the silliest things, a fallen log, a puddle of rainwater, a bird scuffling about in the hedge.

  “Settle her down.” Edward’s stern voice startled Lora. “Be firm, my lady. Don’t let her get the better of you.”

  Irritated by his tone, Lora tensed and gritted her teeth, biting back a retort. At that moment, they came to a gap in the hedgerow. Beyond it lay an expanse of flower-strewn meadow that stretched away to meet a distant copse. The allure of the flat, open landscape set Lora’s heart racing. She reined the mare to a halt, but felt the continued quiver of eager muscles beneath her thighs. Ah, but they shared the same desire, girl and horse.

  Edward stopped, twisted in the saddle, and threw her a questioning glance. “What’s wrong? Is she too much for you?”

  Too much?

  Lora tugged on the reins, let out a loud whoop, and dug her heels into the mare’s sides.

  The meadow became a blur of colors as the hooves thundered across the soft earth. The air whistled by, lifting the mare’s silver mane and bringing tears to Lora’s eyes. She leaned forward, urging the horse onward.

  “Open your wings,” she whispered to the black-tipped ears, which twitched at the sound of her voice. “Fly.”

  Even as she spoke, she felt the ground tremble as another set of hooves closed in behind her. She heard her name being called in a harsh voice that soured the sweet rush of the wind. She sensed the approach of a shadow, and in her mind turned it into a giant hand, poised to snatch her from midair.

  The hand became real. It reached over and grabbed the reins, tugging the little mare to an abrupt halt. Unprepared, Lora fell face-forward across the horse’s neck. She saw a brief flash of light as her teeth sank into her lip.

  She pushed herself upright, tasting blood, her benign tears mixing with genuine tears of pain.

  “How dare you.” Teeth gritted, she glared up at a pair of icy blue eyes. “You might have killed me.”

  Edward’s lip curled into a snarl. He grabbed her wrist in an iron grip, pulling her so close that she felt his heaving breath on her face. “At this moment, I feel inclined to do so, mistress.”

  Lora tried to tug her wrist free, swallowing against a lump of fear. “You threaten me, my lord?”

  Edward released her. “Only because you test me. Never do that again. That mare cost me a good measure of coin. She might have stumbled, broken a leg, or her neck. I would not see her harmed due to your childish behavior.”

  The cold-hearted response, which so belittled Lora’s worth, carried the weight of a physical blow. She glared at him, struggling to keep her voice calm. “I can assure you, your fear for the mare’s safety was unfounded. I knew what I was doing. I’ve been around horses all my life.”

  Edward raised a brow and straightened in the saddle. “Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  He curled his lips in a humorless smile and gestured to her horse. “Yet, just this morning, my dear, you didn’t know the difference between a mare and a stallion.”

  Lora felt a rush of heat to her face. “Of course I did. It’s just that I… I simply failed to notice before I mounted. ’Tis difficult to tell the gender of a horse when one is sitting atop it.”

  The smile disappeared. “Don’t play me for a fool, Lora.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she muttered, with some amount of truth in her words, although suspicion tightened her stomach into a knot.

  Edward narrowed his eyes, tilted his head, and studied her. Then, mumbling something incoherent, he dismounted and stepped over to her side. “Come.” He held out his arms. “We’ll eat our lunch here. ’Tis not an unpleasant place, after all.”

  Not daring to refuse, Lora slid into his embrace.

  “My thanks.” She blushed at the feel of her body brushing against his as he lowered her to the ground. She tried to wriggle free, but he held her fast.

  “Calm yourself, maiden.” His hot breath brushed across her hair. “You’re like a wild thing with your struggling. Let me hold you for a moment.”

  Edward’s body, undoubtedly honed to perfection by years of military training, felt hard and unbending against hers, yet his fine physique did nothing to stoke her desire. Rather, the potency of his presence surrounded her like the bars of a cage. Worse, and by all that was sacred on earth, standing in Edward’s arms felt like a betrayal.

  “Don’t hide your face, Lora. Let me see you.” Edward’s voice startled her. “And relax, by God. I gave your father my word that I would not dishonor you. We would not be here alone otherwise.”

  Although a flame of resentment still burned inside, she managed to meet his gaze with a smile. “I admit I was surprised when I saw that we had no chaperone, my lord.”

  “Pleasantly surprised?” He chuckled and trailed a fingertip along her jaw. “Nay, somehow I think not. Why, I wonder? Are you afraid of me, my la
dy?”

  Denial, she thought, would serve no purpose. “A little, aye.”

  “Hmm, well, you don’t have to be. I’m not an unreasonable man. As long as you never dishonor me, you’ll never have to fear me.”

  The resentment flared and Lora’s response spilled unguarded from her lips. “Even as you assure, you threaten. Is there any wonder I am unnerved in your presence?”

  Edward laughed. “You’re a high-strung little filly, Lora FitzGilbert. I believe I shall enjoy taming you.” He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his, sending a shard of pain through her injured lip. A smothered cry rattled from Lora’s throat as she pushed against him, but her resistance seemed only to inflame him further. Like a hot spear, his tongue thrust its way into her mouth.

  One of his hands anchored itself at the back of her neck, holding her head fast as he tasted and explored. The other drifted down the arch of her spine, across the curve of her hip, and tugged her hard against him. A growl rattled in his throat as his desire, rigid as iron, prodded her belly. She struggled again. God help me.

  Did Edward mean to have his way with her here, in the meadow? Did his professed word to her father mean nothing? Another growl rumbled from him as his hand slid over her buttocks and his tongue continued its assault.

  Lora, beyond incensed and not knowing what else to do, bit down. Hard.

  Edward let out a curse and shoved her away, his hand flying to his mouth. He spat out a wad of bloody saliva at her feet.

  “Damn you straight to hell, wench. I should beat you for that.”

  Lora, tasting his and her blood, spat too. “Go ahead,” she countered, shaking as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Beat me, Edward, and then explain why you did so to my father. That hurt! Besides, you gave your word you would not dishonor me.”

  “I only kissed you, for Christ’s sake, and it hurt because you resisted me.”

  “That was no kiss, sir.”

  He stepped forward, his expression dark with fury. “How would you know? How many other kisses have you tasted?”

  Several responses swarmed through her mind, all of them denials, all of them lies. She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but confusion stalled her words.

  “What’s wrong? Have you lost count?” Edward took a breath and clenched his fists at his side. “And speaking of dishonor, where were you last night?”

  Lora felt the blood leave her head and reached for the mare’s stirrup to keep her knees from buckling. In truth, she had expected the question, but it still hit her like a blow from a fist and she stumbled over a response.

  “L-last night?”

  Edward nodded. “You heard me. Where were you?”

  “I don’t know what you mean. After I left the hall, I went straight upstairs to my chamber.”

  “Liar,” he whispered and clenched the muscles in his jaw.

  “I beg your pardon? I am not lying.” Panic, like a choking vine, strangled her thoughts. “I can assure you that I—”

  He held up a hand. “I went to your chamber, Lora. After I’d finished my business with your father, I went to your chamber. It was still early enough, and there were things I wanted to discuss with you.”

  Lora blinked. “Well that…that was inappropriate of you, sir. You had no right to approach my door unaccompanied. My reputation—”

  “Which is why I had a serving wench with me to act as a chaperone.” He shifted on his feet. “But you didn’t answer your door.”

  She grasped at a possible straw. “Ah, I thought I heard a knock but I was almost asleep and—”

  Edward cursed and spat out another wad of blood. Like the strike of a serpent, he lashed out and clamped his fingers around her wrist. Lora yelped.

  “You will cease with your lies,” he said, a tide of red rising up the skin on his neck. “You didn’t answer because you were not there. I had the wench open the door and check. Your room was empty. I will have the truth, lady. Where were you?”

  “Please, Edward, let me go!” She tugged at his fingers with her free hand. “If you bruise me, I’ll make no effort to hide the marks from my father.”

  “And I’ll be sure to tell him of your lies,” he snarled, releasing her. “Of all the men present last night, I noticed one especially who couldn’t take his eyes off you. Do you know of whom I speak?”

  So, her instinct had been correct. Could she hope to fool this man with more lies? This man who, it seemed, missed nothing? She had to, for Gareth’s sake. Lora sent out a silent plea to both Christian and pagan deities.

  Please give me strength. Help me. Help me to protect him.

  No sooner had the request been made than a surge of courage, sudden and powerful, rose up like a shield around her emotions. Perhaps it came from another place, a magic realm beyond the eyes of mortal men. Perhaps it came from the love of a Welsh stonemason. Lora had little time to wonder. Edward’s impatience thickened the air as he awaited her response. She released her grip on the stirrup and stood straight. “I couldn’t say. Many men look at me, my lord, but ’tis hardly my fault, that. I’ve been told I am pleasant to look upon.”

  Edward frowned, his eyes fixed on her as if trying to read her thoughts. “This man is a stonemason, apparently. A Welshman, not long at Rothwyn. So, tell me true. Do you know of him?”

  The truth, Lora discovered, when spoken with confidence in a diminished form, came easier than lies. “Aye, I do. I watched him work one day shaping the stones, and he stopped to tell me the story of the well, of how it used to be considered magic. I found it fascinating.”

  “It would appear he finds you fascinating.”

  “Perhaps he does, but as I said, that is not something I can help.” She raised a brow. “I see doubt on your face. Surely you don’t think I harbor some attraction for him. He is naught but a common tradesman.”

  “Yet you looked his way this morning at the sound of his hammer.”

  “I did?” Lora switched to an expression of surprise. “Truly, I was not aware of such an action. Perhaps the sound caught my attention for a moment and distracted me. In any case, I do not appreciate what you are implying, my lord.”

  “Then do not give me cause to imply it.” Edward’s eyes narrowed. “You have yet to answer my question, Lora. Where were you last night? I looked everywhere for you.”

  She exhaled and clenched her fists. “Very well. If you must know, I went for a walk around the bailey. I couldn’t sleep last night. The noise bothered me, all that singing and carousing. I needed to think in peace. There is so much happening, Edward. So much for me to consider. My entire life is about to change. I need time to adjust, to prepare. Surely you can understand that?”

  Tears, which had never been far from Lora’s eyes all day, were given leave to approach. One even managed to escape down her cheek.

  “Then why did I not see you out there?” Edward asked. “I saw only your father’s steward. He was sitting on the steps mumbling to himself. Couldn’t make any sense out of him.”

  Lora allowed herself a smile, daring to hope Edward was, at last, starting to believe her. “Poor William. He was well into his cups. And you didn’t see me because I always keep to the shadows. I didn’t want to be seen, my lord. I wasn’t supposed to be there. Please don’t tell my father.”

  She blinked at him, hoping he would take the conspiratorial bait. Edward’s shoulders relaxed a little.

  “So, you were alone?”

  Lora looped her fingers in front of her and sent up a quick prayer of contrition. “Except for a short time when I spoke with Master William, yes. I was alone.”

  “This once I shall say nothing to the earl,” he growled, running a hand through his hair. “But your wild, unladylike behavior will cease immediately. And if I ever find out you’ve lied to me, Lora, you’ll sorely regret it. That I do swear before God. Do you heed me?”

  “I heed you well, my lord.” Still tasting blood, she stroked her fingers across her swollen lips. “Now. What was it you
wished to discuss with me?”

  Chapter 8

  The office door stood slightly ajar. Lora peered through the crack to see William hunched over a document at his desk, muttering to himself.

  “Master William?” Nerves taut, she glanced over her shoulder for a moment, half expecting to see Edward watching her from some shadowed corner. “May I speak with you?”

  William raised his head and squinted toward the sound of her voice. “Aye, of course. Come in, my lady. Did you enjoy your excursion with Edward?”

  She closed the door behind her and turned to meet William’s bleary gaze. Dear God, the man looked ill, with his ashen skin and shadowed eyes. The feeble afternoon light failed to disguise a thin sheen of sweat that glimmered on his forehead. His hair, while not exactly unkempt, lacked its usual neatness, as if he’d combed it into place using only his fingers.

  “Am I…am I disturbing you?” she asked, her own troubles fading beneath a sharp twinge of alarm at the sorry sight of Rothwyn’s steward. Genuine concern edged her voice. “Master William, are you quite well?”

  He offered her a wry smile. “Nay, you’re not disturbing me. And, if you must know, I feel like I’ve been kicked by a horse and trampled besides. Judging from the expression on your face, I must assume I look like it as well. Don’t fret, little ’un. ’Tis all my own doing. I’m merely paying the price for my overindulgence last night.”

  “Ah.” Her short response was all she could manage to force over the sudden lump in her throat. William’s reassurance, though welcome, broke through Lora’s defenses and shattered her fragile resolve. She covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

  A moment later, she felt William’s arms around her. “By all the saints,” he muttered, “do I look that bad?”

  His gentle attempt at humor only served to make things worse. She shook her head and sobbed against his chest, still unable to speak. William stroked her hair and rocked her like a child. “Now then, cease your weeping, Lora, and tell me what’s wrong. Is it Edward?”

  “I didn’t know where else to go,” she mumbled at last, “or who else to trust.”