Today the bucket hung in midair. The rope was not tangled but it was not spooled correctly either. It needed coaxing. She grabbed the handle and began to lower the bucket. As soon as the taught line became free she let the handle go. The whirling of the free handle as the bucket fell announced her victory. She let the bucket hit the water, gave a small enough pause for it to fill, and began the long crank to bring it back up. As soon as the bucket came into her reach she grabbed it. In her eagerness half the water found its way into the hungry earth but enough hit the cup to fill it.
She walked to the shop as fast as she could without splashing too much water. Five horses were picketed outside, the gray one with the odd branding among them.
She had not missed them! She would at least be able to see the baron’s son before he left. She dabbed the sweat off her brow, fixed her hair, and hurried into the shop.
The door slammed into someone as she burst inside. The man was knocked off balance, falling partway into her father’s cooling barrel. Miranda raised her hands up to her mouth in embarrassment, forgetting she was still carrying her father’s water. The cup crashed into her face, flew out of her hands, and landed behind her. She had to get out of here. Gordon stood among these men laughing at her idiocy. She turned to flee, her foot rolling on the dropped cup. Her arms flailed wildly. She fell, face first, onto the smithy’s now wet floor.
Mud covered her beautiful green outfit. Her hair, disheveled and wet, pasted long clumps to her face. She no longer had to worry about pinching her cheeks for color since her entire face was flushed red with embarrassment. Miranda began to cry.
“The mountain blooms grow so wild out here in the hills they’re barging into your shop, sir smith,” a gentle voice joked above her.
Miranda sucked in her breath and willed the courage needed to look up. A hand was offered to her; It was Gordon’s. Her already red face flushed with more heat. “Sir, I am sorry about your man. I should not have been in such a hurry…”
“Oh, really. There is no harm done. Jules needed a bath anyway, didn’t you, Jules?” A mischievous smile lightened his face.
And what a face he had. His golden brown curls were a shade lighter than his hazel eyes. With his tanned skin the man looked to be molded out of gold. His bright smile ended in high cheekbones. Long angular features and a strong chin, with perfect dimpling, gave him the air of command needed for a future nobleman of the realm. Miranda’s bosom tingled and she raced to catch her breath.
There were other men in the room. Turning her head she saw the dark man from this morning. He watched her with hungry eyes. Again, the feeling of being naked before him came to her. Miranda moved her arms across her chest again.
Her father cleared his throat.
“It is not my place to interrupt my lord’s business. Please excuse me.” Miranda said.
“A thing is only an interruption if it is unpleasant.” Gordon said. “I can see nothing unpleasant about you, or what has transpired. Please stay. We have just finished the tediousness of formal introductions and paying respects.” Gordon grabbed her hand and helped her up.
Miranda could not think of anything to say so she giggled.
“What is this fair creature’s name, sir smith?” Gordon finally asked.
“My daughter’s name is Miranda, sir. Please, if we could finish our business I am sure my daughter has chores she must attend to.” her father said giving her a serious look. She hated to have to leave the lord’s presence but at least her father had given her an excuse to be away from the gaze of the dark man.
“Well, Miranda, I am Gordon. Please, stay a little longer.” he said.
The dark man spoke up. “Would my lord like to test the steel’s edge?”
“I can assure my lord, that sword’s keen and will hold its edge.” Her father said.
“Most assuredly.” Gordon responded. “Still, it never hurts to be thorough. Come here, Jules.”
Jules approached with apprehension. Gordon unsheathed the sword and rested his blade on the man’s shoulder. Slowly the blade moved down the man’s chest cutting cloth, a thin streak of red followed. Jules moved back from the pain with a look of shock.
Gordon’s face hardened. Worry flashed across the poor man’s face but he resumed his stance.
Miranda tried to keep in the squeak that escaped her throat but it found its way out. Gordon looked at her.
“Well smith, I like the feel of your steel. I especially like the way you added our new house banner on the hilt. I will pay you our original bartered price plus five more gold.” He sheathed the blade and pulled a pouch from his belt. Emptying the contents into his hand he clucked to himself. “It appears I am a few gold short of what I have just promised. That will teach me to speak before knowing my current situation. Can I write you a payment note?”
With a curt nod her father acquiesced. A little rummaging in the shop produced a pen and parchment for the man’s use.
Gordon went to a man other than Jules or the dark one and bid him turn to be used as an impromptu desk. With grace and ease Gordon held the parchment and inkwell with one hand, using the other hand to write his note of payment. He took his time but she supposed for cases in which money changed hands time was a commodity which could be wasted.
Gordon finished his note, flipped the parchment, and blotted it on the deskman‘s shirt. He read his work and tore a thin sliver of paper off the bottom, folding it into a tiny packet.
“I’ll keep this as a reminder to myself.” Gordon said, handing her father the rest of the note.
Her father read it and nodded. “Thank you, lord.”
“You owe more to Father Oak than to myself.” Gordon said. “Now Miranda, if you would allow me to thank you with a small token of appreciation.”
She accepted another kiss to her hand. She felt something small and rough enter the long sleeve of her dress near her wrist. A small look of amazement crossed her face. Gordon looked up from her hand, into her eyes, giving her a wink.
“Good day, m’lord.” Miranda said curtsying with a little flush. She turned to leave, slamming into the now closed shop door. Again, embarrassment swept through her. Could nothing have gone her way? She opened the door and ran to the safe cover of the house.
She sprinted into her room, closing the door behind her. The few corsets she had littered her floor. Brothers were a bother, obnoxious, and destroyed things which were not theirs. She has had to replace no fewer than half a dozen of her corsets. They were stretched to beyond use He used them as hammocks to weigh rocks. She smiled while she cleaned the mess. The boy was only nine years this past winter and the conversion of female undergarment to weighing scale was a simple task. He at least chose her most bedraggled corsets but her father would still be in a rage.
Miranda straitened her room and sat on her bed looking at her dress. What a fool she had made of herself in front of Gordon.
The man’s action with the sword gave her doubt, but his manner was playful. He certainly was generous, and his men obeyed him. She knew he did not mean to hurt him.
Gordon. What a wonderful name. It flowed off the tongue and warmed her. The way his hazel eyes looked at her with the mysterious twinkle. The way he compared her to the beautiful blooms in the hills, and the way his lips felt when he kissed her hand. The thought made her flush again. The strength in his hands belied the care and delicate manner with which he held hers. The skill in his fingers to slip the item into her sleeve, showing his strength had not lessened his dexterity.
What had he placed in her sleeve? The item was small and she no longer felt it against her skin. She shoved her fingers into the sleeve trying to rake it out. She could not find it. Could it have fallen out when she ran to the house?
Wait, there it was. It was flat, her fingers passing right over it. It must be a note. Giddy with excitement, she took it out of her sleeve and opened the small folded square of paper, the paper torn from the note of debt given to her father. She devoured the man words.
“My beautiful mountain bloom, I would enjoy meeting your company in a more personal manner. I hunt often in the hills next to your father’s home. Three hills to the south of here I have a hunting lodge. Meet me there tomorrow. ~Gordon”
Miranda closed the letter and held it to her breast. She had done it despite the fool she had made of herself. She stood stricken. What was she going to wear?
.
Chapter 2
Sorrow
Three of the most glorious weeks Miranda could remember passed. She met with Gordon in secret on most days and a surging romance blossomed in her heart. Leaving his sight when the afternoon’s rays began to fade into evening pained her. She counted the hours at home so she could sleep and wake to a new day with him.
She finished her chores quickly and headed into the hills with an empty basket looking for berries. Waiting in his lodge for her, Gordon always had a full basket of berries brought from the village market.
Miranda fretted about what to wear for these meetings, but no longer did. She ran out of her finest clothes. Walking through the hills with her belly corseted was so exhausting that she looked a fright by the time she had reached Gordon. Most days she settled with wearing her ordinary skirts and blouses. Gordon knew she was no court lady.
Despite how well things had been going something made her nervous. The man became persistent. In the beginning the kisses were innocent. At first her hands were the only place that received any kind of attention. The affection then moved to her cheeks then to her mouth. As the days passed the kisses grew deeper and more passionate. He shocked her when his hands tried to fondle her breast. At first she protested claiming womanly innocence and he acquiesced. A short time later during another bout of passion his hand squeezed against her breast and she did not protest.
Not long after she looked forward to feeling his hands running freely along her blouse. She was the one who undid her top the first time so he could see her breasts free in the sunlight. She also instigated most of the passion between them now but she always stopped short of committing fully. She wanted to retain her decency but it was getting harder to resist his urgings. It seemed every day they delved further into the forbidden.
Today she ran down the stairs grabbing the empty basket on her way out the door with one thought. That man had not announced his intentions to her father! This skulking about could cease if he formalized their relationship. It was not like asking to court her was tantamount to marriage. Her father’s strength would not intimidate someone who had the power that Gordon would one day have.
Lost in thought Miranda tripped over an exposed root, twisting her ankle and nearly lost her footing. Gordon not declaring his intentions finally brought her to anger. She could stop these forays into the hills every day if he would.
Upon reaching the clearing in front of the small hunting lodge her anger faded. Its sharp angular roof reached the ground making the structure a large triangle. The door of the lodge swung open and Gordon stepped out into the morning sun. Miranda dropped her basket and ran toward him forgetting the small twinges of pain in her ankle. She stopped short when the dark man followed him out. She had been so eager to see him she had missed the gray mare on the side of the house. They were so engrossed in their conversation they had not noticed her. She grabbed her basket and moved back into the cover of the trees while she waited for the dark man to leave. The dark one dropped a small pouch into Gordon’s hand, smiled, and with some final words walked to the side of the lodge.
He mounted his horse, looked straight in her direction, and galloped off.
She waited before approaching the lodge. Gordon had gone back inside. Now she was nervous. Before when it was just him and her she could sprint distance of the clearing just to see him. What had Gordon told that creep about her? She muscled her courage to the front and walked to the lodge.
Gordon exited the lodge as she cleared the trees again. Who cared about the dark man? She leapt into his arms and kissed him with an ardor that matched her passion. He did not hesitate to return the favor. Wrapping his strong arms around her waist he lifted her off the ground carrying her into the lodge while maintaining their deep kiss.
She detached herself from his embrace and looked into his eyes. That familiar twinkle sparkled in them. With a sigh she remembered she was angry with the man for not declaring their courtship, for her ankle, and for giving her the willies with that horrible man. “Gordon, before we continue, why you have not declared your intentions to my father? It’s inappropriate that these trysts have continued for so long with him not knowing. If he were to find out from someone other than you… Well, I just couldn’t bear it.”
Gordon brushed an errant hair away from her face, giving a small laugh. “It’s kind of you to think of me against my own subjects.”
Miranda continued to look at him with the most serious face she could muster, not wanting to be sidetracked. She needed Gordon to know she was serious. He continued to look at her with a smile that challenged her need. At last, the smile melted and Gordon looked away.
“It seems you intend to push the issue. Very well, if you must know I brought up our new affection to my father. I told him all about you and he asked if anything had occurred between us.” He said.
Miranda gasped. Did she really want to hear this? Hearing that it was discussed like a weekly crop report sent waves of shame through her. Still, he had told the Baron about the relationship. Why was she so angry?
“What did you tell him?” she asked.
“I told him exactly what has been happening.” Gordon said.
Miranda raised her hand to her mouth. Gaining a reputation as a woman easy with her affection humiliated her. She had gone far beyond the appropriate. Just coming out alone would alter her reputation.
“I told him nothing at all has happened between us.” Gordon finished.
The humiliation swelling inside Miranda quickly turned back to anger.
“How could you say that?” she asked.
“Because it’s the truth.” Gordon said. “These little forays into passion are really just that. We have done nothing to commit us. My father has plans for me. He intends to arrange a union between Wynnarche and a neighboring barony, doubling our land. I can’t risk upsetting negotiations on a woman to which I have no firm commitment, even if that woman is you.”
Miranda could not believe she heard correctly. Telling her she was not the one whom he intended to marry because some ugly Baron’s daughter had land. She would not give up that easily. If it was commitment he wanted, she was going to give him one. She only had to offer what she prized most. Nothing of value could be gained without sacrifice.
Miranda walked over to Gordon and kissed him tentatively, fighting her nerves. She needed as much confidence as she could muster. There was no turning back. She would no longer be an innocent girl. He had told her he did not see a future in their relationship. The fact she had not run off in tears probably amazed him. Her kissing him put him off balance exactly as she wanted.
Miranda kissed him, took his hands and placed them on her breasts. While he enjoyed her soft flesh, her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt. Finely worked with bronze wire, they caught, snagging at cloth and thread. When the buttons put up too much fight she tore them off. Quickly she exposed his bronzed chest, running her fingers through the small patch of hair that formed in the small triangle between his muscles. Steeling her resolve, she pushed him into the bedroom.
*****
Miranda sat naked in bed, Gordon sleeping comfortably beside her. She did not feel any different except for the lingering sting. She looked at her lover. The small smile on the man’s face made her flush as she remembering how bold she had been.
She had done it. She had given Gordon the thing needed to cement their relationship. He would have to tell his father how serious their relationship had become. Another small flush came, this one of embarrassment. The Baron would know. She could survive whatever was necessary t
o get what she wanted.
Gordon began snoring so Miranda got out of bed to retrieve her clothing. Turning around to look at him she noticed the blood. Anyone seeing this would know what transpired. It was one thing for Gordon’s father to know, it was necessary, but for anyone else to know was beyond her.
She began pulling off the sheets with Gordon waking briefly when she urged him out of bed. She could not get the sheets off with him laying on them. When she had removed them he fell back onto the bare bed and resumed snoring.
Miranda looked at the red stains again. There was no way these stains were coming out. Miranda went through the lodge to the small hearth and threw the sheets in, standing guard until the fire consumed all evidence. Picking up the basket of berries she went home.
Over the next year the affair became harder to conceal. Her family began asking questions. At first picking berries was an easy alibi but the season ended. She had to wait for her mother to ask her to run errands with torturous delays. Days could pass between errands and it took longer than acceptable if she tried to see Gordon and accomplish the task. She managed to see him sporadically, each time consummating their love. Each time the passion and need grew. She never knew when she would see him next. Her desire stirred her passion to new heights but she still missed the one thing she wanted most, a betrothal.
The need for excuses diminished as the barony of Wynnarche became entrenched in a squabble with the neighboring barony of Oliane. The skirmishes began around the small border community of Briardam. The community recently converted to the worship of The Father Oak, as the Baron of Wynnarche had, much to the objection of Baron Grunhol. Grunhol of Oliane, a very conservative worshipper of Beshra, sent his military to suppress the conversion. Baron Jordon of Wynnarche sent in troops, under the command of his son Gordon, to protect the new converts. The action was disguised as humanitarian but Briardam was the last river port before the mountains of Tredale and extremely valuable.
Ascent of the Unwanted (The Chronicle of Unfortunate Heroes Book 1) Page 2