Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection

by Lana Williams

  Rylan had warned him this would take patience. Garrick hadn’t realized how much.

  A relentless drizzle had fallen since early morn and showed no sign of stopping. That didn’t improve his foul mood. He located Braden and Chanse where they waited under an eave out of the rain.

  He shook his head at their expectant expressions. “No offers from him.” He cast a glance at the sky. “I am weary of the rain.”

  “At least it’s not snow,” Braden offered.

  “Feels like it could be.” Chanse tightened his cloak. “’Tis nearly cold enough.”

  “This waiting is unproductive no matter the weather, that’s for certain. Mayhap we should return to the inn.” Garrick stared across the square but did not see Lady Sophia among the few who braved the weather to come to the market.

  There were other things they could be doing, he told himself, though he couldn’t quite think what that might be at the moment. In two days time, he’d meet the man who was his contact to pass any information they discovered about the unrest. Not that he had anything interesting to share, but mayhap the man could provide them with some direction as to where to dig deeper.

  Yet Garrick waited, watching the square for Lady Sophia. With a sigh, he admitted it wasn’t merely hope of her help that had him standing here, looking for her.

  He was attracted to her. There was no denying it.

  Whether that damned vision he’d had of her had caused this or simply meeting her, he dwelled on things he shouldn’t when he was with her. And when he wasn’t. She was one of the suspects in his mission, yet he longed to discover how her lips might taste. It would complicate the situation beyond measure if he were to dally with her in any way. Why wasn’t that enough to keep his interest at bay?

  “Here comes someone,” Braden muttered.

  As the hooded form entering the square paused to look at him, Garrick realized it was her. His heartbeat sped a little faster as she continued directly toward him. “Why don’t the two of you find another place to linger,” he suggested.

  “Come along, Braden. We’re obviously not wanted here,” Chanse said. “We’ll meet you at the inn later.”

  Sophia drew nearer, focused on dodging the worst of the rapidly growing mud puddles. She looked quite graceful, taking leaps here and there. She paused for a moment to glance up again. Those large, dark eyes caught his, causing his skin to heat. Her long dark hair was loosely plaited, lending a softness to the way it framed her face along with the hood of her cloak. With her smooth skin, dark eyes, and a slight bloom in her cheeks, she was a sight to behold.

  When her gaze caught his yet again, his chest gave an odd lurch.

  She joined him under the roof eave, her fragrance filling his senses. Part lavender, part spice that he couldn’t quite name, enhanced by the damp wool of her cloak.

  “Sir Garrick,” she greeted him with a nod. “I wasn’t certain I’d find you here.”

  “The weather has kept many inside. What brings you out?”

  She pulled back the hood of her cloak. Damp tendrils of her hair curled around her face. “I may have someone interested in your wool.”

  “Excellent.” Garrick’s spirits lifted. “Who?” But the suspicion in her expression had him frowning in concern.

  “Before I say anything more, I need to know why an English knight came all the way to Berwick to sell wool.”

  He stilled as a shiver of unease ran down his spine. How could she know their purpose here was far more than a contract for wool?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sophia watched the knight closely for a reaction. She had no reason to trust Sir Garrick and couldn’t allow her eagerness to gain Edgar’s help lower her guard.

  Other than a moment’s hesitation, she saw nothing in his expression.

  “My father, Lord Nicholas de Bremont, is the one interested in finding a buyer. He didn’t come himself as he is busy preparing for a visit from his liege lord. Our steward has seen far too many years to journey this far. My holding borders my father’s and while I have only a small flock of sheep, together, along with my uncle, we have a significant number. The merchants in London are being taxed by the king and so the price they offered was far too low this year.”

  She held her silence for a moment to see if he revealed anything more.

  He raised a brow. “What else may I answer to put your mind at ease?”

  “What of your shearing sheds?” She waited, hoping the question made more sense to him than it had to her.

  “We installed floor boards in the sheds two springs ago.”

  “Why?”

  He frowned. “To keep the wool as clean as possible and free of bugs, though I know few lords have gone to the expense of doing so. Are you testing my knowledge of wool?”

  Hope sprang forth as Sophia realized Sir Garrick might be just the resource she needed to offer Edgar value. If he would be so kind as to share some of his knowledge with her.

  Yet even as she opened her mouth to request his assistance, she stopped. Trust was nothing to be given lightly. She needed to move forward with caution. Her brother’s freedom depended on it.

  “What makes English wool more desirable?” she asked.

  “’Tis finer with longer fibers than the sheep near the Scottish border.” He smiled down at her, causing her heartbeat to quicken. “Did I answer properly? Will you tell me with whom I should speak?”

  “Soon. First, I have a few more questions.”

  “’Twould be my pleasure to answer them. After all, it means spending more time with you.” The heat in his gaze set loose flutters in her stomach.

  She didn’t pretend to understand the affect this man had on her as it wasn’t anything she’d ever experienced. She glanced about the square to see if anyone watched them, uneasy at the thought.

  Thanks to the weather, few people were near, but Sophia could sense the weight of eyes on them. “Let us not do so here. I need to venture to St. Mary’s, but ’tis a fair distance away. You’ll be soaked through by the time we reach it.”

  “I’d be honored to accompany you, my lady, as well as answer any other questions you might have.”

  “Very well.” She drew up her hood. Though the wool was already damp, it offered some protection from the rain as well as from him. His steady regard made it difficult to remember her purpose. “Shall we?”

  At his nod, she walked across the square, leaving him to follow. Once they reached the cobbled thoroughfare, he walked by her side. He also wore a cloak but made no effort to cover his head. In truth, she was pleased as he was a pleasure to look at despite being wet. The rain clung to his lashes and caused his hair to curl about his neck, making him all the more attractive.

  She shook her head, berating herself. She needed to focus on learning more about wool, not on Sir Garrick’s appearance. “When do you shear your sheep?”

  “Mid-June. The ewes are nearly finished lambing now. The babes will stay with their mothers for several months before they’ll be weaned.”

  “I confess I don’t know much about sheep.” There was no purpose in attempting to hide that, for he’d soon realize it for himself.

  “No reason you would. I’ve learned much in the past few years as we’ve grown our flock. We were hesitant to make raising sheep a priority. They are only worth one or two shillings whereas a pig is worth two and a half, but as sheep produce not only fleece, but meat, milk, manure, and skins—”

  “Skins?” Sophia asked.

  “Their hides make durable writing material.”

  “Of course.” She’d forgotten that.

  “So sheep produce a variety of products. The choice to grow winter feed in our meadows rather than grain was a hotly debated subject. But the demand for wool now exceeds the demand for grain as well as other products such as meat and leather. The challenge lies in keeping a healthy flock. Sheep are fragile creatures.”

  “In what way?”

  “They often catch sheep pox, Red Death, or murrain.”<
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  Murrain was the term Edgar had mentioned. Her conversation with the merchant now made more sense.

  “Despite that, they’re easy to handle and feed, and they produce fleece each year.” Garrick stole another glance at Lady Sophia, wondering if he’d calmed her worries as to his presence in Berwick. Or was he simply boring her with all this talk of wool?

  He scolded himself. Of course he was boring her. He could already hear Chanse telling him the topic of sheep was anything but charming. It shouldn’t matter whether she was interested in what he had to say, but somehow it did.

  She glanced up at the cloud-filled sky, the elegant line of her jaw catching his eye. Aye, it mattered a great deal.

  He held his silence as they passed through the gate, the guard giving them a nod. The rain stopped as they followed the road toward the nunnery.

  “May I ask why you’re venturing to the nunnery?” Garrick asked.

  “I have some seeds to deliver to my sister, Ilisa, who is working there.”

  “Is she taking her vows?”

  A pucker formed between Sophia’s brows. Obviously the question caused her concern. “I’m not certain if that is her intention. For now, she aids them with the garden and other work. They provide us with food in exchange for her assistance.”

  Garrick was surprised. Though it was obvious the Douglas family’s place in the city had significantly changed since the siege, it hadn’t occurred to him that they now needed to work for food and shelter. With her older brother gone, that left Sophia as the head of her family, a great responsibility. One she obviously didn’t take lightly.

  “I’ve heard some of what happened two years ago,” Garrick said. “I understand your brother, Sir William, is being held at a keep south of here. Are you able to correspond with him?”

  “Rarely. ’Tis been months since his last letter to us. We heard from a friend who saw him briefly. He told us William was as well as could be expected, but he had no other news.”

  “Is his wife with him?” Garrick asked.

  “Nay. Lady Eleanor remains here with us. Their son was taken to begin his training as a page in England, despite his mother’s wishes.”

  “Is it just her with you and your sister?”

  “And my younger brother, Alec.”

  “The siege must’ve been a frightening time. I’m sorry you had to endure such a terrible event.”

  “Many people in the city lost everything. Those who died outnumbered those who survived. I fear Berwick will never be the same.”

  “What of you, Lady Sophia? How have you fared with all the changes?” He wanted to ask more questions but knew they wouldn’t be welcome.

  “I am luckier than many, though I will say it hasn’t been easy.” She paused for a long moment, and he feared that was all she intended to say. “Many blame my brother for not allowing the garrison to defend the city. Since he is no longer here, they blame us.”

  “Surely ordering his knights and soldiers to fight would have only further angered King Edward. His temper is well known.”

  She looked up at him. “Have you ever fought with him?”

  “Nay. My brother has, but not in Scotland. Do you believe your brother will eventually be released and reinstated as governor?”

  “I pray for his release each day. But nay. I do not want him to serve as governor again. Not after all that passed.”

  Garrick didn’t blame her. That would surely put them all in danger once more.

  His pace slowed as a familiar fog clouded his mind. Now was not the time for a vision, but he had no choice. That was the worst part of having second sight. He never knew when a vision would come, who he might be with, or what he might be doing. He’d fallen from his horse once when one had come upon him. He’d learned to brace himself when the warning signs appeared.

  But here, in the middle of this road with Sophia at his side, there was nothing he could do. He halted, putting a hand over his eyes as though his head hurt, hoping his expression did not reveal anything.

  The sounds around him dimmed as the image in his mind formed. Sophia stood before a man much older than she, obviously a lord by his fine clothing. He rebuked Sophia from what Garrick could tell. Sophia kept her head bent, saying nothing as the man gestured with abrupt arm movements. The flash of a knife in the man’s hand was the last thing Garrick saw as the vision faded.

  “Sir Garrick?” Sophia’s voice came to him as though from a long distance away. “Are you unwell?”

  He kept his hand over his eyes as he drew a long, deep breath to clear his mind. “I’m fine. A sudden pain in my head is all.”

  When the vision had cleared completely, he removed his hand and opened his eyes to find her staring up at him with concern in those dark eyes.

  “You’ve gone pale,” she said. “Do you want to sit down?”

  “Nay. I am well. Truly.” His thoughts whirled at the idea of Sophia in danger. He had no idea who the man was and hadn’t seen him clearly enough to believe he’d recognize him if he saw him again. Mayhap it was her brother. Nay, the man had appeared older than Sir William would be. With a sigh of frustration, he pushed away the images he’d seen to ponder later.

  “I’m sorry for causing you worry. Let us proceed.” He gestured toward the nunnery.

  Though Sophia cast him a few worried glances, they continued down the road.

  “Tell me of your family. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  He was grateful for the change in subject. “I have an older brother, Rylan, who recently married, and a younger sister, who caused my childhood to be quite painful at times.”

  Sophia smiled at his exaggerated tone, making him realize how rarely she did so. “Oh? How so?”

  He shook his head. “’Tis a long and sad story.”

  “You are surely jesting. What would she say if I asked her about this?”

  “I fear she would say I had done so to her,” he said with a laugh. “Rylan attempted to bring order to our lives, but he was unsuccessful.”

  “William would say the same of us, I believe. He was always so serious and intent on following Father’s path. He was born with a sense of duty. The rest of us grew into it grudgingly.”

  “You must miss him.” Garrick studied her expression, looking for the resentment she had to feel at being left in such difficult circumstances, suddenly responsible for taking care of her family, but he saw only sadness.

  “Very much. There are many things that have occurred where I’m not certain how to proceed.” She gave a heavy sigh. “I fear I do not have the patience or diplomacy for political intrigue yet this city seems to swim in it.”

  “These are troubled times,” Garrick offered, hoping she’d say more. “Berwick’s location puts it in a precarious position.”

  “The border has shifted several times, but I don’t believe changing the line on a map changes the people.”

  “I understand more Englishmen have moved here since the siege.”

  “Aye. I suppose they feel safer since the king defeated Berwick so soundly. They think no one will suggest a rebellion after what happened.”

  “What do you believe?” Garrick asked.

  “The Scots are a proud people. Berwick was not at fault for the king’s anger, but we were the closest target for his rage.”

  “Is there talk of revenge?” Garrick pressed, holding his breath as he waited for her answer.

  “Certainly. But just as many want peace. And a few others believe all the English should leave and never return.” She answered easily as though she’d given it a great deal of thought. Or was it because she had a practiced answer at the ready?

  “And all of those people live side by side in the city. How could there not be conflict?”

  “It makes for interesting conversations.”

  He was well aware she hadn’t truly answered his question but neatly sidestepped it. She had more political diplomacy than she realized. He decided it best to let it go for now until she’d gr
own to trust him. He could only hope she would.

  “How large is the nunnery?” Garrick asked as they neared St. Mary’s, which sat just north of the city.

  “One and twenty sisters along with Prioress Matilda reside here. The cloister has a church, of course, along with a chapter house, refectory, and a kitchen.”

  Sophia proceeded through an iron gate and continued along a path that skirted the buildings and led the way to the large gardens.

  Many women in black robes were there, some working, some talking. Garrick felt strangely out of place when he realized he was the only man in sight.

  Sophia called out greetings to several of the sisters. The weight of their stares made Garrick a little nervous as he followed her around the edge of the garden.

  A young, attractive woman straightened from where she’d been marking rows with sticks, and Garrick realized immediately this must be Sophia’s sister. They shared many similarities, including their large eyes and even features, though Sophia had dark hair while her sister was blond.

  “Greetings, Ilisa. Here are the seeds you wanted. Jacques gave them to me this morn.” She withdrew a small cloth sack from the purse hanging from her girdle and handed it to her.

  “Excellent. The sisters will be pleased.” Her blue gaze came to rest on Garrick, the wariness in them no surprise.

  “Ilisa, this is Sir Garrick de Bremont. He’s traveled from England to Berwick to find a buyer for his wool.”

  “Welcome, Sir Garrick.” Lady Ilisa studied him closely. Whether that was because he accompanied her sister or because he was English, he didn’t know.

  “My thanks. Berwick is a fine city.”

  “How long will you be staying?”

  “At least a fortnight. Mayhap longer. In truth, I’ve never been this far north. I’m enjoying learning more about the area.”

  The bitter twist of Lady Ilisa’s mouth made him realize she was thinking of Berwick’s troubled past.

  “Will you be venturing farther into Scotland after your time here?” she asked.

  “I suppose it depends on whether I can find a buyer for our wool.”

  “Don’t you have duties that require your presence at home?”