The kiss—if it could be called that—was anything but pleasant. He’d changed what should be a sweet moment of desire to a struggle for power. Sophia fought against him, feeling helpless against his strength. His tongue pressed against her lips, demanding entrance. She clenched her lips harder.
At last she managed to turn her head to the side and escape his mouth. “Release me.”
“Tread carefully, Sophia. Otherwise, you will pay dearly after we marry.” His hazel eyes glittered as he glared at her.
She stepped back and this time, he let her go. His threat burned in her ears, increasing her fear. He was pressing her harder than ever. She wasn’t about to let that change her mind, but she would dearly like to know what was behind it. “Good day, Sir Gilbert.”
“Until we meet again, my lady. And it will be soon.” He strode down the empty street, quickly disappearing from sight.
Sophia wiped her lips with her sleeve to help rid herself of the taste of him. She turned on her heel to walk in the opposite direction only to run into a solid mass. Startled, she looked up into Garrick’s familiar blue gaze.
“Who was that?” he asked.
Sophia closed her eyes, hoping he hadn’t seen that terrible kiss. “Sir Gilbert de Umfraville.”
“The man who took your brother’s place as governor?”
“Aye.”
He looked down at her. “Did he say something to upset you?”
Relief filled her that he hadn’t been witness to her humiliation. “You might say he and I have a difference of opinion.”
“About what?” Garrick’s concerned gaze studied her so closely she had to look away.
“Many things,” she said at last. No purpose would be served by discussing it with Garrick though the temptation to do so surprised her.
“Please know that if you need protection, I’d be pleased to provide it, my lady.”
The idea of being able to rely on this strong, capable man was appealing in ways she didn’t understand. But it was something she couldn’t allow. Becoming dependent on him in any way would be a terrible mistake. “That is kind of you.”
“I stopped to see if you needed any additional questions answered in order to consider that introduction to the wool merchant.”
“Not at the moment.” She could hardly remember what needed to be done this morn, let alone any questions for Garrick.
“May I accompany you where you’re going? I’d like to learn more of your city if you don’t mind me spending some of the day with you.”
Sophia glanced up from under her lashes, not missing the way Garrick continued to stare where Sir Gilbert had passed out of sight. Though Garrick had always been friendly to her, the look on his face reminded her that he was no one with whom to be trifled.
Oddly enough, that feeling brought her comfort. Yet she’d already realized Garrick might prove to be far more dangerous to her welfare than Sir Gilbert.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Garrick watched Sophia as they made their way toward the market square. Though she’d agreed to his request to spend some time with her with obvious reluctance, he still counted it as a small victory.
Her encounter with Sir Gilbert had obviously upset her, and from the knight’s angry stride, he’d been none too pleased with Sophia. While Garrick wanted to discover why, he decided not to press her further for details at the moment. She’d be more likely to confide in him if she trusted him. He knew that was nothing she’d give easily. Perhaps he could make progress on that front this day.
Sophia introduced him to many people as they walked along the busy street. From a priest passing by, to the cobbler and the baker, she knew everyone. Most appeared to hold her in high regard. A few deliberately looked away at their approach, which dimmed the light in her dark eyes. Rather than confront those people, Sophia kept her distance. She seemed to honor their feelings as best she could, while he wanted to demand they treat her with respect.
His protectiveness of her wasn’t such a surprise, as he felt that way about his younger sister. But the similarities ended there. Sophia constantly caught his eye, from the elegant line of her jaw, to the long sweep of her lashes, to the graceful gesture of her hand. She pulled at him in ways that were unfamiliar and not completely welcome. Not when his mission to find the source of unrest here might involve her.
Her life in this city was far different from his. The number of people and buildings in Berwick made him long for the rolling hills of his holding. He wondered what Sophia would think of his home and family. Would she appreciate the meadows, fields, and forests as he did? His mother would like her, of that he had no doubt. His father was more difficult to please.
He shook his head. Chances were his father already knew all about Sophia. His second sight was remarkable—he would’ve already located those involved in any treasonous plot had he been the one on this quest. Garrick realized he had a long path ahead of him to match his father’s skill.
Before venturing to the market square, they detoured through the south end of the city where the butchers and tanners resided. Most of their shops appeared newly built, but based on the number of people waiting in line, business was good.
“The setback this area experienced because of the siege must’ve been temporary, at least as far as their businesses are concerned,” Garrick noted.
“Many of their shops burnt to the ground but most make their home elsewhere, so rebuilding was fairly quick.”
The tanner handled the hides of cattle whereas the tawer dealt with sheep and deer skins as they produced a lighter leather. A pile of hooves and horns sat outside the tanner’s, along with a large vat of urine with hides soaking in it to help make the fat, hair, and flesh easier to remove. The next step in the process to further refine the hide would be immersion in dung, most likely made of bird droppings or dog waste.
Garrick rubbed his nose at the overwhelming smell. “Who could live here with the stench?”
“I’m told one grows used to it after a time, but that’s difficult to believe.”
He waited outside while she ventured briefly into the butcher’s. With a small smile, he noted the horseshoe above the entrance. Apparently the butcher had a superstitious streak and was doing his best to ward off evil spirits from entering his establishment.
With business so brisk, it seemed unlikely that any of those who held shops on this side of town wanted revenge against the king or would bother to plot ways to stir unrest.
They soon continued toward the market square, Sophia’s mood improving as the morning progressed. When they stopped to admire the potter’s shop and some of his wares, the man insisted on presenting Sophia with two cups he’d made.
“I canna thank ye enough for yer help, my lady,” he told her in a thick brogue as he stowed them in an oiled cloth sack for safekeeping.
“No thanks are needed,” Sophia protested. “I’m happy you were pleased with the new clay.”
The middle-aged man smiled brightly as he handed her the sack with gnarled hands. “She found a new source of clay for me,” he told Garrick. He gestured toward a display of cups, goblets, and bowls. “The quality is excellent.”
They bid the man good day and continued on their way, Garrick carrying the sack for her.
“Not only do you know everyone in the city, you’ve aided most of them in one way or another,” Garrick commented. “You’re quite remarkable.”
“We all need to help each other if we want to restore Berwick as a trading center.”
“You found a carpenter to build the baker’s new shop as well as a supplier of wheat for him. You found the potter new clay. The list goes on.”
She glanced up at him, her dark eyes still wary. “I’m often paid in return in one form or another. Though I’d prefer to do it simply to help, I need to think of my family as well.”
“Aye. That is what makes you special, Lady Sophia.”
She shook her head, but he did not want her to so easily dismiss his point.
“Charity often stings people’s pride,” he continued. “By allowing them to repay you in whatever way they can, you help restore their sense of worth. Tithing is all well and good but creating lasting alliances benefits all.”
Her cheeks blushed, making him realize she’d had her share of being on the receiving end of charity. He’d venture to guess she hadn’t cared for it.
“You’re changing people’s lives for the better,” he continued. “That is something few can claim.” That was what he longed to do—make a difference—and it was one of the reasons he’d taken this mission.
Sophia drew to a halt and caught his gaze. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
Her long lashes fluttered down for a moment before she looked up at him again. “For pointing that out. My brother’s wife is certain I’m wasting my time. I don’t think my brother or sister truly realize what I’m trying to do. ’Tis nice to have someone with no ulterior motive understand.”
A twinge of guilt struck him at her words, but he ruthlessly shoved it aside. He tucked the sack under one arm and reached out to touch her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin. “Have no doubt. What you do is important. You’re helping to rebuild the city, one day at a time.”
She smiled, loosening something in his chest. Her smiles were so rare, they gave him pause, much like catching sight of a colorful songbird. He couldn’t help but take a moment to enjoy the sight. His gaze dropped to her lips, the fullness of her lower one making him long to taste her. When he caught her gaze once again, her eyes widened as though she realized what he was thinking.
For a moment, it seemed she wondered the same thing.
But they were standing on a street with far too many curious eyes walking past. This was not the time or place to share a kiss.
He cleared his throat and dropped his hand. “You are helping more than you know.”
She nodded slowly, making him hope she took his words to heart. “Many thanks for saying so.” Her gaze took in his face, and he wondered what she saw.
Again guilt reached out its ugly hand to smother the moment. While Sophia and the rest of her family were on his list of people to watch, he had a difficult time believing she was doing anything untoward. She was too busy trying to form a path in her new life to worry about intrigue.
But he also couldn’t release the idea that she would do anything in her power to free her brother. He would if he were in her position.
When they reached the market square, Sophia paused outside one of the buildings. “Will you wait here?”
Garrick nodded, wondering what she was about. The square bustled with people, including several barelegged men wearing what looked like woolen blankets over their tunics who must’ve been from the Highlands. Garrick watched them with interest until Sophia returned, one of her rare smiles in place.
“The wool merchant would be pleased to meet with you on the morrow. His apprentice has just advised me.”
“That is excellent news. I cannot thank you enough for your assistance.”
“He has requested that I accompany you to his home. I also have a few more questions to ask of you.” Before she could continue, someone called her name.
She turned and greeted the man who approached from across the square.
“Sir Garrick, this is Jacques, a merchant from France,” Sophia said.
Garrick took an immediate liking to the man. His easy smile and the sparkle in his eyes made him appear very friendly. As Sophia stepped away to speak with someone else, Garrick said, “I’m surprised to see a Frenchman in this city after all that has passed.”
Jacques’ knowing gaze rested on Garrick. “This is my first trip here since the siege that killed so many. Partly because I wasn’t certain of my welcome and partly because I had troubles of my own to sort through.”
“Have you found a warm welcome?”
The Frenchman shrugged. “For the most part. Lady Sophia’s connections certainly help.”
“Has the city changed greatly since your last visit?” Garrick wondered if the man had come across any of the rumors, and if so, how he might get him to share them.
“Aye, both in appearance and the people here.” The lord glanced around the market square. “Many new faces but a few old ones as well. Berwick has always been quite diverse. ’Tis interesting how many more Englishmen now reside here.”
Garrick considered his options. Asking Jacques to keep his ears open might help provide them with valuable information, as would asking him what he might have already heard. Neither would jeopardize his mission. As far as Jacques knew, he was simply a curious Englishman.
“I have only been here a few days,” Garrick began. “Already I’ve heard conversations that were surprising.”
“How so?” Jacques asked.
“Some are eager to rebel to gain freedom from English rule.”
Jacques nodded. “I’ve heard a few of those conversations as well. But to me, it seemed more disgruntled talk than action.”
“Is there anyone in particular who you think might organize a rebellion of sorts?”
Jacques’ eyes narrowed as he stared at Garrick. “If I knew of such a person, why would I tell you?”
“I’m merely curious, trying to make certain I don’t offend anyone while I’m here.” Garrick did his best to keep his expression relaxed. “I wouldn’t want to gain enemies when I’m attempting to obtain favorable trade terms.”
Jacques said nothing for a long moment, his gaze holding on Garrick.
With his nerves stretching taut, Garrick added, “So many here are easily affronted.” He forced himself to look away as though whether or not Jacques answered didn’t matter.
“Have you met Sir Gilbert?” Jacques asked at length.
“The new governor? Nay. I understand he’s recently returned to the city. I hope to have a chance to meet him soon.”
“If I were watching my back, I’d definitely keep him in sight.”
Garrick nodded. “I will do that.”
Jacques hesitated as though debating whether to share more with Garrick. “Edgar the merchant is an uncertainty as well. Whoever can fill his pocket the quickest will probably win his trust.”
“I hope I can do so. With luck, I’ll soon have a contract for my wool with him.” Garrick paused. “Anyone else?”
“I’ve only been here a short time.”
“How long will you stay?”
“Difficult to say. Until all the goods I carried here on my ship have been sold and my hold is full once again with items to sell at home. What of you?”
“For a fortnight at least. Perhaps more. One never knows how long negotiations will take.” Garrick hoped his answer was vague enough to avoid arousing suspicion.
“Has Lord James graced you with his presence?” Jacques asked.
“I don’t believe so. Who is he?”
“He has a holding in the area. I have yet to see him on this trip, but he has always had an interest in what happens here. He dabbles in the wool trade among other ventures. Have no doubt that he feels strongly about removing English influence from Scotland.”
“I will watch for him.”
“For who?” Sophia asked as she joined them once again.
“Lord James,” Jacques replied. “I wouldn’t want Sir Garrick to mistakenly raise his ire.”
“I have not seen him for months. He must be traveling.” She looked at Garrick. “Jacques makes an excellent point. You might be wise to keep your distance if possible. He’s a prickly man.”
Garrick nodded. Another name to add to those worthy of a closer look, though that would be difficult if Lord James wasn’t here.
“Pleasure to meet you. I’ll bid you both good day. I must check on the unloading of my ship.” Jacques took his leave and strode toward the river dock.
“He seems like a pleasant man,” Garrick said.
“He is.”
“’Tis difficult to know who to trust.” Garrick watched Sophi
a, wondering if she’d shed some light on the topic.
“I find myself in the same dilemma despite the fact that I live here and know these people. Or thought I did.” She glanced around the square. “Let us take this conversation to a more private place.”
Garrick thought of his contact’s warning—that ears were everywhere. Apparently Sophia felt the same. She led the way down a side street that sloped toward the river. Not far from the end of the street was a small grassy meadow with a copse of trees that afforded a small measure of privacy from the city.
“This provides a nice view,” Garrick offered as he admired the sweep of the wide river and its green banks beyond the city wall.
Sophia nodded and took a seat, leaning her back against one of the trees. “This is a fine place to watch the ships dock.”
“Is that how you always know who has arrived?”
“I rarely have time to watch of late. Word spreads quickly of new arrivals in the market square.”
“The changes this city has been through have been difficult on everyone, including you,” Garrick said, his gaze on Sophia.
“Some have it far worse than I.”
“It seems as though both the English and the Scots have made mistakes, and Berwick has paid the ultimate price.”
She turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“I realize I’m English, but I certainly do not condone the slaying of women and children. Despite the fact that saying so might be considered treason, I believe the king went too far. While he made his anger clear, he created many enemies.”
“I agree. Nor should Scotland have formed an alliance with France without being forthright with England thought I’m certain that is a naïve way of thinking.” She shook her head. “Mistakes were made on all sides.”
“I would see peace for this city above all else. A prosperous Berwick would benefit both countries.”
Sophia drew a breath as the overwhelming urge to speak freely with Garrick came over her. To discuss these issues with someone who could set aside their emotions and deal with the topic logically was refreshing.
Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection Page 8