But Iron just smiled and said, “He is too big for me still.”
Venture found himself hoping that Iron would grow and be able to beat Hunter soon, wishing, even, that he could see it when it finally happened. Too bad he’d never be able to do the job himself. Venture knew he ought to be grateful that he’d never have the opportunity; a bondsman could hang for laying a hand on a Crested.
The two of them were quiet for a moment, walking across the patio, Iron taking the lead. Vent wondered what he was thinking as he silently surveyed the early autumn landscape. What was his home like? Grant had never taken him into a Crested home, because, he supposed, he had no wish to subject him to the strict rules the highest class held regarding servants, especially in their own homes.
“I’m going into the Warforce, to be a commander, like my father,” Iron volunteered. “Better that than politics.”
He was inclined to agree, but struck by the regret he saw in the boy’s eyes about the career options his status limited him to, he just said, “A good choice, sir.”
Figuring just about anything would be preferable to standing in the garden, chatting like a couple of girls, Venture said, “Would you like to come with me to set some traps, sir?”
“What kind?”
“Just some rabbit snares.”
“Sure,” he replied, and they set off, down the well-kept stone garden paths, out the gate, and to the tool shed, where Venture had stowed a bag containing three new snares he’d made, waiting for the opportunity to set them out.
Then they walked across the fields, toward the meadow beyond. Iron had already informed him that he’d never done any trapping, only hunted large game, so he pointed out for him the rabbit trail running through the grass and into the blackberry brambles.
“We’re going to set this thing right in its path. See this twig sticking out here? I’m going to drape this noose over it, nice and loose.” Venture took out a length of cord, which was already tied to an old chain link. He ran the cord from one low blackberry branch to another, then through the iron ring of the chain link and up to a slightly higher, overhanging branch. “I tie it here, like this,” he said, “and then I tie it to a stake.” He fastened the other end of the string to a wooden stake, which he’d whittled to a point. “Now I need a flat rock.” This, he retrieved from the bag, positioning the stake carefully on it.
“So that’s the trigger?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about the bait?”
“I don’t really need any, sir. Rabbits aren’t the smartest creatures. They’ll run right along their paths just like they always do, right into a snare like this. Not as exciting as taking down great gray bear,” he said, rising and taking up his bag, “but it works.”
“Were you there when Fieldstone took down that giant in the entry hall?”
Vent grinned at the memories behind the enormous pelt displayed on the entry hall wall. Grant Fieldstone was proud of that one, for good reason. They hadn’t been equipped to hunt bear that day, two years ago; they’d been tracking elk when the great gray found them.
“Yes, sir. That one was a monster. He was after us, not the other way around. Master Fieldstone clubbed him right on the nose when he charged. Then the dogs rushed in and Master Fieldstone ran back, grabbed his bow, and he and the other bowmen finished the job.” He left out the fact that he had been one of those bowmen, that Grant never expected him to accompany him into the wilderness unarmed.
After young Mr. Wood had set the last snare himself, they headed back toward the Big House. On the way they spotted a lone rider, galloping across the fields, away from them.
Iron stopped to watch. “Who is that?”
Venture could recognize the combined posture of Sunrise and her rider a mile away. “That’s the young Mistress Fieldstone.”
“Ah. Jade. I was wondering where she was. Hunter has his eye on her.” Iron turned to him with an eager gleam in his eye. “Get me a horse so I can catch her. I’ve never seen her.”
Venture stood there and blinked at him. Heat rose in his chest and all the way up to his ears. No matter that for all her fine new gowns, Jade still behaved more like a rustic than a lady of Society. Her elusiveness only seemed to add to her appeal for this Crested boy—and apparently for Hunter Longlake, a grown man just over twenty.
Iron raised his eyebrows at him. Venture’s stupidity was about to get him in trouble if he wasn’t careful, and not for just failing to respond promptly to the wishes of his master’s guest, and a Crested at that.
He was going to make some ridiculous excuse about the horses when Able called out, “Venture! Master Wood’s father’s wanting him!”
He let out a breath of relief and called back, “Be right there!”
Iron groaned. “Must be supper. I hate business suppers. Actually, I hate business.” But he strode briskly back toward the house, resigned.
Venture followed, his own thoughts turned to supper.
Then Iron paused and looked over his shoulder, right at him. “Is she as pretty as they say?”
He was too late in checking the mortified expression on his face. Iron had caught him completely off guard. “Who, sir?” he said, fumbling over the words.
“Jade Fieldstone, of course. She is, isn’t she?” Iron of the Wood laughed. “Her father is a sensible man. He will marry her up.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rid of young Iron of the Wood, Venture meandered home, enjoying the perfectness of the cool, clear evening, glad to have the heat of summer behind him and trying not to think about the frosty months ahead. He tried not to think about looking like a fool in front of Iron of the Wood. He tried not to think about Jade at all. But at the edge of the field, tied to a young maple tree, he spotted Jade’s horse, Sunrise.
The Treslarian’s ancestors had been bred in that country of vast plains across the Western Sea for speed, agility, and good temper. Her black tail swished and spots of sunlight made their way through the green and golden leaves and danced across her amber back. His chest ached at the sight, at the thought of Jade nearby, alone. She’d perfected the art of avoiding him over the past month, but he could still feel her fingers in his hand like it was yesterday.
Sunrise whinnied her welcome as he approached.
“Where’s Jade? Where’s she gone to?” He ran his palm along Sunrise’s neck and pictured that Crested boy riding after Jade. Worse, Hunter. Impulsively, he called out, “Miss Jade?”
Only the slightest breeze answered as it ruffled the tops of the trees. His eyes rested on a great weeping willow nearby, a favorite hiding place for him and Jade when they were children. He gave Sunrise a parting pat and strode closer to the tree. He squinted through its drooping branches, which hung down nearly to the ground like a mane of tangled hair. Was that movement he saw behind them?
“Miss Jade?” he called again, this time not so loud.
“Go away.” Her voice, fine, familiar yet uncommon, like Illesian silk, came from beneath the tree.
“Jade.” He pronounced her first name alone, feeling like a reckless kid again—filled with the exhilaration and dread of rebellion. “Do you really want me to go away?”
She didn’t answer. Hesitantly, he parted the willow branches and stepped into the hollow under the tree. He blinked, adjusting to the shadows and dappled light. Jade leaned against the trunk, her hair falling in a mess of waves over her shoulders, as doubtless she’d let the wind blow it while riding.
Barely fourteen, she was still small and thin, especially compared with him, yet her figure was taking shape. That was as clear to him now as it was to the young men who felt privileged enough to comment on it. She blinked uncertainly at him. He there stood for a long moment, watching the struggle take place behind those eyes. Something he saw there spurred him on. He offered her a nervous smile, and she returned it.
He took a step closer, close enough to pick up her left hand with his right.
“You’re so beautiful, Jade. I’m so
rry I never told you before. I’m sorry about everything.”
He didn’t know what had possessed him to say it, and had just begun to feel like a fool, when her face melted into a smile. A real smile that brightened all of her. Venture nearly laughed with delight, seeing her glow like that. And that little-boy reckless streak that had brought him this far matured into something else, which roared through him, broad and strong and dangerous.
“Have you missed me?” he said playfully.
She reached for his other hand and drew him closer. “I’ve missed my friend. Are you him?”
Her eyes revealed layers of sweetness over pain. Inside he flinched that he’d caused that pain. “I am,” he said.
She let his hands go and threw her arms around his neck. With her face on his chest, the top of her head barely reached his chin. Her hair smelled of the last roses of the year and hay and the early autumn breeze. He smoothed it down with his hand and kissed it. Jade looked up at him that same way she had on the bench in the rose garden, and he felt the same pang in his heart, but this time he smiled. So what if she looked at him differently now? So what if he liked it? He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead and kissed the smooth spot where it had lain.
“Do you think that was wise?” she said, only half teasing.
“Of course not. It’s foolishness. This,” he whispered, “is pure foolishness.” And he kissed her lightly on the cheek.
She laughed softly, but then let go of him and took a step away. “Vent,” she said, “sit down and talk to me before you get too foolish.”
They rested side by side against the trunk of the willow. She told him about her studies, and he told her about his training, and the pounding of his heart gave way to the once-familiar ease of talking with his best friend.
“Don’t you wish sometimes that you’d chosen something easier to do—easier on your body, I mean?”
“Sometimes I do, but—I know it sounds strange—I like to work hard, to push myself, see how much more I can do. Besides, combat training is light work after spending all that time sport fighting.”
“I don’t know what that feels like. My only job is to learn to manage the house and to be a lady of Society. If my family were butchers or tailors or carpenters, I’d be working right alongside my parents. But because I’m a lady I’m supposed to be above that. Father will never take me on business trips with him, like that Crested man who came today with his son. He’ll never teach me how to manage his properties, even though I’m his only child. You probably know more about the Fieldstone business than I do.”
Grant did teach him about his business, did take him on trips, more and more often now that he was getting older, now that he was keeping himself out of trouble. Venture had never thought about how it must make Jade feel. “I could talk to him about it. I don’t think he knows that you want to learn—”
“No, don’t.” Jade put her hand on his arm. “Don’t say anything. It’s not that I want to learn about his business. It’s that I want him to want to teach me.”
Venture nodded.
“Instead he’s satisfied that I’m just a spoiled little girl, like all of his friends’ daughters.”
“You are not just a spoiled little girl! You aren’t like the others.” He didn’t mention that if she’d fit that mold so well, she’d be sitting down to supper with those Crested men right now. Instead he said, “Which of them would want anything to do with me? You’re smart and kind and honest.” He was about to add that she was faster and tougher than any of them, but he wasn’t sure that wouldn’t make her feel worse now that she was supposed to be turning into a young lady. “You’ll find a way to do something more with your life, Jade. I know you will.”
“Thanks, Vent.”
She took his hand and leaned against his shoulder, and it felt good and right to be her comfort again.
“Other girls look at you, you know. Rich girls from good families.”
“They do not.”
She gave him a look that said, Yes they do.
“Even if they do, that doesn’t mean they want anything to do with me.”
“Marina wants something to do with you.”
“Marina, the new maid? Isn’t she a lot older than me?”
“Only by a year-and-a-half. And anyhow, she thought you were older—you’ve grown so tall lately—until I told her you were still fourteen, but apparently she’s so set on you she doesn’t care.”
“That’s ridiculous. Are you sure?”
“She likes to talk about you to the other girls, and believe me she doesn’t do it in a very ladylike way.”
Jade had let go of his hand by this time, and set her eyes on her lap. She kept her hands busy smoothing out her skirt.
“You’re not jealous, are you?” He tried not to sound too hopeful.
“No, I just wouldn’t want a girl like that to get her hands on you, especially since you’re only fourteen.”
“I’m almost fifteen,” he pointed out, not appreciating being babied by a mere girl even younger than himself.
“I know. I guess that’s really not the point. If you met some sweet girl who cared for you, and not just about your eyes or your teeth or how strong you are, then I‘d be happy for you,” she said, as though this were only common sense.
“You would?” Venture’s stomach lurched.
“Of course.”
“Well, that’s good to know.” He pictured Jade being courted by some fine, handsome gentleman. A good man. Should he be happy for her if that happened? When that happened?
He’d left an uncomfortable silence between them, so he steered the conversation back to Marina. “She likes my teeth?”
“Yes, she does.”
“Are you sure she doesn’t think I’m a horse?”
Jade smacked him playfully in the gut and burst out laughing. Impulsively, he leaned over, scooped her up, and stood, holding her in his arms.
“Put me down!”
He obeyed her laughter, the slender arm that she slipped around his neck, the other hand that rested on his chest—not her words. That wonderful scent of Jade’s day in the early Autumn outdoors, a delicious memory of childhood afternoons spent together, but now with something different—something more—surrounded him. Holding all of her in his arms like this, he thought he might whisk her off somewhere.
“Shh!” he warned her, laughingly, fearlessly, “somebody might hear you.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
He looked right into those sparkling eyes, then kissed each of her cheeks, so perfectly freckled, and followed the curve of her neck with his eyes, down to the small silver pendant she wore, the one that had once belonged to her mother, and which was bejeweled with the initials they both shared—J. F. A glittering reminder of who she was. He felt his own wooden pendant, once his mother’s, against his skin beneath his shirt, a much plainer reminder of who he was.
“I was going to toss you up in the air, but I just remembered you’re a young lady.” He set her down on her feet.
“Maybe you should kiss me instead.”
“Why?” He felt almost sick, he wanted to so bad. But did she really mean it?
“Because I want you to.” This time she was quiet, completely sincere.
Venture knew he was going to regret what he was about to do. He gently removed her hands from his shoulders, straightened her skirt, and smoothed back her disheveled hair.
“Not today, Jade.” He brushed off his own clothes, then pulled the swishing willow boughs aside. “I have to go. Justice is probably wondering where I am. And you’d better head home. It’ll be dark soon.”
She nodded, and barely pronounced, “Good-bye” as he ducked out of their hiding place, into the waning sunshine.
Venture fought the urge to turn right back around and go kiss her. So what if she’d be happy to see him end up with a nice girl? So what if he couldn’t have her? He could have kissed her, and at least had that. But the truth, the impossible,
awful truth had grown too strong for him to deny it anymore. He wanted Jade for himself, not just for a friend and not just for the fun of a kiss or two under the willow tree. If she married some Crested man—if she married any man—he didn’t know how he’d live with that.
As if it weren’t enough that he couldn’t pursue his dream to be a fighter, he’d never have the means to pursue Jade seriously, not even once he was free, not even if she wanted him. Unless—the Champions of All Richland were richer than Grant Fieldstone. He had the God-given talent and opportunity to be a prize fighter. Only one thing—no, one person—stood in his way.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Venture stewed and prayed desperately about his unpursued dreams for nearly a week before he concluded that he was just going to have to do something about it. He got up early one morning and reached Beamer’s Center just after sunrise, before most of the others had arrived. The trainers were always there early, to be briefed by the coaches on the plans for the day, and to prepare the training rooms. He found Earnest stocking the healing supply cupboard.
“What’s going on, Vent?” Earnest said over his shoulder, still arranging bottles of ointment into neat rows.
“I need to talk to you. Alone.”
Earnest glanced around. Three boys were stretching out, conversing in low voices on the opposite end of the mat. Two trainers carried armfuls of clean towels out and stacked them on the matside shelves.
“So talk,” he said with a shrug. “We’re alone enough.”
“It’s important.”
Earnest paused, studied Venture’s face. “All right. Come with me to the ice room.”
Venture followed him out of the main training room, down the hall, and to the cellar door. Earnest lifted a lantern from a wall hook and lit it, and they descended the dark, narrow stone stairway. Venture helped him to heave the heavy oak door to the ice room open and to pull it shut behind them. Chunks of ice hewn from the Sweet River last winter and insulated with straw formed walls around them, sealing the little room in coolness.
Venture Untamed (The Venture Books) Page 10