by Diane Darcy
Before she knew it, her gaze searched for Wallace once more, and she had to shake her head. She might just have a crush on the guy who was refusing to help her.
Not cool.
Not cool at all.
She deliberately turned in the other direction so she could round the house and go back inside.
She wasn’t going to be sighing over his fine figure, if she could help it.
She might be trapped there, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t utilize what little freedom she did have.
Wallace watched Cara speaking to Sir Gladwin, and then he watched her go until she was out of sight.
He let out a breath, before turning away and getting back to work.
He didn’t wish her displeased with him, and, in fact, found he quite disliked the heavy sensation her disappointment caused.
At the same time, he felt put upon. Could she not see he had responsibilities and that he could not just leave upon her whims?
“Come now, heave to,” he said, quite harshly if the reaction from the men surrounding him was any indication.
Together, they hefted the beam of wood and settled it into the ground, the centerpiece of the dovecote being built.
He swiped up a hammer, climbed the ladder, and pounded the top hard, to stabilize the beam in the ground.
It was not an easy task, continually adding to the village, making sure new fields were plowed, even as others were getting ready to be harvested.
He also needed to work to fortify their position, work with his knights, as they could be attacked at any moment by his enemies, or by raids from the north.
He did not have the time to coddle her, and the fact that he wished to, only angered him all the more.
Bollocks!
He was glad for the physical exertion, and set himself to help his men in their next task.
He had no business having field days, mooning about, or even wondering about the wishes of his future bride.
And he didn’t need to. She was here, and could not leave on her own.
His mood lightened at that fact.
He understood this was all new to her, but she’d get used to it soon enough. He’d certainly had to.
“Is aught amiss, my lord?”
The speaker, one of his guards, asked the question, but he was not the only one watching him closely.
Most of the men in his vicinity looked concerned, or uneasy in his presence.
He took another deep, calming breath. He might have been pounding on the wood a little too hard.
He wiped his brow before straightening. Some of the men looked nervous, and he didn’t like it.
Cara had a way of making everyone in her vicinity comfortable, with humor and laughter, and so, considering her example, he tried out a slight chuckle, and lifted the hammer in his hand.
“Just testing it out as a weapon, I thought I might exchange it for my sword when going into battle.”
All of the men stared at him wide-eyed, as if trying to work out whether he was serious or not, and though they weren’t so much as smiling, their expressions tickled his humor and he threw his head back and laughed.
The men gaped, and he laughed all the harder, lifting the hammer up with one hand, and pointing at it with the other.
This, finally, set the men off, and soon they were all roaring with laughter too.
In fact, Wallace couldn’t remember laughing that hard in an eon, and when he finally calmed down to chuckles, and had to wipe at his eyes, he felt a tremendous relief.
Mayhap the Lady Cara had the right of it. He thought her frivolous and silly at times, but if life wasn’t to be enjoyed, why did he feel so good around her, and why did he now feel so content?
Cara went to her room and tried for a nap, but it didn’t take her long to realize it was a lost cause. With everyone in the manor so busy, she felt lazy, and it didn’t sit right with her.
She got back up and went downstairs, and when she peeked her head into the huge dining area, she saw Lady Helena sitting at one of the tables.
Before she could jerk back, Lady Helena spotted her and called out her name. “Lady Cara, come here at once.”
Why did she suddenly feel like a reluctant child sent to the principal’s office?
Unwilling to let the older woman see any weakness, she lifted her chin and pasted on a smile, coming forward as if it was her idea. “Hello, Lady Helena. How are you today?”
Lady Helena blinked. “As well as I was earlier when you saw me, thank you.” She sat at the head of the table, and gestured toward the bench at her side. “Have a seat, will you? We have concerns to discuss.”
Cara took a seat. “We do?”
“My son has changed our plans, and we are to travel to Marshall Keep, and join forces with our neighbors on the route to Newcastle. Did you have aught to do with this?”
“Nope,” Cara said decisively.
Lady Helena looked at her suspiciously. “Regardless, he’ll not be swayed from his decision, so we are to leave early and there are things that need doing.”
“Such as?”
“We need to pack our finest clothing for the wedding; I suppose you shall wear the dress you arrived in, but you will need a few others adjusted before we leave as well. This is also a chance for my daughters to be seen in their best light, and as you are already to marry my son, I would appreciate it if you tried not to outshine them.”
“Oh, really?” Cara smiled suddenly. “What if I find someone that I like better than your son?”
Lady Helena’s expression frosted over. “Then you will, of course, act with honor, and remain committed.”
She felt like saying, oh, will I? But she held her tongue. She hadn’t made a commitment, and so she wouldn’t be forced into keeping one. “So, we need to get ready? Anything I can do to help?”
For a moment Lady Helena looked at a loss. “I suppose you can help the girls.” She glanced at Cara’s hair. “You seem to have an innate sense of style. Mayhap you could help them pack? Sort through their clothing and help them decide what would suit?”
Wow. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought that Lady Helena had just given her a compliment.
“’Tis for you as well. We need to outfit the three of you, though you already have Wallace, so I would prefer it is the girls who look their very best.”
“I’d be glad to.” Glad to have a task, she stood and made her way out of the room.
Chapter 16
Cara found the girls easily enough, because when she made her way up the stairs again, giggling came from the far end of the hall.
Geez, this place was dark. It was the middle of the day, and if she had her way, they’d throw open all the windows in these upper rooms, and open the doors.
As it was, the doors were closed, giving the long hallway an eerie, spooky feel.
A few skylights wouldn’t come amiss either, but as glass didn’t seem to have been invented yet, she supposed that was out of the question.
They were in their shared room. Dresses were laid out upon the bed, and Amelia held one up as she performed the intricate steps of a line dance, for the amusement of her sister and their maid.
“Well, well, what’s going on in here?” Cara asked.
Amelia gasped, and dropped the dress, before quickly picking it up and shaking it out. “You startled me!” Amelia said, causing Dori to laugh all the harder.
“Are you getting ready for our trip?”
“Yes!” Dori sprang from a chair and clapped her hands three times. “Though Amelia says we will be the most poorly dressed there, as we’ve not the money for new clothes.”
“Well, that stinks, your mom said I had to borrow some of your dresses, and that I’m not to outshine you, so I suppose that means I’m getting the bottom of an already picked over barrel.”
Amelia snatched a dress from off the bed and hugged it to her.
“Now wait a minute, that was the one I wanted!” Cara protested.
Amelia fro
ze, a deer in the headlights.
Cara chuckled. “Just kidding! I don’t care what I wear. Show me what you girls are planning to take, and we’ll see if we can fix the dresses up a bit. Some of my favorite outfits are years old, but the trick is to rework them into something that other ladies wish they had thought of first.”
Both girls looked intrigued. “What do you mean?” Dori asked. “Either your dress is in the latest fashion, or ’tis not.”
“Or, you wear things in such a unique way, that other ladies try and copy you.”
Dawning excitement shown in Amelia’s eyes. “Show us!”
“Okay, where do we start? Clothing, hair, or my favorite, makeup?”
“Makeup?” The girls uttered the word at the same time.
Cara’s smile widened. “Tell you what, we’ll save the best for last.”
Hours later, Cara helped the girls with their clothes. The maid brought in more candles as well as some polished shields masquerading as mirrors.
Supper arrived at some point.
She got both Dori and Amelia dressed to her satisfaction and then walked in a circle around both of them.
Finally, she said, “Amelia, you look wonderful. Sort of a cross between medieval and modern.” She tightened the scarf at the younger girl’s waist, and then fiddled with the matching ones at both elbows, puffing the sleeves.
When she stood back and studied the effect, the puffed sleeves, hanging scarves, and the lower part of the medieval style sleeve flowed down in a way that made her proud.
“Are you sure about the splits?” Amelia asked, looking downwardly at the new openings on both sides of her dress that showed the blue under skirt. “You don’t think it looks immodest?”
Cara shook her head. “By no means does it look immodest. I guarantee you once the other ladies get a gander at this, it’ll be all the rage. And you will have started it.”
“I suppose so,” she still sounded worried.
Cara waved a hand, dismissing her concerns. “Just wait and see. You’ll be a leader of fashion.”
She looked behind her worriedly. “It feels strange that the dress is not touching the ground.”
“Again, it’s going to be copied. Having it up in the back will give you so much more freedom, and without it dragging on the ground, you’re going to love how it feels. Because, who needs to be dusting the floors as they’re walking or dancing. Yeah? Am I right?”
Amelia finally smiled. “It does feel good.”
“Of course, it does.”
Cara walked in a slow circle around Dori. She’d done something completely different here, and pulled up, and sewed the back of her dress in a ruffle, again, showing the underdress.
She’d stitched both sleeves tight to her wrist, but still let the ends hang, medieval style.
She’d tucked a knotted scarf into the bodice.
She finished her circle of Dori. “Every woman at the wedding will be altering their dresses to copy your new looks before the day has passed, I guarantee it.”
She clapped both hands together. “All right, girls, my work here is done.” She curtsied to both of them.
Now that their session had ended, the two turned toward each other, exclaiming over the new look, squealing, and generally acting like teenagers.
“Now, if you think I’m awesome with clothes, wait until you see what I’m doing with your hair.”
Dori twirled in a circle, and Amelia grabbed for the bedpost, as if overcome, reminding Cara of her angsty teenage self.
She laughed, and couldn’t help teasing. “Who are you hoping to impress, anyway? Are there boys coming to the wedding I should know about? Are you in love with someone?”
The joy dropped from Amelia’s face as if it had never been there.
“What?” Cara asked.
Dori looked sympathetic.
Amelia’s gaze dropped and she drew in a breath and sighed. “There is no one for me. When a lord is disgraced, his entire family partakes. My betrothal, contracted at my birth, was broken as we no longer hold the properties that would have come to me upon my marriage. I am no longer spoken for.”
The girl suddenly sounded too old for her years, worn down by life.
“I’m sorry. Did you know him well?”
She shook her head. “I have never met him.”
So, Amelia wasn’t broken-hearted? Cara wasn’t sure what to say and finally settled with, “Don’t worry, you’re young, beautiful, and the right guy will come along.”
Amelia’s lips trembled, and she looked away, sad and tragic. “What use is youth and beauty to me when I’ve not even the dowry to take vows?”
That made Cara mad. “Those are your choices? Marriage or the nunnery?” She sliced a hand through the air, “That’s total bullcrap. We don’t need men to complete us, and we never did. How do you know your betrothed wasn’t some jerk-off who abused women and children and kicked puppies? After the way he dumped you, I’d say it’s likely he isn’t worth the dirt you scrape off your shoes. You’re an awesome, intelligent, thoughtful kid. You have a family and a community who love you, so who needs men, anyway?”
Dori stared, wide-eyed, and Amelia burst into tears and threw herself at Cara. “I hope you do marry my brother. I hope you never leave.”
Cara staggered, steadied herself, and hugged Amelia, giving her an occasional pat on the back while she hid her amusement. She’d been a teenage girl once too, and knew exactly how Amelia felt.
Dori, brows creased, came forward to rub her sister’s arm.
After a few minutes Amelia wound down to sniffles and took a step back, looking bashful.
Cara smiled easily, “All right, potty-break for me. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Dori called after her.
“To use the privy.” She tried to copy the girl’s accent, but it came out more cockney than upper-crust.
Dori laughed. “Use the one under the bed.”
“No, thank you,” she continued on her way out the door.
“Wait!” Amelia ran forward and hugged her tight. “My brother is so lucky to have found you.”
Cara chuckled and touched her necklace. “Yes, well …”
“Nay,” Amelia said. “He is lucky to have you because you are such fun. Life was dull and dismal before you arrived.”
“Yeah,” Dori said, copying Cara’s word, sounding more modern girl than medieval. “And quite cheerless, as well. We are so glad you came, Cara.”
Their words touched her, chasing away some of the disconnect she’d felt all day, making her feel more settled. “Thanks, you are sweetie pies. And you’re a lot of fun too.”
With a smile, she headed down the hall.
Perhaps all she needed was to focus on enjoying this family, the excitement of the upcoming journey, and let the rest work itself out.
Cara was on her way to the bathroom, or garderobe, or whatever it was called. She realized she was smiling, happy, probably because she was in her element once again.
Making people beautiful was her business, after all.
Or, ugly, in some circumstances.
Whatever, she was having fun.
How could she style Amelia and Dori’s hair, to make them stand out in the best way possible?
What about a beehive?
The thought made her chuckle. But she didn’t discount the idea out right.
That would get some raised eyebrows in this day of braids and long hair for maidens.
Come to think of it, the 70s did a good job of re-creating the medieval look with a twist, didn’t they?
Braids, flowers, flowing dresses. She’d never considered it before, but if that wasn’t a re-creation of the medieval period, she didn’t know what was!
What else could she do?
It wasn’t as if she could do bellbottoms, or disco, but what about platform shoes? Or a glittery, satin scarf around Amelia’s head?
What she wouldn’t give for a sharp pair of scissors. A recrea
tion of Farrah Fawcett’s hairstyle, or Jane Fonda’s shag wasn’t quite as possible without her styling tools as the straight and sleek look.
Her fingers ached to get to work. Dorothy Hamill’s wedge cut would look fabulous on Dori.
Oh well, she had to go with what she had to work with. Still, what about those brow skimming bangs! She could probably manage sort of an Olivia Newton-John softer style.
There were always dreadlocks.
She giggled to herself and she had almost reached the garderobe door, she could tell by the smell if nothing else, when someone grabbed her from behind, wrapped a strong arm around her neck, grabbed hold of her necklace and tugged.
She let out a screech which was quickly cut off by a filthy hand covering her mouth.
She continued to screech without much noise, fighting, twisting, while the wrenching at her neck continued, when a door at the far end of the hallway opened and she was suddenly free.
A figure, male from his height, ran for the stairs, and was gone before she screamed in earnest.
Chapter 17
Wallace was eating supper with his men when he heard screaming.
Somehow, he knew it was Cara, and was out of his seat and running.
As usual, the keep was crowded and it took him some time to get to the stairs.
He ran up to find Cara and his sisters standing in the hall.
Cara looked stricken, as his sisters comforted her.
“What has happened?”
“She was attacked!” Amelia said.
“Someone tried to yank her necklace off her neck!” Dori said indignantly.
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.” Her voice quavered, and Wallace felt aggression and rage pumping through him. “Who was it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. A man who went down those stairs.” She pointed toward the servants’ staircase.
Wallace ran down and went into the busy kitchen and said in a loud voice, “Who came through here a few minutes ago?”
Startled faces turned in his direction and all activity stopped.