the one.” His voice resounded in the
screened cubicle where he worked with Brother Cedric.
William’s only fault, in Saura’s mind,
was his predilection for kissing the maids. The brush of a skirt
against his hand brought prompt response. He grabbed and kissed
indiscriminately, old and young, single and married, sweet and
sour. The women giggled and grabbed back, or giggled and slipped
away, but he always pronounced, “You’re not the
one,” as he released them.
It warmed Saura’s heart to hear him
repudiating them, as much as it burned her gut to listen to the
kiss.
The cupbearer slipped past as Saura stood in the
doorway, and William complained, “You need to bring in some
newgirls. How can I find my mystery woman if
I’m kissing the same ones day after day?”
“Don’t kiss them!” she repeated
in exasperation.
“But I like to.”
Saura flung her hands into the air.
“You’re hopeless.”
“Just curious.”
“Dressed for an outing, Lady Saura?”
With conscious design, Brother Cedric supplied the clue William
desired.
“Going riding this fine afternoon?”
William asked.
Instinctively straightening her new linen bliaud,
she agreed. “If I can find the boys to join me. There’s
trouble at the miller’s and Linne’s prepared a basket.
Would you like to—”
“Aye.” William stood up. “I
would.”
She laughed and blushed and stepped away.
“I’d be flattered at your eagerness, my lord, but I
suspect the real attraction is the horse.” She halted in her
tracks. She had detected a note in her voice she had never heard
before. A coy note, a shy curl of laughter: the sound of
flirtatiousness.
William smacked into her back, almost knocking her
down. He grabbed and caught her elbows from behind.
“Saura?”
“Excuse me, my lord.” She tried to jerk
away and his hands tightened briefly, then released. “I
stopped in front of you, all unthinking.”
“Aye.” His voice sounded strained also,
she noticed. “You’re thinner than I’d
believed.”
“Did you imagine me stuffed like a
palliasse?” She inched across the bare floor, uncertain of
her location.
“Nay,” he answered flatly as he
followed. “I imagined you…I’ve
wondered.”
“’Tis natural,” she assured him,
seeking the role ofteacher. “The blind
often wonder how the people around them look.”
“Every other face I do remember well. You are
a stranger in Burke Castle. Would you let me touch your
face?”
Saura drew in a shuddering sigh. She’d love
to have him touch her face: and, she suspected, anywhere else he
desired. But it was too soon. He’d developed into a
recognizable master in the past two weeks. When he discovered the
trick they had played on him, he’d be furious, and
justifiably so. She cursed Lord Peter and this imaginative
deception.
“I don’t think that would be a good
idea,” she told him, a kind and patronizing lilt to her
voice. She hated it, but it seemed necessary to discourage his
interest.
“Really?”
“The relationship we share is based on mutual
respect, and curiosity on your part shouldn’t be
indulged,” she babbled.
“An interesting theory.”
His voice advanced toward her and she took a sudden
step back. “Lord William?”
“Hmm?”
He was smiling, she could tell, stalking her across
the floor of the great hall, and serfs working by the fire chuckled
with amusement. “What are you thinking of?” He lunged
and she scrambled back. “I wish you
wouldn’t!”
He lunged again and caught her wrist, and slowly
pulled her toward him. She resisted with the halfhearted struggles
of a reluctant maiden, freezing when a raucous whistle echoed
through the room.
“Still lusty as ever, eh, William?”
The stranger’s voice sounded amused and
William released her in surprise. “Charles?”
“Of course.” The stranger moved into
the room. “The wayyou chased that wench,
I thought you had regained your sight.”
“I have eyes in my fingers,” he
replied,
screened cubicle where he worked with Brother Cedric.
William’s only fault, in Saura’s mind,
was his predilection for kissing the maids. The brush of a skirt
against his hand brought prompt response. He grabbed and kissed
indiscriminately, old and young, single and married, sweet and
sour. The women giggled and grabbed back, or giggled and slipped
away, but he always pronounced, “You’re not the
one,” as he released them.
It warmed Saura’s heart to hear him
repudiating them, as much as it burned her gut to listen to the
kiss.
The cupbearer slipped past as Saura stood in the
doorway, and William complained, “You need to bring in some
newgirls. How can I find my mystery woman if
I’m kissing the same ones day after day?”
“Don’t kiss them!” she repeated
in exasperation.
“But I like to.”
Saura flung her hands into the air.
“You’re hopeless.”
“Just curious.”
“Dressed for an outing, Lady Saura?”
With conscious design, Brother Cedric supplied the clue William
desired.
“Going riding this fine afternoon?”
William asked.
Instinctively straightening her new linen bliaud,
she agreed. “If I can find the boys to join me. There’s
trouble at the miller’s and Linne’s prepared a basket.
Would you like to—”
“Aye.” William stood up. “I
would.”
She laughed and blushed and stepped away.
“I’d be flattered at your eagerness, my lord, but I
suspect the real attraction is the horse.” She halted in her
tracks. She had detected a note in her voice she had never heard
before. A coy note, a shy curl of laughter: the sound of
flirtatiousness.
William smacked into her back, almost knocking her
down. He grabbed and caught her elbows from behind.
“Saura?”
“Excuse me, my lord.” She tried to jerk
away and his hands tightened briefly, then released. “I
stopped in front of you, all unthinking.”
“Aye.” His voice sounded strained also,
she noticed. “You’re thinner than I’d
believed.”
“Did you imagine me stuffed like a
palliasse?” She inched across the bare floor, uncertain of
her location.
“Nay,” he answered flatly as he
followed. “I imagined you…I’ve
wondered.”
“’Tis natural,” she assured him,
seeking the role ofteacher. “The blind
often wonder how the people around them look.”
“Every other face I do remember well. You are
a stranger in Burke Castle. Would you let me touch your
face?”
Saura drew in a shuddering sigh. She’d love
to have him touch her face: and, she suspected, anywhere else he
desired. But it was too soon. He’d developed into a
recognizable master in the past two weeks. When he discovered the
trick they had played on him, he’d be furious, and
justifiably so. She cursed Lord Peter and this imaginative
deception.
“I don’t think that would be a good
idea,” she told him, a kind and patronizing lilt to her
voice. She hated it, but it seemed necessary to discourage his
interest.
“Really?”
“The relationship we share is based on mutual
respect, and curiosity on your part shouldn’t be
indulged,” she babbled.
“An interesting theory.”
His voice advanced toward her and she took a sudden
step back. “Lord William?”
“Hmm?”
He was smiling, she could tell, stalking her across
the floor of the great hall, and serfs working by the fire chuckled
with amusement. “What are you thinking of?” He lunged
and she scrambled back. “I wish you
wouldn’t!”
He lunged again and caught her wrist, and slowly
pulled her toward him. She resisted with the halfhearted struggles
of a reluctant maiden, freezing when a raucous whistle echoed
through the room.
“Still lusty as ever, eh, William?”
The stranger’s voice sounded amused and
William released her in surprise. “Charles?”
“Of course.” The stranger moved into
the room. “The wayyou chased that wench,
I thought you had regained your sight.”
“I have eyes in my fingers,” he
replied,
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