Enduringly Yours by Olivia Stocum

shattered. She jerked.
    “Aye, you do.”
    She cleared her throat. “I have not eaten much since yesterday. It is taking its toll on my nerves.”
    “Probably Gilburn souring your stomach.”
    Zipporah fussed with a tear on her sleeve. She tried to break off the bit of thread dangling and unraveled the seam clear to her elbow.
    “Oh,” she said, then dropped her hands to her lap.
    Lady Havendell returned with a pair of maidservants and more food than either of them could eat.
    “I should go check on your father,” she said, turning to leave again.
    Peter stood. “I would like to see your husband, my lady. I know, I have asked before.”
    The age lines around Lady Havendell’s eyes deepened. “I would let you, Peter. I really would, but he is not as he wants to be remembered.”
    He lowered his voice. “I understand that, my lady, and mean him no disrespect, but I should like to see him anyway.”
    “Perhaps. I do not know.” She shook her head at Zipporah, then turned and walked away.
    “I told you,” Zipporah said. She stared at a meat pasty, but made no move to eat it. “You’re wasting your time. He wanted to be remembered as a whole man. And as fond as my mother is of you, she will not disrespect my father like that.”
    Peter picked up his goblet. “I hadn’t set my hopes very high anyway.”
    She frowned in silent commiseration.
    “At least drink something,” he said. “You may have to force yourself.”
    “We are pathetic.”
    “No more than we usually are.” He took a sip, watching her over the rim.
    “You are staring,” she whispered. “A brother does not stare.”
    He kept right on staring, smiling at the mole above her eyebrow. “I warned you. This will be hard on me.”
    “Maybe it will be good for you.”
    “If it does not kill me first. At least I know I don’t disgust you.”
    She blushed tellingly. “Who says you don’t.”
    “You. Right now. I can see it in your complexion.”
    She picked up her cup and drank her wine faster than she probably should have. She set it back on the table with a clatter.
    “You do not look disgusted,” he said. “You look flushed, actually.”
    She bit into her food, chewing mechanically.
    “My lady!” boomed a voice.
    Zipporah dropped her pasty, knocking her mostly empty goblet over in the process. Gilburn crossed the great hall with his usual black flurry.
    “I was worried. I thought something had happened to you,” Gilburn said, reaching out. Zipporah stiffened, and he lowered his hand to his side with a thump.
    Gilburn knew exactly how to play these sorts of games with women. He had plenty of practice at it too. Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
    “Sir Peter found me,” she said. “He brought me home.”
    Gilburn ducked his head to Peter. “Thank you,” he forced through clenched teeth. “I am in your debt.”
    Oh, the misery, to have to say such words to a man one loathed. Peter stood, smiling. “Anything, for Edward’s sister.”
    “You must join us this evening for supper, as a thank you.” A nerve on Gilburn’s jaw ticked.
    “I am a very busy man, Gilburn.”
    He straightened, looking relieved. His jaw unclenched. “Of course you are. I would be by no means offended if you did not.”
    “But if you insist, then how can I refuse?”
    Gilburn nodded curtly, then took Zipporah by the elbow and led her a short distance away. Peter’s fingers began twitching the moment Gilburn touched her. He pictured them around the man’s throat, squeezing. Really hard.
    Gilburn said something to Zipporah and she nodded. He backed away with a bow and walked out of the room.
    She caught Peter’s gaze as she crossed back to him and took her seat.
    “What did he say?”
    “He said he was glad I was well, something about the dangers of ladies on horseback, and he told me to be careful of you.”
    “He said all that?”
    She lifted her brows. “I understood the full intent of his words.”
    “Very well.”
    “Very well? He