Faerie by Delle Jacobs

knight in red and black who had been so attentive to her only a few weeks before. Fulk had the dark coloring of Frankish blood and sported a closely trimmed beard and narrow mustache that added sharpness to his dark eyes and wide cheekbones. He was handsome. She’d always thought that.
    When he spotted her, his pleasant smile warmed. “Ah, my lovely Lady Leonie,” he said, and approached to take her hand and lift it to his lips. Instinctively her hand became stiff, but she corrected her response. If the man was to be her destiny, she’d best try to get off to a good start.
    “Lord Fulk,” she replied with a modest nod. From now on, she would make modesty the cornerstone of her demeanor.
    “I have your uncle’s permission to walk with you in the garden. Shall we go?”
    She dipped a perfect curtsy as a reply, and he took her arm. A glance to the side revealed Aunt Beatrice’s sweet round face and her chubby hands folded almost as if in prayer. But Uncle Geoffrey had a worried wrinkle to his brow.
    Well, she would let destiny take her where it chose to go. It seemed she had spent most of her young life fighting it, all to no good purpose.
    Outside the oak doors of the hall, she let him lead her into her aunt’s little walled herb garden. In the shade of the wall she saw Claire and one of her aunt’s ladies, busy at their mending and embroidery. She felt a certain comfort in knowing they were there.
    “I have heard you sometimes take to gardening, Lady Leonie. Like your Aunt Beatrice.”
    “Aye, Lord Fulk,” she said.
    He moved his hand from her arm to take her hand. A shudder rippled through her. But she succeeded in not jerking her hand away.
    “At Drogie Castle we have a much finer garden. A lady would find it very pleasurable. She need not dirty her hands, for there are four gardeners to do her bidding.”
    Leonie attempted a smile. It would not do to tell him half the pleasure of gardening was in the feel of the soil on her hands, even for her aunt, who in all other ways was the most ladylike of ladies. “Gardens are a great pleasure, I find,” she replied.
    “Of course, a lady must manage her household. But at Drogie, a lady would have all the servants she needs to do such things. There would be no need to fret over vats of dye or the garden vegetables. Or the baking of bread. A proper lady supervises her household. She should not have to do the work of peasants.”
    She clamped her teeth shut. All the things she and her aunt had so often enjoyed together. And she knew her aunt had been raised properly. Her mouth started to open, and she promptly shut it again before words could tumble out.
    He is Lord Fulk, vassal to the Bishop of Durham, a pious knight who has been on pilgrimage to the Holy Land. He is calledthe Warrior of God. He is handsome and rich. He would make an excellent husband.
    “Of course, Drogie is not my only holding. I have twenty-six manors and castles, all over England.”
    And I am heiress to twelve. I suspect you are thinking of that.
    Time to change the subject. “Have you been to Bosewood, Lord Fulk?”
    “Your father’s castle? Of course, many times. It is much dilapidated, I am sorry to say. I was your father’s very good friend, you know. He would have approved of our marriage, and said so many times.”
    A huge lump formed suddenly in her throat, almost causing her to cough. “Marriage? I know nothing of that. Surely the king would tell me if he had plans for me.”
    Fulk slid on a smooth smile, and his voice grew sweet and gentle. “But it would be a good match, I’m sure you realize. We are remarkably well suited. I have come to speak my intent to you before I approach the king, but I am certain the king will agree with us.”
    What was he up to? Something felt wrong. Aye, a man might speak to a lady first, but he had not asked, and merely informed her. Her fists were growing tighter and tighter.
    “I have not agreed to anything, Lord Fulk. It is not my place. King