Margaret Moore - [Warrior 14] by In The Kings Service

her.”
    Her coiffure now complete, Laelia gave a long-suffering sigh as she rose. “You would think an archangel would make a terrible husband.”
    Before Becca could point out that archangels didn’t marry, Laelia gave her a pointed look, silently reminding her it was time to be on their way to the chapel for morning Mass.
    “You go ahead,” Becca said. “I need to talk with Meg for a moment.”
    “Very well, but don’t be late.”
    Again, Laelia spoke as if Becca were a child. Her jaw clenched as Laelia sailed out the door and closed it firmly behind her.
    “I ain’t done nothing wrong, I hope, my lady,” Meg said, a frown darkening her usually cheerful face. “Or forgot something.”
    “I’m not going to scold you,” Becca said kindly. She gestured toward the stool and Meg perched on it,as tentatively as if she expected it to disappear at any second. “I wanted to speak to you about Trevelyan Fitzroy.”
    With an expression of dismay, Meg sat up even straighter. “I ain’t done nothing unseemly!”
    “I don’t believe you have, but I wanted to warn you to take care. I’m sure he’s a very persuasive and fascinating young man, but you’re a servant, and he’s not. He may want to take liberties because of that. If he does, you have my permission to refuse him as forcefully as necessary, and if he continues to bother you, I want you to tell me right away. We won’t countenance any young man treating our servants with disrespect. I don’t want you to share Hester’s fate.”
    And she herself should remember the fearsome consequences of seduction.
    “Of course I’d come to you, my lady, if he was bein’…like that. No honey-tongued squire who looks like the devil’s own temptation is going to get far with me. Why, he’d just be after a quick tickle and tumble and—” She colored. “Beggin’ your pardon, my lady.”
    “However you say it, you’re right, and I’m relieved you’re on your guard.” As she should be, Becca reflected. “Now we’d best get below. If I’m late for chapel, my father won’t be pleased.”
    Meg rose. “I’m grateful to you, my lady, for carin’ enough to warn me.”
    Becca nodded as she headed for the door.
    “My lady?”
    She turned back. “Yes?”
    Meg looked even more nervous than she had when Laelia was in high dudgeon. “I’ve been wondering…that is, you’ve got some pretty dresses. Why don’t you ever wear ’em?”
    Becca glanced down at her plain garments and simple leather girdle, which held her ring of keys to all the locks in the castle save her father’s chest in his solar. “My woolen gowns are comfortable and I don’t have to worry about getting them dirty. When I’m wearing an expensive dress, I always feel that if I move too much, I’ll ruin it.”
    “I’d wager that if you wore such clothes more often, you wouldn’t,” Meg replied. “You’d soon be used to them and stop thinking about it so much.”
    “I don’t think they suit me, either.” Becca shrugged. “Besides, what does it matter how I look? I realized long ago I’d never be a beauty.”
    “But you’re not homely, neither,” Meg said eagerly. “You don’t want to be a maiden all your life, do you? In a pretty dress and with your hair done like your sister’s, I think you’d look very nice indeed.”
    Becca bristled. “I’m not about to hamstring myself trying to please some man. If someone wants me, he’ll have to take me as I am, and if that’s not good enough, I won’t have him. ”
    Meg blushed. “Yes, my lady. Sorry, my lady. I didn’t mean no disrespect.”
    Becca let out her breath. “No, I’m sorry, Meg, for losing my temper. I know you meant well.” She managed a grin. “Everybody who wants to see me married means well, I suppose.”
    “I do see what you’re getting at,” the maid replied. “About a man wanting you as you are. Maybe that’ll happen sooner than you think.”
    “And one day, men will walk on the moon,” Becca