such admiration in your voice when you realize the problems she could cause for you.”
Orrick’s amusement quieted for a moment and then he smiled. “I do admire her, Braden, as I am certain you do if you would only admit it to yourself. I would think that she is exactly the kind of wife that the ‘warlock of Wynwydd’ would want. One filled with spirit and daring and passion.”
He’d heard the rumors. Braden had hoped that they had not traveled this far north. “I am not a warlock, Orrick. Surely you know that.” Braden faced the lord of Silloth now and shook his head.
“I know that, you know that, but the lady believes it. And she believed it so strongly that it gave her the courage to runfrom everyone and everything she knew. Breaking through that fear and gaining her trust will be a formidable task.”
“I care not if she fears or trusts me, Orrick. I want only her compliance and obedience.” Orrick laughed out now and smacked Braden on the shoulder. He felt no such humor.
“Think on your words this night and mine. If you force her to your side, you will gain a wife. If you ease her fears and bring her willingly to your side, you gain a partner. Which would you rather have?”
“If it were only that easy. There is much you do not know.”
“Aye, there always is more to any story. But that is between you and the lady. I would urge you to remember that honey draws more flies than vinegar and cats come to cream.”
“I have heard those sayings before, Orrick.”
“And you must swear never to tell Margaret that I used them in speaking about how to treat women. But, man to man, you must learn to choose the battles you fight, especially with women. And never risk more than you can afford to lose.”
Noisy chatter rose from the yard and Braden looked over the wall to see women spilling from the chapel. The evening meal and womanly talks must be at an end. He needed to seek his rest, as well, for he did not relish what the morrow held for him.
Orrick picked up the lantern he’d brought with them and began walking back to the doorway. When they reached it, Orrick looked back at him before opening it.
“I cannot allow you to force her from the chapel tomorrow.” When Braden would have argued with him, Orrick held up his hand to stop him. “I think you will see the wisdom of making it seem to be your choice to stay.”
The soft scuffling of feet on the stone floor woke her just as the light of dawn crept over the walls of Silloth. Father Bernard walked to the altar to prepare for daily Mass. Noddingto her, he went to the small chamber behind the altar and brought out the linens he needed. He set about covering the altar and putting out the crucifix and chalice and plate.
There was still time before he would ring the bell and call the faithful to church. The door was ajar and she lay quietly on the bench and watched as the light grew stronger and stronger. Outside.
Outside, where spring would be bursting forth again today.
Outside, where the people of the village would be preparing their fields and planting the seeds that would become food for them.
Outside, where the sun could warm her skin and the wind could ease her spirit.
Joanna stretched and tried to remember all the words of encouragement from Lady Margaret and her women. Never in her life had she been included in such a gathering. Her mother could never stand her presence, so Joanna spent most of her time with her maid and her sister, until her sister left for her own marriage. To be included in the chatter and gossip of the women of the keep had been a wonderful gift.
Every muscle in her body ached and she took a moment and tried to stretch each one to loosen them before trying to sit or stand. Her ribs were the worst, having borne most of the weight when Lord Braden jumped on her in the stables. Wenda had checked her again before leaving last evening and told her, though bruised, nothing was broken.
As she rubbed against the ache,
Orrick’s amusement quieted for a moment and then he smiled. “I do admire her, Braden, as I am certain you do if you would only admit it to yourself. I would think that she is exactly the kind of wife that the ‘warlock of Wynwydd’ would want. One filled with spirit and daring and passion.”
He’d heard the rumors. Braden had hoped that they had not traveled this far north. “I am not a warlock, Orrick. Surely you know that.” Braden faced the lord of Silloth now and shook his head.
“I know that, you know that, but the lady believes it. And she believed it so strongly that it gave her the courage to runfrom everyone and everything she knew. Breaking through that fear and gaining her trust will be a formidable task.”
“I care not if she fears or trusts me, Orrick. I want only her compliance and obedience.” Orrick laughed out now and smacked Braden on the shoulder. He felt no such humor.
“Think on your words this night and mine. If you force her to your side, you will gain a wife. If you ease her fears and bring her willingly to your side, you gain a partner. Which would you rather have?”
“If it were only that easy. There is much you do not know.”
“Aye, there always is more to any story. But that is between you and the lady. I would urge you to remember that honey draws more flies than vinegar and cats come to cream.”
“I have heard those sayings before, Orrick.”
“And you must swear never to tell Margaret that I used them in speaking about how to treat women. But, man to man, you must learn to choose the battles you fight, especially with women. And never risk more than you can afford to lose.”
Noisy chatter rose from the yard and Braden looked over the wall to see women spilling from the chapel. The evening meal and womanly talks must be at an end. He needed to seek his rest, as well, for he did not relish what the morrow held for him.
Orrick picked up the lantern he’d brought with them and began walking back to the doorway. When they reached it, Orrick looked back at him before opening it.
“I cannot allow you to force her from the chapel tomorrow.” When Braden would have argued with him, Orrick held up his hand to stop him. “I think you will see the wisdom of making it seem to be your choice to stay.”
The soft scuffling of feet on the stone floor woke her just as the light of dawn crept over the walls of Silloth. Father Bernard walked to the altar to prepare for daily Mass. Noddingto her, he went to the small chamber behind the altar and brought out the linens he needed. He set about covering the altar and putting out the crucifix and chalice and plate.
There was still time before he would ring the bell and call the faithful to church. The door was ajar and she lay quietly on the bench and watched as the light grew stronger and stronger. Outside.
Outside, where spring would be bursting forth again today.
Outside, where the people of the village would be preparing their fields and planting the seeds that would become food for them.
Outside, where the sun could warm her skin and the wind could ease her spirit.
Joanna stretched and tried to remember all the words of encouragement from Lady Margaret and her women. Never in her life had she been included in such a gathering. Her mother could never stand her presence, so Joanna spent most of her time with her maid and her sister, until her sister left for her own marriage. To be included in the chatter and gossip of the women of the keep had been a wonderful gift.
Every muscle in her body ached and she took a moment and tried to stretch each one to loosen them before trying to sit or stand. Her ribs were the worst, having borne most of the weight when Lord Braden jumped on her in the stables. Wenda had checked her again before leaving last evening and told her, though bruised, nothing was broken.
As she rubbed against the ache,
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