snobbish little brat to me.”
“Who called me that?” Brinna demanded before shecould recall that it wasn’t herself that had been described that way, but Joan.
“My cousin. Phillip of Radfurn.” When she peered at him blankly, he added, “He visited Laythem some weeks ago.”
“Oh. Of course.”
“Aye, well, I fear he took your shyness and reticence as signs of snobbery and a … er, slightly spoilt nature. He had me quite convinced you were a terror.”
“Really?” she asked curiously. “Then why did you come to Menton?” Her eyes widened. “Did you come here to cancel the betrothal?” That would be a fine thing, wouldn’t it? If he had come to cancel it and she had put paid to his intentions with her actions.
“Oh, nay, I could never cancel it. My people are counting on your dower.” The last word was followed by silence as his eyes widened in alarm. “I mean—”
“ ’Tis all right,” Brinna assured him gently when he began to look rather guilty. “I already knew that you needed the dower.”
He sighed unhappily, looking not the least reassured. “Aye, well, without it I fear my people will not fare well through this spring.”
“And you will do your best to provide them with what they need? Whether you want to or not?”
“Well …” Taking her arm, he turned to lead her back toward his horse. “It is the responsibility we have as members of the nobility, is it not? Tending to our people, fulfilling their needs to the best of our ability.”
“Some of the nobility do not see it that way,” she pointed out gently, and he grimaced.
“Aye. Well, some of them have no more honor than a gnat.”
“But you are different.”
When he gave a start at the certainty in her tone, she shrugged. “Most
lords
would not have troubled themselves to offer aid to a poor farmer either.”
He smiled wryly. “I suppose not.”
“But then from what I have heard, you are not like other lords. I was told that you are trying to correct neglect and damage done by those who came before you.”
He remained silent, but grimaced, and she went on. “I was also told that you work very hard, even side by side with your vassals, in an effort to better things?”
His gaze turned wary, but he nodded. “I do what must be done and am not ashamed to work hard.” He hesitated. “I realize that some ladies would be upset to have their husbands work side by side with the servants, but—”
“I think it is admirable,” Brinna interrupted quickly, wishing to remove the worry from his face. It wasn’t until she saw his tension ease that she recalled that Lady Joan had not seemed to be at all impressed by it. Before she could worry overly much about that, Royce turned to face her, taking her hands in his own.
“I need the dower. My people need it desperately. And to be honest, I would have married you for it whether you were hag, brat, whore, or simpleton—just to see my people fed and safe.” He grimaced as her eyes widened incredulously at his words, then went on. “But you are none of those. You have proven to be giving and to be willing to do whatever is necessary when the need arises to help those less fortunate around you. And I want you to know that, the dower aside, I am beginning to see that I and my people will be fortunate to have you as their lady, Joan. I think we shall deal well together.”
Joan. Brinna felt the name prick at her like the sharp end of a sword. She too was beginning to think that theywould have dealt well together. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the one he was going to marry. It was Joan. Her thoughts died abruptly as his face suddenly lowered, blocking the winter sun as his lips covered her own.
Heat. That was the first thing Brinna noticed. While her lips were chill and even seemed a bit stiff with cold, his were warm and soft as they slid across hers. They were also incredibly skilled, she realized with a sigh as he urged her own lips open and his tongue slid in to
“Who called me that?” Brinna demanded before shecould recall that it wasn’t herself that had been described that way, but Joan.
“My cousin. Phillip of Radfurn.” When she peered at him blankly, he added, “He visited Laythem some weeks ago.”
“Oh. Of course.”
“Aye, well, I fear he took your shyness and reticence as signs of snobbery and a … er, slightly spoilt nature. He had me quite convinced you were a terror.”
“Really?” she asked curiously. “Then why did you come to Menton?” Her eyes widened. “Did you come here to cancel the betrothal?” That would be a fine thing, wouldn’t it? If he had come to cancel it and she had put paid to his intentions with her actions.
“Oh, nay, I could never cancel it. My people are counting on your dower.” The last word was followed by silence as his eyes widened in alarm. “I mean—”
“ ’Tis all right,” Brinna assured him gently when he began to look rather guilty. “I already knew that you needed the dower.”
He sighed unhappily, looking not the least reassured. “Aye, well, without it I fear my people will not fare well through this spring.”
“And you will do your best to provide them with what they need? Whether you want to or not?”
“Well …” Taking her arm, he turned to lead her back toward his horse. “It is the responsibility we have as members of the nobility, is it not? Tending to our people, fulfilling their needs to the best of our ability.”
“Some of the nobility do not see it that way,” she pointed out gently, and he grimaced.
“Aye. Well, some of them have no more honor than a gnat.”
“But you are different.”
When he gave a start at the certainty in her tone, she shrugged. “Most
lords
would not have troubled themselves to offer aid to a poor farmer either.”
He smiled wryly. “I suppose not.”
“But then from what I have heard, you are not like other lords. I was told that you are trying to correct neglect and damage done by those who came before you.”
He remained silent, but grimaced, and she went on. “I was also told that you work very hard, even side by side with your vassals, in an effort to better things?”
His gaze turned wary, but he nodded. “I do what must be done and am not ashamed to work hard.” He hesitated. “I realize that some ladies would be upset to have their husbands work side by side with the servants, but—”
“I think it is admirable,” Brinna interrupted quickly, wishing to remove the worry from his face. It wasn’t until she saw his tension ease that she recalled that Lady Joan had not seemed to be at all impressed by it. Before she could worry overly much about that, Royce turned to face her, taking her hands in his own.
“I need the dower. My people need it desperately. And to be honest, I would have married you for it whether you were hag, brat, whore, or simpleton—just to see my people fed and safe.” He grimaced as her eyes widened incredulously at his words, then went on. “But you are none of those. You have proven to be giving and to be willing to do whatever is necessary when the need arises to help those less fortunate around you. And I want you to know that, the dower aside, I am beginning to see that I and my people will be fortunate to have you as their lady, Joan. I think we shall deal well together.”
Joan. Brinna felt the name prick at her like the sharp end of a sword. She too was beginning to think that theywould have dealt well together. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the one he was going to marry. It was Joan. Her thoughts died abruptly as his face suddenly lowered, blocking the winter sun as his lips covered her own.
Heat. That was the first thing Brinna noticed. While her lips were chill and even seemed a bit stiff with cold, his were warm and soft as they slid across hers. They were also incredibly skilled, she realized with a sigh as he urged her own lips open and his tongue slid in to
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