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Will strode along the dimly lit corridor at a leisurely pace, the cold air providing a welcome blast of sobriety after the stuffiness of Sir Edgar’s library, and made his way to the kitchens. With an assured manner he gave orders, noting with satisfaction the efficiency with which they were carried out.
‘Rather young to be a steward,’ Lady Peyton had said, the scepticism clear in her voice. Will’s pride pricked for a moment. It was true enough that he was young, but what of it? The lady would find no fault tonight, he determined. He busied himself testing dishes and tasting wine. Satisfied with the quality of the food, he gave his praise to the cooks, then issued orders to the serving maids, bestowing charming smiles on them as he did. He smiled to himself as they blushed and scurried away giggling.
Will made the short journey to the Great Hall where two long tables were laid for the household members, one down either side of the room, leading to the raised dais where the family would sit. A man was lounging by the fire at the far end of the room. Perched on an iron stand was a small, hooded kestrel. As Will entered the hall the bird screeched. Sir Edgar’s current falconer pushed himself to his feet and hailed Will with a cheery wave of a bottle.
Will greeted his younger brother with a frown. ‘Rob, I’ve told you before, keep your birds out of here. How long have you been here? You’re not usually this early for meals.’
In response the sandy-haired man reached inside his jerkin and produced an embroidered yellow scarf. He twirled it above his head before holding it out to Will for inspection.
‘Eliza Almeny finally gave me her favour...and a little more besides.’ Rob grinned impishly. ‘I won the wager and you owe me five groats!’
The wagers had begun years ago when Edmund had loudly stated to their fellow drinkers that Will’s grotesque scars would ruin his ability to catch any woman. His pride injured, and still smarting from the damage to his face, Will had risen to the challenge. By the end of the evening he’d charmed the tavern maid into his bed and discovered that a ready wit could make a woman overlook most imperfections, especially when a quick tongue was combined with a thorough dedication to using it in a variety of inventive ways.
He’d won from Edmund his drinks for the next week and since then the wagers had been an amusing game between the two men. When he returned to Tawstott to find Rob mooning over the miller’s daughter, Will had seen no reason not to include him in the fun.
Will raised his eyebrows at his brother. ‘Five groats? I said three, you swindler!’
Rob laughed. ‘Yes, but you wagered I wouldn’t manage to kiss her before midwinter’s night. I’ve done more than that and I’m three weeks early so I believe I deserve more. Besides...’ he paused and his grin became suddenly bashful ‘...I’ll need the extra now I’m going to be a husband!’
Will’s face broke into a surprised grimace. ‘A husband, is it! Then you do indeed need more, though mayhap I should give the money to Eliza, as it seems she’s been the one to ensnare you rather than the other way about!’
Rob tipped the bottle towards his brother. ‘You say that now, but you may feel the same one day,’ he said with a sympathetic smile that made Will’s stomach twist.
Will shook his head and frowned darkly. ‘You know I have no intention of marrying,’ he said emphatically.
‘Remind me, in that case, is the next wager to be yours or Edmund’s?’ Rob grinned.
Will’s eye roved to the serving maid who was lighting thick beeswax candles in the sconces. He winked at her and she fumbled her taper, a blush spreading across her cheeks. The girl held no real attraction for him and his action had been instinctive.
‘Perhaps I’m getting a little tired of this sport.’ Will sighed. ‘I think no more wagers for me.’
‘In that case you may as well marry.’ Rob laughed.
‘However much you try convincing me otherwise I see no benefit in laying all my eggs in one nest,’ Will said.
Rob rolled his eyes. ‘How many women do you need to bed before you convince yourself you aren’t a grotesque?’
Unconsciously Will’s fingers moved to his scar. He caught himself and balled his fist. He reached for the bottle in Rob’s hand. It was empty, of course.
‘I meant to save you some, but you were longer than I expected,’ Rob said. ‘Sir Edgar kept you a long time tonight.’
‘I would have been finished sooner, but we were interrupted,’ Will explained. ‘Lady Peyton arrived in the middle of our discussion and delayed matters.’
Rob let out an appreciative whistle. ‘Is she as beautiful as ever, and as prickly?’
Will walked to the dais and straightened a couple of goblets, keeping his eyes averted from Rob. Prickly wasn’t how he would describe the way Lady Peyton had felt in his arms. In fact, she had been more appealing than any woman he had encountered in a long while.
‘I don’t remember how beautiful she was before,’ Will answered finally, raising his eyebrows. ‘I haven’t lived here for almost five years and when I left she was not yet a woman grown.’
He tried to keep his voice light as he considered the woman young Eleanor Fitzallan had become, but experience told him Rob would not be easily deceived. Sure enough Rob followed him across the floor, pursing his lips suspiciously. Will poured them both a drink. He raised his cup in salute and drained it in one. It was not as fine as the one he had shared with Sir Edgar, but was at least as potent. A warm feeling began to envelop his head again and the knots in his shoulders eased. He regarded Rob over the lip of his cup and refilled it.
‘Yes, she’s beautiful,’ he admitted. He thought back again to their first meeting and his lips twitched. When she had rounded on him with such indignation on the ferry it had taken all his self-possession not to silence her fury with a kiss! Will ran his fingers through his hair, thanking his good fortune he hadn’t done so.
‘I think prickly would be a fair description,’ he conceded.
‘I always imagined taking a tumble with her would be akin to falling into a holly bush!’ Rob laughed.
Will snorted noncommittally, wondering what his brother would say if he knew how close to the holly bush he had got. The way her green eyes had widened as he’d pulled her close to him had sent a throb of raw desire through his entire body that even now threatened to return.
Enticing smells drifted from the kitchen so Will struck the large brass gong sharply. Whisking away their goblets, he took his position by the double doors to greet the household.
Presently the family and household servants began to make their way into the hall. Sir Edgar and Lady Fitzallan led the procession followed directly by Edmund Fitzallan escorting Lady Peyton on one arm and Anne Fitzallan, fourteen and the youngest of Sir Edgar’s children, on the other. Will bowed deeply as Sir Edgar led his family to the table on the dais, but could not resist casting a surreptitious look at Lady Peyton. She caught his eye and her step faltered. A rose-coloured flush appeared enchantingly on each cheek. She nodded her head the smallest degree that manners would permit and Will hid a smile, turning instead to greet Edmund and Anne.
* * *
Throughout the meal Will’s mind was firmly on his duties, determined to ensure everything ran smoothly. Once or twice throughout the evening he sensed Lady Peyton’s eyes on him as he explained the ingredients of a particular dish to Sir Edgar, but if ever he looked directly at her she whipped her head down.
* * *
Before the sweet dishes were brought out Sir Edgar stood and left the table. The atmosphere took on a more informal air in his absence as members of the household dispersed or moved into groups and the hall became pleasantly alive with the sounds of voices and dice games.
Will found a spot on the end of a bench and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction that the evening had been accomplished smoothly. He watched as the three women and their attendants moved to seats by the fireside. Lady Fitzallan and Anne began to devour a plate of honeyed figs, but Lady Peyton seated herself slightly apart from her mother and sister, her body perfectly still and her eyes downcast. The air of melancholy surrounding her was almost tangible and Will’s heart lurched at the sight.
Edmund broke his reverie as he threw himself on to the bench and slung an arm around Will’s shoulder. Will greeted him with a distracted smile, the intrusion into his thoughts unwelcome.
Edmund picked up a bottle of wine and filled two goblets to the brim. ‘You look weary, Will,’ he commented. ‘Was my father particularly demanding tonight? Did he agree to buy the wine?’
‘No, he wasn’t—and, yes, he did. He recognised the quality straight away. With a little more money to invest I could earn well from this vintage alone,’ Will answered. He sighed deeply. ‘It’s a pity my stake is so small.’
They drank contentedly for a while, discussing the upcoming feast, Rob’s successful wager and impending marriage. Rob retrieved his kestrel from the perch by the fire with a bow and a few brief words to the ladies, then joined his brother and friend. Lady Peyton’s eyes followed him as he crossed the room and Will saw her expression change to a frown as she saw where he was heading.
‘Why does my dear sister keep glaring at you?’ Edmund asked suddenly, turning his head to Will. ‘Every time she glanced your way during dinner she looked as though she wished she had a sharper knife. Surely you can have done nothing in the hour or two she has been here to incur her displeasure?’
‘You must be imagining things, Edmund. What could I have done?’ Will asked innocently. He took a deep draught from his goblet.
Rob leaned forward on his bench. ‘Will, you’re hiding something, I can tell.’
Will sighed. He had intended to keep his encounter with Lady Peyton to himself, but now the matter had arisen of its own accord. The wine had relaxed his mood enough that he had a sudden impulse to share his tale.
‘We have met before tonight, though not in the best circumstances,’ Will admitted, a wry smile crossing his face. ‘Today I nearly caused her to drown. I’m fortunate not to be packing my bags as we speak!’ He described the encounter on the ferry and his requests for a kiss. By the time he had finished his tale Rob was open mouthed in disbelief. Edmund’s face was twisted into an incredulous smile.
‘I swear, Edmund, if I had known she was your sister I would never have behaved in such a manner,’ Will insisted. ‘I intended no offence.’
Edmund swigged his wine with a careless shrug and raised an eyebrow. ‘None taken. The thought of my dear sister in such disarray has brightened up an otherwise tedious day. In all honesty I wish you had kissed her, Will. I wish anyone would, in fact.’
Will and Rob exchanged a glance of surprise at Edmund’s words.
‘It would do Eleanor some good to be reminded that she’s a woman. She has been widowed so long I fear she has forgotten,’ Edmund explained. ‘She’s had a sad life,’ he said sorrowfully.
‘Here’s the target for our next wager,’ Rob crowed delightedly.
‘No, it isn’t,’ Will said sternly. ‘I’m done with all that and, even if I weren’t, I’m not putting my position here in jeopardy. I’ve worked too hard to get it.’
‘That would be the challenge, of course: to charm her without causing any risk to yourself.’ Rob smiled.
‘Coaxing a serving girl between the sheets is one thing. I have no intention of risking Sir Edgar’s rage by seducing his daughter,’ Will insisted.
‘I wouldn’t want her seduced completely,’ Edmund protested quickly. ‘I wouldn’t play games with her virtue so carelessly. A kiss, though, that would be a different matter and one that is unlikely to endanger your employment.’
‘A single kiss? That’s hardly any challenge,’ Will scoffed. He looked once more to where Lady Peyton sat staring solemnly at the fireplace. Her slender form was in silhouette and Will could make out the shape of the contours he had so recently held close. He remembered the purse of her lips as she had glared at him. Would they be as soft to kiss as he imagined them to be? A prickle of excitement ran down his spine at the thought.
Edmund eyed him for a moment. A familiar mocking glint flashed across his eyes. He stood up, wobbling slightly, and patted Will on the back. ‘Your limited charms won’t be enough to win my sister over anyhow. She’d never look twice at you.’
Lady Peyton was listening to her mother speaking but, as though she had felt Will’s eyes upon her, she glanced across, seeing the three men staring in her direction. Her green eyes narrowed suspiciously. Will remembered those clear, wide eyes scrutinising him in Sir Edgar’s library as she had hinted at their encounter. She could have told her father everything and yet something had stopped her. He had seen interest there, he was sure, and he had most certainly seen the flush in her cheeks when she was in his arms.
His jaw tightened as he recalled her declaration that she would never kiss him. She had been so confident of her assertion that his sense of pride flared at the thought of such a challenge.
As he poured another round of drinks, playing for time, Lady Peyton rose from her seat. She crossed the hall—still not putting the weight fully on her foot, Will noticed. Edmund hailed her with a cheery goodnight and she bent unwillingly while Edmund planted a drunken kiss on her cheek. Her eye fell on Will. He inclined his head towards her and she gave him a nervous smile. He watched her depart, her skirt swaying gracefully despite the unevenness of her step, emphasising her narrow waist and the curves of her hips.
‘You’ve got a fancy for her, haven’t you, Brother? I can tell,’ Rob said. ‘Well, you can put her out of your mind. It’s common knowledge she has no time for any man.’
‘Rob’s right. I’d be happy for you to kiss her. I might even welcome you as a brother-in-law, but you’d be on a hiding to nothing,’ Edmund agreed. ‘I reckon Mother will be looking at the duke’s entourage for husbands for my sisters.’
‘Why should that concern me? I’m not looking for marriage,’ Will said. ‘I’ll leave it to Rob to exceed the terms of the wager so foolishly.’ Of course a noblewoman such as she would have her eyes on a mate of equal status. He sat back in his chair, arms stretched behind his head. ‘Very well, I’ll bet five groats I can kiss her by midnight on the night of the midwinter feast.’
Rob laughed, ‘You’re aiming too high this time. In fact, I’m so sure you’ll fail that I’ll make it ten groats.’ He chortled.
‘Ten from me, too,’ Edmund agreed.
Will sucked his teeth thoughtfully. Twenty groats was almost a month’s salary, much more than any wager previously. He could ill afford to lose such an amount. To win it though was tempting indeed. Visions of Master Fortin’s ship laden with wine barrels passed before his eyes. Twenty groats more to invest and for what hardship? Doing something he wanted to do anyway.
Why was he even hesitating! A widow must miss some comforts of marriage after all.
‘One kiss, nothing more? And you assure me I will not incur your father’s wrath?’ he asked once more.
Edmund nodded. ‘How would Father ever find out? Eleanor would never tell him. On the lips, mind,’ he said. ‘None of this virtuous hand-raising or brotherly cheek-brushing.’
Brotherly cheek-brushing was the last thing on Will’s mind. He drained his goblet and slammed it down on the table.
‘I’ll do it. The wager is on!’
Chapter Four (#ulink_67604baa-9844-5d6a-8498-665d01218894)
An insistent knocking at the bedchamber door dragged Eleanor from her sleep much sooner than she would have liked. She buried her head beneath the warmth of the covers, but the rapping became louder until it had the rhythm and intensity of a drum and she could ignore it no longer. She climbed out of bed with a groan. Her foot was still tender as she hobbled to the door.
Anne stood with one hand raised, caught mid-knock.
‘I thought you were never going to wake up,’ the younger girl said petulantly, twisting a lock of her strawberry-blonde hair around her fingers. ‘You left the hall early enough last night to have had more than enough rest.’
Eleanor smiled and beckoned her in, relieved it was only her sister and not her mother. Lady Fitzallan had definite opinions about the hour her daughters should be dressed by. Even after running her own establishment for years Eleanor found herself squirming at the thought of a scolding. She half-hopped back to the bed and climbed in, stretching her leg out.
‘Open the shutters, please, Anne,’ she instructed and watery daylight flooded into the room. Eleanor peered down at her ankle, wincing at the sight. Released from her tightly laced boot, the foot had swollen overnight and an ugly bruise crept from her instep across and round her anklebone. No wonder it hurt to walk on. Anne gasped in disgust at the sight of Eleanor’s ankle and climbed on to the bed, leaning heavily against her sister and drawing the thick blanket close around them both.
‘You said nothing of this to Mother last night,’ Anne exclaimed accusingly. ‘How did you do it?’
Eleanor reached down and gave her ankle an experimental prod. A biting pain shot across her foot as she touched the tender flesh. It would take days to heal, she was certain of it. Her anger at Rudhale’s ludicrous actions on the ferry returned in a rush.
‘I slipped on the ferry crossing the Taw and twisted it,’ she explained crossly. She threw herself back against the pillow in annoyance. ‘It was not my doing. I was almost knocked overboard thanks to the reckless behaviour of...’ Her voice trailed off cautiously. Last night she had passed up the chance to tell her father what had passed between herself and the steward. She could hardly now share that with Anne, at least not if she expected it to remain secret any longer than it took for the girl to leave the room.
Anne was watching her closely, her hazel eyes wide. ‘Of who?’ the girl asked eagerly.
‘A stranger on horseback. No one important,’ Eleanor continued. Her irritation mounted as she recounted the incident. Anne’s reaction was not at all what she had expected, however. Her sister’s eyes shone and she clutched Eleanor’s arm passionately.
‘Eleanor, that’s the most exciting thing I’ve ever heard!’ Anne’s voice was a high-pitched squeal. ‘He saved you from the water and pulled you into his arms, yet you didn’t kiss him? How could you have resisted him?’
‘How could I have resisted an arrogant man who thinks he could demand such an intimacy from a woman travelling alone?’ Eleanor asked in surprise. There were six years between them and sometimes she forgot how silly Anne could be.
Anne snorted and hugged herself tightly, her face wistful. ‘A kiss from a dashing stranger! It’s like something a troubadour would sing about. It’s so romantic, Eleanor. Was he handsome?’
The steward’s face rose in Eleanor’s mind and an unwelcome blush began to creep around her neck at the memory of his eyes flashing in her direction. She bit her lip and reached for the comb that lay on the table.
‘I don’t recall,’ she said frostily, pushing down the memory of the way her heart had thumped. ‘Besides, however handsome he was, it would not excuse such rudeness.’
Anne took the comb from Eleanor’s hand and began to run it through the tangles of her sister’s hair. ‘So he was handsome!’ Anne said triumphantly. ‘Promise me that if it should ever happen again you will not refuse,’ she begged.
Eleanor’s heart lurched at the thought. She caught the direction her thoughts were leading and scolded herself. The steward’s manner towards her in Sir Edgar’s library had been courteous and there was no reason to believe he would be so brazen in future. It most certainly would not happen again.
‘I would do no such thing,’ she said calmly. ‘And neither would you unless you wanted to ruin your reputation.’
Anne pouted. ‘That’s easy for you to say. You’ve already had one husband and I’m sure you could catch another any time you chose. I’ve never had a suitor, not properly, and Mother isn’t even looking for me. No one will ever marry me!’
Eleanor took her sister’s hand and smiled. ‘You’re three years younger than I was when I married Baldwin. There’s plenty of time for suitors.’
Anne’s face lit up. Eleanor bit her lip thoughtfully. Anne had been only ten years old when Baldwin had come into Eleanor’s life. How could she begin to explain what it felt like to be presented to a stranger ten years her senior and informed she would be his bride? ‘Don’t be too keen to give your freedom away, it will happen soon enough,’ she said earnestly. ‘Let’s not talk any more of this though. Dinner seems a long time ago and I want some breakfast.’
Leaning on her sister’s arm for support, Eleanor made her way to the Great Hall. Unlike the evening meal, breakfast was a more informal affair with members of the household coming and going as their needs and duties dictated. By the time Eleanor and Anne arrived the servants and the girls’ parents had long since departed—Lady Fitzallan to her solar and Sir Edgar no doubt to his library—so the hall was empty. The two girls settled on to the padded seat in the window alcove and set about devouring the remaining bread and ale. Their earlier conversation was forgotten as they swapped tales of what had passed since their last meeting.
The door opened and Eleanor’s heart sank as William Rudhale entered. She had hoped him to be miles away by now, riding back with his wine order. Rudhale did not seem to notice the women at first. He stood on the threshold and glanced around the room, his brow knotted with concentration.
‘William!’
Anne’s unexpected cry of greeting brought Eleanor out of her reverie. She frowned at her sister, but Anne was watching the steward too intently to notice, her cheeks reddening visibly.
On realising he was not alone the steward gave a start, but his face broke into a charming smile. He walked to them in long, confident strides and bowed deeply. Eleanor studied him surreptitiously. The last time she had seen him he had been well into a flagon of wine with Edmund. Unless her brother had greatly changed his habits, by rights this morning Rudhale should be suffering from a sore head and longing for a darkened room. Instead he looked fresh and well, his hair curling about his collar and his beard trimmed close. He was dressed plainly in a dark-blue tunic and black breeches. The leather belt that drew his waist was ornately stamped: the only touch of vanity in an otherwise sober outfit.
‘Good morning, William. I didn’t see you yesterday,’ Anne said, her words rushing out in a tumble before anyone else could speak. Her eyes glowed. ‘I looked for you when I was riding, but Tobias wasn’t in the stable. Will you be riding today? I shall be.’
As she heard the excitement in Anne’s voice a terrible realisation struck Eleanor. Her sister was attracted to Rudhale. With a head filled with tales of romance and bandits, naturally Anne would find such a well-looking young man attractive. His scar would no doubt only contribute an air of danger and add to his appeal rather than detract from it. If only she had told Anne the horseman’s identity and warned her away when she had the chance.
