Without her usual chores, Gray had very little to do. She had been in her father’s solar most of the morning, watching three of her serving women work on surcoats made from emerald brocade and off-white silk. Both were exquisite. She wanted to help but didn’t want Braxton to catch her ‘working’. He had caught her earlier in the day helping the cook carefully measure brown flour and had given her an earful, however gentle it was. He didn’t want her lifting a finger any longer.
The result was boredom. Growing tired of watching women sew, she wandered from the solar and out to the kitchen yard. There were more laborers there, rebuilding the big oven that had partially collapsed a few years before. The cook and her fat daughter huddled near the door to the store room, grunting and hooting like frightened animals. They acknowledged their lady with a panicked gesture in the direction of the oven. Gray assured them that the men were only repairing it, not removing it. The women didn’t seem convinced but Gray guaranteed that it was entirely true.
All of the activity at the castle was new and disturbing; the cook and her daughter weren’t the only servants she had reassured that morning. All of the occupants of Erith seemed a little edgy. Leaving the wary women in the kitchen yard, Gray meandered out into the stable area. She watched the laborers rebuilding part of the stable before noticing the puny chickens seemed harried by the activity. They were huddling in their coop. Gray went to the chicken coop and noticed there were several eggs inside that had not yet been collected. She reached in and plucked them out.
“What are you doing?”
She whirled around to find Braxton standing behind her. His eyebrows lifted in disapproval. “Well?”
She gestured weakly at the coop. “I was… gathering the eggs.”
He frowned at her, though it had no force. “I thought I told you that you are no longer required to do domestic chores,” he took a step closer to her, looking down upon her. “The servants will collect the eggs. You are the lady of the castle and these tasks are not for your lovely hands any longer.”
She found her tongue. “But, my lord, I am bored senseless. I must do something.”
It was difficult for him to maintain his harsh stance with her. “You will call me Braxton in private,” he muttered. “And you will do something. You will learn leisurely tasks that fine ladies occupy themselves with.”
“What leisurely tasks?”
“Well…,” he shrugged. “Knitting, I suppose, or whatever it is fine ladies do with a needle and thread. Don’t you know any?”
She gave him an intolerant look. “Whatever tasks I know are necessary ones.”
“Then learn some unnecessary ones.”
She put her hands on her hips. “You cannot place me on a glass pedestal like a fine porcelain doll. I will not break. And I am not one to sit around when there is work to be done.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her. Then he reached out, took her hand, and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.
“Walk with me, madam.”
“Gladly. At least I shall be doing something.”
He fought off a grin. “You ungrateful wench. My men and I have been breaking our backs repairing your castle and all you can do is complain because you are bored.”
She looked up at him, a grin on her face to melt his heart. When he finally cracked a smile at her, she beamed wide at him. “I simply wish to help, Braxton. Can I not help?”
“Help with what? Can you lift stone or build a roof?”
“Can you?”
He tried to show her how outraged he was by her question, but he only ended up laughing at her. “I could rebuild this entire place myself if necessary. And I have it on good authority that you are about to be spanked if you do not curb this rebellious attitude you are displaying.”
She was properly contrite, though it was all an act. “I have no wish to be spanked. But I would like to help.”
He came to a halt, sighing with mock frustration. “Very well, then. What do you want to do?”
She lifted a timid eyebrow. “Sew my own dresses?”
His lips curled. “There are servants to do that.”
“Please? I enjoy it.”
He just shook his head. “You are the most ungrateful woman I have ever had the fortune to come across. Very well, if it pleases you, sew your own clothes.” As she grinned triumphantly, he moved closer, caressing the hand he held against his arm. “You are also the most glorious woman I have ever had the fortune to come across. I want to spoil you, madam. Why do you resist?”
Braxton was awakening feelings in her she had never known herself capable of. A look from him could provoke giddiness, a word could provoke elation. Gone were thoughts of self-protection, of suspicion. Those feelings had fled days ago. Without even realizing it, she had learned to trust him completely. Not necessarily for the kindness he was doing for her or for Erith, but simply by his manner. If he’d meant to capture her heart, he was well on his way to doing so.
“I am sorry if I seem unappreciative,” she replied softly. “I have simply never known anything else but hard work. I feel quite useless sitting around while you hire an army to work on my fortress. I do not want others to think I am taking advantage of your generosity.”
“What others?”
She shrugged. “These people are from Levens. They will talk and tell tale of the Lady of Erith sitting idle while an army of mercenaries repairs her keep. Soon all of Cumbria will hear such things.”
“Soon all of Cumbria will know that the repair of the fortress was my wedding gift to you,” he patted her hand gently; though he desperately wanted to kiss it, he would make no such move. He did not want those who might witness such a thing to believe the lady compromised. “Worry not what others think, madam. You and I know the truth.”
She gazed up at him, studying the lines of his handsome face. She hadn’t known the man a week and already she felt more comfortable with him than she had with anyone, ever.
“I suppose we do,” she agreed softly. She saw the same look in his eyes that she had seen when he had kissed her and, not wanting to make a spectacle for all to see, she backed away. “I shall go now and help the women with my clothes. They’re nearly done, you know.”
He was reluctant to release her hand. “We shall go into Milnthorpe tomorrow to obtain more fabric. Between you, your mother and your daughter, the fabric is gone.”
“We do not need more fabric,” she insisted. “What you have provided us is more than generous. We are very grateful.”
He winked at her. “You must have a new garment for every day of the week. And I think I shall purchase some jewels for you as well.”
Gray just stared at him. “Jewels? What on earth would I do with them?’
“Wear them.”
He kissed her hand then, swiftly, hoping that no one would see. It was a sweet and tender moment, however brief. But he was distracted by someone was calling his name from the direction of the front gates and he turned to see Dallas approach. He discreetly let go of Gray’s hand as Dallas walked up.
“My lady,” the knight bowed to Gray before focusing on Braxton. “There is a small party approaching from the south, my lord. Shall we send out riders?’
“Indeed,” Braxton nodded. “Are their banners evident?”
Dallas shook his head. “They are still too far out.”
“Then make haste to identify them. How much time until they are upon us?”
“Less than a half hour, my lord.”
“Then be gone.”
Dallas excused himself and was gone. Gray tucked strands of blowing hair behind her ear, her expression one of concern.
“What does that mean?” she asked. “Who would be coming to Erith?”
Braxton had many different theories at that moment, most of which he would not verbalize. He remembered Brooke’s words to him the day he met her, how her Grandmother had sent invitation to various Houses to vie for the girl’s hand. He didn’t know what that particular thought popped i
nto his head at the moment, but it did. He’d very nearly forgotten about it. And, as Brooke had told him, Gray apparently knew nothing about it. He just couldn’t imagine that she did simply from her obvious attitude.
Though Braxton had seen little of Lady Constance since his arrival, he suspected the time had come for him to better acquaint himself with the self-aggrandizing woman. Though he would love to have Gray all to himself, she came with a daughter whom he was very fond of and a mother he was not. If he was going to declare his intentions to Gray, he would have to declare it to all of them. And part of his declaration would include setting matters straight between himself and the arrogant Lady de Montfort.
“Do not worry yourself,” he took her by the elbow and turned her in the direction of the keep. “Go to your sewing now and I shall deal with these visitors.”
“Though I appreciate your offer, I am still the Lady of Erith,” she said, firmly but politely. “This is still my keep, Braxton. I shall greet our visitors.”
He didn’t want to argue with her, but if the approaching party had something to do with Lady de Montfort’s solicitation, he did not want her to be shocked. The party was less than a half hour off, which gave him little time to figure this out.
“Then wait in the keep until they are upon us,” he said. “There is no need for you to wait out here in the sun. Come inside and be comfortable.”
That produced the hoped for result; she walked with him into the keep. Once inside, he left her in the solar with the sewing women and excused himself on a weak pretext. What he really intended to do was find Lady de Montfort. A passing servant told him where to find the woman.
*
Braxton figured out where all of the furnishings, beds, linens or other comforts in Erith were kept. Upon entering Lady de Montfort’s chamber on the fourth floor of the keep, it looked like a storage room. There were items everywhere. It was rather a shock considering the sparse furnishings of the rest of Erith. It immediately occurred to him that Lady de Montfort refused to give up anything she believed herself entitled to, no matter what matter of poverty her daughter and granddaughter lived in. Though the stuff lining her chamber was worn, it had once been very fine. She needed her possessions to maintain the illusion that poverty had not yet touched her. It made Braxton dislike the lady all the more.
Lady de Montfort sat in a chair near the lancet window, a piece of embroidery in her hand. It wasn’t a very nice square of material, old and yellowed, but the work on it was exquisite. Braxton glanced at the piece as the woman laid it in her lap, fighting off building resentment for two reasons; Gray had told him she did not know any leisurely skills, which meant her mother had not seen fit to teach her. Secondly, by the look of the work, it had taken many, many hours to do. This meant that while Gray was blistering her hands with harsh work, her mother was wiling away the hours with dainty hobbies. It was a struggle to keep his rage at bay.
“Sir Braxton,” Constance greeted him evenly. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
Braxton stood near the door, keeping a rein on his patience. “You and I have something to discuss, my lady.”
Constance lifted her eyebrows. “I cannot imagine what that is, unless you seek my advice on something. What is your wish?”
Haughty till the end, he thought. “I do not seek your advice nor counsel, madam. But I believe we may have a situation arising that could or could not be of your doing.”
“What is that?”
He shifted on his big legs, folding muscular arms over his chest. “Brooke has told me that you have sent out solicitations for her hand in marriage, unbeknownst to her mother. Is this true?”
Constance’s thin face tightened. “What business is it of yours?”
“More than you know. Did you do this?”
As shrewd as Constance was, Braxton was doubly. But the older woman would not allow herself to be cornered. “This is none of your affair, Sir Braxton. You will kindly leave my chamber.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I am not going anywhere until you answer the question.”
So he could not be ordered around. Constance rethought her strategy. “If it is?”
“Then we have a party approaching Erith at this moment who, I suspect, might be coming in response to your offer. If that is the case, your daughter is going to discover the truth.”
Constance stood up. “Where is my daughter?”
“In the solar.”
The woman grabbed her shawl and swung it over her slender shoulders, making way for the door. Braxton waited until she had passed him before speaking.
“You do not own the rights to Brooke’s hand, my lady.”
She paused, hand on the door latch. “Your statement is not only rude, it is insolent.”
His blue-green eyes were hard, like blades of sharpened steel. “Perhaps,” his voice lowered. “But it is the truth. Listen to me now and understand what I am saying. You do not own the rights to Brooke’s hand. I do. I bought them from a man who had acquired them from Garber Serroux in payment for a gambling debt.”
He could see from the expression on the woman’s face that she was rattled. She instinctively clutched her shawl more tightly about her.
“So you are here to claim Brooke?” For the first time, the confidence was out of her tone. “Why did you just not say so?”
“I am not here to claim Brooke,” Braxton clarified. “But she, and Erith, belongs to me.”
Constance’s expression turned suspicious. “You have no proof of this.”
“I have a document signed by Neil Wenvoe that relinquishes his claim to Brooke Serroux and Erith to me for the sum of thirty thousand gold marks. These rights were given to Wenvoe to forgive a debt incurred by Garber Serroux.”
Constance attempted to maintain her defensive stance. God knows she did. But Braxton watched all of the fight drain out of her, for the very first time since he had met her. When she realized he would not be withered by her stare, she averted her gaze.
“I see,” she murmured. “Does Gray know any of this?”
He felt himself relent, if only just a little. “Nay,” he replied. “Though I do mean to tell her.”
“When?”
“I am not sure. She is only now learning to trust me. I am afraid that divulging something like this will cause her to think I have had ulterior motives from the beginning.”
Constance cast him a long glance. “Have you?”
He shook his head, slowly. “I only acquired these rights three days ago when I went to Wenvoe to fulfill a long-standing contract.” He paused, watching the shift of her fine features. “Wenvoe wanted to hire me to lay siege to Erith and claim the rights that Garber had promised him. It seems that Wenvoe was aware you were soliciting offers the girl’s hand and he felt compelled to press his claim. So I bought the claim from him.”
Constance’s amber eyes studied him. “Why did you do this?”
Now it was Braxton’s turn to waver in confidence. “Because I could not lay siege to Gray’s fortress,” he said simply. “In case you have not realized it, I am fond of your daughter, Lady de Montfort. I could not hurt her.”
“But now you own her daughter and Erith. What will you do?”
“Give it back to Gray.”
Constance reclaimed her chair, a defeated look on her face. It seemed that there was nothing left to fight for. “I would see this document you speak of, knight.”
“You shall.”
“Then what will you do about the approaching party?”
“That is your problem. I suggest you tell your daughter immediately what you have done.”
The older woman’s features tightened again. “It is not simply my problem. You own the rights to Brooke, so in essence, you have the final say in determining who she will marry, not Gray. She will not take this well at all. I would suggest we both go tell her what has happened.”
He still did not want to tell Gray about the contract from Wenvoe. He felt very strongly that it m
ight ruin the sweet beginnings they were experiencing. But the longer he waited, the harder it would be. With reluctance, he nodded to the older woman’s suggestion.
Together, they left the chamber in silence to seek out Gray.
*
For some reason, Gray was nowhere to be found. The women sewing garments in the solar said she had left some time before but they had no knowledge of where she went. While Constance went to check her bedchamber, Braxton went out into the kitchen yard.
There were a few men working on the collapse oven, now almost completely rebuilt. Braxton did not see her anywhere in the kitchen area and moved out towards the stables. There were several laborers working to restore a damaged section and also to build an addition. Additionally, they were framing the stable for several more stalls and a loft. Braxton checked the chicken coop and, on a whim, entered the part of the stables that the men were not working on. It was empty.
He turned to leave and almost ran over Brooke. She was standing behind him, her round face smiling up at him. He reached out to steady her as he bumped into her.
“My lady,” he said. “My apologies. I did not see you.”
“I know,” she replied. “I followed you in here.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to talk to you.”
“I see,” he casually stepped away from her, leaning against the nearest post. “What is so important?”
Brooke took a step towards him, closing the gap he had so carefully established. “Well… it is hard to describe.”
“What is hard to describe?”
She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “Me. And you.”
He didn’t particularly like the sound of that. “What about me and you?”
She took another step, ending up very close to him. “You do not have to pretend any longer. I can see it in your eyes.”