She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life. Proverbs 31:12
Five days later, Hugh was still wondering how she had managed to get the better of him again. He had hoped with her building her chapel and enlisting the help of every suitor that came through the keep gate, both the construction and a suitable husband would be resolved quickly. Then things at Thornwood would return to normal. Deep down he knew the thought was hollow. Many had viewed what was in Jane’s chamber. Gossip flew through his holding faster than a fire burns brittle wood. He heard the grumbling with every order he gave; why were they forced to work so hard and scrimp every coin if Thornwood was filled with riches?
They did not understand that if one of Jane’s ill-gotten goods was used to settle any debt, the keep would fail. ’Twas a truth he could not explain and others would disagree, but he could not deny. Even Sylvester and Theo were distant, and Darrin laughed at him for his fears. The constant stares of his people were madding and, worse, the work seemed to have stalled. The only saving grace was Lady Eleanor stayed out of his way.
With worn muscles and a healthy sweat on his brow, Hugh, as usual, was the last to return to the keep after a hard day’s work and a few hours at the butts. He expected to find a somber group, but nothing was further from the truth. The hall glowed with warmth and laughter. Why, someone was even playing a lute. An aroma of roasted fowl and fish filled the air and the rumbling in his stomach reminded him that he had worked through the noonday meal.
Isobel came racing toward him giggling, her arms open wide. She grabbed his legs, giving them a tight squeeze. “Sir Hugh, where have you been?”
He ruffled the girl’s flaxen hair. “At the butts.”
“We are having a feast.” The girl stepped back and clapped her hands.
“We are?” He wanted to ask who ordered this, but he already knew. A hot anger rushed through him. How quickly she had forgotten his demands. A lovely laughter floated above the others, Hugh scanned the hall and found Lady Eleanor with a pitcher in her hands, serving Theo, Sylvester, and a host of knights and servants. What is this? She is serving them?
“Lady Eleanor,” he bellowed across the hall. “What are you doing? It is unseemly for a lady to do such.”
She turned, a bright smile on her face. Dressed in a light lavender gown and a dainty circlet of gold in her long, shimmering chestnut hair, she looked every bit the lady of the keep. “Good evening, my lord. I am so glad you have finally given up your toil.”
“Explain to me, what is all this?” He waved a hand across the room.
“We are having a small feast to honor your return. Come sit down. I will bring you a cool cloth to wipe your brow.” She led him to the head table. “My lord, there has been much grumbling lately...after seeing Jane’s chamber. Since I am the cause of this distress, I helped Cook set up a small feast. You must admit all do seem quite happy,” she said.
He would admit no such thing, though the recent strain he had noticed among his people seemed to have eased—somewhat. Eleanor brought him a cool rag and a drink, followed by Cook, who brought him a full trencher of food.
“Enjoy, my lord,” Eleanor said. Cook plopped the tray before him with a grunt.
Hugh’s anger ebbed as he picked at his food, watching her weave through the tables, filling mugs or serving food. He should order her to the seat next to him, her behavior improper for a lady. Yet, he could not deny, all smiled as she came by. At times she would sit next to a knight and another would quickly fill in on her other side. If she stood and talked to a servant, several more would join in on the conversation. The festivity may be for him, but she was the center of it.
If someone was sitting alone by the fire, she would sit with them. It mattered not if she was listening to a peasant or a knight, she treated them all the same. What would this be like when the hall was full of suitors? Would she cater to each of them?
Isobel finally came and took the empty seat next to him, eyeing up his trencher. Hugh pushed it toward her. “Waste not, want not.” He rose and immediately Eleanor was at his side.
“Surely you are not leaving us so soon, my lord?”
“Aye, I am tired. Tomorrow will be another long day.” He turned away, she reached out and gently touched his arm.
“The feast is for you.”
Hugh gazed around the hall again. “Nay, lady. It matters not if I am here. All will continue to be merry without my company. You did a good thing tonight. Everyone needed this, but do not go against my will again. King’s decree or not, I will send you back to your uncle.”
A sadness filled her eyes and he almost reached out to comfort her. Instead, he turned away and strode to his solar.
The next morn, Eleanor left her chamber with a heavy heart. She was greeted with smiling faces and happy voices as she made her way through the great hall, but the one person she wanted to see was not present.
“Where is Lord Thornwood?” she asked a serving maid. “Do not tell me he has left already for the fields?”
“My lady, he has left, but not for the fields, but for the practice yard. He grabbed Sir Theodore and a few of the other knights while the skies were still dark and dragged them to the yard. His lordship is in a mood this morning.”
In a mood, which meant stay as far away from Sir Hugh as possible. Yet she could not. She would have no peace until she spoke to him.
Without breaking her fast, Eleanor marched out of the hall into the early morn, following the clangs and grunts of men playing war. Sir Hugh advanced on another knight, hammering the poor soul into the ground with heavy sword swings.
Nearby, Sir Theodore and another pair of knights sat on the ground. Eleanor approached the group with light steps. “Lord Thornwood seems quite invigorated this morning.”
Sir Theodore wiped the sweat from his brow. “Lady, he has been charging at us like a madman. I am spent and yet he keeps going. ’Tis like he is possessed. I do not understand. He usually is so rational.”
A few more bangs and clangs and the other knight’s sword went flying from his grip. The man quickly yielded to his lord. Hugh stabbed his sword in the ground and looked fiercely over to where Sir Theodore and the other knights rested. “Who’s next?”
“Aye, I see what you mean. He’s usually so regimented and in control,” she commented.
“Now is the time if you wish to speak to him,” Sir Theodore gestured to his fuming lord.
Indeed, now was the time, but Eleanor could feel her resolve failing as she took a few timid steps in his direction. “My lord, a moment please.” She cringed at how tinny her voice sounded.
He rounded on her like a predator sizing up its prey. His breath heavy, his eyes wild—she had the urge to run in the opposite direction, but she held her ground.
His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “My lady, now is not the time.”
She glanced back to the group of tired knights. “Nay, my lord. Now is exactly the time.”
With a heavy sigh, he strode over to pick up a cloth and began to wipe his face. “Very well. What is so urgent that it cannot wait until later?”
Again she looked over her shoulder at the intent group of knights. She motioned to a few bows and a quill of arrows lying on the ground. “Mayhap you would like to try your skill at the butts?” she said quietly.
A brightness filled his face and swept away some of the darkness. He relented with a nod. They walked to the east side of the holding where Sir Hugh had a well-groomed field and three butts, quite impressive for a small holding.
She took a bow and arrow in hand, aimed at the white mark painted in the middle of the straw target, and let loose the arrow. It landed high and almost missed the butt entirely. She lowered the bow. “I did not mean to make you angry last night. I will make every effort to keep to my own endeavors and out of yours. I know having me here is a great sacrifice.”
He said nothing, but drew his own bow and sent an arrow for the white mark, hitting it perfectly in the middle.
“You are quite good at this.” She took another arrow and this time tried to focus. The arrow struck the bottom of the butt and bounced to the ground.
Hugh bent the bow again, he took aim, his fingers loosen the string and again his arrow landed right next to the last. “And you do this quite poorly.”
She smiled and so did he.
“Here let me help you.” He picked up another arrow and positioned himself behind her. His hard chest felt warm and tight against her back.
Eleanor could feel her blush creep over her body as he helped her raise the bow, his hands upon hers, warm and gentle. He whispered instruction into her ear, but Eleanor could not make out his words, her mind riveted on his earthy summer scent and his breath caressing her ear.
“Now. Loose the string,” he whispered.
His fingers slipped away from hers and her arrow landed on a smidge of straw right between his two arrows.
“Bravo, Lady Eleanor!” he cried, pumping a fist into the air. His handsome face full of joy, he held out another arrow. “Try again.”
She tried to take the arrow, but instead he clasped her hand and he moved to stand behind her, and bent down. Once again he whispered in her ear, but this time, besides hearing her banging heart, she heard him say, “Release the string, listen to the hum and keep your eye on the mark.”
But alas, she could not. Instead she slowly turned her face to his and his to hers, their breath intertwined, their lips so close. Neither said a word or moved a further muscle. The arrow destination lost from their thoughts. Their gaze’s met. A warm light spread from his blue pools and sent her body afire. But just as quickly as it had come, a cold splash filled their depths.
He pulled away and cleared his throat. “Where did your arrow land,” he said looking at the butt devoid of her last arrow.
Eleanor tried, but failed to get ahold of herself. She literally had to tell her eyes to ‘stop staring at him.’ Her knees weak and her skin a bright pink, which certainly was not becoming against her mauve gown, she finally mustered up the strength to look at something else besides Hugh de Maury’s perfect physique.
They looked high and low. They looked east and west. The arrow seemed to have vanished. Suddenly Hugh let out a glorious laugh that filled the field and lit up her soul. The arrow had struck a bench not far behind them.
“My lady, I believe that is the worst shot I have ever seen. You must come to practice with me. I am sure with time we could do much better.”
We. Oh indeed, she liked the sound of that. “I would welcome the instruction, my lord.”
He ran to get the arrow from the bench and returned to her side. A grand smile across his face.
Saints be praised; his foul mood has fled.
He handed her the arrow. “You came to speak to me about something. What is it?”
Her tongue tied and her mind in even more knots, Eleanor could not form a word.
Finally he took pity on her. “My lady, both of us have been thrown into a situation by others and neither of us wanted this.”
Untrue, she thought. She would rather be at this keep with him than at any other. The secret burned deep within her, but she kept silent.
“But I believe if we work together we will find an outcome that is pleasing to both of us. I am sorry for my behavior of late. The thing is...Jane’s things...” He combed a hand through his dark locks. “I cannot explain—”
“Please. You need not explain anything to me. Clearly, my cousin was wrapped up in her possessions. She was fueled by greed and I know you look upon her things as soiled contraband,” Eleanor paused. The last thing she wanted was to get into a fight with him, especially after they had just spent a special moment, but what she had to say was for his own good. “However, hiding them away behind a locked door will not make them disappear. I am not asking you to do anything, but just think about the good you could do for others if you sold some of that loot.”
A lone hawk flew overhead and let out a piercing cry. Hugh’s gaze followed the creature’s graceful flight. “I fear just the opposite will happen.”
“I know,” she whispered, slowly reaching out and gently touching his cheek.
He gave a start, his eyes grew wide and he jumped back. Eleanor’s skin burned at her boldness. This contact was not made to instruct as his had been.
She looked down at her feet. “I am sorry. I do not know why—”
“’Tis all right.” He leaned forward and gently lifted her chin until her gaze met his. “I know you mean well.”
A flutter so foreign twirled through her middle as she beheld his clear, open blue eyes. Her heart ached at the pain and sorrow she saw. Did he love Jane so much, or did he despise her so desperately? Either way, the past was tearing him apart. She wanted to take him in her arms and tenderly kiss away all his grief.
He took another step forward and she leaned in. They were less than a hand apart. He reached out and gently caressed her lips. His gaze intent on her. Eleanor knew this time they may...the sounds of a rider drew their attention. Quickly, he stepped back and she straightened her stance.
“We have a visitor,” she said, disappointment ringing in her words.
“Aye. I am guessing he is the first of your suitors.”
The flutter she had felt turned bumpy and rock hard. “Oh, dear.”
Sir Hugh’s wide grin only added to her distress. “Oh, come now. Once he sees your charms, you will have him eating out of your palm.”
“I’d rather he has strong arms to cut and lift the chapel wood from the forest. That was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. James and I cannot tow the logs by ourselves.”
“Ask and you shall receive.” Hugh leaned closer and Eleanor’s pulse quickened. “Here he comes. Your new laborer.”
The rider stopped in front of them. He dropped his hood to display a bushy head of red hair. A youthful, light stubble graced his chin. Eyes as green as a meadow on a cool spring morn shifted back and forth. “You there. Is this Thornwood Keep?”
“Aye,” Hugh answered.
“Then take me to your lord for I wish to seek the favor of Lady Eleanor de Tanie’s hand.”
“Oh my.” Eleanor wanted to run away. This boy wanted to marry her? Why, he was barely out of swaddling clothes.
“Such lady stands before you.” Hugh cocked his head toward her.
The youth jumped from his horse, dropped to one knee and placed a firm kiss on her hand. “My lady, I am Sir Gordon Blake, a servant to your beauty.” ’Twas then that the boyish knight finally raised his gaze and took a good look at her.
He flinched slightly and Eleanor wanted to laugh.
But to his credit, the lad recovered quickly and stood. “Please give me the honor of escorting you to the keep on my humble mount.” The restless grey steed danced about.
“I think not.” She looked to Hugh for help, but he stood there with a very merry grin on his face. How could he be enjoying such nonsense?
Ignoring her comment, Sir Gordon turned a keen eye on Hugh. “Go tell your lord that I am here and wish to speak with him.”
Eleanor folded her hands and tried to hold her smile within. “Sir Gordon, this is Lord Thornwood.”
Sir Gordon stared. Wearing worn leathers and dusty breeches, covered in a sweet sweat from his morning activities, Sir Hugh looked more like a field hand than the lord of this keep.
Uncertain she spoke the truth, the fledgling knight turned back to Eleanor. “My lady?”
“I am not jesting, Sir Gordon. The man before you is Sir Hugh de Maury, Lord Thornwood.”
The doubting knight’s gaze flicked between Sir Hugh and her. Then just as sudden, the lad slapped a fist against his chest and bowed to Hugh. “I am honored, Lord Thornwood.”
Hugh gave a less enthusiastic nod. “Sir Gordon, welcome. Lady Eleanor and I were discussing a project she is overseeing. The building of a chapel.”
“Ah, a noble feat,” Sir Gordon quickly answered.
“Good. I am glad you think so, for she needs help in completing the task. There is much that must be discussed this day. Please ride ahead and we will follow.”
Sir Gordon nodded and made an exaggerated bow to Eleanor. “My lady.” Then with a fluid glide he mounted his horse and trotted toward the keep.
The lad had not gone a furlong when Hugh let out a loud roar of laughter.
“Shh, he will here you.”
“I am sorry. But this young, obviously second-son knight should be playing with toy swords, not wooing a maid ol...”
Eleanor folded her arms across her chest. “You can say it, Lord Thornwood. Older and you might as well add, homely.” An exasperating sound left her lips as she started walking away from him.
He raced after her and grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt in front of him. “Eleanor. That is not what I meant. The whole world is older than that whelp and you are not homely.”
Their gazes locked with the same strange intensity they felt at the butts and she feared she would melt into him. She tried to turn away. “Say no more.”
“Eleanor. You do have qualities and charms others do not. I expect you to join me later this afternoon for another archery lesson.”
She broke away from him and started running back to the keep. For if she stayed, she knew she would have kissed him. Not because he said she had qualities and charms, not because she would spend more time with him at the archery field, but because he called her Eleanor.