“I still cannot believe that I am betrothed.” Herta held out her left hand yet again to admire the plain silver band set with a small blue bead. “I feel as if I am in a dream.”
Rosetta smiled. “You are not dreaming, I promise you.”
“Oh, milady.” The young woman’s eyes shone. “I am so excited. I am not going to be able to sleep tonight. My mind will be whirling with all of the arrangements that must be made.”
While Herta had been finishing her errand that afternoon, her suitor, one of the stable hands, had found her, taken her to a quiet spot by the tiltyards, and asked her to marry him. She’d said aye. Thrilled and completely in love, Herta had talked of nothing but her betrothal as soon as she’d entered the solar.
Herta now gestured to the chair near the hearth, and Rosetta sat so that the young woman could take out her braid. Rosetta had spent most of the afternoon in the garden, staying there long after Justin had grown tired of his archery and left. She’d only returned to the keep a short while ago and had declined Ash’s invitation to dine with him. She simply didn’t feel up to the noise and activity of the great hall while she was still struggling to accept all that he had told her earlier. Herta had brought her a plate of bread, cheese, and cold meats that Rosetta hadn’t yet eaten. The young woman had also ordered Rosetta a bath that would arrive once the water had been heated.
“Were you as thrilled the day you got betrothed, milady?” Herta asked, moving to stand behind Rosetta. The young woman began working on Rosetta’s tresses.
Rosetta turned the emerald and pearl ring on her finger. The extravagant jewel almost seemed to make a mockery of her betrothal when compared to Herta’s small ring that had been given, and accepted, with so much joy and love. “My situation was a little different from yours.”
“Different, milady? In what way?”
I didn’t love Edric, but I chose to accept his proposal anyway. “I agreed to marry Edric in part to protect my father’s lands. Edric’s and my sire’s estates border one another, you see. The marriage will allow the lands to be joined once my father has died.” As Herta ran the brush through her loosened hair, Rosetta added, “Father is in excellent health, so ’twill not be for a long while yet.”
“I have heard of such marriages, milady—ones intended to secure inheritances and preserve family fortunes.”
A note of sympathy softened the young woman’s voice, and Rosetta fought a pang of envy. Herta was lucky to be able to marry the man she adored, and to be free of the obligations that came with being born into a titled family. “Such nuptials are very common for noblewomen,” Rosetta admitted. “Some ladies are married when they are still children, not even old enough to bear heirs. At least Edric and I are of a similar age and know one another well. We have been friends since we were young.”
“A strong friendship makes for a fine marriage, milady.” The brush made a soothing, whispering sound as it skimmed through Rosetta’s hair.
“True,” Rosetta said. “I feel very fortunate to be wedding a man I know, rather than a complete stranger. My parents did not know one another before their marriage was arranged by the crown. I cannot imagine what that must have been like for them.”
“Oh, I agree, milady.”
“Edric is not perfect, but I could do far worse for a husband.”
“I am dying to know… Is he handsome?” Herta asked, her tone brightened with mischief.
Rosetta chuckled. “He is. What about your fiancé?”
“He is less handsome than some, but he makes up for that with his quick wit and easy laughter.” The young woman sighed blissfully. “He will be a good husband to me and a fine father to the children we will have together. Those are the things that matter to me.”
Envy poked at Rosetta again. What mattered most to the noble elite was producing heirs. She would be honor-bound to give Edric at least one strong, healthy son.
“Your lord,” Herta said, continuing her brushing. “Would you say he is as handsome as Lord Blakeley?”
A startled tremor rippled through Rosetta. “Well—”
“His lordship might have his scars, but he is still a very becoming man,” Herta murmured. “Do you not agree?”
Completely.
Rosetta brushed a crease from her skirt. “I have not really noticed—”
“Milady!” Herta giggled. “Every other woman in Damsley Keep has noticed. He certainly admires you. Have you not seen the way he looks at you?”
Heat warmed Rosetta’s face. She did not want to be drawn into a discussion of her feelings for Ash.
“’Tis a shame that you are already betrothed, Lady Montgomery, for I vow you and he would be well suited.”
“Herta, please—”
“Oh, I am sorry, milady, I know ’tis not my place to say such things. I will say no more, but I do hope his lordship will find a beautiful woman like you to be his wife. He deserves happiness and—”
Muffled voices came from outside the solar.
“Excuse me a moment.” Herta set down the brush and hurried to the doorway. After speaking to someone outside, the young woman said, “Your bath is here, milady.”
“Thank you.” Rosetta hugged herself, for she couldn’t wait to sink into the warm water. Naught soothed frayed nerves better than a bath, and with all that Ash had told her still haunting her thoughts, Rosetta needed a long soak to help calm her mind.
Servants entered carrying a round, wooden bathing tub which they set by the hearth. More lads followed with buckets of steaming water. Once the tub was filled, Herta shut the door, her arms laden with linen towels, a washcloth, and a fresh cake of soap. Setting the items beside the tub, she said, “I will help you undress milady, and then will give you a nice scrubbing. I will wash your hair too, shall I?”
“’Tis kind of you to offer, Herta, but I can manage on my own.”
The young woman’s eyes widened. “His lordship would expect me to assist you.”
“Truly, I will be fine. I usually bathe on my own.” Rosetta took the items from Herta’s arms. “Why not go and find your fiancé and celebrate your exciting news with your friends?”
Herta blushed. “Well…all right, milady.”
Once Herta had left, Rosetta slipped off her gown and chemise and left them in a heap on the floor. Herta had closed the shutters at the window a short while ago, blocking out the twilight sky and cooling breeze, but the air in the solar still held a draft, causing goose bumps to rise on Rosetta’s arms. Naked, she stepped into the tub and sank into the water. She closed her eyes on a long sigh. Heaven.
Droplets pattered onto the water’s surface as she moistened the soap and washcloth and thoroughly scrubbed her face, arms, and legs. The ritual of washing away the day’s strain was marvelously soothing…although part of her couldn’t help wondering if Ash used this same tub. Had he bathed near the hearth in this chamber, as she was doing now? How wicked that she could easily imagine him dragging a soapy cloth over his broad, rippling chest and leaving behind a trail of foamy white bubbles. His skin would glisten like oiled bronze in the firelight. His dark hair would cling to his strong, wet cheekbones as he—
Rosetta tossed the washcloth into the water that had turned a milky hue from the soap. This might be Ash’s castle, and his private room, but he was not going to intrude on her bath. Seeing that buckets of water had been left for her to rinse her hair once she’d washed it, Rosetta pushed her tresses back from her face, closed her eyes, and then submerged.
As the depths surrounded her, she surrendered to the cocooning warmth.
“I met the lady today.”
Ash glanced at Justin, seated beside him at the lord’s table. Over the buzz of noise from the rest of the folk eating in the great hall, Ash said, “Did you, now?” He’d tried his best not to sound surprised and a bit annoyed. After their argument in the stable, Ash had expected the boy to have gone straight to the tiltyards to practice with his weapon.
The boy spooned up another mouthful of pottage, while Ash chewed a piece of buttered bread. “Her name is Lady Montgomery. She is very nice. And pretty.”
A wry laugh broke from Ash. His Briar Rose had clearly won over this young lad. “Where did you meet her?”
“In the garden. She asked to see my bow.” The boy stuffed more pottage into his mouth. Ash had never seen Justin with such an appetite.
“I see. Did you show the bow to her?” Ash ate more bread that he’d dipped into the pottage broth.
Justin nodded and wiped his mouth—on his dirty sleeve, of all places. Ash cringed and pushed a linen napkin toward the boy, who dutifully wiped his lips a second time. “She tried to fire an arrow, but she was hopeless at it. She is a lady, after all.”
Reaching for his wine, Ash downed a quick mouthful to suppress a laugh. He could imagine how indignant Rosetta would be if she heard such things said about her.
“I showed her what to do,” the boy continued. “She liked seeing me shoot the arrows, so I did some practicing while she watched.”
Shock rippled through Ash, along with a flare of admiration. Thanks to her, the boy had completed his weapons practice for the day and, it seemed, had enjoyed it.
He patted Justin’s arm. “Well done. I am proud of you.”
“Really?” Such hope shone in the boy’s eyes.
“Really.”
Justin set down his spoon, rose, and threw his arms around Ash. “I am glad,” the boy whispered against Ash’s neck. “I do not like it when you are upset with me.”
Ash’s heart constricted, and his arms instinctively tightened around the boy who smelled of earth and fresh air. Ash didn’t like being upset with Justin, either. He held the child, reluctant to break the emotional bond that had suddenly grown between them.
At last, the boy drew away, rubbing at his eyes. Dropping down in his chair again, he wrinkled his nose at the dregs of his pottage. “Have I eaten enough for tonight?”
“You have. Why do you not go and check on the puppies?”
Justin grinned. His chair scraped back as he leapt to his feet and hurried from the hall.
Smiling, Ash watched him go. At least they had resolved their disagreement—thanks to Rosetta. Thinking of her, how lovely she’d looked in the garden, roused a stirring of longing within him. He wanted to see her. He needed to see her.
Ash left the table and climbed the stairs up to the landing and the corridor leading to the solar. He greeted the guards outside the door, halted, and knocked.
No answer.
Ash frowned. Rosetta had no doubt recognized his knock. Was she purposefully ignoring him? She had refused to dine with him that evening, no doubt because she hadn’t liked what he had told her in the garden.
He knocked again.
Still no reply.
This was his castle. Even if she was upset with him, or indisposed, she should still acknowledge him.
He shoved down the iron handle and strode in.
The solar was still and quiet. As he pushed the door shut behind him, he thought she wasn’t in the room, but then he saw the bathing tub and her submerged in the cloudy water.
She surfaced, gasping, her eyes still closed and water pouring down her face. He could only stare, enraptured, as she tilted her head back and smoothed her tresses away from her cheeks. In the firelight, her fair skin glistened. The fire glow flickered over her sleek nakedness, luring his gaze down to the slope of her throat and shoulders, and then even farther down, to the tantalizing roundness of her pink-tipped breasts.
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. God’s holy blood, but she was even more exquisite than he’d imagined in his dreams. Hot, heady desire filled his veins.
She blinked. As if suddenly realizing she was no longer alone, her gaze flew to him.
“Ash!” She dropped down into the water, until only her face was visible above the surface. “H-how dare you!”