The years had strengthened her. Always compassionate, always kind, but now there was fortitude in her.
It wasn’t only in the way she directed the builders. It was in the way she was side by side with the other women—how, when she could, she pointed out ways of improvement. He watched her learn as well.
All his life he had longed for her. A sort of heart’s wish. Now her strength drew her to him. She had become...a man’s wish.
Wasshe the King’s mistress? She had never denied it. And yet seeing her like this, seeing her strength, he was wondering if it mattered.
A mistress was a woman, who needed a man for protection. Alice displayed none of those traits. She was complete.
And yet, she was in a King’s chamber. Had the King been drawn to Alice’s resolve and kindness? Maybe she hadn’t gone to the King because she was forced. Perhaps instead of the pleasure being coerced from her she had taken instead.
And there he felt and understood the source of his jealousy. Because she hadn’t taken fromhim. His body tightened at the mere thought and unbidden his gaze fell on her.
She was bent over one of the fires, sitting next to the children, and like them she was skewering meat onto sticks to cook. Her face was animated as she listened to the little girl sitting next to her. The fire’s light played along the fine features of her face. Her upturned nose, the plump fullness of her bottom lip. The colour of her skin shone gold. He wanted to touch it to see if it was as warm as it looked.
All his life he’d cursed himself for comparing other women to her, but now he knew he had no choice. Unworthy though he was, everything about her called to him.
Done for the day, and knowing he was to accompany her home, he felt a certain lightness enter his chest. He felt himself almost smiling—before he saw Mitchell striding towards Alice.
Over the last several hours he had watched them engage together. Noticed their ease of conversation, their gestures. It was clear that Mitchell’s family hadn’t fared as well as Alice’s. Still, he was one of the established spinning families who had been there for generations. Privileged. Those who were invited to and accepted at the best dinners and festivities.
It seemed their friendship hadn’t waned in their years apart, or in their differences of income.
Bypassing three men carrying large stacks, he walked slowly towards them. They might have grown up childhood friends, but Mitchell’s time abroad had changed that. He was looking at Alice now as a man would a woman.
Alice seemed oblivious. Maybe she didn’t know—was innocent and therefore didn’t understand that she shouldn’t be standing so close, or laying her hand on Mitchell’s sleeve.
Or maybe she did know.
Stamping through a deep puddle, Hugh hurried his pace.
* * *
Alice was listening to Mitchell bemoaning the lack of sufficient wattle when she saw Hugh storming towards them.
At first she almost ignored him, as she’d tried to do all day, but the certainty of his step, the steadiness of his gaze, warned her otherwise.
Knowing Mitchell didn’t need to hear a confrontation between her and Hugh, she excused herself and walked to meet Hugh.
There had been no argument or calamity to account for Hugh’s darkened demeanour. After his insistence that he accompany her here, he’d ignored her since their arrival.
But now she watched him as he walked around the production and wondered what his thoughts could be; if he approved of what was happening here.
When he stood in front of her she quickly dismissed that thought. She didn’t have to seek approval from anyone—especially him.
‘Are you ready to leave?’ she asked, though she saw Hugh was peering avidly over her shoulder.
She turned around and glimpsed Mitchell’s retreating back.
When she turned to Hugh again, his expression had eased. Was hejealous?
‘You want me to leave?’ he said.
‘No, I meant—’
‘Does your father know what is happening here?’ he asked.
She shrugged. ‘No more than he has ever concerned himself with these affairs.’
