To her left perched her latest suitor, Baron Nicolas. He was much older than her, and he wasn’t at all interested in her, only in the wealth that came with her. His back was to her as he spoke to the man on the other side of him. Perspiration on the crown of his bald head reflected in the light from the torches behind the table.
She closed her eyes and tried desperately not to clench her teeth. She was so disgusted Edward would consider Baron Nicolas as a suitor for her that she wanted to strangle her brother. Alas, an act like that would tarnish their esteemed family name forever.
Again, she perused the crowd in the hall, wishing there were someone who could save her. Someone who could take her away from the ever-present pressure of finding a husband. She was under no pretense. She knew her place and understood what was expected of her. She had never embarrassed Edward or their father, and she wouldn’t do so now. She was the epitome of the proper noblewoman. She was a good sister and daughter. Even after their father had passed a year ago, she’d continued to run the castle and command the servants. She did her duty without complaint.
Baron Nicolas wiped a hand across his forehead and flicked his sweat away. A drop landed on Elora’s lip. She sat for a moment, stunned. She tasted a twinge of salt and gagged.
Trembling, she swiped at her lip and stood up quickly, her chair scraping back.
Edward and Baron Nicolas turned to regard her.
She tried to regain her composure but was shuddering with repulsion. She looked at the baron, a drop of perspiration falling from his bald head down the side of his face. She quickly glanced at Edward. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin.I would never marry this perspiring…She wanted to say but knew better. Instead, she forced out, “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well.” She noticed Edward’s eyes narrow ever so slightly in disbelief. “I will retire for the night.”
And vomit into my basin.
Baron Nicolas rose and bowed slightly. “Feel well, my dear.”
Edward nodded, granting her leave.
Elora walked stiffly down the aisle of the Great Hall. Servants and knights bowed slightly to her. She nodded graciously to them, as was expected of her. She forced herself to walk, one foot before the next, and not run. She kept her expression blank. It was practiced and came easy. She marched out of the Great Hall through the double doors and into the hallway, turning a corner quickly.
Finally away from Edward’s stare, she wiped her velvet sleeve across her lip again and again. It wasn’t the perspiration that bothered her. Everyone perspired. It was how the baron callously, with disregard, flung the beaded sweat onto her.
She continued into the rounded stairway and up to the second floor. Servants rushed through the corridor, preparing rooms for the night. More gentle bows. Nod. Smile. She reached her room and opened the iron-bound wooden door. She closed it behind her as she entered, startling her ladies’ maid and friend, Sarah, who leapt up from her position beside the hearth.
“I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” Elora fell heavily onto the large bed positioned against one wall, draping an arm over her head. “Oh, Sarah!”
Sarah moved to her side, gazing at her with sympathetic brown eyes. She pushed back a strand of brown hair from her brow and wiped her hands on her skirt to clean the soot of the hearth from them. “The baron was not everything you had hoped?”
Elora grinned humorlessly. “It went as well as the others.”
“Your brother won’t be happy.”
Elora knew Sarah was right. Edward would not be happy she left, nor that she wasn’t fond of the baron. She pouted. “What am I to do, Sarah?”
“You will have to pick someone,” Sarah answered, choosing her words carefully. “Eventually.”
Elora sat up, resigned. “I know. And I am ready. Iam. I just want…” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, gathering her thoughts. “You once told me about a kiss. The one with the miller’s son. Do you remember?”
Sarah sat beside her on the bed as a secretive smile inched over her lips. “How could I forget? It was—”
“Glorious. Exciting. Thrilling.” Elora seized Sarah’s hand. “You told me how wonderful it was. Do you remember?”
Sarah nodded, her grin fading.
Elora looked down, scanning the lines of her skirt as if they were bars in a jail cell. “I know the expectations of me. I know my duty.” She looked back at Sarah, leaning in to speak to her as if it were a secret. “But just once… just once I want to know what it is like to feel that kind of…”
“Passion.”
Elora nodded in agreement.
A firm, insistent knock sounded on the door.
Sarah quickly stood, cast Elora a supportive glance, and moved to the hearth.
Elora took a deep breath to prepare herself and called, “Come.”
The door swung open, and Edward entered. Tall, regal, commanding, and with a displeased frown marring his smooth brow.
