four
Four months later
VIOLANTE WASN’T SURE what was happening to her. As she walked across the garden, she wondered if the changes within her were only due to her growing into a woman or something else.
She’d never cared about boys. Heaven knew if they were a messy lot. Too loud and boisterous for her tastes, especially when they were busy in Papa’s gymnasium. Since Papa had turned an old barn into a training hall, everyone who worked on his estate was welcome to lift weights or learn how to throw punches and spar. The boys seemed to have a penchant for punching each other. Not her cup of tea. She found sparring amusing for two minutes and then she wanted to do something else, like take a walk, read a book, or both.
But from the moment Keith had arrived, she found she didn’t mind being around him. Quite the opposite. She’d told him he was her best friend that day at the ball, and he was, but she wondered if there was more to the tingling of her body when she was with him than friendship.
Months had passed since the sledge incident. Christmas had arrived and gone. After the ball at the town hall, he’d turned notexactly cold but a little distant. Even when they were alone, he behaved too much like a servant would behave with his mistress, and she didn’t like it. She must have done something that had offended him.
The snow had melted, new leaves had sprouted on the trees, snowdrops dotted the field…and Keith had put on a lot of muscles.
Muscles she admired right now. Not that she meant to. Or maybe she did. She had searched for him for their daily reading session—she was teaching him how to read and write, and he was a great student—and she’d found him in the backyard, shirtless, throwing hay bales around with the other stableboys. Not really throwing around. There was a method to the madness, but she was distracted by the sweat glistening on his skin, the sharp ridges of his muscles, and the way the sunlight gave blue hues to his sable hair. Although she was being unfair towards him because, while his muscles were a work of art, she admired his kindness, sharp wit, and gentleman-like manners above all.
Paul said something that apparently was funny because Keith threw his head back and burst out laughing. Oh, his Adam’s apple. She’d never noticed that particular male feature before, but for some reason, it fascinated her now. His voice had changed in the span of a few months. He rumbled deep and low, and even when he read to her the most boring passage in a book, she remained fully alert and enthralled. He could read the housekeeper’s shopping list with that baritone, and she would sigh at each word.
But her newfound fascination with boys couldn’t be simply because she was growing up or some other wild reason connected to the moon’s phases. Because Paul was shirtless too, and she guessed he was a handsome chap as well, but looking at him didn’t stir parts of her that shouldn’t be stirred. Then again,as the cook’s son, Paul had grown up in Sharpe Manor and then worked as a stableboy. He was family.
Keith was another matter. It was amazing how his body had transformed in less than a year. He didn’t resemble the scrawny, pale young man she’d met in the snow. He was broad, tall, brawny, and had a skin that acquired a lovely brown shade because he spent so much time outdoors. Had she mentioned his hardened lines? Or the stubble that permanently darkened his jaw? When she’d met him, she hadn’t been sure about his age. Now there was no mistaking the fact he was a man.
Perhaps Papa was right, and she read too many novels. Maybe the odd stirring would go away once spring passed. She couldn’t imagine battling with it for a long time. It was exhausting. Yet here she was, spying on him. Well, she wasn’t spying. Merely taking a peek and observing young men’s behaviour for a purely scientific reason.
He met her gaze, and the air charged with the energy of lightning. He stopped laughing, his strong jaw tightening. There. He turned cold when she was around. Although...she might be wrong, her lack of knowledge in romantic affairs was spectacular, but she could swear a flicker of interest heated his gaze. It was a predator’s stare, and she shouldn’t like it.
“Mates, a lady is here,” he said over the rowdy voices.
He pulled his shirt on. The movement caused his abdominal muscles to flex. Not a trace of the sledge accident was left on his body. Not a visible one, at least.
The other boys followed suit, muttering a greeting in her direction and wiping sweaty brows.
“It’s only Violante,” Paul said, buttoning his shirt.
“Hey!” She propped a fist on her hip. “What do you mean by that?”
“That you don’t care about us being shirtless, and we don’t care about being seen by you.” He took a sip from a bottle of water.
Oh, but she did care about one boy in particular.
“It doesn’t matter,” Keith said. “It’s propriety.”
Paul nearly choked on the water with a burst of laughter. “Since when do you care about propriety?”
Keith jumped off the hay cart with a graceful leap that brought him a few feet away from her. His hair reached his shoulders, devilishly tousled by his outdoor activities. “I’ve always cared about propriety, except when you’re around.”
“Bugger off.” Paul lunged.
Keith laughed, pretending to punch Paul. They wrestled, shoving and pushing each other among laughter and the others inciting them. Violante shot her gaze skywards. The fight could go on for hours.
“Keith?” she said. “We should start.”
“Go.” Paul pushed him again. “A gentleman never makes a lady wait.”
“Shut it.” Keith gave Paul a final shove before striding towards her.
She expected Paul to make fun of Keith for taking reading lessons, but he never did. A testament to the respect between the boys.
Keith towered over her by more than a foot, and goodness, she liked it. Yes, spring would pass, and she’d be normal again.
