Page 66 of The Silent Songbird

Westley handed her a spoon. The adorable smile on his face made her forget the apples, but when he started eating from his own bowl, she dipped her spoon in.

“Did you eat apples and cream at Berkhamsted Castle?” he asked between bites.

“Yes. But our cook was not very generous with her cloves and sugar. It didn’t taste as good as this.” When she glanced up at him, he was grinning.

“I’m glad you like it. A king’s ward should have good things to eat.”

Evangeline lowered the bowl even as her stomach sank.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should not have brought up . . . that. I won’t speak of it again, if you wish me not to.”

“I suppose I cannot change it. I’m glad you know the truth. It was a relief to finally tell you.”

He was quiet for several moments. “What is it like being a king’s ward?”

“It is very lonely. I used to dream of being a peasant. You must think that was foolish.”

“No, but I think any peasant would be astonished.”

“And would think me foolish?”

“Yes. But they don’t know what you have experienced.”

“People probably think my life has been blessed and favored.” Evangeline stared down into her bowl, unable to look him in the eye. “It is true that I have never had to worry about food or clothing or shelter. But one of my earliest memories is of my nursemaid pinching my leg so hard it left a red-and-purple mark. I had done something she didn’t like, I suppose. I don’t remember much else about that time. When I was seven, Mildred—her real name is Muriel—became my personal servant. She has been taking care of me ever since, but she is more of a companion now than a servant. I came to Berkhamsted Castle ten years ago when King Edward, Richard’s father, was still king. He ordered that I had to stay in the castle and could only go outside when at least three guards were with me. He was afraid one of his enemies might kidnap me and hold me for ransom, or force me into marriage.”

She finally got up enough courage to look across at Westley. He had set his bowl aside and was leaning toward her. His eyes peered directly into hers.

“And now we are forcing you to stay in our castle.”

“But it is not the same. You must not think it is. I am around people such as you and your mother. Your mother speaks kindly to me, and she did so when she thought I was only a peasant. Your father is kind, too, in a different way. And you.” Her stomach turned a somersault as she looked into his eyes. “I saw you save that littlegirl while I was standing at my window, and I knew you were a good person.” She put her bowl aside as he had done.

He shifted so his body was facing her. “I remember seeing you. I heard you singing.”

“I liked to sing every morning, standing at my window.” Her cheeks warmed. “I started doing that when I was a little girl. I tried to stop a few years ago, but the servants complained, so I kept singing, at least one song every morning.”

“You have a beautiful voice. My men and I talked about the voice from the castle for days. I . . . I even dreamed about meeting the person behind the voice.”

“Were they pleasant dreams?”

“Very pleasant dreams.”

She cleared her throat. “You were so courteous to me on our way here. You have always been . . . very courteous.”

“Not so very courteous. I forgot to check your hands again.” He reached out and took her hands from her lap and turned them over. She cringed, knowing they were still far from healed. In fact, they still looked a mess.

“Eva.” His voice was soft and deep. “You must keep these hands wrapped.” He raised one of her hands so close to his face, her insides trembled. Would he kiss her hand?

He closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. His breath fanned her wrist, making her skin tingle.

She shouldn’t long for his kiss. She did not know what the future held for her. But she did long for it. Her heart ached with longing.

He lowered her hands and stared at them. Neither of them spoke for several moments. Finally, he said, “What would your guardian say if he could see these hands?” He seemed to try to make his voice lighthearted, but he was failing.

“I’m sure the king is quite angry with me right now. He thinks I deserve this and worse.” Her stomach twisted at the truth of that. “Even Muriel thought I was foolish. She thought I would go back to Berkhamsted and agree to marry Lord Shiveley after spending a few days as a servant.”

“She underestimated your will.” Westley looked at her, still holding her hands in his.

“I do have a strong will, I suppose, although I am usually quiet about it.” She smiled at a memory. “Maudie, one of my nursemaids—not the one who pinched me—once said, ‘She will smile like a cherub and say, “Yes, Maudie,” but then she will run away when your back is turned.’ ”