Page 63 of An Earl for the Archeress

It had been months since she had felt feminine, and with her father’s shadow of anger always smothering her, she had never felt lovely. But she felt beautiful now as she looked at her transformation in Robert’s copper plate. While exciting on one hand, it made her ever-present vulnerability flare. The men and women of Huntington would judge her when she walked into the great hall. Many would wonder who she was, for she looked entirely different. They would stare and whisper, and Robert would see her dressed like a prized woman of breeding, hindered by her heavy skirts and beautiful, if not completely worthless, slippers.

What if he no longer saw her as his equal? The idea caused her to pause. Self-doubt gripped her, and once again she found herself turning around to retreat to her chamber. I shouldn’t be seen like this. She hiked back up the stairs with all confidence lost. Except Alice came zipping down the steps to tend to her other duties with a massive basket in her arms, taking up the width of the stairwell.

“Dinner awaits, my lady.” She huffed. “Hurry, or you shan’t have a thing to eat once the soldiers have their fill. Go on. If I am to pass with this heavy basket, I can’t do so until you reach the bottom.”

Mariel took in a deep breath, exhaled with defeat, and pivoted back around. If only she could wear her quiver and carry her bow. It would give her a badly needed confidence boost. She came to the great hall merry with torchlight and loud with chatter. Each meal here was such a display, adorned with heavy breads and savory meats, vegetables and sweets flavored with honey and sugar.

Surveying the room, she rested unnoticed in the shadow of the doorway, when Alice whizzed back by and gave her a scoot to get moving.

“If I didn’t know better, lady, I would say you show cowardice,” the woman chastised, nudging her into the hall.

She scoffed. Of course she wasn’t scared. Am I?

She most definitely was scared. And then those at the nearest trestle table took notice, a guardsman and a serving girl he had pulled upon his lap who could not have been much older than five and ten, who draped herself upon the man with the experience of a London tavern whore. He stared, his eyes moving up and down, resting upon her face, hair, and generous cleavage. He nudged his mate, who did the same, until the table had hushed and those at the next table turned to see what had caused the silence.

And then the dais took notice. As the chamber hushed, Robert looked up from his attempts to end Anna’s flirtations beside him. Their eyes locked. Her face burned. Holding a rib, he paused in mid bite with his hand halfway to his mouth. The silence rippled across the room like a wave, swallowing chatter as it rolled to the opposite wall until she stood on display in the grandest hush she had ever heard. Knowing her face blushed more deeply than her gown, she fought the urge to run.

Coward! she scolded herself. But being a coward was justified, and she began to turn around. Except Robert dropped the meat with a clatter and jumped to his feet, wiping his fingers on his napkin and dropping it on top of his food. He moved around the other guests upon the dais to make his way across the room.

Robert slowed to a stop a couple feet before her then offered his hand to escort her. Heat raged across her face, but she took it, placing her fingers into the cup of his palm. He grinned, though it was not the cocky grin of arrogance he was so talented at producing, nor was it the appreciative grin of a man faced with beauty he hoped to bed. It was a silent grin of awe as he searched her eyes to determine what she was thinking. It was the smile of a man who was falling in love.

Love? She shed the thought. She was romanticizing his smile overmuch. Such arrogance on her part to ever think a man might fall at her feet for being beautiful and proclaim his love for her. Only in a bard’s stories were women so lucky and men so paralyzed by beauty.

He walked her through the silent hall, climbing the dais. Without taking his eyes from hers, he said to Anna, “Please return to your seat, Lady Anna. The chair beside mine is for the beauty on my arm…and no one else.”

Anna’s face flushed. Her eyes darted to Mariel with a scathing glare, and then fell to her lap. She stood, embarrassed, and moved toward the exit with her head ducked down.

Mariel felt Anna’s embarrassment. All along she had wished Robert would dismiss the ladies falling at his feet, but now that he had, she felt sorry for the girl. Her flirting had been harmless and perhaps Robert could have been more courteous, though in the end she was also relieved. He had just made a powerful statement and the entire hall had seen it, including Charlotte, sitting several seats down, watching them.

Seeing her seated, he took his chair and poured her wine into a silver goblet, handing it to her and letting her fingers touch his as she took it from him. He said nothing as he picked up the serving utensils and transferred a heap of meat, vegetables, and bread to her plate, the rings upon his fingers glittering in the torchlight. He began reaching for the platter of sweets, too, when she stopped him.

“Do you realize how tight this damned corset is?” she whispered. “I can hardly breathe, let alone fit so much food down my gullet.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Even when dressed in the finest garments money can buy and poised like a lady of more import than Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, you have such a blunt way with words.”

“I don’t act more important than any queen,” she said, when she felt his hand encase hers. He leaned over to speak in her ear and the room mercifully began to resume chatting. No doubt gossiping about her and Huntington, if the heads turning to look at them were an indication.

“Mari,” he whispered. “You don’t act. The grace in which you entered this hall shows me there is a refined side to you. You’ve shown me your thorns time and again, but this eve you show me your rose blossom.”

“And you prefer the blossom, all primped and perfumed.”

He shook his head. “You don’t get it yet, do you? I prefer the entire parcel. All of it. Despite your unique skill and sharp mind, you’re one of the most elegant creatures I’ve ever seen. It dismays me greatly that every man here sees you, too, for I’m watching their eyes settle on your endowments as we speak, no doubt wishing you were a serving wench for them to pull upon their lap.”

“I can nay—sorry, cannot help the way I look,” she defended, looking at her plate, feeling his breath on her ear and neck.

“Indeed. Though you were hiding your beauty behind your poorly kept hair and male garments. I’ve thought you were beautiful from the first moment you entered my tent at the tourney and care not what you wear. But I appreciate the magic Charlotte has worked, and deep down I believe you have missed such primping. But believe me, though I benefit greatly from this vision, I only had your happiness in mind when I requested Charlotte’s favor.”

She took some dainty bites of food, for honestly, the corset was so tight it might actually be cutting off her blood flow and “dainty” was all her stomach could handle. Neither spoke for a while, but she could sense his eyes creep sidelong at her from time to time. Taking more wine, instead of a stout ale, she longed to clear her trencher of its succulent foods, for so much time without a stable food supply had made her learn to indulge each time the moment presented itself.

And out of nowhere, the sentiment hit her, dressed as she was. She longed for her sister again. The two had spent many hours together daydreaming of fine gowns and beautiful adornments. Even when their father had made life a living hell, the two of them could pass the time in each other’s chambers daydreaming of valiant men in chain mail, bearing gifts and begging favors. They had styled each other’s hair and on some occasions, snuck food away from the board, so that late at night when stripped of their restrictive corsets, they might sit together on Mariel’s bed, indulge their stomachs, and curl together while Mariel read aloud from her book of miracles. Teàrlach’s words about heartbroken Madeline rang in her mind.

Robert leaned down to her ear again, shaking her from her thoughts. “Will you accompany me to my solar?”

The quiet of his voice made her pulse jump. At this hour? He wanted her to accompany him?

“Do you plan another meeting this eve?”

He shook his head, taking her hand again. “I have something I wish to give you. ’Twill only be you and me.”