Page 67 of A Knight’s Vengeance

While the ivory comb slid through her hair, Elizabeth thought back to last evening. Geoffrey had plied her with wine and sweetmeats, told her of his past wounds and future ambitions, and then, of all wicked wonders, he had kissed her. With tenderness. For a fleeting moment, he had become a chivalrous suitor trying to woo her affection. When he had unbound her plait, his hands had been as gentle as Elena’s. The memory of his caresses and kisses crept across Elizabeth’s skin, and she tried to quell her thoughts by brushing a wrinkle from her bodice.

On Elena’s instruction, Elizabeth lowered her chin so the maid could secure the braid. Yet, the memories persisted like an unsettling dream. The rogue’s livid expression and growled words revived in her mind with a wallop. You hoped to seduce me.

She frowned down at her clasped hands. She had encouraged his kisses—indeed, he had a most tempting and skillful mouth—yet how could he make such an accusation? He had initiated the intimacy. She should accuse him of trying to seduce her.

Annoyance burned the last vestiges of sleep from her brain. ’Twas not her fault he had a temper shorter than a pig’s tail.

Her gaze drifted over the beautiful rose wool and fine chemise, folded on the table where she had left them. “Why I must wear this horrible gown? I thought I could wear the clothes of a lady again.”

“I do not know,” Elena said in a hushed voice. “Milord was quite specific about your garments.”

After downing her breakfast, Elizabeth followed the maid into the corridor. The guards did not take her to the great hall, or Geoffrey’s solar, but to the bailey.

As she stepped out of the musty forebuilding, surprise and excitement thrummed in Elizabeth blood. Overhead stretched the robin’s egg blue sky. The breeze stirred her gown and teased wisps of hair across her cheek, and brought the smells of horse, damp stone, and blooming wildflowers. A child’s voice carried to her, and she saw a boy toss a pail of scraps to the rooting pigs.

Laughter drew her attention to the straw-roofed stables. Geoffrey stood leaning against one of the wooden wagons and chatting with Dominic. Sunlight shot the rogue’s dark hair with silver highlights that reminded her of the gleam in his eyes when he challenged her to a verbal joust. Her stomach squeezed. How handsome he looked, wearing a leather jerkin, tight brown hose, and leather boots.

The guards ordered her forward. When she walked out of the keep’s shadows into daylight, he turned and saw her. His expression became guarded. “Milady.”

She walked past the snuffling pigs and halted before him. “Milord, why did you bring me to the bailey? Am I to embroider outside this day, to better see my stitches?”

Dominic chuckled. She looked into his round, expressive eyes, and he glanced across the bailey. Whatever the secret was, he would not tell her.

“Patience, damsel. All will be clear soon.” A mysterious twinkle lit Geoffrey’s eyes.

“By the blessed Virgin.” At the sound of Mildred’s voice, Elizabeth turned. The matron hastened toward her, doing her best not to trip on the hem of a mud-brown bliaut. “Good morning, milady. Milord.” She attempted a curtsey. “Lord de Lanceau, pray tell me why you roused me from my warm bed. My old bones do not see daylight until the sun is risen.”

Geoffrey answered with a crooked smile.

Mildred’s eyes narrowed. “If an old woman may be so bold, what mischief have you concocted for us?”

“’Tis your lady’s bidding.”

Elizabeth started. “Mine?”

“You told me you wished to clean the garderobes.”

Horror slid through Elizabeth like chunks of ice. She had indeed made such a rash claim, but had not expected him to believe her every word.

Mildred wailed and slapped a wrinkled hand to her brow. “Milady, what have you done now?”

“I did not say I desired such a task.” Elizabeth scowled. “If you remember the circumstances of my comment, you will know I am right.”

Geoffrey’s gaze clashed with hers. “Our talk last night made me consider many things. As I told you once before, we have too many tasks for too few hands at Branton. I questioned why I kept two able-bodied women sitting by the fire when they could earn their keep.”

Mildred huffed. “Milady mended your tunic.”

“That is not the kind of toil I mean.”

An angry blush warmed Elizabeth’s face. “You hold us hostage. You cannot mean for us to⁠—”

“I regret the garderobes were cleaned two weeks past,” he said, straightening away from the wagon. “Otherwise I would have obliged. However, the keep’s gardens need tending. You”—he pointed to Elizabeth and Mildred—“will see it done.”

Elizabeth tsked. “What a shame, I am not able to mend the saddle trapping. You will have to ride into battle without it.”

His insolent smile broadened. “After you have finished your day’s labor in the gardens, you will work on the repair.” He thrust an iron-edged spade and a billhook toward her. “You may begin gardening now.”

“This is madness,” the matron sputtered.