Читать книгу A Wager for the Widow - Elisabeth Hobbes - Страница 11

Chapter Three

William Rudhale’s smile lasted for as long as it took to him to leave the room, then melted away to be replaced with a grimace. He breathed in a lungful of cool air and held it for a moment before exhaling deeply, admonishing himself for his lack of foresight. He had known for weeks that Lady Peyton was expected any day. Why had he not made the connection between Sir Edgar’s daughter and the woman on the ferry? Her hair alone should have given him enough of a clue; that intense shade of copper was so rarely seen that it would have been remarkable if the woman were not related to Sir Edgar.

Somehow he had forgotten that the widowed daughter must be younger than him. If he had pictured her at all, it had been a plain, pinched face atop a shapeless, thickening body swathed in black. Lady Peyton was as far removed from the dumpy, elderly woman in his imagination as it was possible to be.

He had spent most of his ride from the ferry to Tawstott happily reliving the sensation of the enigmatic woman’s slim frame pressing tightly against him. He had let his imagination have free rein with what he would do if they were to meet again. Certainly she would not have refused his kiss a third time, he would have made certain of that.

A shiver of desire rippled through him at the memory of the slender frame with such soft, tempting curves. He shook his head ruefully. No point spending too much time thinking about them. It was clear that Lady Peyton most definitely had not expected to encounter him again and, judging from her expression, she was not at all pleased to do so!

Will strode along the dimly lit corridor at a leisurely pace, the cold air providing a welcome blast of sobriety after the stuffiness of Sir Edgar’s library, and made his way to the kitchens. With an assured manner he gave orders, noting with satisfaction the efficiency with which they were carried out.

‘Rather young to be a steward,’ Lady Peyton had said, the scepticism clear in her voice. Will’s pride pricked for a moment. It was true enough that he was young, but what of it? The lady would find no fault tonight, he determined. He busied himself testing dishes and tasting wine. Satisfied with the quality of the food, he gave his praise to the cooks, then issued orders to the serving maids, bestowing charming smiles on them as he did. He smiled to himself as they blushed and scurried away giggling.

Will made the short journey to the Great Hall where two long tables were laid for the household members, one down either side of the room, leading to the raised dais where the family would sit. A man was lounging by the fire at the far end of the room. Perched on an iron stand was a small, hooded kestrel. As Will entered the hall the bird screeched. Sir Edgar’s current falconer pushed himself to his feet and hailed Will with a cheery wave of a bottle.

Will greeted his younger brother with a frown. ‘Rob, I’ve told you before, keep your birds out of here. How long have you been here? You’re not usually this early for meals.’

In response the sandy-haired man reached inside his jerkin and produced an embroidered yellow scarf. He twirled it above his head before holding it out to Will for inspection.

‘Eliza Almeny finally gave me her favour...and a little more besides.’ Rob grinned impishly. ‘I won the wager and you owe me five groats!’

The wagers had begun years ago when Edmund had loudly stated to their fellow drinkers that Will’s grotesque scars would ruin his ability to catch any woman. His pride injured, and still smarting from the damage to his face, Will had risen to the challenge. By the end of the evening he’d charmed the tavern maid into his bed and discovered that a ready wit could make a woman overlook most imperfections, especially when a quick tongue was combined with a thorough dedication to using it in a variety of inventive ways.

He’d won from Edmund his drinks for the next week and since then the wagers had been an amusing game between the two men. When he returned to Tawstott to find Rob mooning over the miller’s daughter, Will had seen no reason not to include him in the fun.

Will raised his eyebrows at his brother. ‘Five groats? I said three, you swindler!’

Rob laughed. ‘Yes, but you wagered I wouldn’t manage to kiss her before midwinter’s night. I’ve done more than that and I’m three weeks early so I believe I deserve more. Besides...’ he paused and his grin became suddenly bashful ‘...I’ll need the extra now I’m going to be a husband!’

Will’s face broke into a surprised grimace. ‘A husband, is it! Then you do indeed need more, though mayhap I should give the money to Eliza, as it seems she’s been the one to ensnare you rather than the other way about!’

Rob tipped the bottle towards his brother. ‘You say that now, but you may feel the same one day,’ he said with a sympathetic smile that made Will’s stomach twist.

Will shook his head and frowned darkly. ‘You know I have no intention of marrying,’ he said emphatically.

‘Remind me, in that case, is the next wager to be yours or Edmund’s?’ Rob grinned.

Will’s eye roved to the serving maid who was lighting thick beeswax candles in the sconces. He winked at her and she fumbled her taper, a blush spreading across her cheeks. The girl held no real attraction for him and his action had been instinctive.

‘Perhaps I’m getting a little tired of this sport.’ Will sighed. ‘I think no more wagers for me.’

‘In that case you may as well marry.’ Rob laughed.

‘However much you try convincing me otherwise I see no benefit in laying all my eggs in one nest,’ Will said.

Rob rolled his eyes. ‘How many women do you need to bed before you convince yourself you aren’t a grotesque?’

Unconsciously Will’s fingers moved to his scar. He caught himself and balled his fist. He reached for the bottle in Rob’s hand. It was empty, of course.

‘I meant to save you some, but you were longer than I expected,’ Rob said. ‘Sir Edgar kept you a long time tonight.’

‘I would have been finished sooner, but we were interrupted,’ Will explained. ‘Lady Peyton arrived in the middle of our discussion and delayed matters.’

Rob let out an appreciative whistle. ‘Is she as beautiful as ever, and as prickly?’

Will walked to the dais and straightened a couple of goblets, keeping his eyes averted from Rob. Prickly wasn’t how he would describe the way Lady Peyton had felt in his arms. In fact, she had been more appealing than any woman he had encountered in a long while.

‘I don’t remember how beautiful she was before,’ Will answered finally, raising his eyebrows. ‘I haven’t lived here for almost five years and when I left she was not yet a woman grown.’

He tried to keep his voice light as he considered the woman young Eleanor Fitzallan had become, but experience told him Rob would not be easily deceived. Sure enough Rob followed him across the floor, pursing his lips suspiciously. Will poured them both a drink. He raised his cup in salute and drained it in one. It was not as fine as the one he had shared with Sir Edgar, but was at least as potent. A warm feeling began to envelop his head again and the knots in his shoulders eased. He regarded Rob over the lip of his cup and refilled it.

‘Yes, she’s beautiful,’ he admitted. He thought back again to their first meeting and his lips twitched. When she had rounded on him with such indignation on the ferry it had taken all his self-possession not to silence her fury with a kiss! Will ran his fingers through his hair, thanking his good fortune he hadn’t done so.

‘I think prickly would be a fair description,’ he conceded.

‘I always imagined taking a tumble with her would be akin to falling into a holly bush!’ Rob laughed.

Will snorted noncommittally, wondering what his brother would say if he knew how close to the holly bush he had got. The way her green eyes had widened as he’d pulled her close to him had sent a throb of raw desire through his entire body that even now threatened to return.

Enticing smells drifted from the kitchen so Will struck the large brass gong sharply. Whisking away their goblets, he took his position by the double doors to greet the household.

Presently the family and household servants began to make their way into the hall. Sir Edgar and Lady Fitzallan led the procession followed directly by Edmund Fitzallan escorting Lady Peyton on one arm and Anne Fitzallan, fourteen and the youngest of Sir Edgar’s children, on the other. Will bowed deeply as Sir Edgar led his family to the table on the dais, but could not resist casting a surreptitious look at Lady Peyton. She caught his eye and her step faltered. A rose-coloured flush appeared enchantingly on each cheek. She nodded her head the smallest degree that manners would permit and Will hid a smile, turning instead to greet Edmund and Anne.

* * *

Throughout the meal Will’s mind was firmly on his duties, determined to ensure everything ran smoothly. Once or twice throughout the evening he sensed Lady Peyton’s eyes on him as he explained the ingredients of a particular dish to Sir Edgar, but if ever he looked directly at her she whipped her head down.

* * *

Before the sweet dishes were brought out Sir Edgar stood and left the table. The atmosphere took on a more informal air in his absence as members of the household dispersed or moved into groups and the hall became pleasantly alive with the sounds of voices and dice games.

Will found a spot on the end of a bench and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction that the evening had been accomplished smoothly. He watched as the three women and their attendants moved to seats by the fireside. Lady Fitzallan and Anne began to devour a plate of honeyed figs, but Lady Peyton seated herself slightly apart from her mother and sister, her body perfectly still and her eyes downcast. The air of melancholy surrounding her was almost tangible and Will’s heart lurched at the sight.

Edmund broke his reverie as he threw himself on to the bench and slung an arm around Will’s shoulder. Will greeted him with a distracted smile, the intrusion into his thoughts unwelcome.

Edmund picked up a bottle of wine and filled two goblets to the brim. ‘You look weary, Will,’ he commented. ‘Was my father particularly demanding tonight? Did he agree to buy the wine?’

‘No, he wasn’t—and, yes, he did. He recognised the quality straight away. With a little more money to invest I could earn well from this vintage alone,’ Will answered. He sighed deeply. ‘It’s a pity my stake is so small.’

They drank contentedly for a while, discussing the upcoming feast, Rob’s successful wager and impending marriage. Rob retrieved his kestrel from the perch by the fire with a bow and a few brief words to the ladies, then joined his brother and friend. Lady Peyton’s eyes followed him as he crossed the room and Will saw her expression change to a frown as she saw where he was heading.

‘Why does my dear sister keep glaring at you?’ Edmund asked suddenly, turning his head to Will. ‘Every time she glanced your way during dinner she looked as though she wished she had a sharper knife. Surely you can have done nothing in the hour or two she has been here to incur her displeasure?’

‘You must be imagining things, Edmund. What could I have done?’ Will asked innocently. He took a deep draught from his goblet.

Rob leaned forward on his bench. ‘Will, you’re hiding something, I can tell.’

Will sighed. He had intended to keep his encounter with Lady Peyton to himself, but now the matter had arisen of its own accord. The wine had relaxed his mood enough that he had a sudden impulse to share his tale.

‘We have met before tonight, though not in the best circumstances,’ Will admitted, a wry smile crossing his face. ‘Today I nearly caused her to drown. I’m fortunate not to be packing my bags as we speak!’ He described the encounter on the ferry and his requests for a kiss. By the time he had finished his tale Rob was open mouthed in disbelief. Edmund’s face was twisted into an incredulous smile.

‘I swear, Edmund, if I had known she was your sister I would never have behaved in such a manner,’ Will insisted. ‘I intended no offence.’

Edmund swigged his wine with a careless shrug and raised an eyebrow. ‘None taken. The thought of my dear sister in such disarray has brightened up an otherwise tedious day. In all honesty I wish you had kissed her, Will. I wish anyone would, in fact.’

Will and Rob exchanged a glance of surprise at Edmund’s words.

‘It would do Eleanor some good to be reminded that she’s a woman. She has been widowed so long I fear she has forgotten,’ Edmund explained. ‘She’s had a sad life,’ he said sorrowfully.

‘Here’s the target for our next wager,’ Rob crowed delightedly.

‘No, it isn’t,’ Will said sternly. ‘I’m done with all that and, even if I weren’t, I’m not putting my position here in jeopardy. I’ve worked too hard to get it.’

‘That would be the challenge, of course: to charm her without causing any risk to yourself.’ Rob smiled.

‘Coaxing a serving girl between the sheets is one thing. I have no intention of risking Sir Edgar’s rage by seducing his daughter,’ Will insisted.

‘I wouldn’t want her seduced completely,’ Edmund protested quickly. ‘I wouldn’t play games with her virtue so carelessly. A kiss, though, that would be a different matter and one that is unlikely to endanger your employment.’

‘A single kiss? That’s hardly any challenge,’ Will scoffed. He looked once more to where Lady Peyton sat staring solemnly at the fireplace. Her slender form was in silhouette and Will could make out the shape of the contours he had so recently held close. He remembered the purse of her lips as she had glared at him. Would they be as soft to kiss as he imagined them to be? A prickle of excitement ran down his spine at the thought.

Edmund eyed him for a moment. A familiar mocking glint flashed across his eyes. He stood up, wobbling slightly, and patted Will on the back. ‘Your limited charms won’t be enough to win my sister over anyhow. She’d never look twice at you.’

Lady Peyton was listening to her mother speaking but, as though she had felt Will’s eyes upon her, she glanced across, seeing the three men staring in her direction. Her green eyes narrowed suspiciously. Will remembered those clear, wide eyes scrutinising him in Sir Edgar’s library as she had hinted at their encounter. She could have told her father everything and yet something had stopped her. He had seen interest there, he was sure, and he had most certainly seen the flush in her cheeks when she was in his arms.

His jaw tightened as he recalled her declaration that she would never kiss him. She had been so confident of her assertion that his sense of pride flared at the thought of such a challenge.

As he poured another round of drinks, playing for time, Lady Peyton rose from her seat. She crossed the hall—still not putting the weight fully on her foot, Will noticed. Edmund hailed her with a cheery goodnight and she bent unwillingly while Edmund planted a drunken kiss on her cheek. Her eye fell on Will. He inclined his head towards her and she gave him a nervous smile. He watched her depart, her skirt swaying gracefully despite the unevenness of her step, emphasising her narrow waist and the curves of her hips.

‘You’ve got a fancy for her, haven’t you, Brother? I can tell,’ Rob said. ‘Well, you can put her out of your mind. It’s common knowledge she has no time for any man.’

‘Rob’s right. I’d be happy for you to kiss her. I might even welcome you as a brother-in-law, but you’d be on a hiding to nothing,’ Edmund agreed. ‘I reckon Mother will be looking at the duke’s entourage for husbands for my sisters.’

‘Why should that concern me? I’m not looking for marriage,’ Will said. ‘I’ll leave it to Rob to exceed the terms of the wager so foolishly.’ Of course a noblewoman such as she would have her eyes on a mate of equal status. He sat back in his chair, arms stretched behind his head. ‘Very well, I’ll bet five groats I can kiss her by midnight on the night of the midwinter feast.’

Rob laughed, ‘You’re aiming too high this time. In fact, I’m so sure you’ll fail that I’ll make it ten groats.’ He chortled.

‘Ten from me, too,’ Edmund agreed.

Will sucked his teeth thoughtfully. Twenty groats was almost a month’s salary, much more than any wager previously. He could ill afford to lose such an amount. To win it though was tempting indeed. Visions of Master Fortin’s ship laden with wine barrels passed before his eyes. Twenty groats more to invest and for what hardship? Doing something he wanted to do anyway.

Why was he even hesitating! A widow must miss some comforts of marriage after all.

‘One kiss, nothing more? And you assure me I will not incur your father’s wrath?’ he asked once more.

Edmund nodded. ‘How would Father ever find out? Eleanor would never tell him. On the lips, mind,’ he said. ‘None of this virtuous hand-raising or brotherly cheek-brushing.’

Brotherly cheek-brushing was the last thing on Will’s mind. He drained his goblet and slammed it down on the table.

‘I’ll do it. The wager is on!’