Anne Stuart - Hidden Honor

“I’m mistress of the castle,” she said. “That’s been my purpose in life, to see that my father’s guests are well taken care of.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’ll be putting your talents to something more useful,” he said. “Do I have your promise?”

She jerked her head up to look at him, honest surprise wiping every other consideration from her mind. “Promise, my lord?”

“To keep away from the great hall?” he said patiently. “To seek your quarters and stay there till the morning light? The men I’ve brought with me aren’t trustworthy when it comes to women.”

And you are? she wanted to ask, but she decided she’d already pushed her luck to extremes. And he was letting her leave, untouched. She should be wise and grateful.

It was easy enough to agree, when it was exactly as she had intended. “I promise, my lord. Though I must say you greatly overestimate any effect I might have on susceptible males. I have found that I am entirely safe from such things.”

His grin was slow, wicked, the complete opposite of Brother Matthew’s saintly smile. And far more dangerous. “I think you greatly underestimate susceptible males, my lady. And if I weren’t atoning for my sins I’d be sorely tempted to drag you into that room and commit a great many more.” He put his hand on her other shoulder, and he started to draw her closer, and she looked up into his dark, dark eyes, letting him do it, wondering if he would kiss her. She would have liked one last kiss before she took her holy vows, though she’d be much better off being kissed by Brother Matthew than the most dangerously lecherous man in the entire kingdom.

But no one else would want her, so it didn’t matter. She couldn’t move, she simply closed her eyes as he brought her closer, and his lips settled on her…forehead. A brief benediction, and then he let her go.

Not even good enough for a desperate lecher, she thought. Thank all the mercies of heaven for that. She stepped back, and if she didn’t know better she would have thought his release was reluctant.

“Sleep well, my lord,” she said, turning to leave, hiding her intense and totally irrational annoyance. “I’ll be ready to go whenever you wish. Have peaceful dreams.”

“I doubt it,” he muttered. And a moment later he’d closed the door of the solar behind him, leaving her alone in the hallway, with the feel of his mouth on her forehead, taunting her.

An hour later he was sprawled in a chair in the solar, watching the fire, when he heard the faint scratching on the door, the creak of the leather hinges. He allowed himself a stray hope that it was a certain tall, skinny, redheaded creature who wasn’t anywhere near as meek or as witless as she’d have everyone believe, and then relaxed when one of the monks ducked inside, closing the door silently behind him.

“Did anyone see you?”

Brother Adrian shook his head. “Not a soul. I already had an excuse ready—you were in need of spiritual counseling and my Christian duty was to aid you.”

“And I would have turned to the youngest monk in my retinue? Somehow it seems unlikely.”

Adrian flushed. “I didn’t think…”

“It’s all right, Brother Adrian. They would simply assume I’m extending my debauchery to those of my own sex. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Brother Adrian frowned. “But you wouldn’t. You don’t…” he faltered.

“I don’t,” the man said. “But Prince William does. Is the prince safely settled for the night?”

“He is.”

“No women anywhere near him?”

“None.”

The man sighed. “This is harder than I expected. Keep watch on him, Adrian. He cares nothing for atonement.”

“And you care too much,” Adrian was bold enough to say.

Elizabeth was up early. She’d always been impatient with too much sleep, and on the day she was to start her new life she could barely wait. Excitement bubbled in her veins, and even though her meager belongings were packed and her goodbyes said, she still rose before the first light, pulled her loose-fitting dull brown gown over her shift and laced it herself, and then sat by the window as the sun climbed over the eastern hills. It would be the last time she would see it from this window, and she wondered that she felt no twinge of sorrow. There would be other sunrises, in other places. She’d seen enough of this one.

She leaned her head against the cool stone wall and watched as the household slowly came alive. The milkmaids straggled into view first, and Elizabeth could tell even from that distance that the household guests had found amiable company among them. They were followed by the stable help and then the rest of the household servants, one by one, as they set about their duties. There was no sign of the visitors, either knights or monks, even as full daylight spread over her father’s keep.

It was an orderly, well-run household, despite her father’s slovenly ways, and she had always done her best to make it so. God only knew what it would look like when next she saw it—if she ever did. Even a small castle such as Bredon required a strong chatelaine to order the multitude of servants necessary. In the few years since her father had discovered daughters, even plain ones, had a use after all, she had been kept at a run, overseeing even the merest details of a household that required a small army to run. She seldom had time for her own interests, her study of the stars and the curative effects of roots and herbs. However, she’d become quite masterful at feeding and caring for the fifty or more members of her father’s household.

Who would see to them after today? With no woman to see to the running of the place it would most likely fall into disrepair and decay.

Of course, who was to say there wouldn’t be a woman? Once her father was free of the restraining effects of Elizabeth’s potion, he’d doubtless find himself married once more, and her younger brothers would doubtless follow suit. In truth, there would probably be too many women rather than too few. Another good reason for her to leave—she wasn’t the sort to peacefully relinquish what little power she had.

But that would no longer be her concern. She might never return, never see her family again, and while she’d miss her monstrous younger brothers, she wouldn’t mourn. She would have a new family once she arrived at the Shrine of Saint Anne. A new family, a new name, a new calling. And no regrets.

The first of their guests strode into the courtyard, and Elizabeth watched in astonishment as Prince William himself headed toward the stable. He was fully dressed in his elegant clothing, the gold chasing glinting in the early sunlight, but he had no cap on his head, and she realized with some amusement that he was prematurely balding. His dark hair had been carefully combed over his skull, but it only just covered the crown of his head. He was almost as bald as a monk. It was a good thing he was so tall—most people wouldn’t have the vantage point she had.

Then again, it probably wouldn’t matter if he was fat and ugly, as well as bald. He was the only son of the king, powerful and privileged, and no one would dare say no to him. She couldn’t imagine how he could have killed a woman, or more than one if gossip were to be believed. What woman would dare to resist him, even one of high birth?

She could watch him quite safely, hidden away behind the thick walls of the castle, and she indulged herself for lack of something better to do. He moved with surprising grace for a man so tall, and his long legs made quick work of the expanse of the courtyard. He’d either spent the hours in such debauchery that he hadn’t bothered to get any sleep, or unlike his fellow travelers he’d spent a chaste, well-rested night in the solar. He didn’t look particularly chaste—there was too much knowledge in his eyes, but there’d been no screams in the night, and she could only assume that everyone had made it through safely.