Catherine Archer - The Bride Of Spring

That she must explain her presence behind the curtain in the audience chamber, she knew. Somehow she would think of something. Her real purpose, that of discovering whether or not Lord Ainsworth would be a suitable guardian for William, was foremost in her mind.

Raine entered the splendor of the great hall with mixed feelings of dread and anticipation. She paid scant attention to the lush tapestries that lined the walls, the dark beamed ceiling overhead or the elegantly garbed courtiers, who crowded about the tables consuming roast meats, stews, fowl of various varieties, fine bread and copious amounts of wine and ale. She did note, though, that Edward was not in attendance at the high table, for his heavy, carved chair stood empty. Raine felt unaccountably relieved at this, though she was quite sure that Ainsworth had not told him of her presence in his chamber.

Her mind was firmly fixed on the matter at hand. The thought that she might actually be nearer to accomplishing her goal of finding someone to give William the protection of his name—a husband—was both terrifying and strangely exciting. It was especially so when she recalled how tall and handsome the man under consideration was.

Raine pushed this last thought away. She could not think about such things. To do so would be to risk allowing them to cloud her judgment about Benedict Ainsworth being the right man to protect William and his lands. And that was all he need do. She had no desire for a true marriage. She had Abbernathy and her brother to look to.

She squared her shoulders beneath the heavy sapphire velvet of her gown and let her gaze sweep the room. When she did not immediately locate the baron among the throng, she took a deep breath and searched again, more slowly. There was no sign of those unmistakable broad shoulders, nor his raven hair.

Disappointment made her own shoulders slump. Even though she had known there was no guarantee of his attendance, she had not actually believed Lord Ainsworth would be absent.

Benedict had considered the notion of joining his men at the inn in which they were staying. There he could dine and drink in relaxed company. He disliked court life at the best of times.

Yet something made him remain at Westminster. He could not stop thinking of the young woman whose presence in the king’s chamber he had concealed. The more he thought about her, the more he knew that he must discover what she had been doing there. Surely he had been quite mad to shield her as he had.

His doing so made him responsible for finding out what she had been about. He wanted no crime against the crown upon his conscience. For that was the only purpose he could imagine for her being there, though for some reason he was fairly certain that was not why she had been.

A sudden notion struck him as he paused in the doorway of the great hall. Perhaps she was infatuated with Edward.

Benedict was surprised at how much this thought displeased him. He told himself it was because she had seemed, even in the moment that he had looked into her eyes, to have an air of innocence about her. She would not retain it long were she to become involved with the king of England. Edward was already known for his way with women.

Benedict shrugged, albeit stiffly, as he entered the crowded chamber. If that was where the woman’s interest lay, the outcome was her own quandary. He meant only to learn if she had been up to some other devilment.

He had no trouble finding her among the throng. Though her back was to him, and he had seen her only once, he would recognize that red hair anywhere. Tonight it was escaping her blue pearled headdress. She was seated some distance from the head table, which implied modest status. Again curiosity gripped him.

A strange anticipation filled him as he made his way among the tables to her side. Benedict stopped beside her and she looked up at him, those golden eyes of hers widening in surprise and, dared he believe it, pleasure. He found himself thinking of his first impression—that she was quite pretty. He realized that he had been in error there. She was far more than pretty with those surprisingly dark lashed, golden eyes. Her nose was straight and aristocratic, her chin firm but not stubborn. Her mouth was pleasingly curved and lovely, and as she began to smile, it turned up slightly more on one side than the other in a way that he thought amazingly endearing.

An odd warmth suffused him and he found himself simply standing there, staring down at her like a besotted calf. His confusion over his unprecedented reaction made him speak with more gruffness than he intended. “May I sit here with you?”

Her smile faded somewhat and a pensive frown marred her brow. “You are welcome to do so, my lord.”

He realized that he had been less than civil, but concentrated on his desire to learn why she had been in the king’s chamber. Once he had taken the place on the bench next to her, Benedict found the proximity to her slightly unnerving. For he could not move without his own shoulder brushing against hers. And each time it did so he knew a far too heady sense of his own masculinity in comparison to her delicate womanliness.

Because of his own disturbance he lost no time in getting to the point. “My lady?”

She looked up from contemplation of her glass. “My lord?”

Again he was struck by the color of those amazing eyes of hers. He looked away, forcing himself to concentrate on the matter at hand. He kept his voice low. “I have come here this evening in hope of finding you so that you might have opportunity to explain why you were in the king’s chamber this morn, when he had expressly sent everyone away.”

Her voice was eager as she said, “Oh, of course, my lord. I have no wish to hide anything from you, and I do hope you realize how very grateful I am for your discretion this morn.” Her lids fluttered down over those incredibly beautiful and ingenuous gold eyes.

“Well?” he prodded, not pleased with his thoughts.

She spoke softly. “Firstly, please allow me to introduce myself, my lord. My name is Raine Blanchett.”

He made no reply to this, though he could not help thinking that the name Raine somehow suited her perfectly. He was immediately and unaccountably reminded of the last time he had seen his father. The six Ainsworths had been standing on the docks beside the ship that would take his parents to visit his mother’s sister in Scotland. It had been raining, and his father had reached into his pouch and removed a gold coin. That coin had glistened in the rain as his father said, “Take your brothers about the town before you go home.”

His mother had showed concern. “Should he do so, Benedict? The younger boys can be quite unruly.”

His father had smiled and put an affectionate hand on her shoulder as he’d met his namesake’s gaze. “Aye, Leticia, I trust him to look after them in my stead.”

Benedict had never forgotten that moment, nor his father’s faith in him. He was not sure why the color of Raine’s eyes reminded him of it, or why that was so unsettling.

Raine had gone on at his silence. “Allow me to admit I should not have been where I was. It was completely foolhardy of me. I had hidden behind the curtain because I was attempting to avoid someone who would not cease in his efforts to speak to me and then…” She stared down at her hands. “I could not very well come out while you and King Edward were…What would he have thought?”

Benedict felt slightly uneasy with this almost too earnest explanation. He scowled. “Your words seem somewhat strained to me. I begin to think I may have good cause to go to King Edward on this matter.”

She looked at him then, her eyes wide with horror. “No, please, my lord. I beg you not to do that. I swear on my own father’s grave that I meant no harm to king or crown by my actions. I have no interest whatsoever in any of the king’s business.”