The Norman's Heart. Margaret Moore
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“I’ve seen you be quite charming toward other women, Roger,” Albert chided gently. “I should think you would make an effort for your betrothed.”
“It is precisely because she is my betrothed that there is no need for any exertion on my part. She will be in my bed on our wedding night whether she wants to be or not. Or whether I want her or not, for that matter.”
“You are a heartless creature, Roger!” Albert said with very real dismay.
“I am the way I am,” Roger repeated coldly, getting to his feet. If he had no heart, that was not his fault. It was God’s, or fate, or the whim of nature that had taken his parents from him too soon. And it was the fault of his parents’ friends, who had decided it was best that Roger go to Castle Gervais to learn the ways of knighthood while his sister Madeline was sent to a convent.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Albert said. “I just thought you could be a little friendlier to her. I’ve heard some things... I don’t think she’s had a particularly easy life.”
Roger thought of the scars on Mina’s back, and although to a casual observer his face would have seemed expressionless, Albert saw that his words had affected his friend.
“Very well,” Roger said. “I will make an effort to be polite, if that will please you.”
“It will, indeed.”
Roger gave Albert the ghost of a grin as they headed to the door. “I daresay it’s quite a trial shepherding Reginald.”
Albert chuckled companionably.
“We had best see what damage the storm brought about,” Roger said. “I am especially concerned about the mill. If the water was strong enough to ruin a bridge, it might have damaged the wheel.” He halted abruptly when he looked into the yard.
Mina Chilcott, attired in a long blue cloak that made her chameleon eyes look like the sky in the first days of spring, sat upon her horse with absolutely no escort in sight. Her mount was a brokendown nag who had obviously seen better and younger days, quite a contrast to the splendid stallion Reginald rode.
Reginald hurried up behind them. “I say, Mina!” he called out nervously. “I won’t give you an escort, you know.”
“Don’t fret, Reginald,” she said with an infuriatingly cool smile directed at Roger. “Unlike some people, I have learned to do without.”
Roger stared at her, very well aware that Hilda had used similar words when she had waylaid him in the corridor the previous night.
He marched toward Mina Chilcott. He would not provide an escort, and no woman—not even this one—should ride alone and unprotected. Before-he could reach her, however, she kicked her horse’s side and went galloping out of the gate, the beast moving with more speed than he would have thought possible.
“Stop!” Roger shouted, running a few steps after her, but she either didn’t hear him, or, more likely, ignored him and rode on.
“Saddle my horse!” he called to one of the lads gawking out of the stable door, suddenly cognizant of the humiliating spectacle he had made of himself. When the boy rushed to do his bidding, Roger turned and glared at Reginald. “Your sister has seen fit to disobey both of us,” he said through clenched teeth. “I am going after her and when I find her, I fully intend to make sure she understands that was not a wise decision!”
Chapter Three
Mina smothered a pleased laugh as the troop of mounted men thundered past her hiding place in the grove of beech trees beside the road. She could see well enough to catch the grim expression on Sir Roger’s handsome face, and the frightened one on Reginald’s. He hated a pace faster than a walk, so this headlong gallop after her had to be terrifying.
Poor fellow! There was no need for Sir Roger to insist upon his presence, for she was quite sure Reginald had been compelled to go either by a direct order, or the force of Sir Roger’s malevolent glare.
The other soldiers simply looked intent upon keeping up with their lord. She could well imagine the harsh words with which Sir Roger would upbraid them if they fell behind.
When the sound of the horses disappeared in the distance, Mina took off her stiffened headband and wimple and walked her horse along a narrow path through the unfamiliar woods. The land around the rise on which the castle stood was flat and even, but a short distance away, the forest began, as well as the slight swell of rounded foothills. Squirrels scampered overhead, and she caught the occasional call of a jay nearby.
As she continued on her leisurely journey, she realized her future home was located in very pretty countryside. The path wound close to tended fields, and she could hear snatches of conversation among the peasants. They spoke of the coming harvest and their families, and they made jokes. Sir Roger must be a good lord, she thought, or she would hear complaints and grumbles from people thinking themselves unheard by anyone from the castle.
Soon she reached a babbling brook, its banks covered with purple scabious, ladies’ bedstraw and rushes. She bent down to drink the clear and delicious water. Sitting back on her haunches, she sighed contentedly, taking in the beauty of her surroundings and her few moments of peace. Long ago she had learned to savor such rare moments, and to store them in her memory to recall again when her life grew more difficult.
How many more such solitary rambles would she enjoy? Very few, probably, unless she could convince Sir Roger that they were safe and enjoyable to the point of being a necessity. That might be possible, although she was quite certain that Sir Roger would never see it that way. Surely he never stopped to admire a lovely, sunny summer’s day, or watch the birds and squirrels preparing for the winter.
Was there anything he enjoyed simply for the pleasure it gave him? She could easily think of one thing, she realized with a frown, her mood spoiled by the remembrance of Hilda in her betrothed’s arms. Yes, that no doubt gave him pleasure. But did it give him peace?
Wrapped in her thoughts, she slowly walked the horse back toward the main road, stooping periodically to pick a bouquet of wildftowers. How sweet they smelled, the various scents blending in the warm air with the odor of the thick carpet of earth and leaves beneath her feet.
A rabbit peeped cautiously out of the undergrowth, making Mina smile. Was it a mother rabbit looking for food? Or a male rabbit looking for a mate?
Suddenly the rabbit dashed across the pathway as if it had been frightened. Then Mina heard the sound of horses on the road.
As she suspected, it was Sir Roger, Reginald and the soldiers. Since she had accomplished her goal, she did not try to conceal herself.
“Mina!” Reginald called out, relief in his voice as Sir Roger gave the signal to halt. “Where have you been?”
“Picking flowers,” she answered calmly, ignoring Sir Roger’s glare. The other soldiers shifted nervously in their saddles. “There was no need for alarm.”
Sir Roger swung down from his horse and marched toward her, his frowning lips matching his glaring black eyes. “It is dangerous for a lady to ride out alone.”