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
