Enduringly Yours (10 page)

He leaned in, cupped her face, and kissed her. Carefully. Because it would be too easy to do far more than plunder just her mouth. Her fingers curled into his hair.

“You can assume, my lady.”

She urged his head back down, kissing him again, but he pulled away.

“Zipporah, I cannot. I . . . made a promise.”

“A promise?”

“Aye. To myself. I will be watching, and I will see you tomorrow.”

Chapter Eleven

Zipporah paced before one of the hearths in the great hall, twisting the end of her braid as she went. “Maybe we should have waited a few more days. This really was a terrible idea.”

“It was your idea,” Peter said.

“You should have stopped me. What was I thinking?”

She knew exactly what she’d been thinking. She did not want Peter hiding in dark corners about the estate, that was what. But she did not want him an open target for Gilburn and his men either. She turned, watching him sitting calmly, sipping wine as if Gilburn was not expected at any moment.

Peter lowered his cup, his eyes lingering over her. He stretched his legs out before him, crossing them at the ankles.

“How can you be so calm?” she asked. “He is going to walk through that door and try to kill you.”

“He will not kill me. Come sit.”

Her mother glanced up from her needlepoint. “I think you had better help her, Sir Peter. She seems quite at a loss.”

Zipporah gritted her teeth as Peter stood.

“I am fine. You do not have to . . .”

He caught her by one draping blue sleeve and drew her aside. “I can handle this,” he said.

“It is not that. Well it is, but not really.” Zipporah blew out a breath. “I have stopped making sense, haven’t I?”

He smiled. “Come sit.”

Nodding, her teeth clamped tightly shut so that she wouldn’t babble like a madwoman, she took the chair between her mother and Peter. Lady Havendell was happily focused on her needlepoint again.

“Gilburn wouldn’t dare lay a hand on me anyway,” Peter said. “John has taken care of it.”

Zipporah shook her head.

“If I turn up dead, missing, or otherwise maimed, John and his men will hunt him down like the yuletide boar.”

“Dead, missing, or otherwise maimed? Oh now I do feel much better.” She rubbed her temples. “My head hurts.”

Peter passed her his cup. “You need it more than I do.”

“Nay,” she said, taking it anyway. She had just finished her third swallow when Sir Gilburn stepped under the stone archway and into the great hall. She lowered the cup. Gilburn looked at her, and then he looked at Peter. His expression hardened to stone. He made his way toward them like a man on a mission.

Peter stood and they exchanged useless pleasantries through their teeth.

“What do you want?” Gilburn asked.

“Have a seat,” Peter said.

“This is my home. You cannot tell me when I have permission to sit.”

“Then stand and I will sit.” Peter took his place next to Zipporah, the hilt of his sword scraping against the chair. She wondered if he had done that on purpose.

Gilburn dragged up another chair and sat before Lady Havendell, Zipporah, and Peter. “Speak,” he said, his words echoing off stone walls.

“Now, Sir Gilburn.” Lady Havendell chided. “Sir Peter is our guest.”

Gilburn scowled.

Peter smiled. He was so proud of his ability to annoy Gilburn. Zipporah took another swallow of wine.

“I have spoken with Lady Havendell,” Peter said. “She has agreed that Zipporah should be allowed to have more than one suitor.”

The blood drained from Gilburn’s face, making his dark brown eyes appear even darker, as if the pupils had dilated entirely. His gaze flicked to her mother.

“It is only fair,” Lady Havendell said with a calm smile.

“My lady.” Gilburn lowered his voice. “I know you are tender toward Sir Peter, but surely this is too much.”

“It is no more than my husband would do. So that she may make a justified decision.”

“Justified?”

“Sir Peter is a long-time friend of the family.”

“You are not jealous, are you?” Peter asked.

Zipporah wanted to crawl under a table, or hide behind a tapestry. Even the prison tower would be preferable to this.

Gilburn’s eyes bulged unnaturally. He stood, his chair tipping behind him. Zipporah spilled the last of her wine onto her lap. Her mother reached over and took the cup, then passed her a handkerchief. Zipporah was too focused on Gilburn to clean herself. Cool liquid seeped through the layers of her clothing.

Peter came to his feet with control, and both men touched their sword hilts. Gilburn glanced at her, his gaze faltering. Then he lifted his hands in surrender. Zipporah let out her breath.

“My lady Zipporah,” Gilburn said. “Might I have a word with you in private?”

She stood and faked a smile, making it look like her mother’s. Diplomatic. “Of course you may, sir.” He offered his arm and she accepted.

“Is this what you want?” Gilburn asked.

“Peter is a friend. I believe I owe him this much.” She dabbed at her blue kyrtle with the handkerchief. The washing women would never be able to get the stain out. Perhaps she could have them dye it a darker color.

What was she doing? Worrying about how to save her gown?

“I cannot believe it,” Gilburn said.

Zipporah looked up. It took her a moment to focus on him. “My mother is fond of Peter, and he was my brother’s closest friend.”

“He is an idiot!”

She jumped, and Gilburn ducked his head in apology. “Forgive me for my loss of temper,” he said.

“If I turn him away now it will look bad. Lord John is a good friend of mine.”

Gilburn crossed his arms over his chest. “Things change, my lady. Perhaps the free interchange between Havendell and Ravenmore has seen its conclusion.”

“Perhaps
I
do not change so easily.”

He eyed her, but Zipporah stood her ground, despite the sudden queasiness in her stomach.

“Of course,” he said. “Be cautious though. I don’t trust him with you.”

“Thank you for your concern.”

“I can take some time away from my duties.” Gilburn shifted closer. The scent of cloves washed over her. He was clean shaven. “As a suitor, I have been remiss.” His dark hair fell over his forehead, and he brushed it back again.

“We could . . . all go for a ride,” she blurted. Zipporah almost groaned out loud. Not another ride with him. She really needed to start planning these conversations ahead of time, so that she had something better to offer. “My mother could ride her mare. She is quite fond of the animal.” Zipporah took a lesson from Gilburn and turned away before he could say anything. “If we leave now, we can eat our meal at the lake. I will have foodstuffs packed.”

It took all the self-control she had to walk nicely from the great hall. What she really wanted was to run to the stable, take out her gelding, and head straight for France.

She told a kitchen maid in great detail what they needed, with the hope that Gilburn would decide he had other, more pressing, business and not be there when she returned.

Zipporah finally stepped back into the great hall, peering around. When she didn’t see Gilburn she made a straight line for Peter.

“Did he leave?”

Peter grinned. “Stormed out right after you left.”

“Good.”

“But not before saying something about taking care of a few things before we went to the lake.”

“Oh, nay.”

“Oh, aye.”

“He is very angry?”

“Marginally. I have seen him angrier, if that helps.”

“It does not.” She looked at her wine-stained gown. “I should change.”

“Why?”

“Because I am stained.”

Peter looked her over, taking his time, burning away the nausea in her stomach with heat that spread immediately to her cheeks. “You look good to me.”

“Maybe you had better not look at me like that in front of Gilburn.” She cleared her throat.

“I cannot make that promise. But it does seem to have quite an effect on your complexion.” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “I like you like this.”

“I do not think I can stand to spend the afternoon with both you and Gilburn. You will probably maim each other before we can eat our meal. And then it will ruin our appetites, what with you two bleeding all over the foodstuffs.” She frowned. “I really should go change. Mother,” she called. “I told Gilburn that you would be accompanying us.”

“I know, sweetling,” Lady Havendell answered. “I will be along shortly. I just want to finish stitching this flower. You and Peter go ahead.”

Peter leaned closer. He smelled natural, like he always did, not like he was trying to impress her with his bathing habits. His forest green eyes scanned her face, pausing on her mouth. “Just go the way you are. Then we can have a few minutes alone.”

“Where? In the stable?” She whispered, “Surrounded by stable boys?”

He smiled, small at first, then widening into a full grin. “I do like the way you think. Let’s save
that
for later though.”

She pursed her lips.

“You look fine,” he continued. “It is not as if you need to impress Gilburn.”

“Heaven forbid.”

“And you already impress me.” Peter offered his arm and she placed her hand on his blue tunic sleeve. They were both in blue today. Like a matched set. Maybe she should spill some wine on him to complete it.

“Figures,” she said.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just the ramblings of a madwoman.” They crossed the hall. “Having you and Gilburn together is too much.”

“I know. It is hard enough having to deal with us one at a time.”

“That was not quite what I meant.”

“I had my fun with Gilburn. For the rest of the day I will be on my best behavior. I promise. I might even leave him with a little dignity intact.”

Zipporah blinked into the afternoon sun as they made their way down the front steps and into the bailey. “Please be careful. Even if just for my peace of mind.”

“Aye, my lady.”

Peter led her horse out of the stable and Zipporah sat on the fence just outside, watching him saddle her gelding. The sun was shining down, birds were singing. For a moment, it was as if they were innocent again, exchanging shy smiles over her horse’s back. She longed for those days.

Her mother arrived, bringing along a maidservant. Lady Havendell wanted her mare harnessed to a wagon. Gilburn came last. The afternoon was already waning by the time they reached the road.

Zipporah, wanting nothing to do with Gilburn’s temper, reined her gelding closer to the wagon bringing up the rear of their party.

“Is this better or worse?” her mother asked.

“I have not yet decided.”

Peter glanced over his shoulder at Zipporah, then came around, reining in alongside her. “You are quiet,” he said.

“I am attempting to avoid any crossfire.”

Gilburn slowed until he was on the other side of the wagon. Good thing it was a small wagon, or there wouldn’t be enough room on the road for all of them abreast. Zipporah shifted in the saddle. It was impossible to talk to Peter with Gilburn right there.

“It will be dark before long.” Gilburn peered at the sky through the upper canopy of the forest. “We should have waited until tomorrow.”

“The dark does not bother me,” Zipporah said, then thought better of it, all things considered. “I mean, not when I am with all of you. I would never go out in the dark by myself. Or anywhere, really. Not by myself. Never.”

Peter looked at her sympathetically.

“Still, we had better not stay too long.”

“Afraid of the dark?” Peter asked.

“All that scares me is the lack of intelligent conversation from your mouth.”

“Now, now.” Her mother intervened. “Save it for the lists.”

Even
that
could get out of hand easily. “Save it for the archery competition,” Zipporah said. “I am looking forward to it.”

“You are?” Gilburn asked.

“You are?” Peter echoed in mock shock.

Peter promised her he would not pester Gilburn for the rest of the day. It seemed he had already forgotten.

“Aye, of course.” Zipporah smiled through her teeth while she searched for benign conversation. “In fact, I think we should have a second competition for the ladies.”

“I do believe that can be arranged.” Gilburn brushed his hair out of his face. “What should the ladies’ prize be?”

“I could offer up some fabric. If you can give up one of your trophies, then I can make a sacrifice as well.”

“But I can win my trophy back, my lady,” he said with a smile

Peter snorted.

Gilburn’s jaw ticked.

“And I can win back my fabric,” she said.

“When was the last time you shot a bow?”

It had been some time.

“I will help her practice,” Peter said seriously. “I would not want the lady to embarrass herself before the other women.”