The dress below it seemed to be the opposite – made of a thin, cottony material that was almost see-through, it was the color of eggshells. The next was the same thick brocade, but of a rust color, with tight sleeves and a line of laces that went up the back of the dress. Perplexed, she looked to Ginny and gestured at the dress.
“Do you not know which one to wear, my lady?” The girl cocked her head and studied Leah’s face. “I should think the green would be a fetching color on you. It would match your eyes, and we want you to look pretty if you’re to capture Lord Royce’s eye.” The girl gave her a knowing look and Leah blushed.
She didn’t really care what Royce thought, but she nodded her agreement and reached for the green dress, holding it up against her body.
Ginny hesitated, then picked up the flimsy gown. “Mistress, you put the sherte on underneath.”
Oh. Leah blushed again. Ginny’d see her for a fraud right away. She reached for the thin dress – made from unbleached muslin, if her eye for cloth was any good – and slipped it over her head.
With Ginny’s assistance she was dressed in a manner of minutes, and had a better idea of what the dress was trying to accomplish. The sleeves of the undergarment – the sherte, Ginny had called it – were tight-fitting and ended just above her wrist. Judging from the way that Ginny clucked at the length of the skirt, she was a good deal taller than the former occupant of the dress. The green over-dress fit quite well until Ginny began to lace it up and then everything fit a little too tightly for Leah’s liking. Her breasts were pressed up against the fabric as a long, flat bump that she was certain was not attractive.
“Well,” Ginny said, clasping her hands and keeping her expression bright. “It’s warm, even if it’s not decent.”
Leah’s lips twitched. It
was
warm, and now she was free to leave this room and explore the castle – and look for an easy way back to the beach to cure the throbbing in her legs so she could get down to romancing the baron.
The leg throbbing had already begun again with the new day. Her bath yesterday had helped some, but now it was at the point where the throbbing in her legs outmatched by far the throbbing of her wounded arm.
The servingmaid handed Leah a pair of shoes with pointy toes. While Leah struggled to get her feet into those, Ginny tugged at her hair and pulled it into a knot, clucking over Leah’s
‘shorn’ bangs. Once Leah was groomed, Ginny gestured at the door. “Did you wish to find Lord Royce and thank him for the dress? He was quite specific that it should be brought down for you.”
He must have been feeling guilty, indeed. Leah nodded and followed Ginny out of the room. She didn’t much care to see Royce again, but the pretense of it would at least allow her to leave the small room for a short while.
Ginny led her out of the building and through the great hall. It was nearly empty, save for the occasional servant scurrying through and a few men that sat at one of the far tables, eating and talking amongst themselves. She noticed that they grew silent when they noticed her, and she felt a flush creep over her cheeks. What were they thinking?
The girl was silent as she led Leah down a flight of stairs, which suited Leah just fine as it was difficult to concentrate on walking on her shaky, throbbing legs – and then outside into the early morning light. The sky was overcast, but bright enough to make Leah squint as she tried to get her bearings.
The courtyard was full of activity. Across the way, she saw the one called Beorn handling one of the chargers in front of a building that was most likely a stable. The square was immense, and dirty. People milled about, all eyes focused on her. Ginny, however, didn’t pause for one moment as she picked up her skirts and clomped through the mud, heading in a beeline for the
far end of the courtyard and the gates. Somewhat more reluctant, Leah followed her, noting with irony that she didn’t need to lift her own skirts – they were short enough already.
Ginny wiggled her fingers suggestively at the guards at the gate.
“Hold, Ginny. The baron gave us orders.” One guard put his arm out, blocking Leah’s progress. “She’s not to leave the castle unless supervised by the lord himself.” Crestfallen, Leah nodded and looked to Ginny. Well, the girl had tried. And she supposed that Royce was right in not believing her – after all, if it were up to her, she’d be running back to the beach right now, heading for the salt water to cool her legs.
As it was, she had to force a bright smile to her face. She supposed she could go back to her rooms – assuming she’d be able to find them again.
The servingmaid must have sensed Leah’s distress. With a pat to her injured arm that caused Leah to wince, Ginny took off again. “Wait here, mistress. I’ll get Lord Royce’s squire.
He’ll make his lordship come off the practice field.”
Leah’s bright smile faltered. It wasn’t really necessary to get the lord himself… she waved her hands, trying to get Ginny’s attention, but the girl had run off, leaving Leah alone with the two guards, who eyed her rather suspiciously.
She made herself busy by picking a thread off of the thick brocade and admiring the fabric. A thought occurred to her and she bent over and flipped up the edge of the skirt, checking the seams there. If it had a few extra inches she could let down, it’d be perfect.
“Leah,” a voice said above her, both greeting and warning at the same time.
She jerked upright, her face flushing at being caught examining her skirts, and her hands smoothing down the waist of the dress in a nervous gesture as she stared up into Royce’s sweaty face.
The man was gorgeous. She’d give him – and Muffin – that much credit. Sweaty, inky locks of hair clung to his forehead, and a smear of dirt crossed his forehead, matching the shadow of stubble on his jaw. He was shirtless, too. She ducked her head so she wouldn’t have to be eye level with his broad, rippling shoulders that were tanned to perfection. Unfortunately, ducking her eyes meant that her gaze was focused on his waist, and she noticed a dark trail of hair below his navel, and several rather interesting scars.
…And a pair of hose that highlighted what could possibly be the most well-equipped groin she’d ever encountered. Surely it was the clothing that… exaggerated his attributes. Face flushing, her eyes shot back to his face again.
Cool gray eyes assessed her figure much the same as she studied him, though a smile curved his sensual mouth. She noticed his gaze rested on her flattened bosom a touch overlong, and then traveled to her hem. “You’re a lanky wench. That was my mother’s dress and she was a tall woman, but I can see it doesn’t fit you.”
Leah shrugged. He may think her tall, but she was really just average height. Most everyone she’d seen – male, that is – was about the same height as her, and she hadn’t given it much thought. She glanced at Ginny, who stood at the side of Christophe, and noticed for the first time how petite the woman was. Well, she couldn’t be blamed if modern women ate their Wheaties more than medieval ones. She lifted her chin in a gesture of defiance and met his gaze.
He laughed. “Lanky, but not without pride. I’m surprised Rutledge didn’t beat it out of you.”
Leah flushed bright red and tried to jerk her hand out of his. She was unsuccessful, and watched with dismay as he tucked her hand under his sweaty arm and led her back into the courtyard.
“I trust you are not in much pain this morning,” he leaned over and murmured to her.
Startled at the sound of his lips so close to her ear, she jerked again, trying to pull her hand away. Did he know that her legs pained her? Had he seen more than she thought in the bath last night?
But she was still here, right? So her secret was safe?
At her lack of response, he released her hand and gently touched her elbow. “Your arm, lady. I cannot think it has healed quite so quickly as you would have me believe.” Oh.
Her
arm
.
Leah’s head jerked into a relieved nod and she smiled at him. Her arm hurt less than her legs did.
Her smile seemed to stop him in his tracks, and she held her breath when he reached up to touch her mouth with his fingers. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile, Leah.” Flustered, her smile faltered and disappeared.
No, stupid
, she told herself a second later.
You’re supposed to seduce him! Flirt!
She smiled again, this time a big, unnatural, toothy smile.
He gave her an odd look. He leaned back in again, his sweaty face too close to hers for comfort. “Your manners are strange, but it is easy to see why Rutledge made you his. Perhaps I shall do the same.”
She scowled at him and turned away, only to have him grab her by the hand once more.
Jerked back into place beside him, she glowered up at him as he gave her another sensual, arrogant grin and tucked her hand in his arm again.
“I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere, Leah. As my guest—nay, my property—I will control where you go from now on. There is no place that you can go that I will not have someone watching you and reporting back to me. Do you understand?” His smile was still easy, but the teasing light had gone from his eyes, replaced by steel.
Leah’s legs throbbed at the very thought.
Chapter Eight
They did not bring her a bath that night, despite her tearful entreaties to Father Andrew.
He insisted that she would make herself sick, and no amount of silent pleading or mournful looks would sway the man.
He left and locked the turret door behind him.
It was dark in the room, and she was unable to sleep due to the pain in her legs that throbbed in tandem with her arm. She lit the smelly candle that they’d left her and worked on letting the seams out of the rust-colored gown. After a time, the hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she turned to look over her shoulder.
Muffin sat on the edge of the bed watching Leah work. She was dressed in a long, white fur coat with a matching puff for a hat and her hair rolled in little white curls underneath the fuzzy brim. “Hello, darling! How are you enjoying England?” Leah knotted the thread and then bit off the remainder before placing it in her embroidery basket. “You mean other than being held prisoner in a medieval castle by a man that wants to either sleep with me or kill me – and the fact that I got shot with an arrow? Or the fact that I can’t get to the ocean and now my legs feel like they’re on fire? Other than all that?” The fairy godmother looked surprised at Leah’s vicious retort. “My,” she said, recovering after a moment. “Someone’s cranky.”
She immediately felt bad for biting Muffin’s head off. “I’m sorry. My legs hurt like a bitch.”
Warm, wrinkled hands reached over to pat hers. “I understand, my dear. Why don’t you just use the secret passage and let yourself out?”
Incredulous, Leah looked up into Muffin’s twinkling blue eyes. “There’s a secret passage?”
“Indeed,” Muffin said. “Northcliffe is positively riddled with them, as Lord Royce well knows. I doubt he knows about the one here in the tower, or he’d not be locking you up in here, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?” She gave Leah a conspiratorial wink and straightened her hat. “Did you want to go?”
“Of course,” Leah breathed, setting aside the mending without a second thought. “I can’t believe… it’s just too incredible,” she murmured as she followed Muffin toward one of the inner walls.
“More unbelievable than mermaids and fairy godmothers?” came the pert reply.
Leah smiled, shifting on her painful feet. “Good point.” As she watched, Muffin bent over and pointed. “See this stone here? Third one up from the bottom. The one with the chip in it? If you push on it, the rest of the door balance will swing forward.” She demonstrated, and Leah watched in surprise as a portion of the entire stone wall seemed to swing inward, revealing a dark passageway lined with cobwebs.
“Yikes,” Leah said, stepping forward. “It looks spooky.”
“There are no ghosts, I assure you,” Muffin said proudly, trotting in behind Leah and swinging the door shut behind them. “In fact, the only dead person in here is you.” She chortled at her own joke as the door sealed behind them. The tip of Muffin’s wand began to glow brightly, lighting the passageway around them with a dim, cold light. “Shall we?” Leah’s throbbing legs would not take no for an answer. “Let’s.”
She followed closely as the small woman led her through a dark hallway, then down another dim passage. The second seemed longer and more crudely hewn. The floor was a mixture of rock and dirt, and Muffin tsked at the roots that jutted from the floor. “Not been used in quite some time.”
For Leah, each step was a new flare of agony, but at last she saw a glimmer of light up ahead. As she watched, Muffin’s magic wand dimmed and went out. “Here we are,” Muffin announced gaily. “Now we just need to shove aside this lovely stone that’s blocking the door and we’ll be out.” She looked expectantly at Leah.
Leah moved to the front of the small tunnel and placed her hands on the large rock. She experimentally pushed, and grunted when the stone didn’t budge. “Uh, how am I supposed to do this?”
“Oh dear,” Muffin said, tapping her lip with her wand. “I suppose it’s all grown over on the outside. Well, that won’t do, will it?” She waved her wand at the doorway and the rock slid over a few inches, nothing more. “That should give you enough wiggle room, darling. Just watch the waistline.”
Leah kept her smart comments to herself and wedged her body through. She scraped her front nearly raw in the process, but she was able to get out. A quick look around revealed that she was on the rocky shoals of the beach, at the base of the forbidding cliffs.
The beach was so close it misted her face. Relieved, Leah forgot about Muffin behind her and ran for the sand, picking up her skirts and stumbling forward. So close!
Heedless of who might be around, she stripped off the under-dress – the sherte – and tossed it down on the sands, then dashed for the water. The first moment her toes touched the
water her body racked into convulsions, but she welcomed them, knowing that the pain would end soon.