From The Quill Tip

The Baron's Lady - Chapter 3, Part 2

2012-02-07T14:58:00.000-05:00

Owen looked down at his nephew, who rested in a cradle next to Thea’s bed. The baby was only a day old, but already he had taken the house by storm. Everyone was remarking on what a beautiful child Gabriel was, but it seemed to Owen that the boy was rather odd looking. He was bright red and wrinkled, with a slightly pointed head, and a tuft of hair that stood up in a most unruly fashion. Still, he was a male child. He was Lucien’s heir, and Guy of Gisborne’s first grandchild. So, despite the baby’s strange appearance, Owen was pleased to have a new family member. On such an occasion, he found it much easier to manage kind words with Thea. He looked over at her.

“For once in your life, you have done a good deed. I congratulate you.”

From her place in bed, Thea huffed. “Praise indeed.”

Stepping back from the cradle, he allowed everyone else in the room to continue admiring the newborn baby.

“I think I will depart before we exchange words,” he said to Thea. “Rest well, sister.”

Lucien spoke up from where he stood beside the bed. “I will join you presently.”

Nodding, he left the room, thinking that it would likely be a while before Lucien would break away from his newborn son. It was to be expected. So Owen would allow him that time.

As he walked away, he let a slight smile creep across his face. In truth, he was delighted to be an uncle. To think there would be a future soldier he could help to mold and shape. The prospect of being a mentor thrilled him, and buoyed by the thought, he went out to hone his fighting skills.

*****

In the training fields, where the soldiers were hard at practice, Owen stared at an animal carcass hanging from a rope. Staring at it, he gave a disgusted curl of his lip.

“What is this?” he asked, looking at Lucien, who only grinned.

“Do you sicken at the sight of it? I would think a young hunter such as yourself would be used to the sight of a slain deer.”

Owen snorted. “I kill them for sport or for meat, but I do not linger to see the carnage that brings them to my supper table.”

“This is not a buck or a doe. Not in this event. Here, it is human flesh and blood.”

With a raised eyebrow, Owen gave a skeptical look. “Have you gone mad?”

Lucien suddenly became quite serious. Removing his sword from its scabbard, he held it tightly. His tone became stern. “In war, there will be no wooden figure to swing at in practice. Your opponent will be flesh, blood, and bone. You must prepare yourself for the thought of stabbing or slicing into your enemy.”

There was something disturbing about the thought of taking his sword to something tangible, and imagining it to be someone he would have to dispatch. For the first time since his training had begun in earnest, he was hesitant to engage in an action.

“I hardly see how this will prepare me,” he said.

“Attack it.”

He hesitated. “What?”

Lucien moved with lightning speed, decapitating the deer with a clean blow. Turning to Owen, he bellowed an order.

“Do as I say! Use your sword and lay into your opponent!”

With a nod, and a summoning of his will, Owen rushed forward with his sword. With a sideways swing, he slashed it open, and the blood and innards tumbled out. Lucien slapped him hard on the shoulder.

“Excellent, brother. Well done.”

Owen tried to smile. But suddenly, he felt a strange sensation in his belly. In his mouth, he felt a tingling and a watering. He could not stop the violent upheaval of his stomach, and turning away, he vomited in the grass. A sense of shame came over him, and he heard Lucien chuckle.

“Are you well?”

Owen waved Lucien off. “Of course I am,” he said.

“I was much the same when first I attempted such practice,” Lucien said. “It will fade with time.”

There was a jingling of reins and the snorting of a horse. Looking up, Owen saw his father. Quickly, he wiped his mouth and stood up straight.

“Is something amiss?” asked Guy.

Owen shook his head. “No, Papa. We are training.”

Guy lifted his chin. “It would be wise to steel your stomach, boy. The battlefield is not the place for the faint of heart.”

Taking a bag of water from Lucien, Owen nodded. As he washed his mouth, spat, and then sipped to quench his thirst, he felt disgusted with himself. Watching his father leave, he gave a sigh of self-loathing.

“I am a weakling in his eyes.”

Lucien snorted. “Nonsense. Your father thinks very highly of you.”

Now it was Owen who scoffed. “I cannot manage a simple drill without sickening. What pride is there in that?”

Lucien clapped him on the back. “Take heart. You will soon have a warrior’s disposition. You are your father’s son, after all.”

Such words felt like small consolation. It seemed, indeed, to make the mortification worse. Swallowing his pride, he returned to his drilling, while a frown froze on his lips. There were times, like now, when he felt like such an incompetent youth. And he wondered if he would ever be the kind of man his father was.

After the morning drilling was concluded, just before the noon-day meal, Owen went to the outdoor basin to wash up. Just as he began scrubbing his face, he heard the sound of his mother’s voice, calling out to him. He bristled at the thought of her approach. As much as he loved her, there were times when he dreaded a meeting with her. But out of respect, he did his best to hide any small animosity he had towards her. As he pumped water into the basin and submerged his head, he felt her approach.

“Owen, are you well?”

Wiping his face with his hands, sluicing the water back through his hair, he nodded. “I am fine, Mama. Why do you ask?”

“Your papa said you had taken ill.”

He sighed, and tried to give her a calm look. She being with child, it was important that she not be stressed. Guy had given explicit orders regarding it, and Owen did his best to comply, even though he knew his mother’s stubbornness. Regardless of what everyone said or did, Cassia Gisborne was a woman with a mind of her own. All that one could do was try to do what was best for her.

“It is nothing, Mama,” he said. “Do not be concerned.”

He saw a familiar spark of stubbornness in her eyes. She reached up and touched his face with both hands, and she gave him a motherly smile.

“I am your mother. Until you find a wife to see to your welfare, it is my duty to be concerned for you. And even then, do not trust me to cease my mothering entirely.”

She tweaked his chin, and he tried his best not to smile. He was an adult, and if he showed too much enthusiasm for her coddling, it would be unmanly indeed. He opened his mouth to utter a protest. But before he could speak, a footman interrupted them. With a bow, he approached Cassia with a parchment in his hand.

“My lady, a message for you from the Chateau LaCroix.”

The Chateau LaCroix. Instantly, Owen felt a rush of energy shoot up his spine. He could feel his ears literally straining for information that might be spoken. Cassia took the message from the footman’s hand.

“Bonne nouvelle, j'espère?” she asked.

“Good news, I trust?”

The footman replied, “Le baron est absent, mais sa dame seront présents.”

“The baron is absent, but his lady will be in attendance.”

Cassia nodded in reply. “Merci, Gerard.”

As the footman bowed, then departed, Owen watched his mother as she looked over the note in her hand. He could not resist asking her about it, although he did so in a calm and rather blasé tone.

“The baron and baroness are returned from Calais?” he asked.

Cassia nodded. “It appears so. But as to the baron’s absence from our festivities, one can only speculate the reason.”

Owen gave a snort of distaste. “I, for one, am glad not to expect him. His body odor is foul, his manners are horrendous, and his breath smells of something lying in a state of decay.”

She shook her head, smiling at his outspokenness.

“You sound exactly like your father,” she said. “You both have the same inflection in your voice when you speak. And when you turn your head in a certain way, I could almost believe I am looking at Guy of Gisborne.”

Reaching up, she patted his cheek.

“But you are your own man, of course. And I would have it no other way.”

After a soft kiss to his cheek, she left him. He watched her go. And after a moment, his thoughts turned to the message that had just come.

The baroness was coming.

He had thought of her so many times. Some days, time would pass as usual as he went about his regular routine. But other days, something would trigger a memory of her. A shade of green would make him recall the color of her eyes. Seeing a gathering of ladies at a tournament or social event, he would find himself looking for her face. It seemed like such an innocent diversion he had created for himself…a harmless way to partake in pleasant thoughts, especially when his day had not gone especially well. What harm was there in thinking of someone who was unattainable, particularly when they were nothing more than a figment of his imagination?

But now, she would be tangible. He would see and hear her. Perhaps they would even speak to one another. The thought of seeing her again…it sent a rush of anticipation flooding through his soul.

Until later that evening, when he stood before the looking glass, examining his reflection.

His mother was right about his appearance, of course. He resembled his father in every way, right down to the aquiline nose and piercing eyes. A fearsome facade had always been an attribute that he took pride in having, for it suited a man who would one day make warfare a life-long ambition. But looking at himself now, he felt a strange discomfort with his physicality. Never before had he wished for an appearance that was more favorable. But now, seeing himself, he wished his coloring was less dark. Raven black hair was acceptable, of course, but it was more fashionable to be fair-haired. And while a harsh appearance did bode well for a future warrior, it did little to charm those of a more gentle nature.

He sighed at the thought of it. Over the last several months, he had been introduced to several potential mates. They had all been lovely in appearance, but his discomfort had been evident with each meeting. What did one say to a woman? Despite advice given to him by his mother and sisters, he had never quite grasped the concept of conversing easily with a female. His mother had encouraged him to compliment a lady’s looks, even if she was not a woman of extraordinary beauty. But he found it difficult to utter such soft words. And when speaking to ladies, he sensed that his appearance put them off in some way. Thea had often accused him of being an unfeeling brute, and for once, he wondered if it was at all possible that she was right. But how was a man to be a man if he was soft-spoken and gentle?

Enough, he thought. I am done with such foolishness.

The business of women was so complicated. Too complicated. It was enough to drive a man to lunacy. Isabella was beautiful, and intriguing, and the only woman to ever linger in his thoughts for so long. But it was madness to cling to such thoughts and feelings about a married woman.

Madness, he thought. That is this feeling that has claimed me. And I must not be conquered by it.

After a bath and a shave, his valet helped him dress in his finest. There would be many ladies coming to stay for the celebration. Surely, there would be a suitable candidate among them. After all, what could be so difficult? If he went about his choosing in a practical way, he could find a mate. And she would not come with complications – like a husband. He shook his head and laughed at himself, wondering how he had allowed himself to be so befuddled by a woman.

*****

As the guests arrived, Owen kept company with Lucien and with William, who had arrived a few days before, just after Gabriel’s birth. Owen examined the young ladies in the room, as he had often done. He intended to be done with the business of choosing a wife, hopefully within the few weeks that the guests would be staying.

But his wayward eye kept drifting towards the front doors, where his father and Evie were greeting guests. Evelyn was playing hostess for the night, while their mother and Thea kept near the baby, and Owen could not keep from examining the guests as they arrived. He told himself he was simply curious about who would be seen at the celebration and who would not. But in his heart, he knew the truth.

All afternoon, he had told himself that he would avoid her at all costs. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how impossible it would be. She would be here – in the house. And she would be staying. There was no way to avoid her entirely. But perhaps if he limited himself to brief glances, that would be enough to satisfy him.

A flurry of energy seemed to suddenly flow through the room. All heads seemed to turn at once, looking towards the couple who were making their entrance.

It was the baroness. Dressed in emerald green silk, with her blond locks gathered up and threaded with silver twine, she was easily the most beautiful woman in the room. But it wasn’t her beauty that drew so many stares.

It was the mysterious stranger on her arm.

The Baron's Lady - Chapter 3, Part 1

2012-01-26T20:11:00.000-05:00

Late June, 1213

Sitting at her dressing table, Isabella’s eyes shifted to a nearby trunk. In it, tucked underneath several gowns, was the sheet of parchment Rene had written. The words on it were embedded in her mind. The paper itself was worn from the frequent contact with her fingers. But after months of the author’s absence, she felt the influence of the words fading.

After a journey of nearly four weeks, she and Gilbert had arrived in Calais, where they had remained until the end of March. Her days were spent partly in the tedious company of fellow ladies and their lords, and partly in the great joy of being with her son. Sebastian had grown so, she could hardly believe her eyes, and already he was proving to be an able rider and marksman. It was with reluctance that she left him each evening, turning him over to the care of his nurse. Gilbert chastised her for the tears she shed, but she was quite indifferent to such treatment from him. When they parted ways each night, both of them retiring to separate quarters, she had found much comfort and joy in reading Rene’s letter. When she fell asleep, her mind was filled with memories of him, and her heart was filled with the hope of one day seeing him again.

They had spent several April weeks enduring the journey home, and at last, on the second of May, they had returned home.

But she had been back in Marseilles for more than six weeks. Each day passed, and there was no word from her lover. No appearance, no messages. Not the smallest sign from him. He seemed to have vanished into thin air, and with a heavy heart, she began to wonder if he had forgotten her entirely. Her head was almost convinced of it. But a small, wayward part of her soul hoped she was wrong.

He will return, she told herself. When I least expect it, he will return to me.

She sighed as her hair was tended to by Therese. When it was finally done, she waved her servant away, wishing to be alone. With her arms resting on the table, she slowly lowered her head, closing her eyes. But a moment later, she bolted up.

A bird call. But not from a winged creature. It was a distinctly human sound. Rising from her chair in a swift movement, she took an urgent step forward. Her heart beat wildly in her breast. But then, she paused. An overwhelming sense of pride gripped her.

Who was he to show up so suddenly, and after all this time? He probably expected that she would open her arms to him without question.

Pompous bastard, she thought. Does he think me so weak?

The answer to her own inner question was an obvious one. He knew she could not resist. Whether or not he had missed her was a futile subject to ponder. He was here, at last, and that was all that mattered.

But she refused to go rushing to him in desperation. He had, after all, been away a long time. There would have to be a penance done for his neglect. Stepping forward, she quickly parted the curtains. And there he was, crouched on her balcony. Water dripped from his nose and hair, which was a bit longer than before. His jaw was covered in a light beard, giving him the air of a vagabond. He was soaked through from the rain...and maddeningly gorgeous, especially when he flashed that dashing smile of his.

"Lovely weather tonight, is it not?"

She was torn between two desires – one of which was to slap him for all the heartache he had caused her. But she felt an equal desire to throw her arms around him in a crushing embrace. Doing neither, she chose instead to appear unmoved, looking at him with a frosty expression.

"Oh lovely Baroness,” he pleaded. “Might you spare a meager place on the floor for a drenched, tired, hungry soul such as I?"

When he literarly sat up and begged, looking very much like the scandalous dog he was, she chastised him for his pathetic attempt to sway her…and promptly, she stepped back, allowing him in. As he stood there, soaking wet and offering explanations for his absence, she scowled at him.

"Rene-Jean Bastien, why do you creep about my terrace?"

She instantly felt his eyes roaming over her body, and such blatant admiration stirred warm sensations within her. As he rubbed the towel over his face, he gave her a tender and appreciative smile.

"I missed you, love. And I knew you could not cast me out on a night such as this."

Lord, he knew her so well. It was likely he was aware of the wicked thoughts running through her mind at that moment. But her pride reminded her of the need to resist – if only for a little while longer. She looked at him with a cross expression.

"If you missed me so, why have you not come to see me in nearly two months?"

As he shifted from one foot to another, removing his footwear, he explained himself. "Forgive me for denying you my company. I was employed and quite short on time."

She raised an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"Was?” she said. “Hearing your words uttered with a past tense, I take it to mean you are no longer earning an honest living? Pray, what mischief caused your termination this time?"

He shook his head. "I assure you, it was but a simple misunderstanding. A navigational error in the home of my employer. Entirely not my fault."

"Oh no?" she replied, her eyes full of skepticism at his words. "Somehow I doubt you were guiltless."

Looking at him, she dared him with a glance, challenging him to tell her a lie. By now, she knew him well enough to know that he was a notorious rascal, and there was little that she wouldn’t put past him. When he shrugged, his answer was proof of her wisdom regarding him.

"Perhaps I pocketed a few baubles."

She replied was a little huff of satisfaction. "So I thought."

His words became strangely defensive, as though he truly believed he had been wronged. "Had my master's daughter not encountered me, I might have escaped undetected."

Curiosity was in her question. "She revealed your crime to her father?"

He shook his head. "Not quite so."

There was a slight pause as she waited for him to reply, and she asked, "What then?"

A smirk formed at the corner of his mouth. Arrogant pup, she thought. It was clear from his expression that he was about to reveal something she would not be pleased to hear.

"She did not see what I had stolen,” he said. “Her interests were of a more...carnal nature."

Her expression grew dark as she took a step towards him. "Have you come to me straight from the bed of another woman?" Knowing his reputation, it had often pained her to think that she was merely another woman lumped together with the many he had known. Responding to her anger, he only sighed.

"Sheathe your claws, ma belle. She was but fifteen. I delight in all women, but I am not an absolute letch. I declined her invitation. But she did not take kindly to my rejection. She told her father a tale of impropriety, and he promptly set a band of mercenaries upon me."

As she watched him drying his hair, she felt a sensation of pity come over her. Stepping forward, she took the towel from his hand. He had said he was tired and hungry from being on the run. Despite his badness, she could not help feeling a need to care for him. But she was careful to control herself, especially with the tone of her voice.

"Remove yourself from those wet things before you catch your death."

He smirked, clearly relishing the opportunity to tease her. When he pulled his wet shirt over his head, reaching out to drop it to the floor, she could not help staring at him. It had been so long since she had seen him, literally, in the flesh. It sent tremors of warm pleasure pulsing through her. True to form, he noticed her admiration and made a sly note of it.

"You wish to admire me, do you?"

Her eyes flashed with an indignant light. She wasn't quite ready to let down her guard, and as if to emphasize it, she threw a coverlet at him, purposely aiming at his head.

"Cheeky bastard,” she cursed him. “Cover yourself. And then go into my dressing room. I will have a meal brought up, but I will not have the servants knowing of your presence."

He shrugged. "It is not as though they are unfamiliar with me."

"Which is precisely why they will not know you are here," she replied. "The last time you visited, I caught two of my maids whispering about you. I had to convince my husband that the pair were plotting against me, telling malicious lies. Fortunately the dolt believed it and had the pair sacked."

Glancing around the room, he seemed to feel a brief moment of concern. "By and by, where is the baron? At tables, or with his mistress?"

She snorted in disgust. Gilbert had left that morning without a word, and she could not have been happier to see him go.

"I know not,” she replied. “Perhaps he ventures between the two. I am only aware that he is not home, and I hardly anticipate his return in the near future."

Rene's expression warmed, knowing the element of danger was removed. "So we are quite alone then?"

His words had a clear meaning…one she felt herself responding to in a very physical way. But she wasn’t quite ready to forgive him. Not yet. With a serious expression, she gestured her head towards a nearby room.

"Into the dressing room, Rene.”

She turned away, holding to the last bit of her self-control – and knowing that it would not last much longer.

The Baron's Lady - Chapter 2, Part 3

2012-01-21T19:25:00.002-05:00

This is short, but I wanted to add it to the end of Chapter 2. Enjoy!

*****

Returning to the great hall, Isabella felt an odd sense of curiosity about Owen. Had she detected a note of displeasure in his voice when she told him she was leaving?

She shook her head, thinking what nonsense it was. They hardly knew one another. What cause had he to be troubled by such a revelation as her departure? On one hand, the notion of it seemed quite absurd. But on the other hand, it was flattering to imagine that her absence might be of note to someone.

If only her absence meant something to the man she desired.

In traveling to Calais, she would be leaving behind any remnant of happiness she possessed. There would be no visits to this lovely home, where there was always such a feeling of warmth. But sadder was the thought that her nights would be long and lonely, for Rene was now gone. He would likely be finding company with someone else, and though it filled her heart with jealousy, she reminded herself that he was not hers to keep. Perhaps it was best that they would be long separated. In time, the wounds of her heart would heal, even if the mark would always remain.

The only light of hope that remained was the prospect of seeing her son. Lord, how she missed him. Sebastian was only eight years old, but like any noble boy of his age, he was away being schooled. It had always been her hope that Gilbert would keep their son near home for his education. But her husband had chosen a place that was far away in the north of France. They visited once a year, and though they stayed for several months, it hardly seemed enough.

As she neared the other guests, who were still enthralled by the voice of the troubadour, Lady Emma approached her. At first she was smiling. But seeing Isabella’s expression, her joy lessened.

“What is it, dearest?” she asked.

Isabella sighed. “The prospect of a tedious journey. It will take many weeks to reach Calais.”

With a nod, Emma gently grasped her friend’s hand. “Yes, that is unfortunate. But think of what awaits you at the end of your journey. A most pleasant reward.”

The thought of it gave Isabella courage, and she managed a smile. “That, it will be. My love for him gives me wings to fly.”

Only her deep and abiding maternal love, that bond between a mother and child, gave her the courage to endure a nearly seven-hundred mile odyssey with Gilbert. To think of Sebastian, who was such a sweet and loving child, was to know that fate had given her something precious that was entirely her own. For him, she would sacrifice her own happiness. Even it meant enduring the company of a complete and utter cur.

*****

Standing in her room, watching the preparations for the coming journey, Isabella was startled by the sudden sound of her husband’s voice.

“Make haste,” he barked. “We depart at dawn.”

As he left, she cursed him under her breath. In the morning, he would be more surly than ever, for when he set his mind to traveling, he felt the need to bully those who tarried even in the slightest way. It was only a sign of the miseries to come, and it vexed her just to think of it.

While she pondered her troubles, Therese approached her. In her hand, she held a tightly rolled parchment.

“Ma Dame, ce message est arrivé pour vous.”

“My lady, this message has arrived for you.”

“Un message ? De qui?”

“A message? From whom?”

She had not expected written word from anyone.

A sudden realization came over her. It could not be, she thought.

“Je ne sais pas, ma Dame,” said Therese. “Je fus chargé de voir qu'il livré à vos mains le moment que vous revient.”

“I do not know, my lady. I was instructed to see it delivered to your hands the moment you returned.”

Isabella felt her heart grow wild, knowing the hand that had written a forbidden note. What words did it contain? She fought the urge to unroll the parchment with great haste and read…to hear his words spoken in her mind, in that powerfully bold and devil-may-care way of his.

But somehow, she kept control of her emotions, even managing to give an air of coolness and poise to her tone as she spoke to her maid. There could not be the slightest hint of anticipation in her words, lest she wished to arouse suspicion about the source of the message.

“Merci, Therese. Je verrai plus tard pour elle. Il y a beaucoup à faire avant le matin.”

“Thank you, Therese. I will see to it later. There is much to be done before morning.”

Clutching the message in her hand, she calmly placed it in her bed-stand drawer. Closing it, she prayed for the patience to wait until a safe moment could be found.

It was late when the moment arrived. And after the house had retired for the night, and Therese had taken to her pallet in the next room, she seized the moment. Yanking the drawer open, she snatched up the message, unfurling it, and her heart soared as she read…

My dearest Isabella,

Word has reached my ear that you are soon to depart for Calais. Though it pains my heart to know that you will be far from me, please know that you will not be far from my thoughts. I will think of you often, and my heart will be warmed by the remembrance of our time together. I pray that you will remember me with fondness. A safe journey, my lady.

Your devoted servant,

Rene

It was much too brief. But the happiness it gave her was more than she could have imagined. He had not forgotten her. She clutched the note to her breast, sighing with joy. The trip to Calais would be endured, with the aid of a man who was fast becoming the most important part of her world.

The Baron's Lady - Chapter 2, Part 2

2012-01-19T16:50:00.001-05:00

Owen felt his sister’s eyes on him. They sat beside each other at the table, and while the other guests were enjoying the wine and food, he found himself hardly touching a bite. Evelyn, ever the curious one of the family, saw his distraction. Her kind blue eyes searched his face.

“Owen, what troubles you so?”

Stiffening his posture, he shook his head in denial. “Nothing at all.”

“Come, brother. Do not attempt to fool me,” she said. “There is something on your mind.”

He knew that she meant well. Unlike Thea, Evelyn did not seek information in the hopes of finding trouble to exploit. Evie was simply inquisitive, and her inquiries were most times meant to be helpful. But in this matter, he felt it best not to confide in her.

“It is nothing, sister.”

A moment passed. But he knew his sister well enough to know that the passage of a quiet moment, however long, did not indicate that she had dismissed the subject from her thoughts. He was not at all surprised when she posed a guess about the source of his distraction.

“It is a woman, perhaps?”

He felt a bolt of nervous energy shoot up his spine. His eyes involuntarily widened a little, reacting to the directness of her question. But he put on a cool, defensive air.

“Do not be ridiculous, Evie. A woman?” He snorted, sipping his wine as he added in a pointed tone, “I am not a romantic fool.”

She was smiling. He could see it from the corner of his eye.

“Perhaps not,” she replied. “But you are in search of a bride, are you not?

He shrugged. “What of it?”

“I thought perhaps you had a lady already in mind.”

He did have a lady on his mind. But not for the reasons she thought of. With a purposeful tone, he tried to turn her away from the subject.

“I will not rush headlong into a decision. I intend to give most careful consideration to my choice of wife.” He waved a hand at her. “Remove it from your thoughts, sister. You know the subject of matrimony is a burden to me.”

Evie smiled and shook her head, but glancing at her expression, it seemed she had at last turned her attention to other matters.

His own thoughts, however, remained firmly fixed.

She sat several seats down and across from him, and his vantage point was quite good. Since the archery tournament, she had changed her hairstyle, sweeping it up into a more formal style crowned by a wreath of red flowers. Her dress had changed as well. She now wore a wine-colored gown of crushed velvet, etched with a pattern of winding vines colored a darker shade of violet. It hugged her slender waist, and accentuated the roundness of her bosom and the fineness of her shoulders. The soft look of her skin, bathed in candlelight, was so beautiful to behold that he found his breath accelerating.

Good God man, he thought. She is only a woman. Do not let her feminine powers of persuasion take control of you.

For a moment, he was resolved to control his unruly feelings. But the moment quickly passed.

The sensations he felt were not restricted to the portions of his body that had always reacted to women. This was different. His mind seemed to be not his own. Had she unknowingly cast some magic curse upon him? Females were rumored to possess fantastic powers of persuasion. Did not the mighty Caesar himself fall under the spell of a woman? Cleopatra, it was said, hid herself in a carpet that was presented to Caesar, and when he discovered her, he was instantly bewitched. Was the Trojan War not started because of a wicked temptress? Did not three brothers…Paris, Hector, and Deiphobus…all love Helen of Troy, only to be destroyed as a result of their ardent admiration?

He shook his head, knowing he would be quite arrogant if he were to compare himself with such figures of history. But then again, a man was a man, no matter the differences in time or place. And women were women. They were all temptresses in their own way. And Isabella was no different.

But I am not so weak as other men, he said to himself. And I will prove my strength.

He would speak to her. They had never shared more than a few polite words, despite being neighbors. What better way to purge himself of her curse than to converse with her, and discover that she was a woman in truth. He would find her incapable of conversation that would hold his interest, and there would be the key to breaking the spell. How could one remain infatuated with someone of an inferior mind?

For some time, he waited for the opportune moment to present itself. After supper, the guests spread out to converse and listen to the minstrels play. Owen managed to keep his attention focused on a conversation with other men, enough to avoid suspicion. But his eye occasionally wandered to the baroness, and when he saw her enjoying a moment on her own, he gathered his courage. Now was the time. Quietly excusing himself, he casually moved towards a nearby hall, where she was examining a tapestry. As he approached, she gave him a little smile.

“Good evening, my lord.”

Politely, he bowed. “Good evening, baroness. I trust you are well and enjoying our hospitality?”

She nodded. “I am. Very much.”

“I see you are admiring our tapestries.”

Turning her attention back to the woven display, she nodded. “I have always found them pleasing. This one in particular. The unicorn is a most interesting creature, do you not think so?”

Her voice, he thought. Why is it so pleasing? Despite the distraction, he managed to reply.

“I suppose it is.”

She reached out to touch the embroidery. “It is said that the beast with a single horn can only be held by a virgin. And some scholars believe they are a representation of Christ's relationship with the Virgin Mary.”

Damn, he said to himself. A wise reply. His intention to find fault with her mind appeared to be a misstep.

“I was not aware of such a fact,” he answered her. Looking at her, he saw a lovely shade of pink come to her cheeks.

“Forgive me for my wandering thoughts and ceaseless speaking. I did not mean to go on so.”

Shaking his head, he smiled a little, despite his desire to keep their conversation formal. “No apologies needed,” he said.

She sighed, and her gaze moved away from him as she looked at her surroundings. “I have found great delight and comfort in this house.”

There was a pleasantness in her expression he had not seen before. It made her look more lovely than ever, but he tried not to let it sway him. He focused on the pride she took in his home, and he gave her an appreciative smile.

“We are quite content here.”

“I can see how one would be so. I have found much joy in my visits. I shall miss them very much.”

Miss it? He thought. What is this declaration, and why does it strike me with a strange poignancy? In his tone, there was a touch of eagerness he could not hide.

“You do not plan to soon visit us again?”

This time, when she replied, it was without a smile. There was a light of despondency in her eyes. “Tomorrow, I travel to Calais with my husband. We shall winter there, and spend time with our son.”

He was unprepared for the feeling her words brought. Why was he troubled by the thought of her leaving? They meant nothing to one another. They were barely even friends. And yet he found himself somewhat distraught by the thought of not seeing her for many months. Clearing his throat, he tried to maintain a stoic disposition.

“I wish you a safe journey, then,” he replied.

Her smile was lovely, but rather sad in its way. Why it moved him, he did not know, but it did. She curtseyed respectfully.

“Thank you, my lord.”

As she walked away, his eyes followed her, and he fought a most curious desire to call her back.

The Baron's Lady - Chapter 2, Part One

2012-01-15T19:20:00.000-05:00

Another celebration.

Isabella sighed, bored with watching the archery tournament. It was part of a series of events, held over a two-day period, to celebrate the announcement of Lucien and Thea’s coming child. But neither the sunny afternoon, nor the cheering crowd, could keep her attention for more than a few moments. No one seemed to notice her distraction. Gilbert was happily partaking of their host’s hospitality while noisily cheering on his favorite archer. She was glad to have his attention so diverted – particularly when her own thoughts were so very far away.

She tried not to look conspicuous. This she did by making brief attempts to concentrate on the happenings around her. Sir Lucien, Guy of Gisborne, and his two sons were competing against a number of men, both noble and commoner alike. Sir Guy looked very well, of course. And his sons matched their father in athletic form and ability. Owen, in particular, looked dashing in a white shirt, dark-red tunic, and black breeches. What was it about the baron that caught the eye? She knew she was not the only female to notice it. Like his father, Owen Gisborne had a way about him that could not be defined…except to say that it was difficult to take one’s eyes away from him. But at that moment, there was another on her mind. And he was a far greater source of distraction than any Gisborne.

Rene had left the chateau, and his position as a stable-boy. Where he had gone, she did not know for certain. She only knew that he was gone, and her life felt emptier now than ever before.

Rumors of the affair had been exchanged between several of the servants. But in a blessed turn of luck, she had discovered just who it was in particular that was generating such gossip. She had gone to her husband straight away, alerting him to the presence of several troublemakers who wished to slander the LaCroix name with false rumors and accusations. In her heart, she knew she was doing wrong. But when Gilbert dismissed the accusers, she chose not to dwell on her own transgressions. She considered herself fortunate to have escaped discovery, and she was thankful for it.

But in the aftermath, Rene chose not to endanger her by staying. She could not forget their last night together. It had been so bittersweet. Even now, she recalled every moment…

*****

Their second night together had easily eclipsed the first, and when the morning had broken, she knew that her vow of forgetting him would be impossible to keep.

It was not love. She had not forgotten herself so badly as to become a complete fool. But now that she had been with him, she felt a helpless need to keep him. He fulfilled her desires, not just of the body, but of the soul. It was immoral and unwise to be so taken with him, but she could not bring herself to end the affair. When the time came, and circumstances forced them both to face their farewell, she could hardly bear it. As dawn approached, they stood near the terrace doorway, sharing an embrace. As he prepared to leave her., she expressed her deeply felt pain.

“My only happiness will be torn away with you.”

Tears spilled from her eyes. She knew she was a desperate fool, but her heavy heart overwhelmed her pride. He smiled at her, speaking so gently that it only pained her more deeply.

“Is this the same gentle lady who feared me not long ago?”

As her frown deepened, she lowered her head, muttering sadly.

“Do not tease me now. I cannot endure it.” She felt his hands touching her face, gently forcing her to raise her head and look at him. He brushed the tears from her eyes.

“Do as I do,” he replied, “And find solace in dreams.”

She clasped his hands, pressing their warmth firmly against her skin. “Will I ever see you again?”

Taking her hands in his own, he kissed her fingers. “Perhaps one day, our paths will cross again.”

When he kissed her, she cried and tried to hold to him, but he gently extracted himself from her arms. Before she could delay him further, he moved to the balcony railing, where he looked at her one last time. He threw a kiss to her, and then he was gone. And she buried her face in her hands, weeping…

*****

“Baroness?”

Isabella shook her head, bringing herself back to the present. She tried to smile at Lady Cassia, who was looking at her with an air of concern.

“Isabella, are you well?”

She nodded, brushing away a tear that had escaped her eye. “Forgive me. My mind was drifting to past events best forgotten.” Taking in a calming breath, she tried to direct the subject on a different path. Looking at the players on the field, she gestered her head towards the Gisborne men. “Your family is looking well today. And performing well, if I may say.”

Cassia smiled proudly. “They are all competitive creatures. Even dear William. Even he, on occasion, commits the sin of pride. But, I suppose they cannot help such weaknesses. They are men, after all.”

A slight smile came to Isabella’s lips. Lady Cassia had a lovely sense of humor. She was, indeed, a lady. But she expressed her opinion quite freely at times, almost as freely as a man was permitted to. She was fortunate to have a husband who allowed her such a liberty. The thought of it brought a slight twinge of envy to Isabella’s senses. But she suppressed her feelings, for she knew that her own misfortunes were not the fault of Lady Cassia or anyone else. Slowly letting out a breath, she remarked on a particular member of the Gisborne family.

“Your younger son seems quite intense in his concentration and strong in his display. He seeks to impress.”

Cassia replied with a nod. “He does indeed. In recent days, he has made know to his father and myself that he intends to find a bride. I wonder if, perhaps, there is a lady among us whom he favors.”

With a wry expression, Isabella replied. “Whomever he chooses, she will be a fortunate lady.”

To have a Gisborne for a husband, she thought. She will be a most fortunate lady indeed.

*****

His shot hit the target dead center. Stepping back to take another arrow from his quiver, Owen glanced over at the box where his mother, his sisters, and several of their friends were gathered. Without hesitance, his glance fell on Isabella. She was stunning in a dark shade of violet, and with her hair gathered in a mass of golden coils at the base of her neck, she looked so very regal.

Infatuated, he silently said. I am infatuated. He knew now that to deny his attraction was to lie to himself. But it was a secret admission. No one could know that he thought of her on a daily basis…that in looking at other ladies, he found each of them lacking in some way. They did not have her eyes, nor her smile. Not a one of them carried themselves with the proud dignity that the baroness possessed. And none among them had her inner strength.

It was no secret that the baroness was unhappy with her husband. But she soldiered on gracefully, as a proper wife was meant to do. Gossip still persisted that she was not as faithful as she appeared to be, but Owen wondered if there was some doubt to the rumors. There had never been proof of her wrong-doing, so who was to say what was true and what was not?

He sighed, wondering at his own foolishness. For a moment, he was able to focus on his goal of showing off his expertise in archery. Secretly, he hoped that the baroness was watching and admiring him. In reality, they could never be anything to one another. But in secret, he could seek her favor, and imagine that she returned it with passionate eagerness.

*****

"Darcy's Decision" by Maria Grace

2012-01-14T00:17:00.002-05:00

I'm always excited to hear about up and coming writers and their work. It makes me even happier when the subject matter comes from classic literature, and how can one get more classic than Pride and Prejudice?

Author Maria Grace has just released her new book, entitled "Darcy's Decision," and I am very excited about it. Mr. Darcy is a favorite of mine, and this story promises to delve deeply into his character. I love getting into a character's head, so I know I will enjoy this. As soon as I finish reading it, I will be leaving a review post here, and I might just do a giveaway. :)

"Darcy's Decision" is available on Kindle and in paperback. Support this lovely author by having a look for yourself. And if you like what you read, why not leave her a review? Every author needs encouragement, so please offer all the support you can.

Thanks Maria, for giving us a new Darcy story to savor. Good luck in all your writing endeavors!

*****

The links are not joined on Amazon, but you can find them here...

Kindle U.S.

Paperback

I've been nominated for a Shorty Award!

2012-01-12T19:18:00.003-05:00

I don't know exactly how it happened, but I've been nominated in the author category for the Shorty Awards! This is an award for social media, and the categories are numerous. I've been nominated as a favorite Twitter author, so if you have a Twitter account, I would love to have your vote! This is just for fun, so please don't think I'm expecting to win, especially when I'm up against such company as J.K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer. Just for the heck of it, let's see how many votes I can get. :) Here is the link, just in case you want to take a look...

http://shortyawards.com/Charlotte1194

The Baron's Lady - Chapter One, Part Two

2012-01-09T16:29:00.001-05:00

Owen knocked on the door of his parents’ bedchamber. The hour was late, but he was certain they would not be abed. His mother was overwhelmed with excitement about Thea’s announcement. His father too, although he was much calmer about it. No doubt, the entire household would be talking of little else for days to come. His mother and father were likely talking of it at this very moment, which was why he dared to disturb them. There was something on his mind, and he wished to address the issue before retiring to bed, so he could sleep without troubled thoughts.

The door opened, and his mother smiled at him. “Owen, my love. You should be asleep. Is something amiss?”

“No, Mama. All is well. I wished to speak to Papa.”

From his place on the bed, where he relaxed in breeches and a loose shirt, Guy answered.

“What is it, my son?”

He glanced between the two of them, and gave his mother a sheepish look. “It is a matter between men.” He gave her an apologetic expression. “Forgive me, Mama.”

Cassia gave him a sweet look, and glancing at Guy as she went into the next room, she allowed them their privacy. As Owen closed the door, Guy moved from the bed to his favorite chair near the window. He sat back and linked his fingers together, gathering them against his chest. Stretching out his legs, he looked at Owen.

“Well, son?” he said. “Crack open your head and share your thoughts.”

Moving forward, Owen came to stand in front of the window, clasping his hands behind his back. Despite the close relationship he had with his father, he often found himself feeling intimidated. It was a respectful fear, of course. But it sometimes made him uneasy when having a conversation. Still, he tried not to show what he felt, taking on a serious tone and expression.

“Papa, I have been doing much thinking today. I have come to the realization that my childhood has long since passed, as it has for all of my siblings. The news of Thea’s condition has only served to remind me that the passage of time is swift.”

“Owen,” Guy interjected, “Is there a point you intend to come to? It is late, and I am quite tired.”

Owen took in a calming breath. “Forgive me for prattling on, Papa.” He let out the breath he had taken in, and spoke. “I wish to choose a bride.”

Guy’s eyebrow rose in stunned curiosity. “A bride?”

With a nod, Owen replied. “Yes, a bride. I take pride in doing my duties, but I have been remiss in the one duty that is most important. I wish to choose a wife.”

Turning to see and judge his father’s reaction, he saw that Guy had risen from his chair. He walked slowly back and forth, an intrigued expression softening the fierceness of his face.

“Have you given thought to any woman in particular?”

Owen shrugged. “No. But I am certain there is a suitable female to be found who will please me. So long as she has beauty and rank, and will bear me sons. That is, after all, a wife’s purpose.”

To Owen’s surprise, Guy made a sound of amusement, giving a kind of small laugh.

“It seems you think of this matter as a mere business transaction.”

“Papa?” Owen inquired, wondering at his father’s reaction. Guy’s tone became quite fatherly.

“My son, I advise you not to be hasty in the matter of selecting a mate. The woman you choose is the one you will spend the rest of your life with. Be certain she is worthy.”

“I fully intend to find a woman of means, Papa. One with a healthy dowry.”

Guy came to a stop, looking at Owen directly. “I do not mean worth in that sense. A dowry is a fine enough thing. But do not think only of her looks or the heaviness of her purse. Many a woman has those qualities, but nothing else of substantiality. A wife must have sense enough to manage your home when you are absent, and she must be a companion for you when you require it. But most importantly, she must suit your character. I will not allow my son to make a poor choice that he will come to regret.”

Now it was Owen who folded his arms. Leaning against the window casing, he considered his father’s words.

“I had not thought of such things,” he said.

“Nor did I, when I first thought to have a bride. That was before your mother came along. I was fortunate that fate guided me in the right direction.”

Surprise came over Owen’s face. He knew something of his father’s past. It was no secret that Guy of Gisborne was devoted, body and soul, to the woman he loved. Owen had always thought of them as being each other’s first and only love.

“I did not know there was another,” he said, a note of awe in his voice. He watched as Guy took to pacing again, and Owen noted the change in his father’s demeanor. There seemed to be a shadow of darkness there, as if he now spoke of something that deeply troubled him. His tone became austere – almost bitter in its way.

“Regrettably, yes,” Guy replied. “There was another. A woman of beauty, rank, and intelligence. But she had no heart for me, and I was too blind to see that she was not meant to be mine. I was reckless in my pursuit of her. But I was fortunate that fate intervened. Had it not directed me on the proper path, this family would not exist. But let us turn away from such thoughts. They disquiet the mind.”

“Of course,” Owen said, clearly seeing that such talk was troubling. He sighed, taking in the new perspective that had been put before him. “You have given me much to consider, Papa.”

Coming forward, Guy clasped him on the shoulder. “Sleep on it, then. And tomorrow, we will consider this matter more carefully.”

Owen nodded, and as he stood, he saw his mother returning to the room. She came to him, smiling, and he smiled back, kissing her cheek. As he left the room, his mind was full of new thoughts.

Why had he not considered such matters before? In his hastiness to get past the initial decision of getting married, he had not considered the possible consequences of such a choice. What if a rash decision caused him to be chained to some brainless shrew? He did not intend to spend every moment with the woman he married. The knighthood, and the duties it entailed, were of greater importance to him. But he would have to spend some time with his wife…especially if he wanted heirs.

It was strange, but he suddenly thought of the Baroness LaCroix. He had tried not to think of her, but for some reason, she was often on his mind. He remembered the last time he had seen her, at Thea and Lucien’s wedding.

She was beautiful. But there was more to her than that. On the hunt, he had discovered what a fine horsewoman she was. And she was a creature of sharp wit and mind, judging from the brief conversation they had shared. How disappointing to remember that she was already married. She might have made the perfect bride. He could only hope that somewhere out there, a woman like her was waiting for him. He had only to seek her out.

My New Blog is Complete!

2012-01-08T18:21:00.000-05:00

It's taken me a while, but I've finally finished the update of my blog. As a friend pointed out, it is now more of a writer's blog rather than a fan blog. I've added some new pages, and I'm hoping it will make things easier to access, such as my writing and the places to read and purchase them.

About "The Baron's Lady"...

For those who are reading this story, I've condensed the introduction into three parts, and you can access it on the left hand side of the blog using the archive. I created the "Introduction" as a way to explain how Isabella and Rene began their affair. From this point on, the story will focus mostly on Owen and Isabella, with a few dashes of Guy and his family thrown in. And Rene will feature a bit too. :)

About "Of Dark and Bright"...

I've provided a link to this story in my Langdon stories section. I'm not posting it in full here due to space limitations, but you use the link to reach Wattpad, where you can read it and watch for updates.

Thanks for stopping by. :)

Happy Reading!

The Baron's Lady - Chapter One, Part One

2012-01-07T21:16:00.001-05:00

Hello, readers. If you are new to this story, be sure to read the three part introduction, now found in the archive on the left side of the home page. Enjoy!

*****

Owen hefted his practice sword up above his head, and then swung it down. It met Lucien’s sword with a solid blow. Owen swung from the right, only to have his endeavor and his arm flung aside. He tried again, attempting a mighty jab, using all of his energy and might in the effort…only to find himself face down in the dirt when Lucien countered, and then used his heel to take Owen down.

“You have great passion,” said Lucien. “But you must learn to attack with purpose. Use your head, and not your heart.”

Rising to his knees, he took Lucien’s extended arm. It was not the first time his brother-in-law had bested him. Lucien was, admittedly, much stronger and greater in size. But he knew that it was not the height and breadth of a man that truly mattered. It was the strength of his spirit. Determined not to be morose, he held out his sword, challenging Lucien once more. A slight smile of self-confidence graced his lips.

“Shall we begin again?”

Lucien returned the smile. But he sheathed his sword.

“Were it not for other matters, I would continue. But alas, I have made a promise that must be kept.”

Owen’s smile faded. He sighed, lowering his weapon. “To your wife, I assume?”

Lucien’s amused expression gave his answer. Owen shook his head as he put his sword away. Lucien and Thea had been married for several months, and even though Lucien was as dedicated as ever to his soldier’s duties, one could always sense that he wished to be elsewhere. Namely, with Thea. Owen found the notion difficult to fathom, but Lucien only smiled at the sour looks he received.

“When one day, you are in possession of a wife, you will come to understand,” he said.

Owen scoffed. “I understand that women are full of wicked wiles. Was paradise itself not destroyed by a woman?”

“A woman can be a paradise all on her own, if you know my meaning.”

A shudder passed through Owen’s body. He curled his lip in disgust. “Good God, man. Do not say such things in regards to my sister. You will make me ill.”

In response, Lucien only laughed. He clapped Owen on the shoulder.

“Come, brother. It is nearly time for dinner, as it is. I wish to see my wife, but I am also famished. Let us eat, drink, and make merry.”

As they made their way to the house, they heard the sound of geese softly honking. He and Lucien were not surprised to find Evelyn sitting beneath a tree, surrounded by several of her pets. The three geese, along with two greyhounds, kept company with her. While the dogs lay stretched out, absorbing the afternoon sun, the geese ate seed from Evelyn’s hands. One of the birds, all of whom were female, saw Owen and Lucien. The plump grey goose took several steps forward with her wings outstretched, hissing. Owen sneered at her.

“Do not threaten me, you waddling bag of bones. I shall truss you up and have you for dinner.”

Lucien and Evelyn both smiled, and Evelyn looked at Owen with an amused expression. “She has never favored you.”

Owen scoffed. “With the possible exception of Mama, I do not seek the approval of any woman.”

He was not surprised by Evelyn’s reaction, which was a grin and a twinkle of her blue eyes.

“A fact well known, brother.”

As he and Lucien walked away, Owen tried to suppress a smile. Despite the occasional verbal jabs that they shared, he and Evelyn were quite close. She was just a year younger than he, but she had the soul of a woman far beyond her age. As children, she had often acted in a motherly way towards him, offering him kindness and consolation, or a kick in the pants when he needed it. She had also been a great playmate, despite being a girl. She was a fantastic archer, and being lighter and swifter than he and his mates, she had always outrun them in footraces or bested them in tree-climbing. Those years were long past, but he recalled them fondly, and at times, he felt sad that time was moving so swiftly.

He shook his head, dislodging such thoughts. The prospect of dinner was a safer thought…much more so than emotions or regret, neither of which he cared to dwell on. As he and Lucien crossed the threshold, they looked up to see Thea coming their way. Owen bristled, knowing that he rarely encountered his older sister without it resulting in an argument. But for Lucien’s sake, he bit his tongue. Thea took Lucien’s arm as she came to his side.

“There you are, husband. I have been waiting for you.”

Lucien smiled. “Forgive me, love. My practice detained me.”

She nodded. “Yes, well, I am in great need of a private word with you. It is a matter of much importance.”

“Of course,” Lucien replied. “Allow me a few moments to make myself respectable, and then I shall join in the garden.” Taking her hand, he kissed her knuckles, and she smiled lovingly.

Seeing the softness between them, Owen felt a twinge of awkwardness. He was used to witnessing such gestures, but they still put him out of his comfort zone. He excused himself, and departing to wash and dress for supper, he sighed. Lucien was a fierce warrior, and he was close to being a perfect knight. If only he was not so easily swayed by his woman.

As he turned at the top of the stairs, he saw his mother and father at the end of the hall. They were standing close together, and though they were partly concealed in shadow, he could see they were smiling at one another. When they lovingly kissed, Owen quickly turned away. It wasn’t that the sight of such affection revolted him. But it seemed rather improper to his way of thinking. They were a married couple, and they were certainly not newlyweds. Why they continued to act as such was far beyond his comprehension.

*****

There was an air of excitement at the table. Thea, especially, was all smiles and blushes, as though she held within her a very great secret that she wished to tell the world. Looking around, he saw that his mother and father were wearing similar expressions. When Guy rose to his feet, with his cup in hand, Owen knew that something momentous was about to be announced.

“I am pleased to announce a most happy and divine event that is set to occur in our lives. Lady Theodora, our beloved daughter, and her husband, Sir Lucien, will soon welcome a child.”

There were gasps from around the room, and then, a round of applause. Owen sat still in his seat, stunned. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He and Thea had always been at odds, and in his eyes she had always been a spoiled and childish creature. Never had he imagined her as a mother.

A mother.

The thought of it was bewildering. He slowly rose to his feet to join his father, mother, and Evelyn as they congratulated the new parents. For once, he and Thea were cordial with one another. He kissed her cheek, offering her his blessing, and she smiled happily at him, thanking him. As he stood there, watching the happy faces of his family, he felt a shove to his shoulder. It was Evelyn, who was smiling, but looking at him with a curious expression.

“You stand like a block of wood, Owen. Are you not happy for Thea?”

He nodded. “I am. Truly. But…”

She waited, her eyes all expectancy. “But what?”

Owen shrugged. “Is it really possible that she is to be a mother? I find it difficult to believe.” He sighed, thinking it a startling notion that he and his siblings were no longer children. “Time does go by,” he remarked.

“That it does,” Evelyn replied.

Time was, indeed, moving by. And too quickly. He wondered if, perhaps, the time had come to make decisions he had put off for far too long.

The Baron's Lady - Intro, Part Three

2012-01-02T08:21:00.003-05:00

Contains adult content...

As night fell, Isabella was secluded in her chamber, resting on the pelt in front of the fire. She had turned away her maid-servant and other attendants, feigning illness. She feared they would look at her and see the turmoil in her eyes. They would look at their mistress and see that she had nearly succumbed to temptation.

But more fearful still was another thought…that they would see the longing that was now so very clear. She felt as though it was written in her every feature, there for all of the world to see. Clutching a wrapper tightly around herself, she trembled, despite the warmth of the fire. It had been hours since he had kissed her and held her, but she could still feel the heat of his lips and the solid strength of his body. She had never been so close to a man of such lean muscle and heated skin. God knew her husband had never felt like that, the few times they had been together. And Gilbert had only kissed her once, on their wedding day. He claimed to be revolted by the thought of two people’s mouths touching, and at the thought of it, she could not help being amused. What an imbecile he was. After the kiss she had shared with Rene, she could not see how anyone would be revolted by such an exhilarating act. It was sinful, yes. But now that she had discovered such sensation, she craved more of it.

She sighed, thinking that if nothing else, she would have pleasant dreams, and that was for the best. In dreams, all was safe, no matter the subject matter. Rising from the floor, she turned towards her bed…and gasped in shock.

There he was, sitting on the floor in front of her terrace doors. She took several fearful steps backward, but he only smiled at her nervousness.

“Good evening, my lady.”

Her response was swift. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I have my ways,” was his sly response.

“Be gone,” she demanded. “You cannot be here.”

He shrugged. “I thought perhaps you would like my company.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue failed her at that very moment, and he seemed to sense that her defenses were weak. He slowly stood, walking towards her, and she backed away. Her escape was impeded when the back of her legs hit a chair, and she nearly fell into it. But she managed to remain on her feet, rushing behind the piece of furniture so that it stood between them. His voice was as smooth as his approach as he came closer.

“You need not fear me, Isabella.”

At the use of her Christian name, rather than her title, she felt a strange tremble. Without touching her, he was stripping away the boundaries between them. And heaven help her, she knew it was impossible to resist him. He had come here to seduce her, and they both knew he had succeeded. But she had to resist until the last, even if her words held no meaning. As he came closer, standing there so close that their bodies were nearly touching, she uttered a whisper of protest.

“Why do you do this? Why can you not leave me be?”

Slowly, he reached for her hand. She made a weak attempt to pull it back, but he clutched softly it in the warmth of his grasp. The low, warm hum of his voice made her knees feel weak.

“I have tried to resist.” Lifting her hand, he brushed his lips to her skin. “But you fascinate me. You are a constant in my thoughts.”

They were nose to nose, so close that their breathing mingled, and as she closed her eyes in anticipation, his lips found hers. At first it was soft, gentle, and achingly sweet. Her fears eased away in only moments, and when his arms slowly moved around her body, she found herself cautiously pressing against him, testing the limits of her own daring. It felt so wonderful, so thrilling. So right. With growing eagerness, she let her arms return his embrace, and as a strange hunger grew within her, she pressed her lips more firmly to his, as if to silently plead for more. When he obliged her, tenderly parting her lips, she thrilled at the new sensation of truly tasting a kiss for the first time. She heard herself uttering strange little sounds. She was whimpering, she realized. God in heaven, he was stirring things in her that she had never known of before. And she wanted more.

When he gently broke the kiss, she felt a brief moment of disappointment. Until he kissed the bend of her neck. A pulse of fire flooded her body, and she was thankful that he was embracing her, for she was certain her legs were incapable of holding her up. His words only inflamed the sensation.

“You are a goddess, Isabella.”

She felt his hand at the base of her spine, pulling her tighter against him, and when she felt the evidence of his desire pressing against her belly, she instinctively pushed her hips against him. For a moment, she was lost in a whirlwind of pleasure. Until his palm cupped her breast. The sensation was exhilarating, shocking…and frightening. Gilbert had never laid a hand upon her in such a manner. Fear and uncertainty suddenly gripped her. She tried to pull away.

“I cannot…”

She grappled with her words, the spell of desire dissipated by her awkwardness. But Rene’s words were tender.

“He has never touched you in this way?”

Embarrassment flooded her, turning her face a deep shade of pink. She tried to turn away. But Rene gently cupped her face, forcing her to look at him.

“Do not feel shame,” he said. “If you are unschooled in the art of love, you must not blame yourself.”

Her pride, though slightly week, came to her aid, restoring her power of speech. She removed his hands from her face, feeling powerless when he held her that way. Her eyes lowered.

“I am not so unschooled,” she declared. “My marriage was consummated, and the proof is writ in the heir I bore for my husband.”

At the thought of her only child, she felt utterly ashamed that she had allowed so much between her and Rene. She tried to push him back.

“You have a son?” he asked, his tone too gentle for her liking.

“That is not your business,” she said, a sharpness to her tone. But Rene was tender.

“Very well, then. We will not speak of him.”

He brought his lips close to hers, attempting to kiss her again, but she tried to turn her head away. He responded with a gentle but firm embrace, pulling her into his arms.

“You want me, Isabella. As I want you. Let go your inhibitions, and you will find paradise.”

Before she could protest, he was kissing her again, and the flame that had momentarily dimmed quickly sparked anew. Their kisses grew deeper, their embraces stronger, and before she realized what was happening, they were lying on the pelt in front of the fire. She gasped at the feeling of her nightgown hem rising, and his hands slowly but surely following. His fingers grazed her skin, seeming to leave a trail of fire. Inside herself, she felt her feminine muscles pulsing with anticipation. But in her exhilaration, there was a tinge of fear. For a moment she became tense, fearing the hurt that had always come in those rare times with Gilbert. But her husband had never done what Rene was daring to do. His hands were touching her legs, and then her thighs. She closed her eyes as overwhelming pleasure took her over. She waited for the moment when she would feel his body joining with hers. But shocking feelings burned through her when she felt his fingers, touching her in a way she had never known a man could touch a woman. She tore her mouth away from his, gasping for air, and then she felt as though she was being hurled skyward. Lost in the wildness of sensation, she cried out in exhilaration.

Slowly, she fell back to earth. As she struggled to catch her breath, she felt Rene’s eyes upon her. Looking up at him for a moment, she was overwhelmed by all that she felt, and she tried not to look at him.

“What have you done to me?” she asked, still breathless. And he smiled at her.

“I have pleased you, my lady. And yet, it is but a taste of things to come. Shall I kiss you again?”

She could hardly find words to speak, and before she could protest, his mouth was on hers. This time, his kiss was more urgent. She was stunned at the feeling of not just his lips, but the rough, velvet sensation of his tongue tasting her. His hands tugged at her nightgown, and shyly, she began pulling at his clothing as well. When their clothes were finally discarded, she felt the familiar feeling of a man’s weight on her body. But now, she welcomed it. He moved with such strength, and yet such tenderness, careful not to hurt her, even as he became one with her, and gave her mindless ecstasy a second time. As they lay together, with only the sounds of the crackling fire and their hurried breathing, his tone was almost a whisper in her ear.

“Do you wish me to go?”

Without thinking, she clung tighter to him. The time for common sense had long since passed. Lost in a daze of joy and passion, she could only think of what little time they might have together, before dawn brought back the harshness of reality. The night was theirs, and she wanted to linger in every moment.

“Stay,” she replied. “The morning is far off.”

His laugh was softly triumphant. “As you wish, my lady.”

*****

Isabella slowly came awake. For a few glorious moments, she stretched her limbs and delighted in the magnificent feeling of contentment flowing all through her body. Looking around, she realized she was no longer on the floor pelt, but in the bed. The fire had dimmed. And Rene was stretched out beside her.

Before she could take a moment to admire him, fear came over her.

“Good Lord,” she whispered out loud. What if Therese came in and found them? What if any servant came in, for that matter? Throwing back the coverlet, she started to rush for the door. But a hand reached out to hold her wrist.

“The door is bolted. There is no danger.”

His reassurance, softly spoken, hardly eased her fears. And as she grew more awake, regret inevitably came forth, causing her to shift uncomfortably. Pulling her hand from Rene’s hold, she turned away from him and curled up on her side, pressing her cheek to her pillow. A tear slid down her cheek, and at the sound of Rene’s voice, she closed her eyes, as if she could somehow convince herself that none of this was real.

“Isabella?”

She did not answer him. As she silently wept, she could find no words, and the gentleness of Rene’s words only wounded her more.

“Do not cry, my lady.”

A sniffle escaped her. “How can I not?”

There was a long moment that passed in silence before he replied.

“If it eases your hurt, you are permitted to condemn me. I will endure your hatred, if it means your suffering is lessened.”

How was she to hate him? He had been nothing but splendid in his treatment of her. He had taken her to heights of such joy. Whatever his true nature, whether he truly cared for her or thought only of himself, she could not bring herself to place blame on him. In truth, she could only find fault with herself.

“It is I who must be condemned,” she replied, “And I alone must be the hand of it. I am weak, and an admitted fool.”

When she felt the warmth of his hand, gently rubbing her shoulder, she gave a shuddering sigh. His touch was both a painful reminder of their mutual sin…and a reminder of how easily he could rouse her passions. And yet, he did not make an attempt at seduction. His method was to touch her heart, by offering comfort.

“You are not a fool, Isabella. It is not a foolish thing to crave love and human kindness.”

She could not help herself. Turning her body, resting her head against the pillows, she looked up at him as he leaned over her. As he gazed down at her, he touched her face, grazing her cheek with his fingertips.

“There are so many definitions of love. And while we may not give our hearts to one another, we might enjoy the physical pleasures of love, without the trappings of matrimony or the burden of loyalty.”

There was something marvelous about his carelessness look on things. And yet, it troubled her. Looking into his lovely green eyes, she wondered how she could allow herself to be so easily used.

“Are you loyal to no one?” she asked.

He gave her a slight smile. “I find it best to be of most concern to myself. It is a matter of survival.”

His arrogance was so clearly expressed, and without remorse. It made her frown in anger.

“Am I merely a pawn, then?”

His amused expression was hardly surprising. There was a light of such mischief in his eyes, she could feel her coldness melting away at the sight of it.

“If you are my pawn,” he said, “Then I am yours. Do with me as you will, my lady.”

He was an unrepentant devil…and utterly irresistible. She made one more attempt, however weak she knew it to be, to resist his lure.

“What if I wish you to go?”

He replied with a shrug. “Then I will consent.”

Such easy compliance confused her. Until he moved in such a way that his body was no longer at her side, but pressed against the entire length of her. In an instant, she felt the first flickers of rising desire.

“If you wish to be rid of me, I will go. But did you not beseech me to remain until morning?”

When he gently pushed his hips against her, letting her feel the heat of his arousal, she responded with only a soft moan. She closed her eyes, giving in to the hot, intense rushes of pleasure.

“There is nothing so wondrous as the human touch,” he softly said. “The pleasure. The power.” She gasped as he pushed into her, vanquishing the emptiness. His tone became a rasp as his breathing intensified. “Such power is in your hands, as well as mine.” He guided her arms around him, and without encouragement, she pulled him closer, clinging to him. When his hands grasped her legs, drawing them up, she entwined them around him, and she felt him penetrating deeper into her. He ravished her mouth, hotly, and she hungrily kissed him back. She lost herself in the madness of their coupling, forgetting all but the feeling of his powerful body claiming hers. When the last wave of sensation crashed over her, she wept with joy, shattered. Holding to Rene, she let him take her with him as he rolled to his back. She clung to her lover as she fell asleep, regret banished by the volatility of passion.

*****

In the darkness of the night, Isabella found an intimacy she had never known before. Not just in the sharing of pleasure, but in sharing intimate words with a man who listened to her thoughts and fears. And he was not afraid to speak of himself. She learned that as a young man of fifteen, he had briefly lived in a house of ill repute. The thought of it was both shocking and scandalously fascinating. He swore that most of the “ladies” were only friends…that they found him too young for their tastes. But one of them had taken a liking to him and given him a thorough education. She did not know if he told the complete truth, but it seemed not to matter. However he had come to be a rogue, he was a genuine one. And she could not find it in her heart to hate him for it.

Just before sunrise, she woke to find him sitting beside her. He was looking down at her with a most tender smile. But seeing that he was fully dressed, she frowned, and a strange pain tore at her heart.

“I must go before I am discovered,” he said.

The thought of his leaving, and the realization that their night was over, drew unexpected tears to her eyes. When she brushed her finger over her cheek to dispel the moisture, he spoke gently to her.

“Do not be sad. We have shared a delightful evening. Let us part on terms most pleasant.”

After such a night, she could find no regret in her heart, and without shame, she looked at him with a desperate hope. “You will not return to me?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “I do not think it wise. We have already risked much. You more than I.”

Angered not so much by his answer, but by the unfairness of life, she muttered bitterly.

“By seduction, you captured your prize. Now the game is done, and your interest wanes.”

In his usually flippant way, he smiled, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Have I spoiled you?”

Angry tears spilled down her cheeks. “Yes. And now you will abandon me.”

“I must think of your well-being, Izzy. I do not wish to put you in danger.”

Izzy. He had dubbed her that at some point during the night, and hearing it again, it only fed her desperation. He had nourished her starving spirit, and she was not yet prepared to lose him. Sitting up, still wrapped in the bed linen, she put her arms around his waist and leaned her cheek against his shoulder.

“Grant me just one night more. Please. Just one, and then I promise, I will come to my senses and give you up.”

She felt his intake of breath. There was a note of hesitation in his voice.

“You truly are a temptation.”

A moment passed, and she was terrified that he would deny her plea.

Damn you, she thought. Do not suddenly become noble. Not now. But a moment later, he gently held her back so he could look at her. He smiled with a look of promise.

“I will come to you tonight,” he said. “But now, I must go, before the cloak of darkness can no longer disguise me.”

He kissed her softly, but much too briefly. Before she could protest, he made his escape, vanishing through the softly billowing curtains of the terrace. She slowly fell back against the pillows, and quietly, she wept at the loss

The Baron's Lady - Intro, Part Two

2011-12-25T10:57:00.007-05:00

After a steaming hot bath and a change of clothes, she felt a hundred times better – more prepared to handle things. The matter of Rene had been pushed to the far corners of her mind, and it was there she intended it to stay. At supper, he would be sitting with the other servants in the hall, albeit at a distance. All she had to do was avoid looking in that direction. But there were more pressing concerns to contend with than an errant stable-boy.

Appearing at the dining table, without her husband’s escort, she took her place at his side. He had started the meal without her, gathering at the table with several of the knights in his charge. Although he did not command his own garrison, Gilbert saw to the training and care of a number of soldiers belonging to his overlord. The men were often invited to dine at the main table, and unlike the civilized meals at the Gisborne table, the meals at the Chateau LaCroix were almost guaranteed to, at some point, erupt into chaos. As Isabella held her wine goblet up to be filled, a stripped chicken bone landed beside her trencher. Curling her lip in distaste, she used her knife to push away the repulsive scrap. It was not uncommon for discarded food stuffs to be tossed about in such a way. She supposed that it should have been a matter she was quite accustomed to. But she could not shake the feeling of disgust it aroused in her, and somehow, she doubted she would ever grow immune to such slovenly behavior.

As she ate, she did so in silence, although the atmosphere around her was hardly peaceful. The men were engaged in sport of various kinds, from drinking games to contests of gluttony, to matches of strength that had several of them shouting all at once. Gilbert seemed to be greatly entertained by the spectacle. Between copious amount of drink and food, parts of which remained behind in his beard, he laughed with great enthusiasm. Isabella sighed as she brought her goblet to her lips, hoping he might fall into a stupor, as he sometimes did after a heavy meal. If he became so indisposed, she would have reason to escape his company for the night, and silently she prayed for such a blessing.

The noise around the table suddenly erupted into an angry shouting match. A moment later a fist fight ensued, and the other men rose to their feet in raucous encouragement of it. As the aggressors throttled one another, their swings and shoves threw them into the other men. And as several fell back, one of them tumbled against Isabella. The shove sent her body sideways. And the wine goblet in her hand went flying, its contents splashing right into Gilbert’s face. He sputtered in shock, and was silent for a moment, before his expression contorted in anger. Before Isabella could prepare herself for his reaction, a douse of wine splattered against her face.

“Clumsy wench!” he cursed her. Slamming down his now empty cup, he bellowed for a servant to refill it. Then he looked at Isabella with a cold sneer. “Take yourself off to bed. Your company is no longer needed or wanted.”

A rose color of shame tinted her cheeks, but with what dignity she could manage, she rose to her feet and quit the room. It wasn’t until she was safely out of sight, and within the security of her bedchamber, that she allowed a few mortified drops of moisture to fall from her eyes. She would not allow a grand flowing of tears. Gilbert was not worth such an effort. But she could not help weeping about the humiliation she felt. Soaking a rag in the water basin, and wringing it out, she cleaned the remnants of wine from her face.

A voice, gentle and quiet, broke the silence.

“Baroness?”

Turning quickly, she gasped. Rene stood in the hallway. He was staring at her, with something of a curious look on his face. Her ire rose. Taking a cautious step back, she scolded him.

“How dare you intrude upon my presence?”

He remained where he was, not daring to come further. But he spoke again, this time with gentle concern in his tone.

“Forgive me, my lady. I have no wish to cause offense. But I thought you would be pleased to know that the foal will likely be born tonight.”

The sound of his voice was so pleasant, so soothing. Somehow, she felt that all she had to do was ask for his consolation, and he would gladly give it. And in her heart, she had a deep longing to confide in someone…anyone, truly. Even a mere servant.

But she could not bring herself to take comfort from him. Her pride would not allow it. Turning her back to him, she gave him a cool reply.

“Thank you, monsieur Jean-Bastien. Now if you please, I wish to be alone.”

There was a long moment before he answered, and his words held a strangely soothing tone. “As you wish, madam.”

A pang of regret struck her heart. In spite of herself, she turned towards him, overwhelmed by the need to speak and unburden her soul. But Rene was gone. And she felt an odd sense of pain at the loss.

*****

Despite the warmth of the Mediterranean climate, the Chateau LaCroix was often drafty, particularly at night. Despite having quarters that were smaller than the main bedchamber, Isabella was thankful that her room had a large fireplace. When a generous fire was burning, it made the chamber very warm and comfortable. She was sitting before that fire, lost in thought, when a knock came at her door. It startled her for a moment. As she rose to her feet, slowly approaching the doorway, her heart began a nervous beating. Why did she fear that if she answered the door, Rene would be the one she found on the other side of it? And why, if she was truly a woman of sound mind, did she secretly hope it was him? Closing her eyes for a moment, she willed herself to be calm and composed as she opened the door.

It was not Rene, but instead, it was a page who stood there. The boy lowered his head.

“My lady, I have been sent to inform you that your mare has birthed a fine colt.”

For the first time that evening, she at felt a small sense of happiness. She waved the page boy away. Summoning her maid, she was soon wrapped in a cloak, and slipping from the room, she made her way down the back staircase. It was doubtful that Gilbert would know or care about her brief absence. And even if he did know of it, what then? What harm was there in going to the stables – even if Rene was there.

*****

Stepping out into the courtyard, Isabella heard a faint rumble of thunder. It sounded distant, so she wasn’t concerned. She was quite certain there would be time to get to the stables, see the foal, and return to the house before the storm descended. As she approached the stable doors, a groom met her. After a bow, he led her to the stall, where she saw Rene waiting within. The groom moved off, leaving her alone with him.

Dual feelings battled within her at seeing him. His kind smile, given to her as he held up the lantern for illumination, generated a warmth within her that she could not suppress. And yet, that very same smile created an odd feeling of tension. Why did he look at her in that way? She sensed that he knew he was troubling her, and found something pleasing in the act. Shaking her head, she tried to focus on the gangly creature that was standing near its mother. Isabella smiled, looking at the newborn colt with great joy.

“What a handsome fellow he is. And not a trace of white do I see. His coat is pure black, as was his father’s. How lovely.”

In the moment that followed, she felt Rene’s eyes on her. She had felt that same gaze before, but it was often given in moments when she could distract herself from it. When given among the presence of others, it was easy to ignore. But here, with only his company, it felt entirely different. Inescapable. And it could not go on. Stiffening her posture, she spoke in a haughty tone of voice, directing her eyes forward.

“Monsieur Jean-Bastien, why do you examine me so? It is most inappropriate.”

There was a sweetness in his reply that moved her, despite her inner struggle to resist his pleasantness. His words were soft and kind.

“Your smile, my lady. It has captured my attention. Such a gentle expression suits you well.”

Gathering her inner strength, determined to put him in his proper place, she turned to him with a haughty look and a sharp reply. “You are too bold. It is not your place to flatter.”

Her scolding seemed not to affect him or his manner. He answered in that same way – softly and sweetly.

“Forgive me, my lady. I did not intend to give offense. I merely wished to compliment.”

A momentary sting of remorse pained her. If only he would act as he was meant to, she would not have to rebuke him so harshly. Why did he insist on showing her such kindness, when they both knew it would come to nothing?

“Do not make such attempts at pleasantry,” she said. “They are most unwelcome.”

His reply was a rather bold one…and something of a challenge.

“Are they truly unwelcome?”

Stunned by his daring question, she could find no quick response. In truth, how could she not desire words of admiration? God knew, Gilbert offered nothing in the way of pretty words or tender sentiments.

“You are not experienced with compliments,” said Rene. “Am I wrong in assuming so?”

How does he know such things? She wondered. How does he see so well into my soul? For a moment, she considered a soft, truthful response to his question. But a sudden wave of prideful courage came over her.

“You and I should not be having this conversation. It is most indecent.”

He shrugged. “Is it indecent to converse with a fellow human being? I find such a notion to be most absurd.”

It is absurd, she thought. Here was a handsome, charming gentleman, one who offered her his kindness and generosity, and her pride dictated that she treat him as what he was…someone of lower status. Someone she had no right to have friendly feelings for. And yet, she could not help being swayed by his gentleness. Such softening of her feelings must have shown in her features, for he looked at her and spoke with eagerness.

“Ah, I see we are not entirely in disagreement. Your words declare me an offense to your person, but your look says otherwise.”

With a small sigh, she relented…but only by a small measure. “Monsieur Jean-Bastien, I will not attempt to deny that your kindness is appreciated. But I…”

“Will you address me by my given name? I find formality to be so disagreeable at times. When I was a boy, I found my title to be quite burdensome.”

Her mouth fell slightly open. Had she heard him correctly? Surely not, she thought. But how could she know for certain unless she asked? Looking at him, her eyes were shining with curiosity.

“Title? What title?”

At that moment, she was too overwhelmed with interest to care about propriety. Despite her pride, she longed to know the meaning of his words. But he stunned her by a sudden change in his behavior. Turning away from her, he moved out of the stall, passing by her as he replied in a cool manner.

“Forgive me, madam. I have spoken too much,” he said. “As you have reminded me, conversation between us is most inappropriate. So I will bid you a pleasant evening.”

He began organizing tools, perhaps as a way to convince her that it truly was his intention to end their conversation. But how could he be so cruel as to leave her dangling so? Following him, she took on a firm stance and tone of voice.

“Do not be impertinent!” she scolded him. “You began your tale with the intent of intriguing me. And you have succeeded, owing to the failure of my common sense. So speak, if you please.”

He seemed hesitant to do so. He was teasing her, she came to realize. She might have struck him for it. But he answered soon enough, unwittingly saving himself from the force of her hand.

“I was born of a noble family,” he said, “But I was ousted for my behavior.”

Her eyes grew large with surprise. “You are jesting,” she declared.

He shrugged. “The details are rather dull, my lady. And the hour is late. Perhaps I should save my tale for another day.”

A little grin crinkled the corner of his mouth. Smug bastard that he was, he was delighting in this game he was playing. She fought the urge to throttle him for his behavior. With an indignant glare, she lashed out at him.

“Monsieur Rene, you are a most troublesome lout.”

Turning away, she took an angry stride towards the door…pausing when he answered her with a cheeky remark.

“So I am, my lady. But it has been said that I am a charming lout.”

How hard it was not to respond to him in some way…not to laugh, or turn and look at him. She was almost certain he wore a look of triumph, having bested her as he had. Somehow, she managed to walk away. But she could not keep from smiling as she hurried back towards the house.

*****

She narrowly escaped the storm, crossing the rear threshold just as the rain came pouring down. As her maid servant came forth, helping her to remove her cloak, Isabella wore a hint of a smile. In her mind, she heard a small voice of rationality, reminding her of the danger that would come if she forgot herself. She would be foolish to grow fond of Rene, who was a very great threat. His arrogance made him more so, for it seemed he was fearless in this game he played. It seemed he took pleasure in it. And God help her, she was finding it difficult not to be drawn in by his wicked ways.

A short time later, as Therese helped prepare her for bed, she thought of the words that had passed between herself and Rene.

Title, she thought. It seemed laughable to believe that a lowly servant had once been someone of importance. The idea of it seemed too ridiculous to imagine. But then, if it was not the truth, why had his declaration seemed so unprompted, as though he had made an unwanted slip of the tongue?

Once she had donned her nightdress, she waved Therese away, wanting to be alone with her thoughts. Easing herself into the softness of bed, covering herself to the waist with the coverlet, she sighed at the inevitability of her own defeat.

He had found her weakness. She craved companionship, as she had so little of it in her life, even though she had several female friends and acquaintances. They satisfied a basic need for socialization, but there was so much more that she longed for. The casual conversation shared at parties was not enough.

Though her marriage was an empty, cold existence, she was not ignorant of affection between a man and a woman. She had distant memories of being pursued, at age twelve, by a boy from a neighboring household. It had been so long ago, but it felt like only yesterday. Rowland had stolen sweet kisses from her, and they had played silly games of pursuit. In her girlish dreams, she had imagined marrying him. But such dreams had never come to fruition. Gilbert was the husband chosen for her, and there was nothing to be done about it. It was of small concern that he considered her as little more than a part of a business transaction, for in truth, it was what she was. She had always been aware of such a fact. But she could not forget those fleeting moments of affection she had once cherished. And now, it seemed as if Rowland had somehow been restored to her…in the form of a bold-as-brass stable boy.

Frustrated by her own foolishness, she shook her head, and snuffing out the candle, she buried herself under the covers with a great huff. In the morning, she would think of some way to save herself from her own weakness. But for now, she hoped to find refuge in the peaceful realm of sleep.

*****

A hand shook her shoulder. She brushed it away, trying to prolong the warm, safe, pleasurable delight of dreaming. But the hand was insistent. As was the voice.

"Madame, le Seigneur est parti. Il a quitté il n'y a pas longtemps."

“My lady, his lordship has gone. He departed a short while ago.”

Isabella forced her heavy eyes to open. Her dream had been so pleasant. But this news was worth waking for.

"Merci, Thérèse,” she said. “Est-ce que le Seigneur a dit quand il reviendra?"

“Thank you, Therese. Did the baron say when he would return?”

"Non, Madame. On ne disait qu'il part vers Morgiou"

“No, my lady. It was said only that he departs for Morgiou.”

Morgiou was a long distance away…nearly fifty miles. There, Gilbert would be occupied with his mistress, among other things, and it was unlikely that he would be in a hurry to return.

Isabella felt a spring of happiness bubbling up inside of her. But she was careful to temper the flow of her feelings. Even Therese, her faithful maidservant, could not be witness to her expressions of extreme delight over Gilbert’s departure. She was careful to maintain a dignified air as Therese helped her wash and dress. As the last laces were tightened, she spoke calmly to her servant.

“C'est dire que Henri va rompre mon rapide ici. Il peut superviser le repas à ma place.”

“Tell Henri I will break my fast here. He may oversee the meal in my stead.”

Therese nodded. “Oui, madame.”

There was a certain pattern to every day…a rhythm for everything, even for the simple matter of having meals. As a noblewoman, she had certain duties that were expected of her, although Gilbert thought her unequal to any task beyond sewing, gardening, and the like. His steward, Henri, was his preferred choice for handling household matters, and this morning, Isabella was glad to let him do it. She felt a great need to think only of herself…within reason, of course. It would not do to rush madly about with a great smile, declaring to the world about how joyous it felt to be free of a tyrant.

But she would enjoy a quiet meal without incident. Perhaps she would enjoy a leisurely bath in the middle of the day. She certainly intended to go riding, and at the thought of horses, her face grew warm.

She had dreamed of Rene last night. Even in her dreams, she had been shocked by his sudden appearance…and even more shocked to realize she found pleasure in his presence. Pleasure that was more than friendly.

He had kissed her without invitation. Those kisses had fallen on her face and lips with soft, tender sweetness – reminding her of those long ago days with Rowland. They had only been brief kisses, but her heart had beaten wildly with each one. And then, it had ended. But the wondrous feeling remained.

She pressed her palms to her cheeks, feeling the warmth growing there. But a smile grew with it.

It was wrong to feel such things. But suddenly, she found herself unable to care. Happiness was swelling in her heart, and she felt content to let it flow at will. Rene was a contributor to that happiness, whether or not she wished him to be.

Hang all rules, she thought. I have been a captive to misery for too long, and I will have some joy in this life.

*****

Cantering across the fields, she felt her spirits rising. How fitting it was that today was a holiday. It was the day to honor Saint Denys, and after a morning spent in worship, all were permitted to spend their day as they wished. Most of the servants took the opportunity to visit loved ones, leaving the house in a very quiet state. Isabella found pleasure in the sunshine and open air. As she moved along, her mind wandered to thoughts of Rene. How was he spending his holiday?

As if designed by fate, she found her answer, lying on a grassy knoll. She knew it was him, despite the hat that covered his face as he rested there. She could not resist approaching him. He drew her in without effort…without words or action. Riding up to him, she looked down at his lanky body, stretched out in a lazy fashion.

“Is this how you choose to spend your day?”

In a leisurely movement of his hand, he removed his hat, and looking up at her, he smiled. “Good afternoon, my lady.”

He was so dashing, so arrogant, even when giving a mere greeting. She tried her best to temper her delight as she responded.

“Most people would choose to spend their day of freedom with family or friends.”

He shrugged. “I have neither. So what would you have me do?”

In her heart, she felt a pang of sympathy for him. But was his account genuine? If only there was some way to know for certain.

“Am I to believe a rogue’s tale?” she asked. “You say you have no friends, no family. You say you once had a title. How am I to know the truth?”

Sitting up, he looked at her with a serious turn of expression. “If you require proof, I can provide it.”

Intrigued, she gave him a curious look. “How might you do that?”

She watched as he reached into his shirt, removing a ring suspended from a thin chain around his neck.

“Come,” he said. “See the evidence for yourself.”

Taking in a calming breath, she considered what the consequences would be if she took the bait. Would he do something untoward? Her good sense told her to turn her horse and ride away. But a strange sense of daring gripped her. And she found herself getting down from her horse.

Cautiously, she approached him, lured in by the shiny little object he was dangling. Boldly, she snatched it away. Examining it, she was surprised to find it as genuine proof of his former status.

“This is a signet ring,” she said. “I have seen this seal.”

He nodded. “The seal of the house of Jean-Bastien. Do you think it a coincidence that I share the name of a comte?”

Handing the trinket back to him, her curiosity grew. “You are a puzzlement, Rene. But how am to know that you did not steal such a ring, and that the name you claim to own is not truly yours?”

He laughed then, a soft and delighted sound of utter amusement. It was so difficult to be cross with him when he was being so jovial.

“My lady,” he said. “You have quite an imagination. And I daresay, a sad inability to lower your guard.”

Such a statement stung. And she replied with a sharp answer.

“With a man such as you, I am wise to be cautious.”

As he came to his feet, her instincts told her to flee. But she remained where she stood, watching him as he drew closer to her. There was a curious look on his face.

“Baroness, might I make an inquiry that has been on my mind for some time?”

It was dangerous to indulge his curiosity. But she could not help herself.

“What do you wish to know?” she asked.

He came closer, until they were nearly toe to toe. His voice was soft.

“Does your husband kiss you as he should?”

His question was too bold, too shocking…and it frightened her, because it had touched upon such a personal subject. She took a step back from him.

“That is not for you to know.”

He slowly advanced on her with a little smile. “Therin lies my answer.”

She tried to step away, but she found his hand holding her arm in a firm but gentle grip.

“You are afraid of me,” he said.

He was touching on too many truths. It did, indeed, make her frightened…not of him, but of herself. She tried one last effort of being bold.

“You flatter yourself, and I find it appalling.”

He responded with an upward curl of his lip.

“I think your pride speaks for you,” he said. “And I wonder how it would be to hear words from the Baroness LaCroix herself.”

She was rooted to the spot where she stood, unable to move. His face was drawing near hers, and she knew he would kiss her. Her heart hammered like mad as his lips fell softly on hers. The shock of it was only momentary, as he stirred feelings in her that set her senses reeling. It was over nearly as quickly as it began, as he pulled back and broke their contact. Somehow, she managed words of reproach, spoken breathlessly.

“You are a revolting cad.”

His reply was swift. “And you are a beautiful woman who deserves more than what that swine offers you.”

He was right. And oh, how she wanted to tell him so. Instead, she felt a wave of fear take over her. She backed away, shaking her head.

“I cannot do this,” she stammered. “Please, just leave me be.” Before he could stop her, she rushed to her horse and rode away, fearful of what might happen if she stayed.

*****

Meeting Richard Armitage...A possibility?

2011-12-23T09:56:00.000-05:00

I will admit it. I've dreamed of meeting Richard. I've imagined exactly what I would say, how I would act...and how I would NOT act. I'm sure that if my wish of meeting him came true, I would fall apart and forget how to speak, or I would talk so fast that he wouldn't understand what I was saying. I would like to think I could keep it together, but knowing my luck, I would make a fool of myself, and polite though I know he would be, he would probably think I'm a lunatic. But the chances of ever meeting him are pretty much nil.

Or are they?

We all know that RA will likely be doing promotional work in the US when "The Hobbit" premieres next year. There will be big events in major cities, most likely New York and Los Angeles. He'll be promoting on talk shows and such. But there is a slight possibility that he'll actually be a place a bit more accessable, at least for me.

I will explain...

Just outside of Chicago, (Where I grew up) there is a unique movie theater venue called "Hollywood Boulevard" and their sister theater, "Hollywood Palms." It is a fantastic place to see a show. You can order dinner and have a drink while you see your movie, and the building itself is worth the price of admission. So much to see, you need a camera. If you're ever in the Chicagoland area, you really should visit.

"Hollywood Blvd. Lobby"

They are a hot spot for movie premieres, and it's a tradition for celebrities to stop by when they are in town. Not only that, but for big movie premieres, (i.e. Twilight, Harry Potter, etc.) they usually have a cast member doing a meet and greet. Last year, during "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2," they had none other than Draco Malfoy himself. And that leads me to my point...

Who will they have for "The Hobbit" premiere? It isn't likely they will get Martin Freeman or Sir Ian McKellan, but is there a chance they could book *Gasp* Richard Armitage??

It's not altogether out of the realm of possibilities. They've had some of the biggest names in Hollywood in their venue, including...

Jennifer Hudson

Jane Russell

Tony Curtis

Debbie Reynolds

Burt Reynolds

David Carradine

Dan Akroyd

Michael Madsen

Shirley Jones

Tippi Hedren

I won't list them all, as it would take too long. But to make a long story short, they deliever the star power. So maybe, just maybe, they'll manage to get a certain dwarf? I've already been in contact with them, trying to figure out who they will get (And making a certain suggestion.) So far, they say it's too far in advance to tell. But they can be sure, they haven't heard the last of me. I'll be making inquiries over the coming months, and I will definately keep everyone updated as to what their plans are.

Maybe they'll get the hint that a Thorin meet and greet would be a TREMENDOUS success. Maybe I'll finally know if I can keep it together.

A girl can dream, right? :)

"The Baron's Lady" Intro, Part One

2011-12-22T17:45:00.002-05:00

Hello, dear readers. I've finally gotten my writing groove back on track, and here is the newest Gisborne story. This is the introduction, so it will be a little longer than the posts that follow. I will try to post at least once a week, if time permits. Also, this isn't the absolute final edition of the story. It will have some tweaks made before it's published, you're getting a first look. I hope you enjoy it!

*****

Marseilles, France

October, 1212

Owen raised himself up in his boots, trying to look a little taller. He was not a short young man…not by any means. At roughly six feet tall, his height was considerable, compared to some. He only wished he could match his father’s impressive stance. Guy of Gisborne was a man of great height and breadth, and his presence was always felt when he entered a room. Owen was hopeful that one day, he would achieve such greatness. He had always favored his father in looks, sharing his dark hair and grey eyes. And he was, after all, a Gisborne. He was a baron, and the heir to a handsome estate. What woman would not want his favor?

Owen looked around at the many guests in attendance, all of whom were there to celebrate his sister’s wedding. That morning, Theodora had married Sir Lucien Caier de Neuville, and the celebration was continuing long into the night. The entire manor was alive with merriment, and Owen stood among a small group of fellows, admiring the many young ladies that were present.

He had not decided on a bride. His sisters had been matched with their husbands since childhood, but he had the luxury of selecting his wife. It was a decision he intended to consider carefully, but he knew there were several years yet before he had to make a definite choice. He was nearly seventeen, but still a squire. Marriage would not be a requirement until he achieved knighthood, and that would not be until his twenty-first year. There was plenty of time to choose…and plenty of time to appreciate all of the feminine beauty that surrounded him.

He felt a light jab in his ribs. Looking at the man next to him, he saw his brother-in-law smirking. Lucien stood head and shoulders above most men, but his striking physicality stood in contrast to a friendly and jovial soul. Owen was his squire, but it was a position he took pleasure in. They were very close, sharing many a confidence and frequently jesting with one another.

“I see your eyes are wandering,” said Lucien. “Do you spot a lady fair among the crowd?”

Owen shrugged. “I am in no rush to choose. And besides, I am yet young. When it comes to female pursuits, I am in no rush to form a permanent attachment.”

Lucien’s amber eyes shined with masculine playfulness. “You wish only to dip your wick, eh?”

Owen grinned. “Something to that effect.”

Lucien might have spoken with a lewd tongue, but it was common knowledge that he was deeply in love with his new bride, and when he spoke in such a bawdy manner, it was only to keep a manly presence among other men. He was smitten with the woman he had married. No one dared tease him about it, of course, out of respect for his pride. But Owen was quite certain that when it came to men who fell in love, he and most of his comrades shared the same thought.

Poor bastards.

Not all men were doomed to fall in love with their wives. But it seemed that the ones who did were bound to lose their sense of self. Oh, they would keep up appearances, of course. They would manage their estates and serve their sovereign when called upon. Such men would still act as men when it came to hunting, hawking, and other sports. But behind closed doors, they would become helpless creatures indeed. Lucien was one of those unfortunate souls. How else to explain his total devotion to someone like Thea? He shuddered at the thought of it. And Lucien noticed.

“Something troubles your mind?”

Owen shook himself from his thoughts. “Nothing of consequence,” he replied. “Besides, I have no wish to offend.”

In response, he was given a hard slap to his back. Lucien smiled. “You are among family here. Speak!”

With a shrug, Owen expressed his thoughts. “Can you really love a woman like my sister? She’s a shrew.”

Lucien chuckled. “To you, perhaps. But to me, she is a gift. And besides. What is life without an occasional challenge?”

Owen’s shrugged. “She will certainly provide you with that.”

He and his older sister had always been at odds. It was horrible to admit, and he never would have said so out loud, but he and Thea were very much alike in their personalities. Their quick tempers and bluntness of opinions had often caused them to butt heads. It was a fortunate thing, then, that they had a source of calm to ease such tempests.

Owen glanced over at his beloved mother. Cassia Gisborne was the strongest woman he knew, and yet she managed to have a gentle, calming influence on those around her. His younger sister, Evelyn, was very much like her, and it was certain that one day, Evie would make a most lovely and suitable wife. It was an unspoken truth among everyone, but no one was more influenced by Lady Cassia than her husband. She and Guy stood together, talking. It was clear to see, watching them, that their conversation was an intimate one. Whatever they spoke of, it was a subject meant for only the two of them, as was evident from the way they looked at one another.

In their particular case, he could understand the idea of love. It had always seemed to him that fate had intended them for one another. They were, after all, his mother and father, and he could not imagine two people being more perfectly matched. That was how it was meant to be.

He was glad for their happiness, of course. But he couldn’t imagine himself being so content. Not in terms of devoting himself to another person. His devotion had always been to the knighthood…to the code shared by his brothers in arms. He could think of nothing nobler than giving his heart and soul to the crown.

But his heart and soul were one matter. The rest of his being was an entirely different issue. Of late, there seemed to be a war raging between his noble ambitions and his baser human instincts. And he secretly feared that his instincts were gaining the upper hand.

As a boy, it had been a simple matter. Girls were the enemy. He had been polite to them, but only to a point. Now that he was a man, things had changed considerably. As before, women were to be admired for their beauty, and treated with the utmost respect. In looking for a bride, a man was expected to choose a mate of the finest pedigree. But manhood had taught him that not all women were perfect. Sometimes, what appeared on the surface was only a polished veneer.

As his gaze drifted over the crowd, it came to stop on a familiar face. A neighbor, she was, and a friend of the family. The Baroness LaCroix seemed to be all that a man could desire. For a woman, she was rather tall. It was impossible to tell, due to her long flowing gown of burgundy velvet, but he was sure her legs were long. Lord, there was something arousing about a woman with long, shapely legs. His experience with women was limited to the occasional soft company that visited the barracks, but it had been a thorough education, and he had quickly made his mind up about his favorite female feature.

As for the rest of the baroness, there was nothing to find fault with. She was slender, with nicely rounded hips and a small but pert bosom. At first glance, with her blonde hair and fair skin, she had a delicate appearance. But it was off-set when one actually met her. Her eyes were a deep shade of brown, and they looked upon a speaker with a direct and almost fierce gaze. She moved and spoke with a most confident air. She was, indeed, a glorious sight to behold.

But she was a forbidden temptation. She was a married woman, to begin with. But if the rumors were true, she was not at all pleased with her husband, and was seeking company elsewhere. Looking at the portly baron, who was standing a considerable distance away from his wife, one could almost pity Isabella for being shackled to him. He was, in truth, an uncouth and slovenly fellow.

Lucky bastard, Owen thought, To have a woman like that in his bed.

He shook his head to regain his senses. It was wrong to have lustful thoughts about such a woman. After all, lust was a sin. His own brother, a respected student of the church, had written sermons on the evils of fornication and other vices.

No one knew the truth of the matter, and so they were all polite to Isabella when in her presence. But secretly, she was the subject of many a whispered conversation. Looking at her, it wasn’t hard to believe that she could entice any man she set her sights on. She was the ultimate temptress. His gaze was fixed on her, and he could not look away. As she conversed, she smiled softly, and he found himself imagining what it would be like to kiss her. Her mouth looked so soft and sensual, her full lips a delicate shade of rose color.

He chastised himself for his immoral thoughts. Good God, man, he told himself. Come to your senses.

Even if the stories about her were only hearsay, it was better not to think of her. A man of honor tried to avoid such dubious company.

But being honorable was not always easy. His mind had perfect intentions, but his body and mind were in constant rebellion. And as far as temptations went, Lady Isabella was proving to be a real danger to his good sense. He moved out of her line of sight, determined to put such a woman far from his thoughts.

*****

Isabella sipped her wine, only half-listening to the conversation among her circle of friends. Unlike many of her female companions, who gathered at these celebrations solely for the purpose of socializing, her own reasons were of a much more personal nature.

A steward appeared at her side. “More wine, my lady?”

Smiling, she held out her cup to be filled, thanking the young gentleman. It wasn’t customary to be gracious to a servant, or even to acknowledge their presence. But in the Gisborne home, there were many things that defied convention.

She adored the Gisborne home. There were certainly dwellings that were larger, and more lavishly appointed, and while the Gisborne estate was by no means small or plain, it was without the austerity of other manor houses. When walking through its doors, a guest felt an immediate sense of warmth and serenity. The floor rushes were always fresh, scented with varieties of dried flower petals and chamomile leaves, which gave a sweet air to the rooms. An army of servants was on hand to cater to every whim, and their duties were performed with the utmost respect and kindness. This was to be expected, of course, from any underling. But Guy of Gisborne’s servants seemed genuinely pleased with their duties, perhaps because their master did not allow them to be abused, and their mistress treated them with great kindness.

Turning her head, she set her gaze on the lord and lady of the manor.

They were, each in their own way, rather unusual. Guy of Gisborne was, in a word, animale. It was a bold description, perhaps. But Isabella could not think of a better way to depict the man who walked with such a predatory stride. When surveying his domain, he had a raptor-like quality, not just in the way he both held his head and turned it, but in his very direct and piercing gaze. His pale blue eyes looked most intently upon a speaker, often causing them to look away. There were only a select few who did not feel intimidated by him…and only one person who could soften the fierceness of his features, seemingly without effort.

Lady Cassia was not, at first glance, an extraordinary beauty, although she certainly possessed several fine qualities. Her hair was thick and wavy, its shade a lustrous chestnut brown, and it contrasted in a lovely way with her creamy complexion. But it was her eyes, perhaps, that were her most stunning feature. They were dark and deep in their color, and when she smiled, her eyes shined with a marvelous and joyful light. And it was that light that transformed her into a most exquisite creature.

Cassia was a woman who was loved. When she smiled, it was clear that her happiness came from within. She had the deep devotion of her children, who were fiercely protective of her. For her generosity and kindness, she was near and dear to her friends, and her servants. But most of all, she had the love of a husband who absolutely worshipped her.

Guy of Gisborne drew near his wife, and as Isabella saw his approach, she turned her eyes away. Her smile faded. It was sometimes difficult to watch Sir Guy and Lady Cassia together, particularly on a happy occasion such as this. They often shared certain looks when they were together…looks that were subtle, for the sake of decorum. But there was no mistaking the powerful meaning behind each shared glance. One had only to watch Sir Guy’s expression, and it was clear to see how besotted he was. How they were. As passionately as he looked at his wife, she was equally enamored with her husband. And the thought of it tore at Isabella’s heart.

She thought of them as kind and gracious neighbors, and Lady Cassia was one of her good friends. But how could she not feel envious of them? Especially when she thought of the beast she was chained to. With a despondent sigh, she took another sip of wine.

A close friend, Lady Emmaline Beauchard, was seated beside her. At twenty-three years old, Emmaline and Isabella were the same age, and they shared much in common…most notably, a dislike for their husbands. While Isabella’s husband was fat and slovenly, with a quick temper and a taste for drink, Lady Beauchard’s husband was fashioned like a reed, with a demeanor that was nearly as stiff. Beyond his duties to the crown, his time and attention were devoted to his prized Arabian horses, and there was little else that gave him joy. Hearing her companion’s little sigh of displeasure, Lady Beauchard whispered to her friend.

“Isabella,” she asked, “Are you unwell?”

Isabella, taken from her thoughts, tried to smile. “I am perfectly well, Emma. Only lost in thought.”

Her confidante examined her with soft hazel eyes. “I know a look of sadness when I see it, my friend.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, Emma spoke of the trouble she knew Isabella was thinking about. “He sits a great distance away, and yet he still burdens you.”

They dared not say names out loud. It was audacious enough that they should speak of their husbands in a negative way.

“If only we had the freedoms that men have,” said Emma. “You and I would certainly be happier for it.”

In the corner of Isabella’s mouth, a tiny smile formed. “Were I granted the gift of choice, I would use a most discerning eye.”

She and Emma shared a laugh. In private moments, they had often spoken about what they dreamed of, particularly when it came to men. They both knew that there was no hope of finding another mate. It just wasn’t done, not even if, heaven forbid, they were to become widowed. But no one could keep them from imagining the joy of something better.

As Isabella turned her attention away from Emma, her eyes fell on the face of young Owen Gisborne. For a few moments, her attention was held by his striking profile. He was every bit his father’s son, right down to the angular facial features and the black, unruly waves of hair that fell over his forehead. Like his father, he had a proud air about him. He was arrogant, even. All of his features might have come together to make him a sensual, alluring creature…were it not for the fact that he was only a boy. He was not yet seventeen, and hardly enough of a man to consider him in any way.

Suddenly, he turned his head, meeting her eye. She quickly looked away, hoping that he hadn’t seen her staring, and she chastised herself for having such immoral thoughts.

*****

Theodora and Lucien rushed, hand in hand, through the crowd of well-wishers gathered in the courtyard. Flower petals, tossed into the air, slowly showered down on them. Lucien assisted his bride into the open carriage, and then he stood, holding a small velvet purse. Emptying the contents into his palm, he pitched the coins aloft as the guests cheered, and a moment later, the coach departed.

Lady Cassia, watching through tears, clung close to her husband. As she dabbed her eyes with a kerchief, she stole a glance at him. Her heart swelled, moved by the expression on his face.

He was trying so hard to be cool and composed. This was indeed a happy occasion. But the joy expressed was intended to be about the gaining of finance and security…not about love. It was what marriages were supposed to be about. Guy of Gisborne had chosen his daughter’s husband long ago, and by all accounts, he had chosen well. Sir Lucien was a knight of great wealth and reputation. Both he and his bride were young and healthy, so it was expected that they would soon have a family. There was little more that a father and mother could hope for.

Cassia was pleased by her new son-in-law’s status, but his goodness of heart made her happier than any amount of money or property he possessed. He genuinely loved Thea, and though it was painful to lose her eldest daughter, Cassia was joyful for them both. She knew that Guy was happy too. But at that moment, such a feeling was buried deep in his heart. Right then, despite his attempts to hide it, he was overwhelmed by despair. Gently, she clasped his hand, and in a soft voice, she tried to console him.

“She will not be far away. The Chateau de Neville neighbors us. It is less than a half-day’s ride from here.”

In response, he looked at her and tried to smile. But he did not speak. Seeing the lump in his throat, she realized he was doing all that he could to keep his composure.

My darling husband, she thought. What a wonderfully soft-hearted creature you are.

She did not tell him so. Not when there were so many eyes watching and ears listening. But he was in need of consolation. It would not do, of course, for him to be seen accepting her comfort. But there were ways around such rules.

A soft sigh escaped her. “My heart is heavy as well,” she said to him. It was not a complete untruth. She did feel a certain sadness that their beloved first-born daughter was now a woman grown and married. But Guy felt it more keenly than she did. He cared very deeply for his family, and it showed in his expression as he looked at her. But it was Evelyn and William, standing near them, who first voiced their concerns. Coming forward, Evelyn took Cassia’s hand. In her gentle way, she inquired after her mother’s health.

“Mama, are you all right?”

William looked over his sister’s shoulder. “You look quite sad, Mama. Is there anything we might do?”

Cassia smiled at their sweetness. She stroked Evelyn’s hand, and touched her palm to William’s cheek.

“I will be well,” she replied. Turning to Guy, she looked up at him, speaking softly. “But I would be more agreeable if I could escape the sea of humanity for a time.”

He met her eyes, and they needed no words. They knew each other so well, each able to read the other, as though their thoughts were written on one another’s faces. Guy turned to Owen, who was standing beside him.

“My son, your mama needs a moment of peace. We will both retire for a rest, so I must insist that you stand in my stead. See to our guests needs.”

Owen nodded eagerly. “Of course, Papa. I will organize a fox hunt. I am sure our guests will be most eager for it.”

Guy gave him a hard slap on the arm, and as she so often had, Cassia observed their “affection.” Such gestures between them were not unusual. She only wished there could be something softer between a father and son. With her daughters, she shared an openness of caring and love, frequently sharing embraces and kisses. But such tenderness was not to be expressed among men, except perhaps with William. He was a deacon of the church, hoping to soon be ordained as a priest, and it was perfectly acceptable for a man of the cloth to be gentle in nature. But it was not so with other men, particularly those like Owen, who lived and breathed the knighthood. Saddened by the thought of it, as she had often found herself to be, she let out a long, soft sigh. Guy, sensing her trouble, drew her closer to his side. He looked down at her.

“Perhaps we will go for a ride, so we might enjoy the morning air.”

She smiled at him. “That would be lovely.”

*****

They rode out together, Guy on his black stallion and Cassia on her grey mare. Once out of sight of the manor, they left their horses behind, choosing to enjoy a long and leisurely walk. Reaching up to lift Cassia from the saddle, he kissed her lips as he set her on her feet. There was a sad glint in his eye, even as he expressed his gratitude to her.

“Thank you for creating such a ploy to grant me my freedom.”

“It was equally desired by me,” she replied, taking his arm. “Today has been trying for us both.”

As they walked, heading towards a sunny spot that overlooked their estate, Guy grumbled. “How I do loathe weddings.”

Despite the surliness of his tone, a slight smile remained on her lips. Leaning into him, she spoke with a tone of amusement.

“Surely, husband, you do not loathe the thought of all weddings. I would hope that at least one would remain a happy event in your memory.”

Looking up at him, she saw how his expression softened and warmed, and he put his arm around her waist, drawing her closer.

“I think of that occasion as the most blessed day of my life. Especially when I recall our wedding night.”

She felt the strengthening of his hold on her, and it gave her a warm thrill, even as she playfully scolded him. “Naughty wretch.”

Such playfulness never ceased to delight or…or to stir her senses. His bawdiness had grown more subtle over the years, but their desire for one another had never waned. If anything, their love was deeper now than it had ever been, although its expression was not as volatile as it had once been. In those first days, although he had been the happiest of men, Guy had always lived with a sense of fear. There had been little hope of convincing him that calamity did not wait around every corner. Time had gradually mellowed him, allowing him to spend more time enjoying life rather than worrying so. And yet, he still had his melancholy moments, particularly when it came to his daughters.

As they came to their favorite spot, where a fallen tree provided a comfortable resting place, he sat down, and she placed herself on his knee. As she leaned her head against him, he sighed deeply. His tone was mournful.

“Our nuptials are the only ones to bring joy to my heart. It pains me to think that Evelyn will one day marry. I have just lost one daughter. How can I bear to lose another?”

She saw the way he lowered his head. They had been through such scenes countless times of late, and she had spent many a day and night trying to comfort him about the inevitable loss of his beloved daughters. But she had brought him here to take his mind off of that matter.

“What of Owen?” she asked.

He lifted his head. Seeing the slight look of confusion in his expression, she realized she had chosen the right approach for a change of subject. Guy shook his head. “What of him?” he replied.

Pressing her cheek against his breast, she kept her tone light. “He will one day marry as well.”

Guy’s tone of response pleased her. His heart was soft for his daughters, but it was full of pride for his sons. Owen, especially.

“Yes, of course Owen will marry,” he said. “But he will remain at home. And, God willing, he will be blessed with many heirs. That is certainly a drop of sweet in much that is bitter.”

Sitting up a little straighter, she felt a sudden weight on her heart. It was not a heavy burden, but it was enough to dim the brightness of her mood. While Guy’s spirits seemed to have lifted, she felt her own spirits sinking.

“Perhaps so,” she replied. “Although I must confess, my thoughts of Owen have brought me much concern of late.”

His arms gathered her closer. She had brought him here to soothe him, but now it seemed that their roles had reversed, and in truth, she was glad of it. When he urged her to share her troubles, she did so gladly. His voice was warm and gentle. He placed a soft kiss on her temple.

“Tell me your thoughts, my love.”

She felt fortunate to have a husband who asked of her thoughts and feelings, and she was glad now to confide in him. Giving another small sigh, she spoke of their youngest son.

“I fear his nature, Guy. He has never been a boy of great warmth or tenderness.”

For the first time in many days, there was a note of amusement in Guy’s tone. He had not always been swift to correct Owen’s behavior, which was sometimes more aggressive than it needed to be. Guy seemed to take pride in his son’s brash tendencies. As he pressed his cheek against her hair, he spoke proudly of Owen.

“He is a young man, beloved. And one day soon, he will be a knight of fearsome ability. I find great pleasure in such a prospect.”

She felt him becoming more at ease. But she felt herself growing tense, and a hint of frustration found its way into her words.

“He is passionate about his duties, yes. But will he express such passion for the woman he chooses?”

Guy chuckled lightly. “It is perhaps difficult to hear, my love. But passion is not a requirement of marriage. Although, I have been glad to find it in ours.”

He had, indeed, become lighter of mood, as she could tell from his words and soft tone of voice. But she could not share in his amusement about Owen and the subject of matrimony. It was not a woman’s place to question such matters, and this she knew. But Guy had never chastised her for voicing her opinion. He had often said that he expected such behavior of her, and that to find her docile and quiet would cause him great concern. There would be no need for that now, as her feelings rose and demanded voice, although she spoke calmly at first.

“I am aware that marriages are not made for love,” she replied. “They are made for financial gain, and for the assurance of the male lineage.”

Guy nodded, his reply matter-of-factly spoken. “That is how it is, yes.”

She could contain what she felt no longer, and her voice rose in defiance.

“It is a most foolish thing!”

He lifted his head, the movement quickened by the suddenness of her outburst. But the corner of his mouth rose. She knew he reveled in her outspokenness, and she could see in his eyes that he was quite delighted at that moment. But pleasing him was not her present intention. The aching in her heart was quite real.

“It pains me to think that my future daughter-in-law may not know the happiness that I have known. How can we be certain that Owen will provide his mate with the love she deserves?”

She lifted her head to look at him, and there was still amusement shining in his eyes. His reply was calm, his intention clearly meant to soothe her.

“He is not a monster, my darling. He is not incapable of feeling.”

“I am aware of that,” she replied. “He has his rare moments of goodness, although he would swear by oath that he is incapable of such actions. But I want him to be a good husband.

Guy laughed again, kissing the top of her head.

“Whomever Owen chooses, we must accept it. It is not our life to live. It is best left in the hands of fate.”

She scoffed. “Fate is not always to be trusted.”

He chuckled again, kissing her forehead and cheek. Despite her attempts to remain passive and sullen, she soon found herself smiling. When he was being so amiable, so delightfully sweet, how could she remain melancholy? And how, under his loving influence, could she not return his fervent affections?

*****

The carriage hit a hole in the road, rattling the passengers inside the vehicle. One of them, being quite heavy in size and deep in sleep, hardly noticed the jostling. The other rubbed her shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the impact when she collided with the inner wall of the carriage.

At home, a favorite mare was preparing to foal, and Isabella very much wanted to be there to see it. It was her hope that the event had not occurred in her absence, but if perchance it did, at least she could take comfort in the knowledge that the mare’s caretaker was very capable. Thinking of that nice young gentleman, she smiled to herself.

Rene Jean-Bastien had such a gift with horses. And with people. He had an uncanny way of putting one right at ease, whether or not one wanted to be at ease with a common stable-hand. Recalling how, at first, she had dismissed him as nothing more than another lowly servant, she felt a slight sense of remorse. Despite her initial coldness towards him, he had never played the submissive worker. He was respectful, of course. But when he spoke to her, it was always with an air of such pleasantness, such warmth and kindness, that she could not help warming to him. They had never gone beyond exchanging a few words of politeness, mostly relating to the well-being of the horses. But a few moments in Rene’s company was preferable to the endless hours spent with the man now sitting beside her.

Gilbert snorted in his sleep. Isabella glanced at him for a moment, but when he reached down to scratch himself, she turned her head away in disgust.

Dear God, she silently prayed. Let him soon be gone away to his mistress.

It did not trouble her that he preferred the company of his mistress, although she sometimes wondered how any woman could tolerate his boorish company, let alone lying with him. She shuddered at the thought of it, recalling the horror of her wedding night, and the memory gave her even more cause to hope for his departure.

As the carriage slowed, Isabella heard Gilbert make a grumbling sound. She senses, without looking at him, that he was waking up, and it was her hope that he would refrain from speaking to her. But a severe pinch to her upper arm proved her wrong.

“Addle-headed dolt,” he muttered. “Why did you not wake me?”

Wincing at the pain of his correction, she still managed to give him a demure and proper response. “Forgive me, my lord. I thought it best to let you sleep.”

He grumbled a cold reply. “Do not attempt that which you were not meant for. Thinking is a masculine endeavor.”

His criticism stung, but the hurt was only momentary. She was accustomed to his cutting remarks, and when he got out of the carriage and left her behind, she was happy to see him go. Leaning out, taking the hand of a groom who assisted her, she stepped down with a weary sigh, and turning her head, she observed the stable-hands tending the carriage horses.

There he stood, loosening the harnesses. His head was turned away from her, so it allowed her a moment to observe him. He was young. Eighteen, if she remembered correctly. His features were quite fine. He was of middling height, with a muscular but lean figure, and a face that was boyishly handsome. With his blonde hair and green eyes, and a lovely dimpled smile, it was impossible not to notice him. Or to be drawn to him.

Oh, I am a fool, she thought. To crave the company of such a man.

It was the height of impropriety to think of keeping company with a man of such low status. But all she wanted was to spend a few lingering minutes with him. There was something about him that was so alluring. Would it be so wrong to inquire about the horses, particularly the mare? Surely there was no harm in that. But she knew she would have to maintain a certain demeanor – cool, calm, and if possible, indifferent to his delightful smile and charming nature. Approaching him, she saw him turn his head to look at her. And the moment he did, speaking to her in that warm way, she felt her resolve slipping.

“Good day, my lady. I hope your journey was tolerable.”

She felt a desire to tell him how miserable the trip home had been. It would be such a pleasure to unburden her thoughts and feelings to someone. God knew, she had much on her mind as far as troubles went. But he was not her friend, nor her confidante. In response to his question, she nodded, but gave no reply, except to question him.

“Has the mare foaled yet?”

He shook his head. “No, my lady. But I anticipate it will be very soon. Tonight, perhaps.”

Again she nodded, and again she posed a question. “You will inform me of it immediately?”

His smile was pleasant, as was his reply. “Of course.”

Oh, those eyes. That face. He was too tempting. Turning away from him, she walked into the manor, where the servants were bustling about as they saw to the lord and lady’s arrival. She turned to her lady-in-waiting.

“Therese, please draw me a bath. My poor muscles are in need of a hot soaking.”

“Yes, my lady.”

As she approached her dressing table, she paused suddenly. There, lying in the center of the table top, she saw a single red rose. Her room was often filled with flowers, as she found great joy in their scent and beauty. But this was altogether different. It had been placed there, deliberately. Who would have left such a token? Certainly not the servants. What cause did they have to do such a thing? As she pondered the mystery, a most daring possibility came to her mind.

Surely not, she thought. He would not be foolish enough to make such a gesture.

Her face flushed red as she realized there was little doubt that it was he. Who else would have the gall to do such a thing? With a slightly trembling hand, she seized the flower and stowed it in a drawer. Turning quickly, she hurried toward the stairs in an angry fashion.

Now she would speak to him. How dare he be so bold? And what did he mean by such a gesture? It was common knowledge that red roses were a symbol of love and passion. If anyone had seen the token Rene had left, they would surely have suspected something. What right did a common stable-boy have to play such a game of risk? It was infuriating to imagine what might have happened.

In the front courtyard, the carriage and horses were being taken away to the stables. Isabella spotted Rene as he walked with the other men, and turning to a passing groom, she ordered him to fetch Rene. When he came to her, she allowed him only a few polite words before she chastised him.

“You summoned me, my lady?”

“How dare you!” she snapped.

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “How dare I what, my lady?”

He dared to play innocent, when his hint of a smile and the gleam in his eye told her the very truth? It was difficult to hold back her urge to slap him. Her voice rose in anger.

“You know very well what I speak of! How dare you invade the privacy of my chamber and leave such a gift?”

Looking at her, his tone became soft. “Forgive me, madam. I thought perhaps it might bring a moment of pleasure to your day.”

“It is not your place to see to my happiness!” she scolded him. “Either remember yourself or I will have your employment terminated. Is that understood?”

He lowered his head. “Yes, my lady.”

She sensed that her attempt at discipline had done little to move him or strike the proper cord of fear. Never in her life had she known such an incorrigible rascal. She did not know whether to be angry or amused, but it seemed the latter was gaining sway over her, and that would not do at all. Before the wrong response broke from her lips, she turned and walked away, determined not to let him see the effect he had on her.

A Gisborne Christmas

2011-12-16T16:37:00.001-05:00

Hello, everyone! This is just a little Christmas story that was in my head. It takes place before the birth of the Gisborne children. I hope you like it!
________________________

December, 1194

Marseilles, France

Something curious was going on.

Guy closely observed his wife, who was helping her sister-in-law hang boughs of holly and evergreen. Every now and then, he saw the unusual way in which Cassia smiled. Not that the expression itself was an odd thing. Indeed, she was one of the most cheerful people he knew, with a mischievous sense of humor, and a laugh that tingled his senses and set his heart to fluttering. One of his greatest pleasures was kissing her while she laughed. When their lips met during a moment of glee, he always felt such a great rush of giddy pleasure.

But looking at her now, he sensed there was something else there besides her usual gaiety. There was a light of childish delight written in her eyes, and he began to suspect that it was more than the yuletide activities that had her in such spirits. She had a secret, it seemed. And the way she occasionally glanced in his direction, only to avert her eyes while trying to hide her beaming expression, it made him deduce that her secret had something to do with him.

It was too hard to resist such a look. Approaching her, he saw the way that both she and Rosalyn looked at him, each with a little grin. If there was one thing he could figure right away, it was the clear fact that they were in this conspiracy together. He wore his own little smile as he spoke to them.

“Ladies,” he greeted them. “Are you enjoying your festive chores?”

Cassia’s eyes twinkled as she replied. “Very much, my lord husband. Our first Christmas together will be an occasion to remember.”

He nodded in accord with her observation. “Indeed,” he said, while his curiosity ran wild about what was going on in her mind. Unable to delay a moment longer, he reached out to grasp her hand. “If you please, I wish to have a private word with you, wife. It is most urgent.”

Without waiting for a reply, he tugged her along as he left the room, seeking the outdoors as a more private place for conversation. Her expression grew concerned.

“What is it, Guy? Is something wrong?”

“Not to my knowledge,” he replied, moving down the front gravel walk. “But indeed, there is something of a mystery to be solved between us. Come, now. Out with it!”

“Out with what?” she asked, a note of faux innocence in her words. Looking at her, he saw the little smirk forming on her lips. But he was not fooled. He scolded her, but with a teasing note in his voice.

“Do not be coy with me, woman. You are harboring a secret, and you do a poor job of disguising the fact. Indeed, it is written in your lineaments at this very moment. Speak, or I shall find my own way of prying the information from you.”

He saw the way she smiled at his challenge. It was a game they often played. She would deny him in some way, and a chase would often ensue, in which he would eventually catch her and tickle her until she relented. But in this case, she relented sooner than usual.

“Very well, Guy. If you insist. But first, let us find a comfortable place to sit.”

They walked towards the beach, and she talked as they moved along.

“This Yuletide has been most delightful. I have not found such cause for celebration since I was a child, when Stephen and I would gather with the other children in Nottingham. After Christmas Mass, we would make merry in the square and play games. I enjoyed building animals made of snow.”

Guy scoffed. “I have no fond memories of Nottingham, or of Yuletides gone by. All were spent in various work related duties. But I have no wish to think of the past. I live only for the present.” They came to the shore, and he gestured to a log that served as a favorite resting place. “At present,” he said, “I wish to know the secret you keep from me. Here we are. Now, sit. And do not make further delay.”

They sat together, and he searched her expression, which took on a more serious note.

“Guy, have you noticed changes in me? I mean, besides my state of happiness.”

He thought for a moment, but shook his head in denial. “Nothing extraordinary.”

Her eyes grew slightly larger, as though she was trying to speak with them. “Have you not noticed the increase in my appetite? Or the slight thickening of my waistline?”

A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He had noticed a bit of a change, but had attributed it to the blessings of their new life together. She was no longer a peasant, struggling to scrape together an existence. He was happy to see her with a healthy appetite.

“I confess,” he replied, “I thought there was indeed a minor difference. But I had no desire to make comment on such a change, for fear of causing offense.”

“Both are parts of a larger picture, Guy.”

He sighed. “Cassia, I still do not understand…”

Before he could finish, she took his hand and placed it on her abdomen. In an instant he understood. His mouth fell slightly open, words failing him. Her words grew soft.

“I am with child, Guy.”

For several long moments, he lacked the ability to respond. He had waited so long for this moment. They both had. But the reality of it was staggering, and he was thankful to be sitting down. As the initial shock subsided, he took her free hand and brought it to his lips. His desire was to envelop her in a fierce embrace, but his limbs seemed incapable of great movement. As he pressed a kiss into her palm, she looked at him with curious and smiling eyes.

“Are you happy, Guy?”

Overwhelmed, he struggled to express his feelings. “I am more happy than I can tell you. I hardly know what to say. You know I have no gift for words.”

“Well then,” she said, holding out her arms, “Express your happiness as you do best.”

Without hesitation, encouraged by her welcoming gesture, he gathered her to him in a firm embrace, kissing her repeatedly. She responded with little sounds of contentment and joy, and loving kisses of her own. But after a moment, he pulled back, a concerned look on his face.

“Perhaps I should not be so careless in my enthusiasm. I have no wish to cause you harm.”

With a small laugh, she reassured him. “My darling, I am not made of glass. I promise you, I will not break.”

She returned herself to the closeness of his arms, and he was too elated to refuse her, despite his reservations. Tucking her head under his chin, he held her just so as questions began to form in his mind. There was so much he wished to know.

“When will the child be born?”

“The exact date cannot be certain, of course. But Rosalyn seems to think it will be in late spring or early summer.”

There was relief in knowing his child would be born during such a pleasant time of the year. The thought made him smile, and he began to think of all the preparations they would have to make.

“We must celebrate such a momentous occasion. Stephen will certainly arrange a feast to honor this blessing.”

“I am certain he will,” she replied. “But I am more eager to share this happiness with you.” As she snuggled closer to him, he sighed with great contentment, and a note of amusement played in his words.

“I can hardly believe this news. To think there will soon be more Gisbornes in the world. Some might consider it a frightening prospect.”

She giggled at his self-deprecating sense of humor. Leaning back in his arms, she raised loving eyes to him.

“Oh no,” she said. “There is nothing frightening about the prospect of a Gisborne family. It is a wonderful, joyous thought.”

He kissed her again, and then again. “That it is, my love. That it is indeed.”

*****

Later that night, while Cassia was bathing, Guy sat on their bed with his legs outstretched, leaning back against the pillows. Staring at the fire in the hearth, he was lost in thought. Questions flooded his mind, ranging from the imperative to the mundane.

Father, he asked himself, Or Pappa? Which would they call him, and how would it sound? It was difficult to imagine a child addressing him as such. He had grown accustomed to being called Uncle Guy, as Stephen’s son called him. But to be called father. It was a bewildering prospect.

He was so far into his thoughts that he did not at first see Cassia returning from the bathing chamber. It wasn’t until she called his name that he broke his reverie and looked at her. She always looked so lovely when she was fresh from a bath, dressed in her white nightgown, with her dark hair hanging down and curled slightly from being damp. But tonight, she had a special glow about her. She was lit from within, and it showed in her smile. His eyes looked her over as she came to her side of the bed, and when she crawled to her place beside him, he gathered her close. She leaned her head against him.

“What are you thinking of while you sit here all alone?”

“Many things.”

She gave him a curious look. “Such as?”

“What our child will look like, among other things. I hope the bairn favors you and not I.”

She took a playful swipe at him, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. “Oh Guy, why must you always debase yourself? I would be most pleased to have a child who looks like you.”

His mouth curled in a tiny grin. “Because you are in a fragile state, I will not spend energy fighting you.”

“A wise decision,” she replied, with a teasing inflection, “Because you must know I would argue my point until the bitter end.”

They shared a soft sound of laughter, and a few moments of quiet contemplation, before her words became more subdued.

“What more is in your thoughts, husband? I wish to know.”

There were too many thoughts to list. Even as they sat there, warm and content with each other and the happiness of the situation, his mind swirled with all manner of curiosity. But fearing that he might be a burden to her, he shook his head at her question. “It is nothing. Let us sleep. Good night, beloved.” He attempted to kiss her, in the hopes of drawing her attention away from him. But she pushed him back, and a familiar look of stubbornness came to her eyes.

“I do not wish to sleep,” she said. “Not yet.”

It was a losing game, but still he tried to be firm. “I think I must insist. You must rest well, for the sake of the babe.”

She responded with a stern expression, one he knew very well. She was determined, and when she had her mind set on something, she did not give up.

“Guy, you are being evasive. I cannot sleep until I know what you are thinking of.”

He let out a breath as he answered. “I was thinking of the many changes that will soon take place. Our lives will be forever altered by this event.”

“Yes, that is most certain.”

It was his hope that the vague reply he had given would satisfy her, and as a few moments passed in silence, he thought he had escaped her inquisition.

“Guy, if I ask you something, will you answer truthfully?”

She was gently relentless, as she had always been, and he knew there would be no rest until she discovered what thoughts were nagging at him. Reluctantly, he answered.

“I will try.”

Rising to her knees beside him, she turned so that her chest was pressing to his. They were looking at one another, their faces close. There was no escaping her now. He looked into her dark eyes as she posed, in that very candid way of hers, a most bold question.

“Do you fear the loss of your husbandly rights? Is that a concern that weighs on your mind?”

All at once he felt the need to laugh and to hang his head in disgrace. He wished to laugh in amazement at her ability to read him so well. What kind of powerful intuition had God given her that she would think to ask such a question? But his amusement was brief as he felt a terrible sense of guilt come over him. It was no secret that they enjoyed a very active love life. At times, he had wondered if he was too eager in expressing his desires for her. But she was always quick to remind him that he had not married a shy little violet. Her wants and needs matched his own with equal intensity, and he had always felt blessed to have such a union. But how could he now think of such a thing?

“I am a selfish brute,” he muttered, turning his head away. But she instantly forced his eyes back to hers, reassuring him.

“No, no. You are not a brute. We share an equal desire for one another. It is one of the greatest pleasures of our marriage. And I do not see why it should cease simply because I am with child.”

He loved and adored her so, and not just for the many blessing she gave him, but for the bold way in which she claimed him for herself. When she made such demands of him, it was quite the aphrodisiac. But they had another to think of now besides themselves, and it gave him concern.

“Is there not a danger in it?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I do not know for certain. Perhaps I will consult with Rosalyn on the matter.”

“Until then, for the sake of the child, I will refrain.”

A smile came to her lips, and she lovingly tweaked his chin. “You are quite charming when you attempt to be noble.”

“If I am to be a parent,” he replied, “I must commence becoming a more civilized man, and I think it wise to begin sooner rather than later. Next year at this time, I will be a fine example of a noble father.”

As she put her arms around his neck, his hands moved up and down her back, delighting in her warmth and softness. She looked at him in that wonderfully playful manner of hers, answering in a teasing way.

“That is a lovely gesture. But please, do not become entirely decent. That would not do for me. It would not do for me at all.”

They laughed together, celebrating their happiness with the warmth of hands, the strength of embraces, and the tenderness of sweet kisses.

*****

Christmas, 1195

Guy and Cassia stood in the nursery, watching their two children crawl around the room. At eight months old, the twins were in constant motion, sometimes to the dismay of their nurse. Claudia was vigilant, but at times it was difficult to keep up with two babies who were curious about anything and everything. While William went after a toy, Thea pursued Gideon, who was one of the family Mastiffs. He was a huge dog, but experienced enough with children not to be bothered by their actions. Still, when Thea tried to crawl on him, Cassia came and lifted her away. And as Thea was known to do, she began to fuss at being denied what she wanted. Cassia tried to soothe her.

“Forgive me, my darling. But we must make haste. We do not wish to be late for Wassailing.”

With a smile, and a kiss to the baby’s cheek, Cassia handed her over to Guy.

“Cast your spell, Guy. While I see how our son fares.”

While she fetched William, Guy held Thea close to himself. Seeing him, she became calm. There was something about his face that she seemed to like, particularly his nose, which she was always reaching for. He smiled at the feeling of her two tiny hands, thinking what an exquisite little gem she was. He had ordered an assortment of expensive clothing made for both of the children, but he especially liked to see Thea dressed in ornate garments, as she was now. The green velvet dress, embroidered with gold thread, seemed especially perfect for the festive season. And there was so much to be festive about. As Cassia came back, holding William, Guy smiled at her.

“Let us to church,” he said. “We must give thanks for our many Christmas blessings..."

Not sure if I will continue with this. We'll see what the muse decides. :)

Congrats to the winners of "A Heart for Milton!"

2011-12-01T12:16:00.002-05:00

Hello, everyone! If you entered the contest for "A Heart for Milton," then congrats to you all! As an early Christmas gift, I've sent each of you a copy. Check your email for your prize. :)

If you don't recieve it by tonight, let me know. I'll make sure it's sent to you.

Happy reading, everyone!

"A Heart for Milton" Kindle giveaway!

2011-11-08T00:28:00.002-05:00

Hello readers!

My friend and fellow RA fan, Trudy, has allowed me to promote a giveaway for her North and South fic, "A Heart for Milton." Here is the description from Amazon...

When Margaret Hale hastily rejected the wealthy industrialist's fervent marriage proposal, she could not have foreseen the events that would lead her to change her mind and open her heart. But was it too late now to let the handsome, brooding mill owner know? Set amidst the clamor of Victorian England's Industrial Revolution, this is a tale of hope, trial, and love's fulfillment. Based on the novel 'North and South' by Elizabeth Gaskell, this book weaves a change in the original plot to create a beautiful continuation of an enduring love story.

There are 3 Kindle copies available, and the contest ends December 1st. If you would like to enter, please send me an email, or you can leave your email address here.

Good luck, everyone!

Little Gisborne

2011-11-06T00:55:00.002-04:00

This is not polished. It's just something I had in my head. I hope you like it anyway. :)

The sound of a boy’s boots, repeatedly thudding against wood, was constant in the room. Owen was restless, kicking the legs of his chair, and the movement rattled the silverware on the small dining table. It drew irate looks from the three other youngsters sitting around him. And it brought a stern word of warning from the young woman watching over them.

“Master Owen,” said Claudia, “Cease your kicking at once, and finish your supper.”

For a moment, the noise stopped. Owen scowled, his eyes searching the space around him, and they fell on the silver tray in front of his sister. On it, there was one remaining raspberry tart. It belonged to Thea, and this he knew, as their nurse had issued one to each of the four children sitting at the table. Thea had not yet eaten hers, and Owen eyed it with longing. He could not understand why she always saved her desert for last, but that was her way. In his way of thinking, she did not care for it if she waited so long, so it was only right that he should take it. She would be angry, of course, but if he was quick enough, there would be nothing she could do about it. He made his move…and received a hard slap on the hand. Thea gave him an ugly look, admonishing him.

“That is mine! You have eaten yours already!”

As he nursed his hand, with his lip curled in an angry pout, Claudia came after him next with a harsh scolding.

“Master Owen, if you do not behave, I shall box your ears.”

The warning made him pause. He had received such castigation before, and he knew how unpleasant it was to have his ears simultaneously slapped by a pair of hands. As the threat of punishment loomed over him, he looked over at Thea. And she stuck her tongue out at him. Unable to help himself, he blew a loud and angry raspberry at her.

Claudia's strike came more quickly than he had anticipated. It was painful, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes. Across the table, William was sitting and watching. He said nothing, but he shook his head, looking every bit the older brother as he gave a look of disappointment. Sitting next to William, Evelyn was looking on as well, although her expression was softer. There was a hint of pity in her eyes. But she kept quiet, concentrating on her food. William and Evelyn were always well-behaved. But Owen found it difficult to contain his feelings, particularly when he was angry. And looking at Thea, he found himself enraged by the sly little grin on her face. She always enjoyed seeing him in trouble, when she herself was often at the root of his punishments.

Under Thea’s arm was her favorite toy, made by their mother…a stuffed doll in the shape of a unicorn. Humiliated by Claudia’s reprimand, and furious with Thea for her smugness, he snatched the doll from her arms. And before she could stop him, he ripped its head off and threw the ruined animal on the floor.

A scream of horror belted out of Thea’s mouth. The room erupted in chaos. And Owen ran. He was not a fool. He knew that if he stayed, Claudia would see him severely punished. That was her duty, as their nurse, to see that he was disciplined when the occasion called for it. She reached for him, but he dashed away from her hands, fleeing into the hall. He wasn’t sure where he was running to, but he knew he had to get away, and if possible, find a place to hide. A reprimand was coming, and even at the tender age of four, he knew that no bad deed went without consequence. But he intended to try and hide from it. Perhaps after a time, they would forget about it.

He could only hope.

*****

Standing at the top of the stairs, Evelyn looked down at the hall below, where her mother and father were hosting a banquet with several of their neighbors. It was a noisy affair, so it was unlikely that anyone would know of the commotion upstairs. Children’s concerns, especially ones that were not of a dire matter, would wait until after the guests had gone home. But looking over her shoulder, hearing the crying that was still coming from the nursery, she felt the need to do something. Slowly, she made her way down the stairs.

The guests, even seated at table, were all well above her small height. They hardly noticed her as she quietly slipped by, seeking out her mother. Moving to the chair, she called out softly, and Cassia looked down at her, smiling sweetly, but speaking with motherly firmness. She touched Evelyn’s cheek.

“Darling, what are you doing here? You should be upstairs, having your supper.”

Evelyn replied in a quiet tone. “Mama, Thea is crying. Owen broke her unicorn.”

From his seat at the head of the table, Guy looked down at his daughter. He wore a curious expression. “What has Owen done?”

She went to his side, placing her hands on the arm of his chair.

“He was misbehaving. Claudia punished him. But then he took Thea’s unicorn and ripped it apart. Now Thea is crying.”

Watching her father, Evelyn saw him push his goblet aside as he rose from the table. She was certain he could be counted on to set things in order. And her mother, she knew, would be there to help as well. Cassia stood, and Evelyn felt her mother’s hand holding hers as they went up the stairs.

Mama and Papa will fix everything, she thought. They always do.

*****

As Guy came to the doorway of the nursery, he observed his daughter in the arms of her nurse. His heart ached a little at the sight of her in tears. He was tempted to call her over and coddle her, but it was an impulse he held back on, for it was not his place to rush to her aid. If she came to him, however, it was his duty as a father to care for her. And he was not at all surprised when, upon seeing him, she broke away from Claudia and ran to him with her arms outstretched. He picked her up, and her tears flowed freely against his shoulder. As he gave her a gentle pat on the back, his eyes fell on his wife as she took control of the situation. Cassia’s abilities never ceased to amaze him. He watched her as she spoke calmly to Claudia, who explained what had happened.

“Master Owen ran, my lady. I tried to detain him, but he was too fast for me.”

William, who had been sitting nearby in quiet observance, came forward. His expression was eager. “I think he is hiding, Mama. I will help to find him.”

Cassia touched his cheek. “Thank you, dearest. That would be good of you.” As he hurried from the room, she turned back to Claudia. “See that Thea and Evelyn are put to bed. The master and I will look after Owen once we find him.”

Claudia nodded, and as she took Evelyn by the hand, Cassia bent down to pick up the separated sections of the unicorn. Going to where Guy stood with Thea, she gently touched her daughter’s back. Rubbing her teary eye, Thea looked at her mother. Seeing the toy again, the corners of her mouth turned even further down, but Cassia spoke soothingly to her.

“You can cease your tears, my love. Your beloved doll will be mended, and he will return to you in the morning. I promise.”

A look of hope came to Thea’s eyes. Cassia took her from Guy, looking at him as Thea’s head rested against her shoulder.

“William will help you find Owen. I am sure he has not gone far.”

Her look was a meaningful one, and Guy knew what it implied. Owen had gone too far in his behavior, and he would have to be punished by a firmer hand than his nurse could give. It was a father’s duty…one he was not looking forward to. He gave a heavy sigh at the thought of it. But he had his job to do, and however reluctantly, he left to see to it.

*****

The guests were sleeping, and the house had been shut down for the night. As Guy entered his bedchamber, he saw Cassia sitting up in bed, weaving a needle in and out of the neck of Thea’s doll. For a moment he just stood there, looking at the little combination of multi-colored patchwork and goose-down stuffing that his daughter cherished so much. He did not understand her attachment to the inanimate thing, but Cassia obviously did, as she lovingly repaired it stitch by stitch. She looked up at him, watching as he came to stand beside the bed. As his valet helped him undress, she spoke in a quiet tone.

“Is everything settled?”

He made a wordless little sound in reply. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he was silent as his valet removed his boots. After the servant was finished, Guy waved him away. Swinging his feet up on the bed, he leaned back against the pillows, his mind dwelling on somber thoughts.

“I dread the thought of doing that again,” he said.

At first, she said nothing, continuing to work on the doll in her hands. In the silence, he recalled how difficult it had been to inflict a physical punishment on Owen. He had only managed to give three strikes with a switch, after which he could give no more. He knew that other fathers were capable of greater severity, and such behavior was perfectly acceptable. It was even encouraged. But seeing the fear in his son’s face, it had taken all of his strength just to do what little he had done. Now, he looked at Cassia, hoping she would offer him consolation. He watched as she finished her work. She set the doll aside and turned to him.

“You did what needed to be done.” Moving closer to him, she rested her head against his chest. “You are a good father, Guy. Enforcing Owen’s punishment may hurt you now, but in the long run, you will see it was the right thing to do.”

He sighed, a worried sound. “I have never struck one of our children before. Do you suppose he will fear me now?”

She replied with a shrug. “A small dose of fear is not unhealthy. Better to have a respectful fear than a spoiling that will lead to future decay. And besides, he is only a small boy. His mind will soon turn to other things. There will be no permanent scarring.”

He knew she was right, of course. She was always right about such things. Still, he feared that he had somehow damaged his son irrevocably. He could still recall how, long ago, little children had run away from him in fright, knowing him to be a brutal enforcer of the law. What could he do to keep Owen from thinking of him in such a way?

Cassia spoke, interrupting his thoughts.

“Take him on a journey,” she said.

With a curious expression, he looked down at her. “A journey?”

Sitting up a little, she smiled at him. “Take him fishing. Or better still, take him on a hunt.” She seemed to be growing rather excited, and it amused him.

“He is rather young to take on a hunt. But perhaps he will enjoy a fishing expedition.”

Her eyes were bright with enthusiasm. “Take him on a hunt, Guy. But make it special. Tell him you go to hunt dragons. He will adore you for it.”

Her merriment was so entertaining to witness. It was delightful to see her this way, when she was being so imaginative and full of child-like energy. She always seemed to enjoy her own cleverness, and it pleased him to no end. A grin crinkled the corner of his mouth.

“Where do you come up with these wild thoughts of yours?”

She hugged him tight and giggled, obviously quite pleased with herself. And when she was happy, he could not help being so himself.

*****

The next morning, Guy quietly approached the nursery. Standing in the doorway, he observed a calm and quiet meal. No arguing, no kicking or fussing. Thea was quite pleased as she held her beloved doll, now fully repaired, under her arm. William and Evelyn enjoyed their meal in silence. As for Owen, he sat with an unusually somber look on his face. Guy felt it was time to remedy that. He clapped his hands together, ordering their attention.

“Good morning, all. My sons, we have a journey to take. Let us depart.”

They all looked at him with wide, curious eyes. Thea rose from her chair and came to him. She looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Just the boys, Papa? Can I go too?”

He patted her cheek, but shook his head. “I am afraid not, my lamb. This is a quest for men. Young ladies are not permitted. You will stay here and help your Mama in the garden. Perhaps she will take you on some adventure of your own.”

That made her smile, and as Claudia led her back to the table to finish her breakfast, William and Owen hurried towards Guy. As Owen passed, Guy could see the look of delight that shined on his face. It was just as Cassia had said. The damage was not permanent. He was deeply pleased and comforted by the thought, and his contentment remained with him all day as he took his sons on their quest.

My interview with Trudy Brasure, author of "A Heart for Milton"

2011-11-03T00:16:00.010-04:00

Hello, everyone!

Today, I am pleased to have Trudy Brasure as a guest on my blog. You may know her from C19 and Wattpad, and many of you are familiar with her work. For those who haven't read her stories, I highly recommend that you do, because you are in for a treat. Trudy has just released her debut novel, "A Heart for Milton," and she has generously agreed to answer a few questions for her fans. Enjoy!

Available on Kindle US and UK!

Hi, Trudy! Welcome to my blog! Tell us...

1. How long have you been writing? Is it something you’ve always enjoyed?

That’s a fun question, because I’m still somewhat surprised that I’ve become a writer! I always thought writers were the type who dreamed of becoming an author all their lives or some such thing. I started writing 3 or four months after watching ‘North and South’ for the first time – almost two years ago now.

2. Who are some of your favorite writers/authors?

Ideally, I like to alternate between reading fiction and non-fiction. Before I became a writer, I was on an Abraham Lincoln kick, reading everything I could get my hands on about him. Right now, I’m really enjoying Georgette Heyer because she has everything I could want in a good read in her novels – it’s historical romance with witty humor thrown in for good measure.

3. This is your debut novel. Tell us a little about your venture into the publishing process. Did you find it difficult?

It was a little daunting, with endless details to consider and iron out. I had to edit a few parts in my original story to avoid any obvious reference to the BBC’s version of ‘North and South,’ but after that was done, it was just the nitty gritty of getting the format right and searching endlessly for typos. I hope I got them all!

I’m so glad I asked Heather (HeathRA from C19) to design my cover. She did a phenomenal job with the basic idea I gave her.

4. Any advice for would-be writers out there?

Hmm…as somewhat of a novice myself, I’m not sure I can dole out the advice. But I suppose if there’s an idea that keeps rolling around in your mind for a story, you should give a go at fleshing it out in words. You’ll never gain experience until you start working at it. If you’re really serious, I think you need to carve out time every day, or nearly every day, to either write or just sit and daydream your scenes.

5. North and South is clearly a favorite of yours. What inspired you to write your own book about it?

After watching and re-watching ‘North and South,’ I couldn’t let go of how painful that good-bye scene was, when Margaret left Milton. I mulled it over for weeks, trying to come up with a scenario that could have avoided that pain. It was difficult, because Thornton and Margaret couldn’t really speak to one another openly with their families all about them. Finally, I latched on to an alternative possibility and spent a few more weeks hashing it out in my mind – dialogue and all.

At that point, I decided to start writing it out, thinking I might try writing a story for fanfiction readers at C19. I told Kleindog, another writer at C19, about my nascent venture, and she graciously offered to beta read and edit for me.

Well, once the story got started and I started posting a chapter every few weeks, I realized I had more and more story to tell! I never would have imagined that the end result would be a 400-page book!

It’s been a great adventure, and I appreciate the enthusiasm of all my readers.

6. Is John Thornton your favorite RA character? If so, what is it about his performance that you most enjoyed?

Absolutely, I’m still captivated by John Thornton after two years. I think it is the intensity of Richard’s Thornton that is mesmerizing. Every muscle of his face, the movement of his eyes, and his posture reveals Thornton’s emotion. You can just feel how much that man aches for Margaret to love him. How can you not swoon over a man so madly in love with the leading lady?

7. Any writing plans for the future?

I’m currently working on my second North and South fanfic. Who knows how long that storyline will go! And I have a short story N&S fic up my sleeve after that.

I’d like to try my hand at writing an original story. I have a few ideas for a historical romance set in America just before the Civil War.

It’s been wonderful experience to write such a well-received story. My readers have really encouraged me to continue. I’m quite humbled and amazed at how far this new hobby of mine has taken me.

Thank you for stopping by and chatting with me today! It was a delight.

Thanks, Charlotte/Sarah, for the opportunity to chat here on your blog.

You're most welcome! Here's wishing you much luck with your future writing!

*Trudy's book is available on Kindle in both the US and the UK, and in paperback format on Amazon US. It is coming soon to Amazon UK paperback. Stay tuned for updates! Here are the links...

Amazon US and Amazon UK

Happy reading, everyone!

Richard narrates "Leopards of Dead Tree Island" on NatGeoWild...

2011-10-20T00:59:00.002-04:00

For those who aren't aware, Richard Armitage will be narrating this documentary, which will be showing on both UK and US television. The UK broadcast will be on October 26th at 8PM and 11 PM.

The US broadcast will be on October 30th at 10 PM Eastern Time/9 PM Central. I have DirecTV, so it will be on channel 283 for me. Check your local listings, or Google it. That's what I did.

Can't wait to spend an hour listening to that lovely voice! Richard should really consider having his own series to host. I know I would never miss it! :)

"The Tempest" is getting a touch up...

2011-10-14T12:01:00.001-04:00

For those who have read "The Tempest," you might be interested to know that it's getting a bit of a makeover.

If you're a fan of the book, don't worry. There will be no major changes to the story. But I've decided to add a few scenes here and there, and I'm working out a few small details that I feel should be made.

I don't know how soon I'll get to this, but I'll post an update when it's ready. :)

Happy reading, everyone!

Midwest Book Review gives "My Lady Gisborne" 5 Stars!

2011-10-07T15:27:00.000-04:00

I am deeply moved that this story has been given such a great ranking, and this from a major book reviewer. A big thank you must go out to everyone who has supported this story. Here is what the reviewer had to say...

"For many women, the conflict of love and duty led them in their own crusade against society. "My Lady Gisborne: A Love Story" is a riveting read of historical romance, as one young noblewoman in Evelyn Gisborne faces the classic conflict of being arranged to marry another but having her lust and love lie with someone else who she would be spurned from. For lovers of high society romance, "My Lady Gisborne" is just what they would enjoy."

Needless to say, I am quite happy right now. I will be thriving on this moment for quite a while, I think. :)

No Richard Armitage for my GPS?? What a crime!

2011-10-05T21:16:00.002-04:00

Just by chance, I came across an interesting poll today.

On Biography.com, they are asking...

Which famous voice would you most like to hear on your car's GPS?

Being a Richard Armitage fan, this immediately caught my attention. My heart skipped a beat. I was so excited. I typed my favorite name into the search option, and came up with...

NOTHING!

Our dear Richard wasn't on the list of names to choose from. I wasn't really that surprised, but at the same time, I was quite disappointed. So I sent a note to the website, asking them to put RA on the list of nominees. We'll see if they answer.*Fingers crossed*

*Sigh* There's something missing here, and we know what it is.

But here are the top 5 so far...

1. James Earl Jones

2. Morgan Freeman

3. Patrick Stewart

4. Sean Connery

5. Barry White

Here is the link, in case you want to take a look at the page...

http://www.biography.com/people/short-list/which-famous-voice-would-you-most-like-to-hear-on-your-cars-gps

If I had to choose, I would probably pick Morgan Freeman, who is one of my favorite actors.

But of course, no one can compare to this...

Maybe the people at Bio know what we know. The man with the chocolate voice would leave his competitors in the dust. No doubt about it. He would certainly get my vote. :)

NICK-AT-NITE Classic TV Rewind!

2011-10-02T18:34:00.000-04:00

God bless YouTube for bringing back my childhood memories! I used to love Nick-at-Nite, especially their classic TV rewinds! They were so funny, and I've missed seeing them. I'll be featuring them in a sidebar, along with other Nick-at-Nite tidbits, from now on. Here's a funny one about The Brady Bunch...

The Gisbornes, A Novelette - Chapter 5

2011-09-26T13:14:00.000-04:00

The room was warm. But Cassia was trembling underneath the coverlets. A bowl of chicken broth, half-empty, sat on the bed table. Guy had ordered it brought up, along with the tea she had requested. She had taken some of both, but sleep had soon overwhelmed her. Sitting beside her, he continued to press the cool, wet cloth to her head and face, as he had done several times in the last few hours. Her maid-servant, Celeste, had been willing to see to the nursing of her mistress. But Guy sent her away, and ordered all others to stay away from the room, especially the children.

When he wasn’t bathing her, in an attempt to control her fever, he was bending his head in prayer.

God had been so generous to him and to those he loved. But with each bestowing of good fortune, there had always come a feeling of foreboding. It was foolish to believe that fate would always smile upon them. The Almighty would demand compensation for His kindness, sooner or later. And sitting there, seeing the way his wife suffered in her sickness, Guy could not help but fear that the time for reckoning had come.

Not her, he silently pleaded. Do what you will with me, but I beg you…spare this woman. This wife. This mother.

What would his children do without her? They would be lost…as lost as he would be. His breath caught at the thought of it. They were one soul. He doubted if two human beings had ever been so spiritually entwined, as they were. In their bed, they always slept close together. He recalled how, once, they had somehow entered into a discussion on the subject. She had made an observation, which seemed to come from out of nowhere…

Are you aware, husband, that most couples do not occupy the same bed night after night?

He had given her a curious look. Woman, what are you leading up to?

Do you not think we should set an example for our children? Should we not let them observe us a traditional mother and father?

He had pursed his lips in disgust. Surely you jest. In four years, we have never slept apart unless circumstance called for it. It would be nonsense to break such a habit now.

She had shrugged. I would like to try it, just once.

I would not, was his stern reply.

They had argued for several long minutes, and then, she had slipped away from him, a playful look in her eyes.

Let us experiment, my love. Let us see if we are capable of managing on our own.

She had left their room with a childish giggle, sneaking away into a chamber down the hall. His pride had had kept him from going after her...for about five minutes. After which, he had searched the rooms until he found her in a chamber at the end of the hall.

Enough foolishness, wife. Return to our bed this instant.

Reclined on the bed, with her elbow supporting her head and her hair falling around her shoulders, she gave him an enticing smile.

I think I shall remain here for the night. I have often wondered how it would be to have an entire bed to myself. She had flattened herself out on the bed, stretching her limbs. He had stepped to the side of the bed, looking down at her. A smirk had come to his lips.

I would like to continue this argument in our bed. Come, let us go.

With a mischievous gleam in her eye, she had hesitated. She was challenging him…teasing him. And his response had been swift. She had squealed and laughed as scooped her up in his arms and carried her off.

I am afraid I must insist, madam, that we continue our sleeping situation as it is. I am old and set in my ways, and I cannot alter my habits now.

She had not protested as he returned to their room, where he reminded her how very close he wished her to be…

He needed her more than anything. She was a part of him. And without her, he knew he would be nothing more than an empty shell. It was she who knew him best. There was no one else who knew the real Guy of Gisborne. Only she knew his deepest fears, and only to her did he reveal his most tender thoughts. Only she knew the secrets of his heart. To lose her would be to lose himself, and without her, he would cease to exist.

He placed his head in his hands, not to weep, but to make an attempt at calming his growing fears. She would want him to have faith. His mind had always tended towards the dark and dreary, and in truth, he felt safer in that realm of thought. It was easier, in his way of thinking, to keep his expectations low to avoid the pain of disappointment. But Cassia, stubborn thing that she was, clung to hope in every aspect of her life. And for her, he would believe.

She will be well, he told himself. And looking at her, he found that the corner of his mouth had turned up. He spoke softly to her.

“My beloved, obstinate angel.” Reaching out, he gently took her hand. “You will not leave me. Your work here is not yet done. For who else but you can temper my wretched soul?”

Lowering his head to the mattress, he retained her hand as he closed his eyes, seeking a few moments of rest.

*****

A soft light, like the dawn, feel on his closed eyelids. He blinked, then squinted, turning his head in an attempt to shade his eyes. Slowly, as his eyes adjusted, he realized that the entire room was filled with the strange, almost ethereal light. And looking down, he saw that he was in bed. Odd, but he could not remember leaving the chair. Beside him, his bedmate was facing the window, the coverlet pulled up to her shoulders. Reaching out, he placed a hand on her arm. She seemed to be lying quietly and peacefully. He could feel no trembling, and to his surprise, her skin was cool to the touch. Leaning over, he whispered to her.

“Beloved, are you awake?”

She shifted slightly. Slowly, she turned to him. And he gasped in utter disbelief at seeing her face.

Marian. No! It cannot be!

*****

In terror he shrunk away, leaping from the bed as his heart pounded in his chest. It had to be a dream…no, not a dream. A nightmare. He backed away as she rose from the bed, walking slowly towards him, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders and her white nightdress flowing over her curvaceous figure. In long ago dreams, he had envisioned her this way, imagining the glorious way she would rise from their bed in the morning. But as she stood before him now, he saw nothing of beauty in her. He saw only an image of a long lost soul…one who now stood in the place of the woman he loved. His voice rose in fear.

“Where is my wife?”

She came to him, her arms outstretched. “I am here.”

Terrified, he evaded her embrace, and rushed from the room. Tearing down the darkened hallway, he called out for Cassia…for his children. Surely, he would find them all together in the nursery. Cassia often slipped away in the night to look after them. She was there. She had to be there.

The hallway seemed to go on forever, until at last he came to the familiar door, and he threw it open. From the darkened hall, he rushed forward into a blinding white light. For a moment, his eyes burned so that he threw his arm across them. When he lowered his arm, he saw not the nursery, but an eerily familiar chamber. Gone were the little beds of his children, and the baby’s cradle. No toys, no tapestries, no woven rugs to soften the steps of bare little feet. It was cold and drab, with little decoration and few furnishings. And suddenly, he recognized his surroundings.

The Sherriff’s counting room.

A dreadful voice…a loathsome, hated voice, suddenly spoke to him. He turned, and sitting there, at a desk, was the Sheriff of Nottingham himself. His cold blue eyes, eerily pale, looked at him with a familiar light of distaste. He sneered.

“Good God, Gisborne. You have the look of a madman. Has another woman lost her life at your hands?”

"God, help me!" He cried.

He ran from the room. And he found himself not inside, but out of doors, in the middle of a raging winter storm. The snow was blinding…the wind biting his flesh and stealing the breath from his body. He managed only a few painful steps forward, when the ground suddenly gave way beneath his feet. Black, ice-cold water washed over him, and violently he struggled against the freezing depths that were dragging him down…

*****

With a shout, he flung himself upwards, gasping for air. The waters were gone…the blackness replaced with the soft glow of candlelight, as he realized it had all been a nightmare.

Frantic, he checked his surroundings. Looking down, he saw himself sitting in the chair beside the bed. The bedchamber was dim, the air cool, due to the window that had been opened. But his thoughts were on nothing else but the woman lying in front of him. He rushed forward, fearful that he would disturb her, but trembling with worry at what he would find. He reached out, brushing the dark hair back from the forehead…and he nearly wept with relief at the sight of Cassia’s face. He wanted so badly to kiss and caress her, to convince himself of her realness. But he fought his impulse, knowing how ill she was. She needed no disturbance.

And yet, he could not help himself entirely. He took her hand, gently, and pressed his lips to it. Dear heaven, how he cherished the feeling of her soft, slender fingers. What would he do without the gentleness of her touch? As he kissed her palm, he felt her slowly shifting under the covers. He looked at her, and he saw that she was looking at him through heavy eyelids.

“Guy,” she whispered. “Are you well?”

He fought back a sound of amused disbelief. Leaning closer to her, bringing his face near hers, he brushed his fingers against her cheek.

“It is you who lies ill, and you inquire of me.” He kissed her temple, noting that her skin, though warm, was not nearly as hot as it had been. “Think not of me, but of yourself. We must have you well.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “You cannot do without me, it seems.”

He smiled, a gentle laugh escaping him. He kissed her hand again, and softly he replied. “Without you, I am lost.”

*****

For days, Cassia remained feverish, but it gradually subsided. The illness left her physically frail for quite some time, but she was determined to regain her health. Guy watched her constantly, looking for any sign of weakness or ill health. Cassia leaned on him for support, both emotionally and physically, and he was more than happy to have her holding close to him as they took a walk each day.

“I cannot take ill again, Guy. Do not let me.”

They walked along the garden path, and he smiled at her words. “Were it my choice, I would never allow it. You must know, I would gladly take your suffering onto myself.”

She shook her head. “I would never wish that, Guy. Never.”

He studied her, a curious look in his eyes. “So, then. If neither of us will permit the other to succumb to illness, what shall we do to avoid it?”

“We will keep in good health and not die,” she replied, and she clung closer to him. “Heaven has enough souls, do you not think so?”

He shook his head and laughed, ever so joyfully.

THE END

Author's Note: If you would like more of the Gisbornes, keep an eye out for a new story. Coming soon...

The Gisbornes, A novelette - Chapter 4

2011-09-26T12:30:00.001-04:00

Several moments of quiet passed as Cassia finished nursing the baby. While she readjusted her gown, Guy held Evelyn. He fixed his gaze on her, losing himself in his thoughts. Cassia softly nudged him.

“Guy, is there something on your mind?”

He shook his head to focus his attention, and he smiled at her. “Nothing significant,” he replied. He turned his eyes back to Evelyn. “A sense of wonder, perhaps. Seeing this, I am reminded of how fortunate I am.”

Leaning back against the pillows, he put his arm around her, drawing her against his side. She replied in a weary but contented voice.

“We are indeed blessed. Life has been kind to us.”

A soft rumble of amusement escaped him. And as quickly as Cassia had closed her eyes, she opened them again, a curious little smile on her face. “Something amuses you?”

“I was thinking of someone, but I dare not cause offense by speaking his name.”

“You have piqued my curiosity, husband. Now you must tell me.”

“I was thinking of William Briewere.”

“A horrible, awful man,” she replied. “Why would he now enter your thoughts, and after so long a time?”

“I was thinking how very enraged he would be to see me so content. My bliss was always his displeasure...my despair his joy. How maddening it would be for him to witness my happiness.”

“He bears witness to it from hell, and that is as it should be.”

They had rarely spoken of his former master. It was too solemn a subject to revisit. And, it brought other memories back to life...memories that were too unpleasant to bring into conversation.

And yet, he thought of them often. It was not his intention to revive old ghosts, but they came to him on occasion, and most times, there was nothing that prompted them. They simply appeared. He sighed, wishing he could somehow erase that corner of his mind. Both Briewere and Nottingham were part of his past, and there he wanted them to remain.

“His punishment is right,” he said. “God has seen to that. And as I live my life, with every happy moment that passes, I will be grateful to The Almighty for both his judgment, and his mercy.”

He turned his head to look at her, and saw that she had fallen asleep. Easing himself from the bed, with Evelyn still in his arms, he rose to his feet and placed the baby in the cradle. He left his wife and daughter in peace, and while they rested, he would busy himself with plans of celebration. Another Gisborne has arrived, and he intended to give his new daughter a spectacular welcome.

*****

The feasting and festivities lasted for seven days. There was great admiration for Evelyn, but also for her mother and father. A healthy child was cause for celebration, and Guy found himself awash in praise. As much as he loved his family, he was equally fond of being among his peers. His neighbors spoke well of him...particularly now that he had sired another offspring. Standing in a circle of men, late into the seventh night, he listened to a fellow baron’s praise of him. Andre DuBois, Baron of Delemont, wore a grin of admiration.

“Four children, Gisborne. All born healthy. What a virile piece of manhood you are.”

Another nobleman, this one a comte, nodded in agreement. “Here, here,” he said, raising his cup, and they all drank from their wine goblets. “But let us hope that your next child is a boy. One can never have enough male issues, eh?” He elbowed Guy in the ribs, and with a slight smile, Guy replied.

“Indeed.” Inside, he felt a pang of guilt at agreeing with such an untruth. But he kept silent on the matter. He needed the good opinion of his friends and neighbors. And in time, his sons would benefit from his reputation as a man’s man.

Still, he felt the need to make a remark...to offer some defense of his daughters, whom he loved most deeply. He chose his words carefully, keeping his tone cool as he shrugged.

“Sons are preferred by all men. But daughters serve their purpose.”

“This is true,” said Andre. “Among the nobility, they serve as symbols of fertility and grace.”

“Unlike the peasants,” the comte sneered. “What is a peasant girl, other than a brood mare?”

Andre nodded. “All peasants are animals. But they serve their purpose as well.”

“And their purpose is to serve,” said Guy, “Which is what God intended them to do.”

A laugh went up among them. Guy managed a slight smile...but underneath, he felt a terrible sense of guilt. He glanced about, hoping that Cassia was not near. These conversations were supposed to be kept between men, and it was better for women to keep their distance. Casting his glance about, he searched the room for her. She had been nearby not so long ago. He had made it a point to keep her within his line of sight, even while conversing with his fellows. After Evelyn’s birth, Cassia’s health had been slower to improve than he would have liked, although she insisted...in her usual stubborn way...that she was quite well. But he had seen that something was amiss with her, even though she tried to hide it. Several times, twice in the last few nights, she had retired early with the explanation that the excitement of the festivities was too much for her. But he knew that to be a falsehood. She had always taken much joy and pleasure in playing the hostess, and to hear her make such a pretext, it was troubling. Excusing himself from his guests, he began a calm but purposeful walk through the room, looking for her. But not seeing her, he deduced that she had left the party altogether. She was either in their bedchamber, or in the nursery, and as that room was nearest the top of the stair landing, it was where he ventured first.

William, Thea, and Owen were all asleep. Someday soon, the boys would move into their own chambers. But for now, they all kept each other company in the same room. As he entered, Claudia rose to her feet in a sleepy fashion, but he gestured her back to her bed. Looking about in the dim candlelight, he saw that Cassia was not there. She was in their bedchamber, then. He would go to her and seek an explanation. But before departing, he went to the cradle to look at Evelyn. She was sleeping peacefully, her tiny fists curled and resting near her face. He smiled at the sight of her, and he fought the urge to reach down and pick her up.

She was nearly three weeks old, and only days ago had he and Cassia allowed her to be moved to the nursery. After the fright she had given them at her birth, they had both been nervous over her well-being, each of them making frequent trips to her cradle during the night. But gradually, their fears had eased, as she was proving to be a perfectly healthy child, if her appetite was any indication. Her cries, frequent though they were, seemed to be quieted quickly by nothing more than her basic infant requirements...a feeding, a dry, clean bottom, and an occasional gesture of affection. She showed no signs of illness or trauma, and so they became content in letting the nursemaid take charge of her. Seeing her now, softly making suckling gestures in her sleep, he left her in peace.

Slowly entering his bedchamber, he saw her instantly. She was in bed, wearing her nightdress, with her back to him. Was she ill? Was she exhausted? Or perhaps, she had heard something that was not intended for her ears?

Curse my tongue, he thought, and he searched his mind for the proper words to soothe any hurt feelings or fits of anger.

On the other hand, what if she had not heard his words? What if she was unwell? The thought of it gave him a slight chill of fear, for he always worried over illnesses that might befall the people he loved most...particularly his wife.

He shook his head, trying to calm his fears. In all likelihood, she was simply weary, and sought their bed for rest. It was logical, after all. She had only recently given birth, and was still in recovery. He hoped it would be that circumstance, and not the others, that plagued her. Lack of rest would be the easiest matter to tend to, for he was certain he could find some way to soothe her. In a soft voice, he spoke her name. If she was asleep, he had no wish to disturb her.

“Cassia, are you awake?”

She gave no reply. He took a small step forward, saying her name again. This time, she responded with a low spoken but sharp answer.

“I am.”

Slowly, he came around to her side of the bed. Looking at her face, he thought he saw a trace of redness around her eyes. But she turned her head away. Stung by her reaction, he gently reached down to place a hand on her shoulder.

“You are unhappy,” he said. “Does the fault lie with me?”

She let out a sigh. “Your boorish rhetoric pains me, Guy. But after these many years, I have grown accustomed to it.”

So, she had overheard his conversation. Why, then, did she not confront him in anger? Was she purposely holding back, just to punish him?

“Why do you turn away from me?” he asked. “Must I plead for your forgiveness? If so, then I beg for it now.” Sitting down beside her, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek. And immediately, he raised his head, alarmed at the heat he felt rising from her skin.

“Cassia, you are feverish.”

She shook her head. “It is nothing.”

Now it was he who shook his head, not with calmness, but with the first feelings of panic. His voice rose slightly.

“You say a fever is nothing? Are you mad? You of all people should know the dangers of illness.” He looked around the room. “Where is Celeste? Why is she not here to tend to your needs?”

“Guy, please do not act rashly. I am merely overwhelmed, nothing more. I asked Celeste to leave me so I might sleep.”

He looked down at her, angry at her for not taking better care of herself. “Cassia, you are a stubborn wench, as you have always been. You have risked your health too many times. But on this occasion, I will not allow you to be complacent.”

She reached out, taking his hand. Her touch had always calmed him, even in the worst of times. It worked its magic now, if only briefly.

“Have Beatrice brew a tea,” she said. “Bring me a cool, damp cloth to bathe my face. And then, return to our guests.”

Rising quickly, he fetched a cloth from the washstand and dunked it in the basin. “I will not return to our guests,” he said. Bringing the damp cloth over, he gently bathed her face and neck. “They are all stuffed with food and getting drunk on wine. My presence is not necessary.”

She gave him a little smile, clutching his free hand, while the other continued to cool her skin with the cloth. “You fret too much.”

“And you, not enough.” Leaning down, he kissed her on the forehead. Looking into her eyes, he saw how they shined with love for him, despite the grief he had caused her only moments ago. Now that he had found her to be unwell, he was seized by an even greater sense of guilt. His voice wavered slightly.

“Forgive me for what was said tonight. There is much posturing that goes on among men. You must know that I meant none of it.”

Her eyes were growing heavy as she replied softly. “I know, Guy. Now please, have Beatrice fetch my tea.”

He nodded, reluctant to leave her, but willing to do what was needed to care for her. He hurried off, determined to return to her side as quickly as he could.

Winners of the "My Lady Gisborne" giveaway are...

2011-09-03T01:49:00.000-04:00

Philly and Alfie! Congrats to you both! I will be mailing your copies on as soon as possible. Thank you to everyone who entered. :)

Happy reading to everyone!

An update about "The Gisbornes" and a note about this blog...

2011-08-26T20:44:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to let everyone know...

There will probably be two more parts to "The Gisbornes," and after that, I'm hoping to get started on a new Gisborne novel.

Also, I might be changing to a new blog, as Blogger has been giving me a lot of problems lately. I will keep everyone updated.

Happy reading!

The Gisbornes - A Novelette, Part 3

2011-08-26T13:12:00.001-04:00

After a brief time spent pacing back and forth behind the screen, Guy gave in to his impulses. His newborn daughter had nearly been lost...a thought that still rattled him to his core. Cassia, of course, was in great distress over it. It was unlikely she would ever be free of the memory.

Louisa can go to the devil, he thought.

Despite the passage of only a few minutes, he rushed forth. Louisa shot him a dark look, but he gave it no attention, hurrying to Cassia’s side. The soiled bed-linens had been removed, and as a maid-servant bathed Cassia’s face and tidied her hair, Guy watched her, seeing how she craned her neck in search of the baby. Sharing her impatience about the delay, he made his displeasure known, raising his voice in anger at the midwife and her servants.

“Why do you tarry so? Bring the child to us.”

Louisa sighed, vexed by his show of temper. “She is being bathed, my lord. You shall have her in a moment.”

Muttering under his breath, he turned to his wife. Brushing the maid off, he sank down on the bed beside Cassia, who fell against him with tears in her eyes. He held her close, moving his hands up and down her back to soothe her. Her body and voice trembled in equal measure.

“Oh Guy, I have never known such terror.”

Nor have I, he wanted to say. He wanted so much to confess his own fears. But it was she who needed comfort...not himself. He tried to calm her with soft, whispered words. But he knew there was only one way to ease her fears...and his own. Frustrated and impatient, he bellowed in anger.

“Good God, woman. Will you bring her to us? We have waited long enough.”

At last, one of the maids brought the baby forth, and Cassia gathered her close. Guy watched, his eyes intense, as Cassia touched the tiny arms and legs, her feet and hands, as if to be certain there was no damage. When she gently brushed back the material that was gathered around the baby’s head, a soft and delighted sound escaped her. In all of the chaos, neither of them had noticed the crown of thick, black hair. Guy could not help himself. Reaching out, he ran his fingers through it. After the greatest scare of his life, he at last allowed himself to experience the joy of his daughter’s birth. A smile came to his lips as he touched her head.

“What a mane she has,” he remarked. “The others were not born with such a crop of hair.”

Cassia softly laughed. “Oh Guy, look at her eyes. Look at how lovely and blue they are.”

His smiles grew as he watched the baby open and close her eyes. Lightly brushing back her hair, delighting in the way it sprang back up, he looked at Cassia. “What shall we call this lovely imp? Have you a name in mind?”

She nodded, clutching the baby’s fingers. “Her name shall be Evelyn. I have found no other name that pleases me as much.”

He softly kissed her temple. “So be it,” he said. “Evelyn she shall be.” Reaching out, he gently took his daughter in his arms. She was calm now, moving her fingers and turning her head...blissfully unaware, it seemed, of the fright she had caused them all. He spoke to her in a low, soft tone.

“You have caused a great commotion, young lady. I hope such behavior is not a sign of things to come.”

When she closed her eyes, he smiled again, thinking she was as perfect as a child could be. And yet, he found himself looking her over. Few moments in his life had been as frightening as the ones just after her birth. He felt a desperate need to hold her and not let go, but he knew that if he felt this possessive, Cassia was surely more so. As he returned Evelyn to her mother’s arms, there was a scuffling outside their chamber door. They both lifted their heads, listening and watching, and they heard the sound of Claudia’s speech rushed in French. Beatrice, the housekeeper, was speaking as well, their voices mingling with childish chattering. Guy and Cassia looked at one another, and Cassia smiled, gesturing her head towards the door.

“They must surely wonder why we have not seen them this morning. Please bring them, my love. Let them meet their darling sister.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

As he hurried towards the outer door, he experienced a strange rush of emotions. Delight lightened his step. But he felt a need to be authorative and lordly. So much of the past day had been beyond his control, and it had nearly crippled him with fear. But now he could be master once again, and his first task was to rid himself of the servants who had dominated the room.

“Louisa, you may go,” he said. His voice was, at first, rather harsh. But then he considered the fact that she had forced Evelyn’s life to spring forth. Uncertain of how to be thankful without sounding soft, he gave her a light pat on the shoulder. “Your work is appreciated,” he added. He moved towards the door, not seeing the smirk on Louisa’s face as she and her maids gathered their things, preparing to depart.

When he opened the door, he saw Thea struggling to pull out of Claudia’s grip. Beatrice was holding Owen, and William was standing at her side, obedient and calm, but with his eyes shining with curiosity. Guy gestured them forward, and Thea and William hurried to him. With Claudia and Beatrice following behind, they all entered the room in a quiet but excited manner. He took a step forward, intending to join them. But then, he paused.

How would it look if he rushed in, giddy and foolish like a child? What example would that set for his two young sons, who were in their formative years? Easing his way forward, he stood a short distance from the bedside, watching. Beatrice held Owen, gently placing him next to his mother, while Claudia watched over William and Thea. Guy smiled at seeing his daughter so calm and gentle. It was so unlike her. Cassia spoke gently to the children.

“This is Evelyn. She is your sister.”

Thea was not shy. She leaned down, kissing Evelyn’s head. “My sister,” she said.

When William leaned in for a closer look, Thea seemed to take her own words literally. She tried to hold him back, but Cassia softly scolded her.

“Theodora, you must behave like a lady. You must share your sister with others.”

Thea nodded, replying softly. “Yes, Mama.”

William moved in carefully, reaching out to touch the baby’s feet. Owen seemed curious, pointing at her, and Claudia guided his hand to Evelyn’s. Guy delighted in the happy scene...his family content and safe. It was difficult to remain passive, when he wanted so much to express the great happiness and love he felt for his wife and children. It would not do, in front of his children and servants, to express such tenderness. But when the baby started to cry, he felt he was permitted to act...and he was more than happy to do so. He came forward, speaking firmly but gently.

“Claudia...Beatrice. Take the children to the nursery. Lady Cassia and the babe must rest.”

Claudia and Beatrice obeyed. As they took their charges away, Thea fussed, and though it was tempting to coddle her, Guy motioned his head towards the door. If his attention was needed by anyone, it was Cassia and Evelyn, and after the servants and children were gone, he returned to his place beside his wife and daughter. With all eyes removed from him, except for Cassia, he could act as he pleased. He could speak as he pleased. As Cassia put the baby to her breast, he touched Evelyn’s downy head. A sigh escaped him, but it was the sound of a weight being lifted from his shoulders.

“We shall give her a grand birthday celebration,” he said, his voice soft and low.

She smiled, looking over her daughter with adoring eyes. “It will be grand, indeed. For we have much...so very much...to celebrate.”

The Gisbornes - A Novelette, Part 2

2011-08-18T10:33:00.000-04:00

“Guy?”

It took him a moment to realize she had said his name. He shook his head, apologizing for his absentmindedness. “Forgive me, I was lost in thought.” It was then that he noticed the contortion of her face. She was in pain...and the reason was suddenly evident.

“Now?” he asked. When she nodded, he shouted for his manservant. Francis appeared only moments later, and Guy gave the order. “Fetch the midwife.”

Francis nodded and quickly hurried off. As he went, Guy turned back to Cassia, watching her painful expression. He was familiar with these first signs of labor. But time and experience had not eased his fears about them. They had, if anything, only taught him that the worst was yet to come. More distressing was the thought that he would not be permitted to witness anything once the midwife arrived.

When Cassia’s discomfort eased, Guy grumbled a curse.

“Curse the Almighty. Why must he insist that all things be done with difficulty?”

“Do not curse the maker, my love. I will be in great need of his presence.”

He nodded. “You are right, of course.” He crossed himself, hoping he had not invited a curse upon them all. With a sigh, he embraced her again, pressing his lips to her cheek. She turned her head to look at him, and their lips met in a soft kiss.

“I wish it were true that the stork delivered children. ‘Twould make these events more tolerable.”

She smiled at him. “I am inclined to agree with you. But as you have said, we will soon meet our child, and then this suffering will be forgotten.”

Looking down at Cassia’s belly, he gently placed a palm there, and her hand came to cover his. It never ceased to amaze him, knowing that just beneath the place where his palm rested, there was a little life waiting to be born. The great mystery of its identity, of whether it was a boy or girl, was a great fascination to him, as he knew it was to Cassia. She had not made a bold declaration about her preference, but he secretly knew that she longed for another girl. And in truth, he had found himself hoping for the same. No one knew, of course, that he harbored such a wish. If Cassia suspected it, she never let on. But sitting with her now, knowing that she was silently hoping for a daughter, he wondered if he should confess his desire. Perhaps it would offer her encouragement in some way.

“Would you think me less of a man if I told you I hope for a daughter?”

Her smile was instant, and he found his confession rewarded with warm kisses. Such affection delighted him beyond measure. And yet, there was caution in his tone as he whispered to her.

“Such a secret must remain between us, of course. But...”

His hesitation, born of pride, did not escape her notice.

“Tell me,” she prodded him. “I am your wife, Guy. I love you. Never fear to tell me the secrets of your heart.”

At last he spoke. But his voice was soft and very low, still fearful that someone might hear what he would say and think ill of him.

“My heart swells at the thought of a daughter.”

Cassia’s eyes filled with joyful tears. “Does it really?”

He gave a little nod. “When Theodora is affectionate to me, the feeling is so profound. I cannot find words to describe it. When she speaks in that way of hers, so soft and sweet...”

A swell of emotion closed off his words. He cleared his throat to regain his voice, and a sense of embarrassment came over him. Turning his head away, he avoided meeting her eyes.

“I feel quite foolish speaking of such things.”

She made him turn his head back to her. She looked into his eyes, speaking softly. “I find it endearing.”

His heart and soul overflowed with love for her. It seemed that no matter what secret he confessed to her, she found only delight in sharing his confidence. And such confidences, he knew, would never be betrayed. As he leaned in, intent on having a sweet taste of her lips, a contraction stole her breath. Watching her as she struggled with the pain, he cursed again, growling through clenched teeth.

“Damn! Why must these things occur in the dark of night, or during a storm, or at any time that is most difficult?”

She clutched his arm until the pain subsided. And then she smiled at him. Taking his hand, she held it in hers, and together they prayed for a happy and healthy Gisborne to be born.

*****

The midwife arrived several hours later. Louisa was a short, stout, white-haired woman, with rough features and a slight scent of ale about her...a testament to the difficulties of her profession. Upon her arrival in the master chamber, Guy unleashed a torrent of angry words at her, berating her for her lateness. But she only stared calmly at him. She stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for him to finish. And then, she responded in a cool, unaffected tone.

“If you are quite through, I should like to get down to business.”

He only managed a small kiss to Cassia’s lips before he found himself being pushed from the room. He had endured such dismissal twice before, but still he was angered by it.

“Devil take it, woman! Why must you be so great a bully?”

She responded by shoving him hard into the hallway, and then the door was slammed after him. He wanted to curse her for being so brusque in shutting him out...but a small voice made him stifle his words.

“Papa...”

Turning his head to look, he saw Thea coming down the hall, rubbing her eye and clutching her rag doll. Fearing that she would hear something she shouldn’t if she came near the door, he moved quickly to pick her up.

“Why are you not in bed?” he asked in a hushed tone.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, mumbling in a sleepy tone. “The dark scared me.”

As he carried her back to her room, her nurse met them in the hallway. Claudia apologized for Thea’s wandering, but Guy had more to be concerned with than punishing a servant. Placing a kiss on Thea’s cheek, he handed her over to the nurse. His tone was calm, yet stern.

“You must be more vigilant,” he said. “The candles burned out. Be certain she does not again wake in darkness, do you hear?” As Claudia replied with a nod, he added in a whisper...

“Lady Cassia is having her child at this moment. Until it is safely born, keep close watch over Theodora and her brothers. I do not wish them to be present. Is that understood?”

Claudia curtseyed. As she departed, Guy turned back towards his chambers. Dark thoughts began to trouble him as he took to a chair near the door. They were familiar feelings of fear, the same as he had felt during the birth of his other children. And as before, he could do nothing but sit and wait for the torment to end.

*****

The noise gradually increased as the hours passed. Again and again, Guy found himself pressing his ear to the door, hoping to determine some sense of her progress. But he could hear only muffled words and sounds of pain. It was intolerable. There had to be a way to be near, even if he was not allowed to be right there beside her. There was a room adjacent to the master chamber, and its door was close to the bed. Perhaps from there, he could hear more clearly the goings on inside the room.

Arriving at the door, he instantly heard the commotion more clearly, and without hesitation, he tried the handle. It was locked, of course, as he had known it would be. But still he cursed the impediment. Louisa knew him well, and was quite the taskmaster. She did not want him there...but she could not keep him away altogether. He pressed his ear against the door, and he was relieved to find that he could hear every word and sound...even if, in hearing them, they filled his heart with fear.

The head comes, madam. Push.

He listened to the sound of Cassia taking in a breath, and her groans as she made the last efforts to bring the babe forth. He found himself silently encouraging her. She gave a final, agonizing cry, and then he heard the midwife.

The babe is a girl, madam.

For a moment he was elated. Until he realized that there was no sound of a baby crying. Why was there no wailing? It made his heart grow cold...and then he heard Cassia’s voice raised in fear.

“What is it?” she cried. “What has happened?”

Guy grasped the door handle and shook it. He pounded the door with his fist, demanding entrance. From within, he caught enough words to understand what was wrong.

The baby was not breathing.

Delirious with fear, he threw all of his weight against the door. He could hear Cassia’s cries of distress and the noise of a commotion within, and it drove him mad. After several more rams of the door it gave way, causing him to crash and stumble into the room. Cassia was in hysterics, and the midwife’s helpers screamed at his sudden burst into the room. In a blur of action he saw the baby in the midwife’s arms, and the child was blue. The entire room was in chaos and fear, and a moment later the midwife brought her hand down, hard, on the baby’s back. There was a sputter, and a sucking in of breath...and then a furious wail. It grew louder and angrier with each taking in of breath. And as the baby cried, the occupants of the room collectively sighed and wept with relief. Guy turned to Cassia, who reached out for the baby. She wept uncontrollably, and Guy fought back his own emotions as he watched his squalling daughter being placed in her mother’s arms. The child’s color was changing before their eyes, the blue fading to purple and then to bright red. When one of the servants tried to take the baby, Cassia refused, at first, to let her go. But Louisa was insistent.

“Madam, we will return her quickly. But she must be bathed and swaddled. Come, let her be tended to.”

Reluctantly, Cassia handed her daughter over. Louisa gave the baby to a servant, and then she turned on Guy.

“What madness has seized you? How dare you come bursting forth in this way, inviting a curse on us all?”

“I do not give a damn,” he spat.

Louisa snorted, and attempted to push him. “Get out, you fool. Your wife and child are in no state to be seen.”

His answer was fierce and direct. “No.” He stood his ground, despite her determined looks at him. At last they reached a compromise. He would hide behind a screen while Cassia was bathed and changed into clean garments, and the room was tidied up. He hid himself, reluctantly, but he vowed he would not wait for long. The midwife was fortunate she had held him back thus far. He had been patient enough for one night, and he would have his way.

The Gisbornes - A Novelette

2011-08-15T17:20:00.002-04:00

This is just a short-story off the top of my head. It will probably have three chapters. I'm not sure yet. I hope you enjoy it!

For those who are not familiar with my Guy stories, here is the run-down: Guy of Gisborne escaped Nottingham and its troubles, and is now living a contended life in the south of France with his wife and children...

*****

Marselies, France

September, 1198

Her voice was soft. “You have such a soothing touch, my love.”

A smirk grew on Guy’s face. As the night candles burned, he and Cassia sat together in their bed. Under her sheer summer nightdress, his palms stroked the smoothness of her back. Leaning forward, he pressed a tender kiss to her shoulder. Her skin was so warm...so soft. The scent of lavender, emanating from her dark hair, elicited in him a familiar heat of longing. Closing his eyes, he felt a painfully sweet ache for her.

Discipline, he thought. I will maintain discipline. This attention he was giving was meant to be one of comfort. But even as he committed himself to a vow of decency, a low growl of hunger escaped him. His desire for her was ever deep, always simmering just below the surface. Time had not diminished it. It seemed, in truth, that their years together had only served to heighten his want...and the love in his heart. For her, he had learned to tame his own wild impulses when the occasion called for it. Such as now. Cassia gave a shuddering sigh.

“I feel I have grown weak,” she said. “I have carried three children...William and Thea together, of course. And then Owen. They were kind to me. But this child has tested me more than all of them.”

His sensation of desire ebbed. As his hands continued a gentle massaging of her back, his feelings of passion became feelings of tenderness and care. Their first two children were twins...a boy and a girl. Their third child was a boy. Both pregnancies had been endured with much greater ease than the current child she carried. At nine months, it was certain that the babe would be born at any time, and they were both glad of it. Her morning sickness had been severe. She suffered from constant muscle spasms in her legs and her back, and her emotions were in constant turmoil. It grieved him to see her in such discomfort. He was consoled only by the knowledge that she sought his touch for comfort. It was a comfort he could easily give, and he did so gladly, as she had so often done for him in times of need. In a deep and soothing voice, he offered her gentle consolation.

“Beloved, you are the strongest of women. Never doubt that.”

Seeing how she wiped a tear from her eye, he slid his arms around her and drew her back against his body. “Do not cry, my darling. In only a short time, this child will introduce itself to the world. And our joy at the meeting will eclipse all you have endured.”

She continued to weep, quietly, and it wounded him to see her so sad. Although he had never had a gift for words, he felt compelled to try. He rested his head on her shoulder, speaking softly in her ear.

“Will it please you to know that I find you radiant?”

Her response was a half-hearted laugh. “I have the appearance of an aged cow.”

He snorted. “That is not my wife speaking. I demand to hear familiar and fiery words of conviction.” She was not a vain woman by any means. But she had great self-respect, and it bothered him to think that she felt so low. He certainly did not think of her that way. “I tell you that you are beautiful, and I will have no argument.”

Now, at last, he heard a note of amusement in her tone. “You are a hopelessly blind man, Guy of Gisborne.”

Such a response pleased him. It gave him something to build upon, and he relished the opportunity to lift her spirits.

“There now,” he smiled. “That is something of an improvement. Perhaps you would like to strike me in some manner?”

“Strike you?” she asked, turning her head to look at him. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“It might perchance ease the frustration of your condition.”

Smiling now, she shook her head. She reached up to touch his face. “I have no wish to mar a physique that I find most appealing.”

Now it was he who laughed, and he kissed the tip of her nose. “And you would dare call me blind?”

Such teasing was a constant of their relationship, and he cherished it. During their first few years together, his self-doubts had run deep. She was persistent in her flattery regarding his looks, and he allowed her to have what he often called her “delusions of husbandly grandeur.” But until recently, he had found it difficult to truly believe that he possessed attractive qualities. And strangely, it was not his wife who had finally convinced him of his worth...

*****

Two days earlier

A summer storm rumbled outside their bedchamber windows. The lightning was constant and bright, the thunder frequent. Guy knew of Cassia’s fear of such weather. He was aware that on such occasions, he could count on her to cling nervously to him. But on this night, there were several impediments to such closeness. Three, to be precise.

Owen, who was not yet two years of age, clung tightly to his mother. Beside them, three year old Thea buried her head against her father’s chest. Guy smiled down at her, even as he looked about for one missing member of the family. William was easily found. He stood in the window seat, his little face and hands pressed against the glass. Cassia called out to him.

“Darling, come away from the window.”

He remained still for a moment, fascinated by the tempest outside. “The lightning is pretty, Mama.”

“It is,” she replied. “But it is a danger, and I do not wish you to remain there. Come, William.”

As he climbed down from his perch, coming to the bed to crawl in with the rest of the family, Thea lifted her head to look at her brother. When he moved too close, she pushed him away. Gently, Guy scolded her.

“Do not be cruel, daughter. Why do you act so meanly?”

Her answer was swift. “I was here first, Papa.”

Guy asked, “Can you not share your father?”

“No,” she said.

He knew his reaction should have been stern, swift, and fatherly. He knew he should have punished her for her selfish behavior. But all he could do was smile.

There was no questioning the parentage of his daughter. She not only shared his dark hair and grey-blue eyes, but it seemed she had inherited his temper as well. When she wanted her way, she was aggressive in getting it. But he often found himself overlooking such a negative tendancy, simply because she was his only daughter...and she completely adored him. She had even announced a desire to marry him, which had at first taken him aback. Not understanding the strange proclamation, and yet, knowing that she was only a child, he had asked her why she would want to marry him. And her answer shocked him more than her original declaration.

Because you are so handsome, she had said.

Later, as everyone fell asleep, all huddled together in bed, Guy remained awake for a short time, pondering his daughter’s deep admiration. Looking over at Cassia, who was sound asleep...with William and Owen in her arms...he thought...

Perhaps there is some truth in what she has long tried to tell me...

"My Lady Gisborne" Giveaway has been extended!

2011-08-09T21:19:00.000-04:00

Hello Everyone!

To coincide with the Goodreads Giveaway, I've decided to extend the deadline for my paperback giveaway of "My Lady Gisborne." You now have until September 1st to win a chance for a free paperback. There are 2 available, both here and on Goodreads. Here is the link for that...http://tinyurl.com/3sqo2c6

And here is the book description...

Lady Evelyn Gisborne desires to be a proper young noble-woman, but independence runs strong in her blood. She follows her heart as well as her head, and temptation soon beckons her in the form of a handsome rogue. René Jean-Bastien is clever, bold...and forbidden, for she has been promised to another. Simon Jean Carré, Marquis of Laroque, is a born soldier. His life is commited to the pursuit of battle and the honor of the knight's code. When he journies to the Gisborne estate, his only intention is to meet his promised bride. But he soon finds himself entwined in the life of a most unusual family...and falling in love with the woman he has sworn to keep at a distance. Evelyn is torn between two loves. Will she choose the man to whom she is promised...or the dashing thief who has stolen her heart?

If you're interested in a chance for one of these copies, just email me at Charlotte1194@hotmail.com or leave your contact info here. I'll announce the winners the day after the contest ends.

Good luck to everyone!

Henry Cavill as Superman: First Pic Revealed!

2011-08-04T15:54:00.000-04:00

I've been waiting for this reveal. Being a fan of both Superman and Henry Cavill, I've been eargerly anticipating what the new Superman will look like.

My thoughts?

Odd, but I'm not sure what to think. I love the suit. The muted colors, rather than the bright tones that The Man of Steel usually wears, give the suit a less campy look, in my opinion. I like the pose. Instead of Superman standing with a puffed out chest and hands on hips, he's taking a more aggressive stance. I like that.

But where is the famous spit-curl? I always loved that about Superman. And my biggest concern of all...

I can't see Henry Cavill at all! Maybe I'm judging too soon, but I was hoping to see that handsome face looking back at me, and I just can't see it here. I think I need more photos to make a proper judgement.

Here is the article from entertainment weekly...

http://insidemovies.ew.com/2011/08/04/first-look-superman/

Self-Publishing: My Journey

2011-08-02T21:45:00.004-04:00

For all the would-be writers out there, I'm offering the story of my experience with self-publishing, and why I chose it. Hopefully, this will provide some information for those who are new to the publishing business.

I started out blind when it came to knowing anything about publishing. I was a freshman in high school when I wrote my first full-length novel. All I knew was that I had written a book, and I wanted to publish it. I had NO idea how to go about it, so I went to the library and did some research. It was there that I found a very thick book called "The Novel and Short Story Writer's Market." I opened the book, and my mouth fell open in shock. I could not believe the number of agents, publishing companies, etc. that were out there! In my naiveté, I said to myself...

Surely, one of these agencies or publishers will want my work.

In reading the first pages of the guide, I first learned the words “Query Letter.” It would soon become a hated turn of phrase, but I digress...

According to the guide, it was up to me to query agencies and seek representation, as nearly all publishing houses require their writers to have representation. So, I followed the example in the guide and wrote query letters. LOTS of them, to as many agencies as I could find in the book that represented my type of fiction. This was in the mid-nineties, when email was still in its early stages, and printed letters were still the norm. I bought boxes of envelopes, put my queries in them, and...along with sample chapters...I sent them on their way.

I was soon to learn a painful lesson about the publishing industry. Specifically, I became familiar with a very painful word: REJECTION.

Every query I sent came back with what is commonly known as a form letter. Typically, they say something along the lines of:

Dear Author,

Thank you for your query. We were pleased that you expressed interest in our agency. However, we feel that your work does not meet our needs at this time. We wish you luck in your writing career.

These letters piled up quickly. And as they did, my frustration and anger grew. I wondered if it was my writing that was keeping me from getting published. So, I found an editor. As it turned out, my manuscript needed a lot of work, and I was glad to have someone who could teach me to be a better writer. I polished it up, and sent out my queries and sample chapters again.

REJECTION, REJECTION, REJECTION.

I spent nearly three years trying to sell my first novel. By the time I had finished High School, I had pretty much given up. I still wrote, of course. I have always loved to create stories. But I had put aside my aspirations of being a professional writer.

It was many years before I got back into the game, and that was a unique story all on its own.

It was late 2006. By then, the internet had become very familiar to me. I had also discovered a website called “C19,” dedicated to all things Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, and the like. I quickly became a member and a frequent visitor, and it was there that I learned about something called “Fan-Fiction.” Being a Jane Eyre fanatic, I rediscovered my love of writing as I wrote my own JE stories. My old ambitions soon blossomed, and I began writing my own tales. I also took the chance on trying to find representation, and this time, I was able to query through email. But, as before, I found only rejection.

Needless to say, I was discouraged. But then I learned of an emerging phenomenon in the publishing world: Self-publishing.

Still being a bit of a newbie to publishing, I was lured in by the ads of a company called “IUniverse.” At the time, I did not know the difference between a vanity press and a POD publisher. Unfortunately for me, I went with a vanity press. I soon learned that the goal of a vanity press is not to help an author succeed, but to take advantage of new writers who are hungry to see their work in print. I was one those writers, and I trusted the wrong people. Yes, I got a printed book, and it was thrilling to see my words in printed form. But...

I had no say in the cover design. They chose it for me. They did not provide me with an editor, unless I paid an extra fee. Once my work was in print, there was no changing it. The price of the book, once it was available, was ridiculously high. And they offered me marketing help only if I was willing to pay a high price. I was learning another brutal truth about the publishing business: there are a lot of crooks out there, and they will take your money without remorse.

As you can imagine, I was fed up with publishing altogether. But then, through some stroke of luck, I began hearing about other writers who had gone through a similar experience. One of these writers introduced me to a company called “Create Space.”

I was wary, of course. I did my homework. I asked as many questions as I could. I talked to other writers about their experiences with this company. They had only good things to say about it. So, I gave it a try.

“Create Space” has been a godsend. It has given me everything I need to succeed as an author. There are, however, some things I have learned, and here they are:

#1: Edit your work, and then edit it again. And don’t rely on your eyes only. Find a professional if need be, and if you can’t afford a pro, find yourself a beta reader. Beta readers, in case you didn’t know, are readers who volunteer their time to look over your work and tell you where they think you need to make corrections. You can find them on writers websites, like Wattpad. And something else about beta readers: If you can, find a “Simon Cowell” type. Find someone who will tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking you’re the next big thing, because if you are lulled into complacency, it will be heartbreaking to discover that your work is not the masterpiece you thought it was.

In short: Put your work through the ringer. Make it the absolute best it can be before you put it in front of the public eye. In the long run, you will reap the rewards for your effort.

#2. You do not have to pay for a press release. Repeat: You do NOT have to pay for a press release. I learned this wonderful bit of informtaion through a friend, and it saved me a ton of money. Publishing companies, including “Create Space,” will offer this service for a price, usually costing between $250 to $500 dollars. But in my opinion, it is foolish to pay for a PR. They are so simple to create and distribute. For more information, feel free to email me...

#3. Get yourself an author account on Goodreads. Once there, participate in their author giveaways. You will be amazed at how quickly people flock at the chance for a free book. But be prepared for honest reviews in return. In my experience, the readers at Goodreads do not hold back with their opinions. Some will enjoy your work, but some may not. Whatever reviews you get, learn from them. It will make you a better author in the long run.

Forgive me if this post rambled, but I hope someone benefits from it. Self-Publishing has not made me rich. Not by a long shot. But it has allowed me to have my work in print, and I am in control of all the business aspects. I do not share the profits with an agent, and most of all, no one is telling me what to write or how to write it. The readers dictate what works and what does not, and it is the reader that matters to me...not the opinion of someone in a suit and tie who sits behind a desk, dictating what I should write to make a profit.

If anyone has questions, feel free to email me. I’m always willing to help my fellow writers.

Happy reading and writing, everyone!

"My Lady Gisborne" Paperback Giveaway

2011-07-29T19:00:00.001-04:00

Hello, readers!

From now until August 19th, I'm giving readers a chance to win 2 copies of my book, "My Lady Gisborne." For those who don't know, this is a sequel to my book "The Tempest." Here is the description from Amazon...

If you're interested in a chance for one of these copies, just email me at Charlotte1194@hotmail.com or leave your contact info here. I'll announce the winners the day after the contest ends.

Also, Goodreads is doing a similar giveaway on their site. Here's the link to that...

http://tinyurl.com/3sqo2c6

Good luck to everyone!

Draco Malfoy on Conan O'Brien Show. TOO FUNNY!

2011-07-27T17:56:00.000-04:00

This is one of the funniest interviews EVER! Listen as Conan and Tom Felton, AKA Draco Malfoy, discusses frightning little children, Harry Potter memorabilia theft, and the joy of HP fans. Things start off innocently enough, but it quickly erupts into a hilarious glimpse into the mind of the Harry Potter fanworld...

Richard, Richard, everywhere I turn...and I'm loving it!

2011-07-25T02:33:00.001-04:00

Someone up above must think I deserve blessings, because I've had RA left and right for weeks! To start, there was the big reveal of Thorin...

It wasn't quite what I expected, but I was very happy to see Richard in character, and I thought he looked fantastic. But then, there was the offical picture...

WOW! That was the only word I could say. From head to toe, he looks perfect as the mighty Thorin Oakenshield. Love the boots, love the beautiful blue coat, love the fur on the shoulders. I love it all! And best of all, we can still see a hint of that beautifully expressive face. I am so looking forward to this, I can't even put it into words!

My RA delights didn't end there, of course. Not with Captain America making it's debut!

If there was one bad note in all of this RA goodness, it was the coverage of the LA premiere of Captain America. Most of us have seen it by now, although most of us couldn't HEAR IT! What the heck was with the sound, people? You are from HOLLYWOOD! Shouldn't you know how to prepare for these things? And that was just one thing among many that made my hackles rise like and angry dog. The interview...oh my, I'm getting angry just thinking about it. You all know what I'm talking about. Not only were the questions stupid, but for heaven's sake, learn how to pronounce the man's name! Is is so difficult to say? But I digress...

"Captain America" was a fantastic film, at least in my humble opinion. I enjoyed it very much. But of course, I went to see it because of RA, and even though he was only in it for about ten minutes or so, he completely stole those ten minutes of the movie. SPOILER ALERT! Do not read further if you haven't seen the movie and don't want to know details...

I love the moment just before he blows up the lab. He looks around, in an almost raptor like way. By that, I mean the way he surveys his domain. I loved his facial expression...very cold and calculating. Can this guy play evil, or WHAT? :)

And then of course, the short ride begins. I love to watch this man in motion. His long legs move him with such speed and agility. He moves through the scene at breakneck speed, as of course, the Captain is on his tail. He knows how to handle a gun, that's for sure. I love the way he dashes from one vehicle to the next. Very weasel-like, that evil spy! Several shootings and a tossed kid later, he's in his sub and ready to make his getaway. Sadly, we know how this turns out. The villain is defeated, and Richard's scenes come to an abrupt end. Heinz Kruger, we hardly knew ye.

I left the theatre very impressed. But my RA fest was hardly over. A few days later, there was a lovely interview with RA in The Scotsman magazine. If you haven't read it, you should do so. RA reveals a few things about himself. As usual, he charming and witty. It's no wonder we adore him. Here's the link...

http://www.scotsman.com/features/Interview-Richard-Armitage-actor.6806731.jp

It's been an amazing few weeks, I must say. I hope the RA goodness continues! It's a long time from now until 2012 and The Hobbit. I need something to keep me going until then. :)

A New Spartacus

2011-07-18T12:53:00.006-04:00

Liam Mcintyre as "Spartacus"

As some people may or may not know, I am a huge fan of the Starz series' "Spartacus: Blood and Sand" and "Spartacus: Gods of the Arena." This January, the third installment of the series, entitled "Spartacus: Vengence" will make its debut. I, for one, am really anxious. Mostly because this installment has been delayed for so long...and, because there will be a new actor in the lead role.

There have been many discussions (Some of them quite bitter) about the replacement of Andy Whitfield, who had to drop out of the role due to health reasons. While I loved him as Spartacus, I think it is unfair to rush to judgement about replacing him. Andy himself gave the new actor (Liam Mcintyre) a warm reception and wished him good luck, and who can say that we, as fans, won't like Liam just as much? I'm happy to give him a chance. He certainly meets my standards in the looks department. :)

Roll on, January!

THORIN REVEALED!

2011-07-17T12:59:00.002-04:00

Link to OneRing.Net: http://tinyurl.com/4xlwkgc

WOW! Just...WOW! The first pic of Thorin was finally revealed today, and I for one am thrilled. RA has often said he wants to play characters that don't rely on physical attractiveness, and this certainlly qualifies! He is wonderfully fierce and scary looking, and I love it!

Maybe sometime soon, we'll get a full-body picture? One can only hope!!

"My Lady Gisborne" Kindle Giveaway!

2011-07-12T18:05:00.000-04:00

From now until July 15th, I'm doing a promo for "My Lady Gisborne."

In exchange for a review on Amazon, I will gift a Kindle copy of the book. If you're interested, just email me or leave me a message here. I'm hoping to get some reviews going on Amazon.

Happy Reading!

"My Lady Gisborne" is now on Kindle US and UK!

2011-07-11T00:03:00.001-04:00

"My Lady Gisborne" is now on Kindle!

Here is the U.S. Link: http://t.co/8hCa2k4 and the U.K. Link: http://t.co/JJUV91H

Thanks to everyone who has been following this story. It's been a long ride, and I'm glad you were there with me.

All the best!

Sarah AKA Charlotte H.

My Lady Gisborne update: A cover, and more...

2011-07-09T02:19:00.001-04:00

Hello Everyone! Here is a preview of the cover for "My Lady Gisborne." I hope you like it!

The book will be in print very soon. As soon as I have the set date, I'll definately share it with you.

A big thanks to everyone who has been following this story. Your support means more than you'll ever know. Look for book giveaways, coming soon on Goodreads and other sites.

My best to everyone!

Yours,

Charlotte H.

My Lady Gisborne, Epilogue

2011-07-07T12:33:00.004-04:00

December, 1216

Evelyn sat at her dressing table while her hair was combed out for the night. It was a cool night, and she relished the warmth of the generous fire that blazed in the hearth. The room was quiet for a moment. Then there came the sound of a joyful squeal and childish laughter. The chamber door opened, and Evelyn smiled as Simon came in, carrying a giggling chestnut-haired bundle over his shoulder.

“Evelyn, I have found a sprite wandering about the halls. Should I banish it, or allow it refuge in our home?”

Beaming at the sight of her husband and daughter so playful together, she laughed, placing her hands on her belly. “I think we should keep it to add to our growing collection.” In only a few months, they would welcome their second child. And she could hardly wait.

The birth of a daughter had come as a surprise, but it was a pleasant one. Having been accustomed to her family’s tradition, which tended towards the bearing of sons, Evelyn was delighted to give birth to a girl. Although she knew that Simon wanted a son, he was a doting father to Sophia, who absolutely worshipped him.

From her upside down position across her father’s shoulder, Sophia giggled again. “Papa, I am dizzy.”

Picking her up, Simon carried her to the bed and gently dropped her, letting her land on the thick mattress with a bounce and a squeal of childish delight. While they played a back and forth game, with Sophia running into his arms and he tossing her back, Evelyn dismissed her maid for the night. She stood back for a moment, watching her little family interacting so lovingly. Sophia was a bundle of energy, but it was her comical behavior that endeared her to everyone. She had an odd love of spinning, sometimes to the point of falling over. And when she fell, she liked to declare out loud, “I am fine.” It amused her mother and father to no end.

For a two-year old child, she was also incredibly bright. She seemed to understand that her mother’s growing belly contained something special. As Evelyn came near the bed, Simon held Sophia back from the rambunctious activity.

“Remember,” he said, “You must be careful with your Mama. She is in a delicate condition.”

Simon held Sophia until Evelyn had slipped into bed. When he let her go, she moved slowly, pointing her tiny finger. Kneeling down at Evelyn’s side, she gently placed her hands on her mother’s belly.

“Baby,” she said.

Evelyn smiled. The word “baby” had become a constant in Sophia’s limited vocabulary, and Evelyn found it delightful to hear her saying it repeatedly. Pulling her daughter close, she kissed her cheek. And then, Simon held his arms out. Sophia ran to him instantly, and he scooped her up.

“It is late, my sweetheart. You must go to bed.”

As he carried Sophia away, Evelyn heard her say, in her soft little voice, “Oh, Papa.”

A smile remained on Evelyn’s face as she watched them go. After the door had closed, she reached for the rolled parchment on the bedside table. It had come earlier in the day, but there had been no time to read it. Now, the house was quiet and calm. She unrolled the parchment, and began to read.

Simon returned a few minutes later. He slipped into bed quietly at first, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against his pillow. But as she continued to read, saying nothing, he opened his eyes. His eyes fell, with interest, on the letter.

“You are quite engrossed, my love. Pray, tell me. What interests you to such an extent?”

“Marie is to have another baby,” Evelyn said.

Simon grumbled. “May God have mercy on the child, to have such a father.”

Evelyn lightly swatted his arm, but smiled. “Rene has proven to be a good father, and a good husband. It will be a joy to see them again.”

Hearing that, Simon pulled himself upright. “Are they coming here again so soon?”

Evelyn was quick to soothe him, knowing that his tolerance for certain visitors was very limited. “No, no,” she replied. “Not until the spring, my darling.”

He became calm again, settling back under the covers. “Good God, woman. You nearly caused my heart to fail.”

She shook her head, both in exasperation and amusement. It had hardly been a shock to learn that Rene and Marie had eloped. They had now been married for some two years, and they lived a quiet life on Rene’s small estate. Despite the passage of time, Simon had never fully warmed to Rene, although he tolerated a yearly visit. But even then, it was with reluctance. Evelyn spoke to him, without taking her eyes from the letter.

“Would you rather I invited my brother and his wife?”

Simon pursed his lips. “No doubt they are too occupied with one another to consider visiting family.”

She laughed in agreement with him. Few in the family could have foreseen that Owen and Isabella would grow to love one another. Isabella’s husband had annulled their marriage and taken another wife. It wasn’t long after the incident that Owen had announced his decision to marry her. They made their home in Toulouse, away from the familiar faces of Marseilles, and by all accounts, they were a very devoted couple. Evelyn smiled at the thought of it.

“If our family tradition is any indication, they will be a most prolific couple.” She rolled up the parchment and put it aside. Snuffing out the candle, she snuggled into Simon’s arms. She sighed, a thoughtful and happy sound. “What a site it will be if we gather everyone together in the spring. Mama and Papa with Philippe. Rene and Marie with their two children. Thea and Lucien, with Gabriel and the twins.”

Thea had given birth to twin girls last year. Following in the tradition of the Gisbornes, Elizabeth and Eleanor were born healthy and strong. It pleased Guy and Cassia to no end to have more grandchildren, and the entire family was eagerly awaiting the arrival of Simon and Evelyn’s second child. Thinking of it, Evelyn rested her hands on her belly.

“Have you given more thought to the naming of this child?”

He sighed. “I have told you, my love. It is hardly up to a father to name a child. That is the duty of a mother.”

She chuckled. “Why then did I hear you speaking to your father, discussing the names of honorable men? Ones you said would be fitting to give to a son?”

For a moment, he was silent. But with gentle prodding, he confessed he had indeed been thinking of it.

“Am I wrong to long for a son?”

She shook her head where it rested against his shoulder.

“You long for your heir, of course. And we have our beautiful Sophia already. It would be lovely to have both a daughter and a son.”

“I hope for the blessing of many sons and daughters,” he said. “And I wish them the same love we have known.”

She sighed, feeling the warmth of his hand on her belly. “As do I, my love,” she said. “As do I.”