The Bride Of Spring. Catherine Archer

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СКАЧАТЬ heart felt like a throbbing drum in her chest, even though she was sure they had not seen her, for neither had been looking in her direction.

      Under no circumstances did she wish to be caught. Again she asked herself who would believe that she had hidden herself here for the reasons she had. Even if they would, she would not wish to admit her motives to either Edward or Ainsworth himself.

      At the thought of Benedict Ainsworth, another image of that pleasing face flashed though her mind. In spite of the risk, she felt a compelling desire to look at him again, to see if she had only imagined such an attractive visage.

      Benedict and Edward looked up at the same moment as the steward appeared in the door once more. “Your grace, an envoy has arrived with a reply to your message to France. I have taken him to a private chamber as you requested me to do upon his arrival.”

      Edward was very suddenly a king again as he replied, “I come.”

      He nodded to Benedict, who bowed deeply even as Edward left the chamber. The steward, taking care to pretend that he was not watching Benedict, moved to tidy the glasses they had used.

      Benedict turned to go. He was finished here, for the moment at any rate. Edward had voiced surprise at Benedict’s generosity in the keep and monies he would provide to Harcourt’s brother, but he had given his approval to the transfer of goods.

      It was as Benedict swung around to go out the far door that he noted the presence of two small, dark green slippers just visible beneath the edge of the scarlet drapery. The fact that the intruder was female seemed apparent and kept him from being overconcerned. Yet he grew very still, and a pensive frown creased his brow even as he saw a pale face surrounded by a cloud of auburn hair appear at the edge of the drape. A pair of golden eyes widened in horror as they met his own.

      The face was definitely that of a woman. And an extremely pretty one. Surprised, Benedict started toward her without thinking.

      The steward chose that moment to turn back to Benedict. He spoke with just the proper degree of deference, though it seemed obvious that he would prefer for Benedict to be on his way. “Is there something wrong, my lord?”

      Benedict halted, his gaze searching the female’s eyes, now filled with panic.

      “My lord?” The steward spoke again, more insistently.

      Her gaze darkened with pleading even as her hands came up to cover her pink lips. For a moment as he looked into those eyes Benedict felt as if he had fallen into a vat of liquid gold that swirled around him as he floated effortlessly in its warmth.

      Something, an urge he could not name, made him close his lips on the words that would expose her position. Instead he cast the mysterious female a warning glance. Her face disappeared behind the curtain again as he turned to the steward. “Nay, I was just leaving. I was wondering if you might tell me where my horse will have been stabled?” Benedict knew it was a poor excuse. Never would he allow the stallion to be stabled without knowing the exact conditions, but the steward was not aware of this.

      Benedict waited as the servant moved to join him at the door. He knew the woman could not escape from her hiding place until the steward left the chamber. Still, Benedict did not know why he would aid the unknown woman; he simply could not seem to do otherwise.

      The man nodded, saying, “As you will, my lord,” and led him from the room. Although he had a nearly overwhelming urge to do so, Benedict did not look back over his shoulder for fear of giving her away.

      Her heart pounding like a drum in her chest, Raine escaped from behind the curtain as soon as the men were gone. Why had she given in to the urge to look at Benedict Ainsworth one more time? She had convinced herself that he would be too occupied with King Edward’s leaving to heed her. She was shocked at her own lunacy. Even more confusing, why had the baron, a stranger, helped her? She could think of no ready answer and could only feel grateful that he had done so.

      Now more than ever she felt intrigued by the man named Benedict Ainsworth. Recalling the fathomless depths of his dark-lashed eyes, which seemed far too blue to be real, she felt just the slightest bit attracted to him, as well.

      Instantly Raine halted herself, feeling nothing but misgivings over such a thought. She was not interested in him or any other man in that way. She knew what she was looking for and why. Nothing else, no other consideration, must be allowed to interfere in her plans. To allow any other thought was to open herself to possible disaster. William’s welfare must come first and last with her. If there was a possibility that Benedict Ainsworth was the right man to protect William, then she must meet with him, speak with him.

      As she considered how best to try to come into contact with the man again, she felt a strange thrill ripple down her spine. There was no denying that he was the most fascinating man she had ever seen, not just because of his handsomely chiseled face or his obvious physical presence and vigor. The man exuded an air of quiet strength that drew her as a cricket is drawn to the scent of rain.

      Again she told herself she could not allow such a thing to sway her. That having been decided, Raine felt much easier in her interest in the man. She was doing this for William. With a sigh of resolution, she went directly to her assigned chamber. The very tiny room had no window and one large bed with threadbare velvet hangings that might once have been gold but had yellowed to an uninviting shade. It was not an attractive or even a comfortable room, with its well-worn stone floor and roughly made furnishings—a table and two hard benches pulled close to the narrow hearth, which smoked profusely each time it was lit.

      Raine could have been housed with some of the other ladies of the court, but she had not wished to be separated from her brother or Aida.

      They looked up the moment she opened the door. Taking a deep breath, Raine informed them, “Well, my loves, I have just seen our most promising prospect yet.”

      Predictably, Aida got to her feet and began to pace, wringing her hands. “Dear heavens, Lady Raine, are you sure that this is what you should do? ’Haps we should forget all of this talk of finding a husband and go home to Abbernathy Park, leave things as they are.”

      Raine felt herself stiffen. She above all people would like to go home and pretend that everything was well, that they would be fine. That option was not available to her, for Denley would certainly be there the moment she arrived.

      Someone had to see to the future, and she was the only one who could do so, no matter how difficult it might be. But they had been over all of this before. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Aida, please, let us not discuss it all again. I need you to help me now.”

      William, who had been reading a book, laid it gently on the table and fixed her with a thoughtful gaze. “Who is he, Raine? What is he like?”

      Being a newborn babe at the time, he had no memory of the terrible months after their mother’s death. Their father had been so deeply lost in his grief that Raine had been forced to act far beyond her eight years. But William did have some understanding of why she was so determined in this now. He had been at their father’s bedside the night he’d died, knew how serious he had been in his request for Raine to look after everything. None of them had ever expected the elder William to go when his son was so very young. Their father had been in the prime of his life, strong and seemingly invincible in Raine’s eyes. The illness that had taken his life had come on so rapidly that none of them could ever have been prepared for his death.

      And since that time Raine had not allowed herself to feel her own pain, had taken all her anguish and turned it into an unshakable СКАЧАТЬ