“Mistress Chloe, what ails you?” Garrick sheathed his sword and strode over to her.

“That odious man.” She plopped down on the stone bench against the wall. It protected her from the wind, and she could watch the men practicing in the lists.

“Ah, Richard.” Garrick sat beside her.

“He makes me madder than a wet hen.” She huffed.

He threw back his head and laughed. The guy was huge, with enormous hands and feet. Sturdy like an old tree. She wondered why he hadn’t married but didn’t want to pry into his business. Though she thought he’d make someone a good husband, and the kids adored him.

He slapped his knee. “I believe a hen that is wet would be vexed indeed.”

They sat for a while as Garrick explained the finer aspects of sword fighting, pointing out what the men would do next. When they would parry and when they would lunge.

“Garrick? Can you tell me how much money I have?” She pulled the pouch out of her pocket and dropped it in his palm.

He opened it, his eyes wide. “This is a fortune. Where did you get the funds?”

“My father gave it to me to hide on the ship, so I had it when we were in the storm.” She hated lying, but there was no way she was telling them she was from the future. If some guy showed up in Holden Beach saying he was from the past, he’d be locked up for a psych eval. No one would believe him. And she had no desire to be drowned or burned at the stake.

“What do you plan to do?” Garrick asked.

“I told Richard I would pay to live here but he wouldn’t hear of it, so I want to buy paint for the walls, a couple of rugs, and maybe a few chairs. If I have enough?”

“You have more than enough.”

“Don’t tell him. I want it to be a surprise.”

Garrick looked unsure but nodded. “He does not care for surprises.”

“Well, he’ll just have to get over it.”

“I will take you.” He stood. “Now leave me to the lads.”

That evening, after supper, Chloe was in the solar with Richard, sitting on the floor on the single rug she’d found in the hidden room. It was beautiful, with muted shades depicting the forest and wild animals. She’d placed the rug in front of the fire, but not so close it would get burned by the sparks.

A couple of dogs of indescribable breed slept on one side, while two of the tiger-striped cats lounged on the hearth. One was close enough to get his fur singed, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Sore from spending the day cleaning, she groaned as she wiggled her toes.

Richard took her foot in his hands, rubbing the arches, making her sigh in pleasure.

“Rest. You have been working like the lowest servant when you should fill your days like a lady.”

She petted a black dog who was snoring in his sleep. “I can’t embroider or sew. I’m useless at cooking. The gardens and orchards are covered in snow. What am I to do with my time? It feels good to accomplish something. To look back at the end of the day and see a chamber sparkling and clean. I’d rather be useful. Otherwise, I’d be lazy and get fat.”

The awful man ran his fingernail along the bottom of her foot, making her giggle. He knew how ticklish she was. Chloe wiggled her foot, and he took the other in his hands and rubbed out the stiffness.

“Now, if you had a library, then I’d be curled up in front of the fire reading all day, doing nothing else.”

“You enjoy reading?”

She sighed. “More than anything in the whole world.”

It was late when he escorted her to her chamber. They lingered at the door until one of the guardsmen cleared his throat. The men and older boys had taken it upon themselves to make sure Chloe was properly chaperoned. She wanted to laugh when they told her but, seeing their looks, knew it would hurt their feelings, so she nodded and thanked them. Though at times like this, she wished they’d leave them alone. Richard would never kiss her with all this traffic in the corridor.

“I will take you to the market on the morrow,” he said.

She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. “Thank you.”

The guard cleared his throat again and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Richard rolled his eyes. “I bid you a good night, Chloe.”

“Good night.” She shut the door and threw the bolt. Then she stood there with her ear to the door, listening. It was a while before she heard the sound of boots on stone.

Richard had left Garrick to guard Bainford. He had decided to take Chloe to the market. It had been more than two years since he last visited the village. He wore his hood pulled tight around his face.

Chloe talked and talked, oblivious to his discomfort. She was happy, smiling and laughing, and promising the children she would bring them back sweets. Three lads and three girls ran ahead of them. They had helped Chloe the most the past se’nnight, so she had picked them to come to the market, with the promise of bringing whoever worked the hardest to the next market. She was shrewd.

He was so busy watching her that at first he did not hear the words. ’Twas Chloe’s hand in his that alerted him to trouble. She was squeezing his hand so hard that he thought his finger would break.

They were causing a commotion, the villagers whispering and crossing themselves as they passed.

“Please. Ignore them.” She tugged on his hand, knowing he was ready to bolt.

He scowled at the men who were suddenly busy looking at their feet. She was pulling him from vendor to vendor, and then she stopped. “I have things to do.”

“Aye. I will escort you.”

But she shook her head. “No. It is womanly stuff.”

He did not let her know how her words wounded him. She did not want to be seen with the beast. He could not fault her.

“As you wish. Find me when you are ready to leave,” he said stiffly.

“Thank you.” She squeezed his hand and was soon having speech with an old woman selling trinkets. The children were darting to and fro, and Richard scowled. He touched the hood. Should he put it down? Let them see how terrible he was?

But he did not. Unable to bear the gaze of the villagers, he did not speak to anyone until he came to a vendor selling books.

“Good…d…day to you, m…my…lord,” the man stuttered.

“I am in need of books. For a lady,” Richard said.

The man showed him fine volumes. They were expensive, but Richard knew she would treasure them. He purchased three. A gift to beauty from the Beast of Bainford.

Richard would not come to the village again. He would retreat to his castle to hide his visage from prying eyes.

Richard knew he had been ill-tempered during supper, but he could not help but remember the look she gave him when she wished to go off on her own at the market. To not be seen with him. He trudged out of his solar, grumbling to himself, only to stop and gape.

Chloe was high above his head on a ladder using a long pole with a cloth on it, scrubbing his walls. Then she would dip the rag in a bucket and repeat the process while the lads called out encouragement.

He did not dare shout at her and have her fall. Four lads were holding the ladder; the rest of the imps were busy scrubbing the walls and floors.

When she scrambled down the ladder, he thought he would swoon, worried she would fall and break her neck.

“Chloe. What are you about?”

She blew a curl out of her face. “No offense, but it’s awfully dreary in here. I thought… That is, most homes of this size are painted inside. I thought we should paint all the rooms.” She smiled at him, her teeth so white and straight, her eyes sparkling, the color of fine whiskey.

“Paint?” He looked around the hall and noted buckets of color. A few steps closer and he saw burgundy, gold, and emerald green. “Where pray tell, did you procure paint?”

The side of her nose had a smudge of dirt, she was wearing his old tunic and hose, and he thought she looked most fetching with her hair tied back and dirt on her face.

“I bought it from one of the merchants. It was nice of you to take me to the market yesterday.”

“Lads, go to the kitchen. Merry made pie.” They were gone before he’d finished speaking. “Where did you get the gold to pay for all this?”

She rolled her eyes. “Typical man, only listens to half of what I say.” She stirred the paint and smiled. “I told you, remember? It was my parents’. They gave it to me on the ship. When we were shipwrecked, I still had it.”

Richard narrowed his eyes. Aye, she had told him the sad tale, but why did he not believe she was telling the truth?

Unwilling to make her angry, he looked at the paint. “’Tis pretty.” He proffered his arm. “Come. I have a surprise for you.”

She clapped her hands together. “I love surprises.”

In his solar, he made her close her eyes and hold out her hands. Then he put the wrapped bundle in her outstretched palms.

“Now open your eyes.”

“Books. Oh, thank you!” Her eyes shone in the torchlight. She reverently opened each one. “Poems. Oh, a tale of knights and courtly love, and one about gods and goddesses.” She kissed him on the cheek. “These mean everything to me. Thank you so much.”

“I am glad you are pleased.” He laid the books on a table. “Now come sit in front of the fire. You are cold and your hair is in knots. Margery?”

A little girl came running. “My lord?”

“Fetch me the comb for Mistress Chloe’s hair. She has been rolling around with the cows again.”

The girl giggled and scampered out of the solar. She was soon back with the comb and ale.

Richard gave Chloe a cup and pulled her onto his lap. He combed her hair in front of the fire, working out each knot, admiring the colors, wrapping each curl around his finger. Her hair was so soft and smelled of winter.

He could find peace with her. Mayhap, in time, she would come to care for him?