MEETING AND MISUNDERSTANDING
Amabel was walking in the courtyard. She came here whenever she was worried. There was a small garden around the side of the kitchen, a fragrant place where herbs grew in rows, lavender breathing out fragrance under the gentle sun. The place always soothed her soul and eased her thoughts. It was a place of tranquil, undemanding peace.
Amabel sat on a stone bench and looked out over the garden, thinking.
She knew she was in love with her husband. She was sure he could not love her back. She sighed and opened the little bag she carried, drawing out thread and needles – sewing always helped her to distract herself from cares. She was squinting at a piece of tapestry she was working on when she heard feet on gravel.
“My lady?”
Amabel stood up with such surprise that she almost stabbed herself with the bodkin. She laid aside her work, feeling flustered and nervous.
“My lord?” Broderick wore a long dark-green cloak fastened with a silver brooch, long dark trousers and a dark tunic; he was gravely handsome. She felt her heart thump. Why was he here? For all her certain promise to herself that she would see him as a friend and not a lover, her body responded the moment she saw him.
“My lady. Forgive my intrusion.” He looked at his hands. “I was in the colonnade and saw you sitting here. I wanted to talk to you.”
“You did?” Amabel sat down on the bench again, reaching for her sewing. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and she tried to remain composed. What manner of thing could he have to say to her? He did not want her, it seemed, as a wife. So why seek out her company now? She looked up at him, squinting in the sunshine.
He remained standing in front of her, looking serious.
“Do sit, my lord,” Amabel smiled and waved him to the bench opposite. “There's no need to stand on such ceremony: it is permitted to sit.”
Broderick looked a little hurt, almost as if he had expected her to invite him to sit beside her on the bench. She dismissed the thought as fanciful wishing. Why would he want to do that? She was his friend, not his lover. She was almost annoyed with him. He had made matters clear to her last night! Had he not? Why was he confusing her so?
He inclined his head and then he went to sit opposite and looked at her, dark eyes serious.
“My lady…” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize.”
Amabel's brow shot up. Why would he do that? What was she supposed to think now? Even as she thought it, she noticed, suddenly, that something was different. His accent. He sounded more like her uncle, less like the roughened countrified lad who had come to them a few short weeks ago.
“No, my lord! You have nothing for which to apologize. You have done me no wrong... of course, you haven't.” She laughed lightly and looked at her fabric, focused so that she would not have to see his face. If she had to look at him, she would not be able to feign such cool indifference.
“My lady?” He sounded sad, and it was hard for her to resist the temptation to look at him, to relent just a little.
“If you wished to tell me about the raid you will pursue in the next month, I am all ears,” she said distantly. “Will it be a long venture? Or a short operation?”
She did not look up but she heard him clear his throat.
“My lady... I had not planned to address the topic of the campaign. But thank you for your interest. It will be a shorter one. I envisage a fortnight at the longest. Assuming we can persuade their surrender.”
“I am sure you will,” she laughed. “My uncle plans to send the whole guard?”
Broderick blinked. “He had not said as much to me.”
Amabel looked at him.
“Well, I heard some talk of it from Fergall in the yard. Now he's the man you want on your side, my husband.”
He was staring at her, fists clenched and a desperate look in his eye. She shook her head. Felt irritated. What is the matter with him. Is this not what he wants from me? To be a helpmate? A companion and ally in this revenge?
“Fergall?” He wrinkled his brow. “He is the master-at-arms?”
“Well, he's the armorer. An old soldier. Wise and experienced. Named for my grandfather, the last earl. He's been with us for a long while. And he knows more about our fighting capacity than any man in the castle. If you need any information, visit him first.”
Broderick rested his elbows on his knees, thinking. “Thank you. I will. He's in the armory, yes?”
“Yes.” Amabel came to the end of her linen thread and ended off the row, biting it off.
He stood. Amabel assumed he was going to the armory and ignored him, but he did not walk back the way he had come.
He lowered himself to the bench beside her and drew out a little dagger from his belt.
“Here, my lady,” he said, passing her the knife. “Let me.”
Amabel stared at him, thread poised at her lips. Then she chuckled. “I suppose the habits of the ladies' solar can be a little rough, occasionally.” She passed him the linen square, smiling ruefully. “I habitually bite off threads.” She felt a little embarrassed, like her ladylike dignity was dented by letting him see that.
Broderick smiled. He took the tapestry-work from her and gently cut the thread that fixed the needle to it. He had a strangely wistful expression as he did it and Amabel wondered what he was thinking.
He moved a little closer to her on the bench, and she felt her body wanting him. She wished he would sit just a little closer. Wished that he would kiss her or put his arm around her, his hand on her leg. Anything to show that he felt something. But he kept a careful distance between them.
“What is it, my lord?” Her voice was squeaky and she hated that. She cleared her throat. “You wished to say something to me?”
“Well, I should gift you this little knife. It can be most useful. And mayhap save your teeth hardship.”
Amabel smiled. If it was a friendship offering, it was a good one.
“Thank you, my lord.” She reached for the knife, and he moved to hold the blade, passing it to her with a careful deference. Amabel closed her eyes. Was she so repugnant that he would not even risk his fingers brushing her? She swallowed, fighting her desire to weep.
“A pleasure.” He sat back, looking at her with those strangely-wistful eyes.
Amabel sniffed.
“You wished to say something?” she asked again.
“I...” His fingers tapped his lips thoughtfully, and he looked like he marshaled thoughts, but then he sighed. “It was nothing, my lady. Truly. It was unfair of me to disturb your peace.” He stood. “I will leave you now.”
Amabel looked up, heart aching. “My lord?” She could feel tears dangerously close and bit her lip – she would not cry.
“Yes?”
She stood to face him. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to lift her face to his and feel his mouth, hot and hard on hers. But she could not risk her dignity. She stood back. Instead, she laid a careful hand on his shoulder.
“Stay safe, my lord? Raids are dangerous.”
He looked into her eyes a little wildly. Then, gently, he reached out and stroked her chin. Stroked the pale red hair beside her face. He smiled.
“Thank you, my lady. I shall.”
He bowed and tenderly lifted her knuckles to his lips. She sighed to feel his breath, warm and wet, on her skin. Her whole body shivered with desire. She closed her eyes.
“I shall see you at dinner?” Her voice was brittle. She did not want to cry. Not here before him.
“I think so, my lady.” Broderick smiled. His dark eyes seemed to glow, regret and care mixed. She found it so hard to understand him! She was sure she never could.
“Until dinnertime, then,” Amabel said with a little curtsey. She waited until she heard his footsteps retreating up the gravel path.
Then she sat on the bench in the pale sunlight and wept.
This was beyond her worst imaginings. She had always feared she would be wed to a man she found repugnant, but whom she would be forced to be a wife for, with all that entailed. She shuddered. That would be a dreadful fate. But this was just as bad. Loving a man, wanting a man, desiring him. And knowing that he could not feel the same way.
She drew her handkerchief from its place under her kirtle. Blew her nose noisily into it. I cannot tell him how I feel. All I can do is be a friend. And his friendship will be enough for me... it will have to be.