The Lost Lady Read online

  And that was how Lord Iain found the women prettifying his men upon his return.

  Luveday focused on cutting the hair of Sir John Templeton of Alric. The man was in his early forties and chatted at her as she once again asked him to keep still. “Yes, me lady,” was an automatic reply, little more than a breath in the middle of his tale. Truth be told, Luveday had no idea what the man was talking about. She was trying to cut his facial hair and was sure she would take out an eye if he didn’t stop moving. Luckily, she had just taken a snip when Iain’s voice boomed far too close to her.

  “What in God’s name is going on here?” The Lord shouted above the happy chatter.

  Panicked eyes turned to Luveday as she was the one giving orders. Closing her eyes briefly to gain some composure, she took a deep breath and turned to meet De Lane. “Good day Lord Iain. I see you are safely returned from your visit abroad.” Someone chuckled behind her and Luveday thought she might be in trouble as the man’s expression suddenly turned from stormy to calm. It was not a good sign.

  “Good day, Lady Luveday. Would you mind telling me,” he stepped closer, and Luveday had trouble standing her ground, but she refused to budge, “why my men are in the hall, pampered like courtesans readying to see the King?” His tone was sickly sweet with a biting edge under it.

  “Certainly, My Lord.” She turned slightly to look at the scene behind her. There were several stations where the men were being seen to after exiting the bath. Currently in use, male laughter and some feminine giggles rolled out with the steam. Emmalyn and Cassandra were before the hearth; they saw to injuries both great and small. Occasionally, they called Luveday over to test her on some ailment or another. Henna sat mending garments as Paige helped the men shave and Elli cut hair. Both girls had proven to be remarkably talented in their respective departments. Men lounged scattered across the hall, some chatting in groups and others talking to the women as they waited for their turn. The last group of men had just entered the bath and would be exiting shortly. Luveday took the time to gather her thoughts before turning back to her impatient Lord. She realized that she could not say that the men had asked for such treatment, there would be no end of teasing. So, she shifted the truth a little. “Your men were looking slovenly, and we women had had enough.” Men grumbled to each other, but many caught on to her and were grateful.

  “You had enough, had you?” He asked between clenched teeth.

  “Yes. They looked little better than beggars. I would wager they’d not seen a proper bath in months.” She made it clear that she thought it was his responsibility. “I’m not sure if any of them even remembers what their clean faces look like.”

  Sir John commented, “I do remember I had a nice chin. The ladies liked it at least.” Men laughed and joked about it. Some were ribbed about their baby faces. John joined in. “I bet Sir Gregori won’t lose his beard lest they mistake him for a squire.”

  The man in question stepped forward having gone to the Abbey that morning; he had missed the day’s activities. “I can straighten out anyone who makes that mistake, John.”

  John laughed. “Aye and right quick too!”

  Iain stepped closer without Luveday noticing and spoke quietly to her as his men continued to chatter around them. “Now, Lady, what is going on?”

  Luveday looked him in the eye and sighed. “I apologize if we have used the bath without your permission. It is my fault.” His expression didn’t lighten at her apology. “Since your return, your men have not been seen to, and if a bath was what it took to get our hands on them then so be it.” His eyes narrowed, and Luveday thought she could have phrased that a little better. “Their health is my major concern. You have been on the road for a long time, and many of the men have ailments and injuries that should have been seen to before now.” She watched his eyes flicker out to the laughing faces and back to her. “You had no healer with you, and this has let us see the state they are in. I am surprised there wasn’t more trouble.” Another hard look made her sigh again. “Besides, do they not look handsome all cleaned up.” She asked changing direction.

  “Like shiny coins, My Lady.” He said resigned. He had come home expecting a welcome but had gotten something else yet again. The woman never ceased to surprise him. He was not upset at the use of the bath, what good was it if it went unused. What upset him was the men encircling the women like a pack of wolves. He knew the men were on their best behavior with the ladies but some of them were getting too familiar with Lady Luveday, and that irritated him. His men had ribbed him about his rudeness to the woman, trying to get to his problem with her. She wasn’t his type, so they did not worry for her virtue, but they liked the lady and were annoyed with him that he couldn’t admit he liked her too. She was a good lady, and they were quick to remind him when his temper flared unexpectedly.

  He left her abruptly, heading straight for the solar. He was tired and dirty from the ride, which soured his mood more than usual.

  Luveday watched him ascend the stairs and heard rather than saw him slam the solar door shut. A few moments later, Coll came running down the stairs and smiled at her as he headed for the kitchen, most likely to get Iain something to drink. The chatter was silenced for a moment, but with the slamming of the door, everyone went back to what they were doing. Gregori and the two knights that had accompanied Iain looked at the bath with longing. Luveday smiled then nodded, and the men ran off to get their things. Sir John resumed his story, which Luveday now had the feeling was definitely inappropriate for a proper lady, but the man’s happy conversation was sort of soothing to her. She finished trimming his beard without a single eye lost.

  Supper was a happy affair for everyone except the Lord of the keep. He looked over his men and noticed, not for the first time, how well they looked. He had not seen Sir John smile for over a month. Cornell Reeves, a rather shy knight, was flirting with one of the serving women who reminded him of a door mouse. Everyone at the high table was having a grand time except for himself. Iain admitted he was being stubborn. Coll had returned to the solar with drinks and a tray of fruit and cheese, but what he really wanted was to talk to Luveday. He wanted to ask about his men. Was Perivale’s tooth well or did it need to be removed? Had Gregori’s arm healed well from his last skirmish? Did Cornell need something for his foot? He knew his men had suffered through their time on the road. Healers were, more often than not, just looking for quick coin, so the men had learned to take care of themselves as best they could. Being warriors, they muddled through, and if they survived their wounds then it was God’s will, and if they didn’t, that was His will too.

  Laughter caught him off guard for the second time that night. He leaned forward to look around his aunt, and Sir Gregori, who had become a fixture at the head table, to see Lady Luveday trying to stifle her laughter. She was blushing a pretty pink and tried to hide her smile behind her hand. He realized he had not heard her laugh before tonight and found it was a nice sound. He also couldn’t remember seeing her smile openly. Sure, she smiled at the men, and politely at him, but never showing teeth. He wondered about that as he watched her. She shook her head at something one of his men had said and quickly took a sip of wine. She smiled at him even as their eyes met down the table. Humor sparkled in her gaze, and he sat back and turned to Elysant who sat on his other side.

  “You don’t have to look so fierce, My Lord.” He gazed at her in confusion and realized he was scowling. Schooling his features, he tried to look indifferent at the very least. “She is lovely once you get to know her, and she has worked hard to make this keep a proper home for all of us.” He was about to comment that he was sure she worked hard, but that his Lady would be returning shortly, and they should not count on Luveday so, but thought better of it. Elli finished her meal and looked him straight in the eye, something she must have picked up from her friend. “Please give her the benefit of the doubt before you judge her.” And with that, the little pixie was gone.

  Before he knew it, the wh
ole table was clear, and he sat there watching his men, but not really seeing them. How could he say that his irritation wasn’t with her; it was with the situation. He had judged her upon her arrival. A woman alone in the world with some sad tale was nothing new, and at first, he had wondered what the woman wanted by coming here. That Gregori had rescued her from the wood was odd, but not so odd knowing his friend’s character. Every day he watched her and looked for some hidden motive, expected her to make overtures to his person at the quickest opportunity. As the days passed he saw what the others saw; a kind-hearted, hardworking Lady. She surprised him and puzzled him, she made him angry, and she made him envious of how quickly she had taken the hearts of his people.

  What could he say? He didn’t mean to fight with her, but every time he looked at her he saw what his bride was lacking. It should not be some lost lady that won the hearts of his people; it should be his future wife. Lady Christabel should have seen to the castle, making it a home for them and their children. Christabel should have seen to the village and started the preparations for their wedding. It should be that lady who saw to the well-being of his men, who greeted him in the morning and was the last face he saw at night. Even though they could not yet share a bed, he and his betrothed should be using this time to get to know each other, to show their people that they were a good match. Instead, his woman was cloistered in the abbey, and it was Lady Luveday who cared for his people.

  He emptied his goblet in a single long draft and finally headed for bed. He removed his shirt to wash in the basin of warm water and looked at his surroundings, Luveday’s presence was everywhere he looked. She had filled his room with rugs and pillows, warm furs and rich textures. The room had been sparse and clean when he arrived. His things had added a bit of interest, but with each day the lady added something to brighten the space. From a pitcher of flowers to a small silver mirror that now hung on the wall. The space felt lived in, more importantly, it felt like home.

  He could find no fault with her. Luveday did not act like the lady of the castle. She did not flaunt her power over his home, but sat and talked with his people, eagerly sought them out to help or get answers to her many questions. It was her manner that had endeared her to them, and Iain had a hard time not being angry about it. Looking at his reflection in the polished metal of the mirror, he was faced with the reality of his situation. His rough face looked tired, even covered by the mop of his beard. The truth was he had made a monumental mistake. He had let gold dictate his actions. Lady Christabel was a beautiful and charming star at court. She was exciting, young and vibrant, but she was not the lady for Lander’s Keep. For a single moment, he wondered what it would be like if he had found a lady like Luveday, what his land and people could become under her care, but only for a moment because it could never be. Iain had signed the contract, had signed away his life for the gold Christabel’s father, Lord Henric Sumerland of Stonegate, would provide as a bride-price. And it was no revelation that he still needed the coin, not for him but his people. He dreamed of what his home had once been and returning it to its former glory. Today, the stores for the castle were nearly empty, the orchards and fields had produced poorly the last few years, and his livestock were few in number. One hard winter and his people would suffer. Sickness among the cattle would devastate his lands. He needed the coin to ensure their future, and that meant that he needed Christabel. So, he set all else aside and focused on how to win the unwilling young woman.

  The knock on his door was not unexpected. The lady he refused to think about any longer that night stuck her head in and softly called his name. He stood shirtless before the fire, his left arm resting on the mantel and his head resting atop it. He turned his head only enough to glance at her from the corner of his eye and caught the widening of her eyes.

  “Yes, Lady Luveday?” He prompted, no longer looking at her, but into the heart of the fire. Iain thought he heard her shake herself before she answered and almost smiled.

  “My Lord, is there anything else you have need of tonight?” She quietly asked as she stepped fully into the room, but no farther.

  “No, nothing, Lady… unless… unless you have some way to make my barren orchards yield fruit this spring?” He mocked himself, as he shared a glimpse of his troubles with her.

  She paused a moment to ponder him before saying good night. “I am afraid I don’t, My Lord. If that is all, I will wish you a good night’s rest.”

  “And to you, Lady.” He replied. He had no way of knowing that she would ponder his words long after they both found their beds that night.

  One of the men dropped a shield causing a peel like a bell to ring through the hall. Luveday nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected noise. Barth, the blacksmith, glared at the clumsy man, Mace, a man-at-arms only smiled back at him and apologized to the lady. It was in the middle of their project that Lord Iain arrived. As usual, he made a bee-line for her to ask what was going on. Luveday was tempted to answer sarcastically because it was rather obvious what was going on, but she didn’t. Her temper was short thanks to her helpers. The men had been eager at first, but they proved more of a hindrance than a help. “We are decorating the hall, Lord Iain.” She looked across the room to see the large polished dish he had brought back from his travels as it gleamed in its place above the hearth. Light reflected in its surface illuminating the hall with a cheery glow. She was overjoyed at the improvement it made. She had hung the wooden tray on a protrusion of the massive stairs and sat a small table under it. Now they were working on the shields. “Master Barth,” she began as the men greeted each other with a nod of the head. It was a common greeting between men that set her teeth on edge. Could they never just say hello? “Master Barth,” she began again, “has devised a rope system to hang the shields in the hall.” The men eyed the ropes handing down the walls.

  The Blacksmith explained his creation. “Lady Luveday came to me with the idea of using the shields as decoration for the hall.” He pointed to the multitude of ceremonial shields spread across the nearest of the two long tables. They covered the benches on this side and a good bit of the floor. “She wished to display them on this wall without having to hammer in a spike for each piece; she worried that it would damage the structure.”

  “And rightly so,” the Lord commented though, in truth, he wasn’t sure what that might do.

  “So, she asked if I might know of a way to display the shields, using chain or rope.” Barth looked up again and pointed. “I’ve place spikes with rope loops at the top of the wall. The rope is run through the loops and down the wall where its knotted and tied to another spike at the bottom.” Barth touched the ropes, which were taught and didn’t budge. “More rope is tied around the rafters in the ceiling to help carry some of the weight of the shields, so in case of some mishap the ropes won’t snap and bring the shields crashing to the floor.”

  “And what are the wooden blocks on the ropes for?” Iain asked. Tied and evenly spaced over each length of rope as it ran down the wall was a series of wooden blocks, completely level with the next block on the next rope over in six lines of six. Each block was about ten inches long, five inches wide and five inches deep with a groove chipped out of the length of the top. The groove was slim but deep as if something were to fit into it.

  Luveday took over the explanation as she picked up a shield. They were thin since they were not meant for battle, but still quite heavy. “The blocks will hold the shields. Six shields per rope, six ropes in all.”

  Barth took the shield from her with little effort. “Look here, My Lord.” He turned the shield around and showed them the arm loops where the knight would hold the shield. A bar had been added to span from one loop to the other. “This,” he grabbed the sturdy bar he had added to each shield, “this will slip into the notch on the top of the block, and its weight will hold the shield in place.” He demonstrated with the shield he held. “There is also a peg we can put in place if the Lady is worried about the shields coming of
f the wall.” Barth looked at Luveday, and the lady smiled brightly at him. It had been a brilliant collaboration between the two. Luveday mentally congratulated Barth and herself.

  Turning to Iain, Luveday looked at him expectantly; they had put a lot of time and effort into this project. “I am sure you will be pleased with the outcome, My Lord.” Several shields had been hung as they talked, and one could get the idea of what it would look like when finished. Luveday was already happy with the outcome, now if only Iain would be too.

  Iain looked at her for a moment too long, and Luveday thought he was going to tell them to take it all down, but “carry on,” was all he said before striding out the doors.

  Barth and Luveday did just that. They tested the ropes once again after putting on the first row of shields. Luveday had Elli, and Lady Emmalyn help her choose which shields to display and in what order. All in all, thirty-six shields decorated the one wall. There were only a few left so Luveday had them hung around the castle; some in the back hall the knights had taken over as a sleeping area and used as storage.