My Lady's Choice. Lyn Stone

They were taught it was the only way to be.

      Evaline had also offered promising smiles when they first met. Pity the poor man who believed they would deliver on the promise of any shared passion. He’d not make that mistake again.

      At the moment, Sara was speaking with one of the kitchen maids who suddenly made a comical face at her and groaned. Sara laughed aloud and hastened the maid away with a pat on the back.

      She was always touching. A friendly pat here, a handshake there. Not a standoffish woman, Sara. Not with underlings, and most assuredly not with him.

      God knows she made him want to touch back. Even now he could feel that lively body of hers against his palm as he had lent his consequence to her orders earlier.

      Could he ignore his pride and anger and give this wife of his the heir she wished for? He should, for it was only fair. But could he bear it when she lay motionless beneath him, merely enduring his attentions in order to get the child she wanted?

      No, not under any circumstance would he suffer that again from any woman, no matter how much he desired her.

      “Why do you shake your head so?” Sara asked him. “One would think I had just proposed that you milk the goats in Ethel’s stead!” She gave his arm a fond squeeze.

      Touching again, Richard thought with a scowl.

      “Come and sit with me. We’ll have bread and cheese to break our fast while we make plans for the day.”

      He itched to fling her hand off his arm and curse her for her merry nature. He yearned to kiss that sunny smile off her face and force her to feel how she tempted him. He ought to haul her back to the bedchamber, and make her feel as undone and as trammeled as he was.

      That would never happen, Richard knew from experience. Oh, she would allow his advances right enough. Then when it was too late for him to stop, she would stiffen with disgust, bear his attentions like a stoic and then calmly ask a huge favor in return for her trouble.

      The game of marriage was conducted that way, but Richard refused to participate this time. Right and proper it might be to everyone else’s thinking, but he misliked it intensely.

      Instead, he bared his teeth in what he hoped passed for a smile and followed Sara’s lead. For the day, at least, he had given his word to play sweet.

      All of those who were coming for the monthly court day had arrived by midmorning and Sara formally introduced Richard as their new liege.

      His way with her people amazed her. Though he appeared pleasant, even benevolent, not one of them would ever believe her new husband a weak lord. He offered strength of sword and strength of purpose.

      Whatever his feelings toward her, Sara knew she had chosen wisely. He would protect Fernstowe and see that all went well in the areas where she could not.

      “What a fine day,” she commented happily as they sat together at one of the tables set up in the bailey. Some of the people milled about and some sat to visit as they ate. All seemed content with the way things were. “The swearing went well.”

      “None appeared reluctant,” he agreed. Richard tore off a piece of the special bread she’d had prepared for this day and offered it to her as was fitting.

      She took it and inclined her head in thanks. “They will thrive on your leadership, I expect.”

      “And have not done poorly under yours, so I see.”

      “Why, thank you, sir.” Though she knew he forced the smile, Sara lauded his effort. All day he had kept his word. Not once had he glared in anger or given any sign that he resented his position here, either as her husband or as Lord of Fernstowe. By standing always near her, discreetly stroking her back or taking her arm, he had exhibited his claim upon her and thereby upon Fernstowe.

      Now he had just paid her a very high compliment, indeed. Since no one else was near enough to overhear his words, Sara regarded them as genuine and not for show. How heartening.

      She watched the movement of his large, capable hands as he cut a bite-size portion of meat and held it out to her on his eating knife.

      His gaze fastened on her mouth. Sara reached out and touched his wrist lightly as though to steady his aim and felt his pulse quicken beneath her fingertips. Desire flamed in the green depths of his eyes as it often did when they came close.

      If only she could persuade him to act upon that impulse, Sara thought she might make those smiles of his become real. Though she knew her limitations as a temptress, she also understood his needs. She could meet them if he would only let her.

      No woman at Fernstowe, including the promiscuous Darcy, would dare usurp her place in Richard’s bed. Not unless Sara herself suggested it to them.

      Her offer of Darcy had been made only to see whether the man would ever seek another. His reaction to it reassured her. Richard did not hold with infidelity.

      Sara hoped that he would relent in his attitude toward her if they became intimate. Surely two people could not share such closeness and remain strangers for long.

      Aside from that aim, anticipation flowed through her veins like warm, sweet wine each time he was near. Sooth, even when he was not, she thought about it.

      When she had received the bite of meat, Richard abruptly turned away. But Sara did not worry overmuch. His reluctance would fade one of these days. He still felt trapped. She would grant him time enough to come to terms with all that had happened. No need to hurry.

      She quickly sought a topic of conversation that would lighten his mood. “Your messenger will have reached Gloucestershire some while ago. Should the children not arrive soon?”

      He nodded and concentrated on his food. “In a few days, if all goes as planned. Both ride well and will not need to come by cart. My father will send them under escort. I’ve requested two of his knights and I expect they will stay on here. You could use more men accustomed to arms until the border problem is resolved.”

      “Do tell me about them.” She leaned toward him, eager to hear.

      “The knights?”

      Sara laughed. “Nay, your children! I do not even know their names.”

      He looked suspicious. “Why do you pretend interest?”

      “No pretense, Richard,” she assured him. “I am interested.”

      “Why?” he asked, idly stabbing at his trencher with the knife.

      “Because I look forward to being a mother.”

      For a long moment, he was silent. Then he acceded, though his words were gruff. “Christopher is seven and big for his age. Has the look of me, they do say. It is past time he began training as page, but my mother has put it off.”

      “Then we shall begin his instruction as soon as he has settled in. Now, what of your daughter?” Sara asked.

      Richard’s hand stilled. Then he carefully laid down his knife and turned to face her. “She has suffered enough, my Nan, so do not think I’ll let you make a servant of her.”

      Taken aback by his sudden vehemence, Sara shook her head. “Oh, Richard, I had no such notion.”

      “See that you do not. Nan shall be taught a lady’s skills so that she might marry well one day. Her birth is not to be discussed in her presence. Not by anyone. Is that understood?”

      “I agree,” Sara said. “Does she know that she is your natural child?”

      He snorted with disgust and looked away. “People have beaten her about the head with that fact since the day of her birth. Always behind my back, be assured. But if it happens here, I shall know it and there will be consequences.”

      Sara smiled with relief and delight. “You love her.”

      He sighed heavily and rested his elbows on the table. “She has no one else.”