Taming The Beast. Heather Grothaus

gone brainless. “But Leo—?”

      “Send him to me before you depart. Surely we can stand each other’s company for one evening.”

      Hugh grew still, even in the whirlwind of anticipation. “He’ll like that very much, Rick.”

      Roderick waved him away and did not meet his eyes.

      “I’ll send him up in a thrice.” A pause. “You’re certain you can—”

      “I’m not completely helpless, Hugh.”

      “Of course you’re not,” Hugh said quietly, and Roderick felt a pinch of humiliation at the placating tone. “I’ve never, never thought that of you—how could I?” Hugh sighed when he received no answer. “I’ll see you on the morrow, Rick—with gossip aplenty, I hope.”

      Michaela pulled Elizabeth along the corridor behind the kitchens, both girls with their hands over their mouths to stifle the giggles—well, Michaela’s giggles. No merry sound came from behind Elizabeth’s hand, although her mouth was pulled deep into her cheeks in a grin and her eyes sparkled. They stopped behind a set of tall wooden shelves, just before the doorway to the noisy, smoky, fragrant kitchen.

      Michaela turned her head to Elizabeth with a finger to her mouth, then she pulled on one ear and pointed toward the doorway.

      Listen!

      “—take six of us to move this cake. Merciful savior, I’ve never seen such a prideful thing. To think of all the foodstuffs wasted on such a frivolous—”

      “Oh, pooh! ’Tis been a fair piece of time since the lord’s been s’happy. Good for him, I say. Huzzah to the lord and his new bride.”

      At Michaela’s side, Elizabeth gripped her arm. Michaela turned to see the little girl’s mouth hung open in a shocked O. Elizabeth snaked an arm about Michaela’s waist as the two continued to listen.

      “Huzzah, indeed. ’Tis scandalous, is what it is. I fail to see how he could just up and marry her, on this very night, with no time of betrothal! Her!”

      “They’ve known each other long enough—why delay it, when all will be gathered tonight to witness it? And Lady Elizabeth is in sore want of a mother.”

      A disgusted snort. “Not of that sort, I daresay. A nasty bit of work, that one.”

      Elizabeth made as if to pull away from Michaela and charge through the doorway, but Michaela pulled her back.

      “It is of no consequence what they say, Elizabeth,” Michaela whispered with a smile. “What do we care for what they think, eh? The only thing that matters is that my suspicions were correct—and now we can be together, like a real family, forever.”

      The angry frown melted away from Elizabeth’s face, to be replaced by a wondrous smile. She pulled away gently this time and did a slow spin with her skirts held out, her eyes closing briefly as if in rapture.

      “You look beautiful,” Michaela whispered. “Like a princess.” And it was true. Michaela was doubly glad she’d created the new ensemble she herself now wore. Since Lady Juliette had stained her one good gown, and the lovely boon she’d won from the woman was delivered in pieces, Michaela had used a bit of imagination and combined the two. Now, her rose-colored satin skirt was quilted over with long, wide strips of the dark green velvet, strategically and evenly covering the stains. The colors alternated like a maypole and Michaela had to admit that the effect was striking. With the pieces of the green bodice, she’d fashioned a beautiful short, lace-up vest to go over her own gown, allowing her long, wide rose sleeves to show.

      For the first time in her life, Michaela was thankful that her family had been too poor to employ a full-time seamstress.

      Michaela hoped Lady Juliette had been invited to the feast so that she could see the rather ingenious use of the gown she’d sought to cheat Michaela out of.

      It would be Michaela’s wedding gown.

      Elizabeth stopped her twirling and stepped close to Michaela. She placed one small palm first over her own heart, and then reached out to touch Michaela’s chest.

      Michaela felt emotion well into her eyes. “I love you, too, Elizabeth,” she whispered in a cracking voice. Then the faint sounds of strings being plucked into tune reached her ears and she hastily wiped at her eyes while donning a bright smile. “Let’s carry on to the hall—the musicians have arrived and I don’t wish to miss one moment of this feast.”

      Michaela just knew it was going to be the greatest night in the whole of her life.

      The meal dragged on what seemed like forever, but Michaela didn’t mind in the least. She was enjoying sitting at the lord’s table, Elizabeth between her and Alan, the flood of the guests poured into Tornfield’s hall admiring the three of them.

      And her heart did an evil, prideful little dance to see Lady Juliette of Osprey indeed sitting at one of the front tables. Michaela made sure to acknowledge the wretch with a slight nod and sweet smile. To her surprise, Lady Juliette returned the gesture and even added an admiring glance at Michaela’s vest.

      Of course she will be only pleasant to me now, Michaela reasoned. I will be her better, and the lady of the keep. Soon she will be a guest in my home.

      And it was then that Michaela decided to forgive Lady Juliette for all her past slights, and she felt a burden she’d not known she was carrying slide from her back.

      Agatha Fortune was right—forgiveness was a happy balm to the soul.

      As if to affirm the adage, Michaela’s gaze swept to where her parents were seated—at a table of honor, with Lady Juliette, no less. Michaela’d had no time to speak with her mother or father, but she made sure to wave several times and blow her father a discreet kiss from one finger.

      They, as usual, looked very happy. As if they’d not a single care in the world.

      The clang of dishes being cleared competed with the music, and was soon cushioned by the oohing of the guests. From the left side of the hall, two strapping young serving boys carried out an impossibly large tray, covered edge to edge in what had to be the biggest cake ever served outside of London. Elizabeth shot to her feet to look down upon the masterpiece as it was set slowly and carefully on a heretofore empty table before the lord’s dais. Michaela—striving for an air of maturity—did not stand, although she did lean forward eagerly.

      The shallow, wide cake was shaped like a battle shield, covered in swirls of pattern made from crushed nuts, mimicking perfectly the Cherbon crest, and decorated with the tiniest sprigs of late ferns and autumn leaves. Bouquets of dyed feathers and ribbon adorned the corners like fantastic fountains. It looked too beautiful to be a confection meant to be eaten.

      When the cake was at last safely deposited on the table, the servant boys stepped away, Alan stood, and the guests broke into applause. Alan let them go on for a few moments, smiling and nodding his head as he looked about the blanket of expectant and curious faces. Then he raised both hands, begging silence.

      “Good evening, friends. Thank you all for making the journey to Tornfield this night. It is with a light and joyful heart that I and my family”—he swept an arm to his right, indicating Elizabeth and Michaela, and Michaela’s heart skipped—“welcome you to our home, to share in a very happy event.”

      Beneath the table, Elizabeth’s hand snaked on to Michaela’s thigh and seized her hand tightly. Michaela squeezed back.

      “Of course I speak for us all in expressing regret that our liege, Lord Roderick Cherbon, was unable to attend tonight due to personal business that demanded his attention. I would have liked very much for him to be with us.”

      Surely he must be a saint, Michaela thought, to speak such kind words about the Cherbon Devil. My husband is a good, good man.

      “But I will extend a hearty welcome to his first man, Sir Hugh Gilbert, also just returned from the Holy Land.” Alan