An Uncertain Choice

The strength in his face and the steadiness of his stance should have calmed me. But dread crept into my heart. After learning that the sheriff was resistant to my rule, I wasn’t sure I was ready to face him again. And yet, how would he learn to take my rule seriously if I cowered away?

“Why is the sheriff here this time?” I asked while trying to tug away from my nursemaid.

Trudy swatted my backside, urging me to continue toward the arched doorway. “He’s accusing you of sending one of the knights to break into his estate last night.”

I glanced again at Sir Derrick. One of the knights had undeniably done the deed. Had it been Sir Derrick? His gray eyes glinted, but his face was like iron, giving nothing away. If it had been him, I couldn’t tell.

“Let me go to the sheriff.” Once again, I tried to break free, but Trudy’s grip was strong. “I’ll set the matter aright.”

“No, my lady.” Trudy huffed, and her ample chest rose up and down in her distress. “We need to wait for the abbot. He knows how to calm the sheriff.”

I needed to learn how to put the wayward lawman in his place once and for all. But part of me hesitated. The sheriff had already sent me an unspoken message with his disregard for my laws banning the old torture methods. He’d made a mockery of my compassionate approaches. What if I faced him and he only mocked me further? What would I do then? I would only make myself look weaker and frailer.

Perhaps for now my best move was to let the knights confront the sheriff on my behalf.

I sighed and let Trudy lead me into the castle, into safety. As much as I wanted to be seen as a strong leader, there were times when I didn’t want to face my growing responsibilities.





Chapter

7




SWEAT TRICKLED DOWN MY BACK BETWEEN MY SHOULDER blades. Even though the doors and windows of the Great Hall were wide open, my body was tense and hot.

The altercation in the courtyard with the sheriff’s men had been swift. Although the sheriff had come with the intent of forcing the duke to leave the castle, no blood had been shed. The mere sight of our weapons had persuaded the sheriff to solve any differences through peaceful methods rather than might.

I turned my attention to the front of the Great Hall, where Lady Rosemarie sat in her golden chair on the raised platform. With the long room open before her, she remained still and regal: her chin held high, her shoulders straight, and her gaze never swerving from the sheriff at the doorway.

Even so, I could see a flicker of anxiety in her eyes and wished I could reassure her that we would keep her safe no matter what happened.

The duke stood guard next to her. He laid a hand upon her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

The abbot entered behind the sheriff and moved with slow, measured steps down the center aisle toward Lady Rosemarie. He tucked his hands in the long sleeves of his flowing brown habit. His expression was serene, as if he were getting ready to lead Matins. Apparently he was unruffled by the altercation with the sheriff, and with Lady Rosemarie’s decision to give the duke’s contest a try.

The duke had reminded her only moments before that neither he nor the abbot controlled her destiny. Whatever the future held was in God’s hands, and it was his will she must seek above all else.

Nevertheless, something hot slid around me, blanketing me and making me sweat.

What if she changed her mind about the contest? What if she decided she didn’t want to go forward with the month of courtship?

The thought was more unwelcome than I cared to admit.

A part of me pondered the irony of my thoughts. My friends and I had been reluctant when the duke had first broached his plan to us. He’d explained Lady Rosemarie’s situation and her severe time constraint of having only one month to fall in love or become a nun. He’d wanted us to compete for her affection, to do everything within our power to win her love. Not only for her sake, but also for ours. He’d been firm with us, telling us we were long overdue to settle down and get married.

And yet we were the closest of companions, and on the trip to Ashby had discussed how uncomfortable we felt competing with each other for the affection of a woman. In fact, when the duke had informed us of the contest to court Lady Rosemarie, I’d already had trepidation about the entire idea. A contest was a frivolous way to find a wife. If I must settle down, I’d much prefer the more traditional way — ?having the duke make an arrangement for me.

Despite our reservations, our leader had brought us to his goddaughter. And when Lady Rosemarie had stepped outside that first day, with her golden curls streaming past her waist and the loveliness of her smile, it had been easy to set aside our reservations. After a few slaps on the back, we’d resolved to keep the contest friendly and civil.