Thankfully, Sir Bennet was quiet about the matter for the remainder of my portrait. Mostly he ignored the boy’s presence and focused the whole of his attention on me and on the likeness that was growing on the easel. Nevertheless, I was determined to double the painter’s payment. It even crossed my mind that maybe I should just give him my chair.
But with the growing delight I witnessed on Sir Bennet’s face as the portrait neared completion, I soon lost thought of the chair and couldn’t keep from wondering: What would it be like to be married to a man who adored me heart, body, and soul? Was that man Sir Bennet? He certainly seemed like it.
If I had to pick between him and Sir Collin, how would I ever be able to make the choice? They both seemed like the kind of men who would cherish me — ?unlike Sir Derrick, who hadn’t spoken with me since the night I’d chanced upon him playing chess with the duke.
I frowned at the mar to my otherwise perfect week. Although I’d caught Sir Derrick watching me a time or two, I’d sensed his silent challenge — ?a challenge to stand up for myself and be a stronger leader. At times, I even wondered if he really wanted to be there at all, that perhaps he was simply waiting things out until it was time to leave.
I wasn’t sure why the thought bothered me, except to blame it on my vanity. I couldn’t expect that every man would find me attractive and wish to woo me.
Chapter
9
Sir Collin’s hearty voice rose in the air above the braying of hounds, making me smile. His song was silly and light and cheerful. As the bright noon sunshine glittered through the arches of branches and leaves overhead, I hummed along with him. Our hunting party rode through the lush forest, the coolness of the shade a welcome relief from the heat of the summer day. Our pace had long since slowed, the dogs having lost the scent of the game several times during the chase.
I couldn’t remember a time when I’d felt quite as carefree and happy. Perhaps since the Plague had taken my parents, since that last hunting party when my life had changed forever. The beauty of the forest was something I’d missed — ?the dense green, the lush moss, the rushing of the river. But more than that, I’d missed the companionship, laughter, and conversations that were all but a distant memory, as if of another life altogether . . . and I realized how much more I would miss if I chose to enter the convent.
Could I willingly relegate myself to a life of quiet and solitude? I’d always thought I could. It would be a noble service and sacrifice to God. But could I do it? And did I even want to anymore?
I was disconcerted by how quickly over the past week I’d adjusted the thoughts of my future. Where once I’d resigned myself to the idea of life as a nun, now I wasn’t sure I’d be able to endure it. And that was more than a little frightening, for what if I failed to fall in love and had to go to the convent after all?
Sir Collin finished the last words of his song and then grinned from his steed next to me. “Do you think I missed my calling, my lady? Should I have become a minstrel instead of a knight?”
I laughed, once again noticing how little I’d done so in recent years. I suppose I’d had little to be merry about. “Your songs have brought me great cheer this day.”
“Are you sure Sir Collin’s songs haven’t soured your appetite, my lady?” Sir Bennet jested from my opposite side, where he’d been riding for most of the hunt. “I usually lose mine when I have to listen to so many.”
“Then perhaps I should switch to my stories,” Sir Collin countered. “Since I know how well you enjoy those.”
“Please. Spare us all. Your stories are the worst kind of torture imaginable, worse than a skinning alive.”
At Sir Bennet’s words, my stomach did indeed sour. I’d suffered too many nightmares of late, especially of gruesome torture.
Upon seeing my subdued expression, Sir Bennet’s laughter died away and was replaced with concern. “I’m sorry, Lady Rosemarie. I pray you will forgive me for speaking so glibly about torture methods.”
I shivered and nodded. “You meant no ill will, sir.”
Both of the knights grew silent and exchanged looks over my head. Did all of them know about my aversion to torture and the incident with the criminals in the town square?
I still hadn’t discovered which of them had been the one to dash to the rescue. If only they or their horses wore their family emblem. The coat of arms with the fire-breathing dragon would certainly identify the rescuer and put an end to my curiosity. As the days passed, I longed to acknowledge how much I’d admired the knight’s courage, and properly thank him for his daring deeds.
I could simply ask which of them had done it. Today was the perfect day to pose the question, while we were all together.
If only we were all together.
An Uncertain Choice
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