An Uncertain Choice

James reached into his tunic and retrieved a ring. He held it out so that I could clearly see the cross at the center. The Noblest Knight’s emblem. “He sent this to assure you of his goodwill and said he’ll retrieve it when he arrives.”


I took the heavy silver ring and traced the raised beams of the cross, reveling in the thought of having the company. The Duke of Rivenshire had been one of my father’s closest friends and my godfather. When they were younger, they’d served together in war campaigns and had saved each other’s lives on more than one occasion. Although I hadn’t seen the duke since my parents’ funeral, I had no doubt I’d relish every moment of his visit.

The abbot peered at the ring. “How can we be sure it’s his and not stolen by some crook hoping to storm Ashby?”

“’Tis his,” I said. “There’s no crook who could take this from the duke, not without severing his finger for it.”

“Then would you like me to tell the servants to make ready for their arrival?” James asked looking between the abbot and myself as though he was unsure who was giving the orders.

“I think it best if we use caution, my child,” the abbot advised. “Perhaps we can send out a regiment of our own men to survey the truth of the situation.”

I held back a sigh. The abbot knew I didn’t like to be overprotected and treated like a child. Most of the time, he held himself in check and tried not to smother me. But there were still times — ?like now — ?when he worried too much. It was for my good. I tried to remind myself of that every time he sheltered me. He’d had to bear a great deal of responsibility since my parents had died. He only wanted to ensure that I remained safe, and I was grateful for that.

Nevertheless, I was no longer a young, naive girl of fourteen who needed his advice and protection at every turn. I’d learned a great deal about running my lands in the last four years. And now that I was only weeks away from taking full leadership, I balked even more under the abbot’s hovering.

“My dear Father Abbot,” I said, giving him what I hoped was a grateful smile. “If I send out my own soldiers, the duke may think he’s unwelcome here, and that’s the furthest thing from the truth. I look forward to seeing him, and since we have only a few hours to make ready I suggest we put forth all our effort into preparing for his arrival.”

The worried grooves in the abbot’s forehead didn’t smooth away. But after another moment’s hesitation, he finally nodded.




In my chamber, I twisted a long strand of my blond hair around my finger. “How do I look?” I asked Trudy for the hundredth time.

Trudy swatted my hand away from the delicate but twirling curls that fell below my waist. “I say you’ll look like a drowned cat in no time if you keep tugging at your hair.”

I clasped my hands together at the front of my loveliest gown — ?a silk of purest pink, the color of the roses that grew on the trellises covering the stone walls below my chamber and in the gardens surrounding the keep. One of the maids had woven a crown of freshly cut rosebuds. It now graced my head, and matched my gown to perfection.

A trumpet in the courtyard outside my open window interrupted my moment of vanity. The excitement that had been building inside my chest resonated with the blast.

“The Noblest Knight has arrived, my lady,” my oldest and most trusted guard, Bartholomew, called from the hallway.

Trudy stood back, planted her hands on her wide hips, and surveyed me. “I just don’t know, my lady. I don’t feel quite right about everything.”

“Then you don’t think I look nice enough to receive my guests?” I twirled in a circle so that my gown swished.

“You look too grown up.”

I laughed, the echo of it wavering with both relief and nervousness. “You and the abbot make a fine pair, always worrying about me. It’s about time, though, that the two of you realize I am grown up.”

Trudy harrumphed and brushed at an invisible fleck of dust on my skirt. From beneath her plain head covering, her gray hair framed her plump cheeks. She was as dear to me now as she’d been in my childhood. And although I should have taken a proper lady’s maid long ago, I couldn’t relinquish this dear woman who’d been a second mother to me, especially in recent years when I’d missed the comforting arms and tender kisses of my mother.

As I crossed the spacious bedchamber, Trudy lifted the train of my gown to keep it from dragging in the fresh rushes the servants had strewn across the stone floor.

When one of the maids opened the heavy paneled door, it drew in a breeze from the window, bringing with it the sweet, familiar scent of roses. I let the air bathe my skin and tried to contain my excitement.

By the time I’d traversed the long hallway, descended the steep winding stairway in the stone tower, and reached the massive doors of the keep, my knees shook with anticipation.