Page 16 of Her Noble Groom
Chapter thirteen
W hen Thomasse reached the bay-side cottage, her father stood waiting outside the door. “I trust you had a pleasant visit with your friends.”
“Delightful,” Thomasse replied as they stepped inside. “Jersey is such a lovely isle. I would be content to call this place home.”
“Nonsense,” her father said as he settled into a chair at the table. “My daughter was meant for better things than being a spinster. I have not forgotten your love of beautiful gowns, parties, and the court gossip.”
“God’s bones, Father. This has been our lot for over a year.” She retrieved cups and poured them each a draught of ale. “Edward still sits on the throne with no prospects of King Henry’s return. Is it not time to abandon the delusion that we will return to our previous life?”
Her father wagged his finger. “Your ignorance shows. Raising funds and building an army in exile takes time.”
Thomasse fetched vegetables and a knife. “For your sake, I hope you are right.”
She sang as she chopped and dropped them into the bubbling kettle, her mind consumed with her newfound love with James.
What would Eleanor and Maud think if they knew of her fondness for a groom with brown hair and amber eyes?
She suspected Agnes would be conflicted, disapproving that James was of a lower station, but approving that he respected her.
When supper was ready, she scooped stew into bowls and placed them on the table, her heart light, unable to stop smiling.
“You are quite cheerful this evening. What has so elevated your mood?”
Thomasse sat, arranging her skirt, a bit self-conscious. “Nothing really other than Lent is over. No need to practice self-denial any longer. ”
Her father grunted in agreement. Hopefully soon, the perfect moment would present when she could tell him she had fallen in love with her noble groom.
T homasse twisted and dropped the spindle.
The day seemed agonizingly long, her thoughts constantly straying to James.
When the bells tolled, she quickly stuffed the spindle and distaff into her basket of wool, not wasting a moment in polite chatter with the other spinsters.
She wanted to run through the village into the arms of her beloved, but she dared not lest she make a spectacle of herself.
Despite her lowered status, her mother’s training in the proper behavior for a lady remained intact.
When she rounded the curve, James waited beneath the alder tree, a wide grin on his face. She lifted her skirt and ran to him. He grabbed her around the waist and swung her around. His long, lusty kiss took her breath away.
“I brought you something.” He withdrew an apple from his pouch and handed it to her.
“Where did you find that?”
“A few remain in the cellar at the manor.”
They settled onto the grass beneath the tree. She bit into the apple and chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness. “I could become accustom to your attentions.”
James licked the juice from a spot on her lip. “I look forward to caring for my comely bride.” He turned pensive. “Perchance we should not build our hope too high until we have your father’s blessing and the seigneur’s permission to wed.”
She entwined her fingers with his and pushed out her bottom lip. “Why must we wait? Let us declare ourselves married and face the consequences together.”
“We could, but I want to do things properly. I would not wish to claim your virtue and then have our marriage torn asunder by those with the power to do so. ”
Thomasse looked down at the apple core she still held in her hands.
“I had not considered that.” She tossed it aside and scrambled up.
“Come, let us not think of that right now.” As they walked, they held hands and spoke of their dreams for the future.
At the crest of the hillock, Thomasse said, “Until tomorrow.”
James kissed her hand. “Until then, my thoughts will only be of you.”
J ames and Thomasse reveled in their blissful world.
He often brought her small gifts; fruit, flowers, even a cross necklace he had carved from wood.
She wore it tucked beneath her kirtle, the smoothness against her skin a constant reminder of his regard.
The only thing marring their happiness was she had not broken the news to her father.
The wild orchids were in full bloom on a glorious day in May when James said, “I have a special surprise for you.”
“Do I need to close my eyes?”
“Not at all,” he said. “The seigneur seeks a tutor for his son. I spoke with him today, and he requests an audience in the morn.”
She gasped. Had she heard him right? That she could have such an opportunity hardly seemed possible. “Truly? The seigneur would consider me—a woman?”
“With the French occupying the isle, it has proven impossible to hire an Englishman. It pains him to see his son’s education suffer. I told him of your background—”
“But I have no experience—what if I fail?”
“Such foolish talk.” James placed a light kiss on her mouth. “I have faith in you.”