Page 18 of Her Noble Groom
Chapter fifteen
H er role as governess kept Thomasse busy: planning lessons, teaching Philippe, and answering his endless questions for hours.
When the work day was over, and her time was her own, she spent it with James when his duties allowed.
They ate supper together at night and strolled down tree-lined lanes during the long summer evenings.
Lessons were suspended during harvest as all hands were needed to cut and bundle the rye.
But every moment was magical when they were together.
On All Saint’s Day, torches lit the crowded great hall of St. Ouen’s Manor. The feasting had scarcely begun when James rose from the bench. “Meet me in the stable,” he whispered.
Her curiosity piqued, Thomasse squirmed on the bench, waiting a respectable amount of time before slipping out the door and hastening to the stable where James waited.
He slipped his arms around her waist and drew her into a kiss.
She wrapped her arms about his neck and breathed in his scent of horses, the scratch of stubble on her cheek a reminder that their love was more than just a dream.
She felt his passion rise and her body responded; the intensity making her knees go weak.
James led her to the pile of hay, pulling her down beside him. “I have wonderful news.”
“Do not keep me in suspense.”
“I have saved the bride price. I shall speak with Seigneur de Carteret on the morrow and gain permission for us to marry.”
Thomasse looked down at her hands, not sure how to reply.
“I thought my news would make you happy. ”
“I am. Truly James, I am happy.” Her stomach twisted. She thought she would have more time. She had hoped to spare his feelings, knowing her father still clung to the hope of making a noble match.
The stable door creaked, and rushes rustled. Magnar snorted and pawed the ground.
James put a finger to his lips, and they both listened. No voices or footsteps followed. Soon Magnar settled down, and all was quiet again.
“Must have been the wind,” James said. “Once the seigneur grants permission, the banns can be posted.”
Thomasse picked up a blade of hay and began peeling it into tiny threads.
“You have not told your father yet, have you?” James asked. She could hear the hurt in his voice.
She shook her head. “I am sorry. The right time has not presented.”
“Are you having second thoughts?”
“No, never that.”
“I had hoped we might wed before Advent. To spend the holy days cherishing my beautiful wife—that would be the greatest gift of this Yuletide.”
“I would love nothing more. At night, I think of little else.”
“Advent begins in three weeks. You must tell him.”
The rushes crackled, and they both went quiet, eyes wide as footsteps approached. James jumped up and grabbed a pitchfork as Thomasse’s father rounded the corner of the last stall.
“Must tell me what?” her father demanded. When neither spoke, he continued, “Thomasse, did I not forbid you to see this man?”
She scrambled up from the pile, straightening her skirt, removing bits of hay from the folds and one from her hair. Lifting her chin, she slipped her hand through James’s arm. “We are in love and intend to wed.”
“What do you know of love? I know your fickle heart. This whim will pass just like all the others.”
“James is not a whim!”
“I have indulged your little fancies long enough. This time you have gone too far. What honorable gentleman will take a fair lady soiled by a low-born knave?”
“James is honorable. I ask that you grant us your blessing. ”
“I have promised your hand to Lord Jack.”
“And where is he? Two summers have passed, and he has not come for me. It is James who saved my life and watched over us since our arrival. That is more than can be said for Lord Jack.”
“You speak of things you do not understand. As my daughter, your duty is to obey me.” Her father grabbed her arm. “Come, I am taking you home.”
Thomasse clung tighter to James’s arm. “I am staying with James.”
James disentangled Thomasse’s arm from his. “Go with your father. We will work this through later, when he has calmed.”
“That will make no difference,” her father replied. “I will never give my blessing for the two of you to wed. Do not come near my daughter again.”
Her father grabbed her arm and led her from the stable. Thomasse’s face burned, furious at being treated like a naughty child rather than a grown woman who knew her own heart. Why did her father have to be so unreasonable? He refused to accept the truth that this life was their future.
How could she face James again after such humiliation? Even the seigneur’s permission meant nothing without her father’s consent.