Page 24

T he clash of steel rang through the morning air as Baldwin and Roland circled each other in the training yard.

Sweat glistened on his brow despite the cool breeze that swept across Glenhaven’s walls.

His dark hair, tied back with a leather cord, had come loose during their sparring, and several strands clung to his damp neck.

Beth watched from the edge of the yard, perched on a wooden bench with a small journal balanced on her knee.

She’d taken to recording her observations of medieval life, partly as a scientific exercise and partly to maintain her sanity.

The leather-bound book Eleanor had gifted her was already half-filled with notes on everything from cooking methods to weapon-making.

“Your mind wanders, my lord,” Roland called, his sword slicing through the air in a graceful arc. “I wonder what, or whom, occupies your thoughts this morn?”

Baldwin parried the blow with a grunt. “Focus on your footwork, Roland. Your left side remains vulnerable.”

Roland laughed, a rich sound that carried across the yard. “Perhaps ’tis your alchemist who distracts you.” He lowered his voice, though not enough to prevent Beth from catching his words. “Does she warm your bed as well as your thoughts? The servants say?—”

Baldwin’s sword flashed with sudden ferocity, driving Roland back three steps. “Mind your tongue.”

The knight grinned, undeterred. “She watches you now. See how her eyes follow your every move? ’Tis a waste to keep her at arm’s length when clearly?—”

Taking advantage of Baldwin’s momentary distraction, Roland swept his blade in a low arc, catching Baldwin’s ankle and sending him stumbling.

“First blood to me,” Roland declared triumphantly. “And proof that the lady occupies your thoughts more than you admit.”

Baldwin’s jaw tightened. “She is a guest in my home, nothing more. I have no time for such... distractions.”

Beth’s quill stilled on the page. The words struck like a physical blow, driving the air from her lungs.

A distraction. Nothing more.

She closed her journal with trembling fingers, suddenly eager to be anywhere but here.

As she rose to leave, his gaze caught hers across the yard. For a heartbeat, something vulnerable flickered in those gray eyes, then his expression hardened, and he turned away, raising his sword once more.

“Again,” he commanded Roland, his voice carrying on the wind.

Like a coward, she fled, clutching her journal to her chest like armor.

“He said that?” Eleanor gasped, her eyes widening as she set down her embroidery. “That you were nothing more than a distraction?”

They sat in Eleanor’s solar, a cozy chamber with tapestries depicting hunting scenes adorning the walls. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the narrow windows, casting golden patterns across the rushes strewn on the floor.

Beth paced the length of the room, her green kirtle swishing around her ankles.

She’d grown accustomed to medieval clothing, though she still missed the practicality of jeans and sneakers.

Her gown was simpler than Eleanor’s own azure blue creation, but the fabric was soft and the fit surprisingly comfortable.

“His exact words.” Beth pushed a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

“After days of... I don’t know what to call it.

We were growing closer. In the library, he showed me those star charts and our hands touched and he didn’t pull away.

Then during the hunt, I thought he might.

..” She trailed off, cheeks warming at the memory of Baldwin’s intense gaze, his face lowering toward hers before that damned twig snapped.

“And now he treats you like a leper?” Eleanor shook her head, her delicate features hardening with indignation. “My brother has always been stubborn, but this surpasses even his usual foolishness.”

“He says he’s protecting me.” Beth sank onto a cushioned bench. “I don’t understand what changed. One moment he looks at me like...” She swallowed. “And the next, he can barely stand to be in the same room.”

Eleanor’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Perhaps he needs a reminder of what he’s denying himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sir Gareth arrives today. You recall the young knight who serves Lord Pembroke? He’s quite handsome, and more importantly, my brother despises him.”

Beth frowned. “I’m not going to use someone just to make him jealous. That’s childish.”

“Is it childish to make a man confront his feelings?” Eleanor raised a finely arched eyebrow. “Besides, Sir Gareth knows the game well enough. He enjoys any opportunity to nettle my brother.”

“I don’t know...”

“Consider it an experiment.” Eleanor’s eyes twinkled. “Isn’t that what you scientists do? Test hypotheses?”

Despite herself, Beth felt a smile tugging at her lips. “That’s a gross oversimplification of the scientific method.”

“But accurate nonetheless.” Eleanor leaned forward, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “If my brother truly cares nothing for you, then your actions tonight will mean nothing to him. But if he does...” She grinned. “Well, that would be a hypothesis worth proving, wouldn’t it?”

Beth sighed, fingering the sleeve of her gown. “Fine. But I’m a terrible actress. Totally awkward. And an even worse flirt.”

Eleanor rose, moving to a large wooden chest in the corner.

“Leave that to me. By tonight, every man in the hall will envy Sir Gareth, and my brother will be forced to recognize what stands before him.” She lifted the lid, revealing a shimmer of emerald fabric. “Starting with this gown from France.”

The great hall of Glenhaven blazed with torchlight.

Servants moved among the trestle tables, bearing platters of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and steaming vegetables harvested from the castle gardens.

The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the rich aromas of food and the sweeter notes of mead and wine.

Baldwin sat at the high table, fingers drumming restlessly on the polished wood. His black tunic, embroidered with silver thread at the collar and cuffs, made his eyes appear stormy in the flickering light. The silver circlet marking his lordship rested on his brow, a weight he felt keenly tonight.

His gaze swept the hall for the dozenth time, searching for a particular face. When the doors finally opened to admit her, his breath caught in his throat.

Beth entered on Sir Gareth’s arm, her head tilted toward something the knight was saying.

She wore a gown of deep emerald that clung to her slender frame before flowing to the floor in graceful folds.

Her hair, usually pulled back in a practical style, fell in soft waves past her shoulders, adorned with a simple silver circlet that matched the one at her throat.

She looked... transformed. Not because of the finery, though it suited her well, but because of the easy confidence in her bearing. She laughed at something Gareth said, the sound carrying across the hall, and Baldwin’s fingers tightened around his goblet.

“Your lady looks well tonight,” Roland observed from his place beside Baldwin. “The color suits her.”

“She is not my lady,” Baldwin replied automatically, though his eyes never left her.

“No?” Roland followed his gaze. “Then you won’t mind that Gareth seems quite taken with her.”

Indeed, the young knight was bending close to Beth’s ear, his hand resting lightly on her waist as he guided her to their seats. Baldwin’s jaw clenched as Gareth pulled out Beth’s chair with a flourish, earning another smile from her.

“Sir Gareth is welcome to court whomever he pleases,” Baldwin said stiffly. “Though I question his judgment in pursuing a woman who speaks in riddles and nearly burned down my stables with her experiments.”

Roland chuckled. “Is that what troubles you? Her peculiarities? Or is it that Gareth might actually appreciate them?”

Baldwin shot his friend a withering look, then turned his attention to the trencher before him, tearing a piece of bread with more force than necessary.

Across the hall, she was acutely aware of Baldwin’s gaze, though she carefully avoided meeting it. Instead, she focused on Sir Gareth, a handsome young knight with sandy hair and an easy smile. He was pleasant company, if somewhat dull compared to?—

No. Don’t think about him.

“So you truly mixed these substances and created fire without flint or steel?” Gareth was asking, his eyes wide with admiration. “Remarkable!”

Beth nodded, taking a sip of her wine. “It’s a simple chemical reaction. Um, alchemical, I mean.”

“You must show me sometime,” Gareth said, leaning closer. “I’ve always been fascinated by the mysteries of alchemy.”

Beth doubted that, but she smiled and touched his arm lightly. “Perhaps I will.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Baldwin’s knuckles whiten around his knife handle. A small, petty part of her rejoiced at the sight. Good. Let him see what he’s dismissing so easily.

She laughed a bit too loudly at Gareth’s next jest, drawing glances from nearby diners.

The wine was making her bolder than usual, warming her blood and loosening her tongue.

Never in her life had Beth experienced two men interested in her simultaneously, especially not men like these.

Gareth with his easy charm and Baldwin with his brooding intensity.

It made her feel powerful. Pretty, even.

The novelty of it tingled through her veins, more intoxicating than the wine itself.

“You know,” she said, leaning toward Gareth conspiratorially, “fermentation is actually one of the oldest chemical processes known to humanity. The bubbles in your ale? That’s carbon dioxide being released as yeast consumes sugar.”

Gareth blinked, clearly bewildered, but gamely played along. “Is it indeed? How... fascinating?”