Page 23 of Beholden
None of us deserved to be working as slaves in the mine pits. But I couldn’t argue with Curly. Not when he only had my best interests at heart. “I shall think about it.” Even as I conceded to him, I knew I would never take the easy way out of the mines, no matter how appealing the option might be.
Chapter
8
Vilmar
The fire atthe center of town crackled, sending sparks into the night. The flames leapt high, illuminating the flush on Gabriella’s face as she twirled in a simple folk dance with the other women. A slight smile graced her lips, and her eyes shone with delight. With her long hair unbound and glimmering a pale auburn in the firelight, her beauty took my breath away.
“Ye love her.” Curly’s statement was low and certain from beside me.
I hadn’t known he was there, had been too focused on Gabriella to pay attention to anything else. In fact, since the lute music had started at dusk and Gabriella had pulled me into the first dance, I hadn’t thought of much else besides her.
“I don’t know the folk dances,” I’d said, as the others around us began to dance.
She’d tugged me farther into the fray. “Then it is my turn to teach you something.” When she smiled, I hadn’t been able to resist.
The dances hadn’t been difficult to learn, and I’d found myself truly making merry for the first time since entering the mines six weeks ago. With the coming of warmer air and the lengthening of daylight, more people congregated outside in the evenings after we returned from the mine. Thankfully, the overseers didn’t seem to care what we did, so long as we didn’t cause disorder.
With a day of rest on the morrow, there was less urgency to retire to our huts and more freedom to take the little pleasures we had amidst the drudgery of slavery, and the pleasure of this eve was one I would not soon forget—especially the images of Gabriella’s happiness in the dancing.
“Ye love her,” Curly said again, louder.
I glanced around to see who might have heard him, but Farthing, Ernie, and the others were laughing and talking amongst themselves, oblivious to Curly’s bold declaration. Only Ty, two steps away, glanced at me, as though gauging my reaction.
How exactly was I supposed to react? Of course I’d grown to care about Gabriella more than I’d wanted, more than I’d thought possible. Holding her in my arms last week during our training had left me shaken and filled me with longings I’d tried hard to forget. And I’d been afraid that if I touched her again, no matter how innocently, I would stir up desires that needed to remain dormant.
The simple truth was, I was not free to love her, and I couldn’t give her that hope nor could I give it to Curly. I shook my head. “It’s too soon to speak of love.”
“It’s been long enough for me to see that ye be the right match.”
“I didn’t come to the mine to fall in love.”
“Nobody comes here expecting much of anything but pain and death. So if ye be one of the lucky ones who finds a jewel amidst the rubble, then ye best not be squandering your treasure.”
The words were profound, and I couldn’t keep from meeting his gaze and seeing the sincerity in the depths of his eyes. I’d long since learned from Gabriella that Curly had once been a huntsman for Queen Margery, providing game for the royal household from the vast forests surrounding Kensington. Last summer, he’d been part of the hunting party with the queen’s daughter that had resulted in the princess suffering a fatal riding accident.
While the princess’s death hadn’t been anyone’s fault, the queen still condemned Curly and two other huntsmen to life sentences in the mine. He’d survived nearly a year. But how much longer would he last?
Just this week he’d asked Molly to marry him. And from the tender way he watched his betrothed all evening, he’d found a jewel of his own amongst the rubble of his life.
“Gabriella is indeed a rare gem,” I conceded. “You are not wrong about that. But I cannot make promises to her I won’t be able to keep.”
“Aye, I’ve seen that ye be a man of honor.”
Gabriella swirled past, only an arm’s length away. I wanted to reach for her and dance with her again. But what good could come of it? I would only end up hurting her when I left. Where was the honor in that?
“Ye want to do the right thing?” Curly asked more insistently.
“Of course.”
“Then be marrying her and taking her out of the mine pits with ye when yer sentence here is completed.”
“That’s certainly one way to ensure her safety.”
“Aye, and I wouldn’t be suggesting it if I didn’t like ye.”
I appreciated his paying me a high compliment, but he also didn’t know what he was asking. As a prince of Scania, I had no right to pick my own bride based on feelings or whim. Rather, wise counselors put a great deal of time into seeking out the right bride, and I couldn’t deviate from that tradition.
