Page 92 of Feathers in the Wind
“Unfortunately, this war is being fought by men just like him,” Luke said.
Deliverance glanced at him. “But you were right. Even I could see that castle cannot be defended.”
“If Farrington has any sense, he will move on it first,” Luke said, voicing his thoughts aloud.
They rode in silence for a few minutes before Deliverance spoke. “Why are you only a captain? You clearly have sufficient age and experience to hold a much higher rank.”
Luke looked at her in surprise at the question. “I thank you for your confidence in my abilities, Mistress Felton but to answer your question I have an unfortunate habit of annoying my senior officers.”
“What do you do to annoy your senior officers?”
Luke fell silent. He did not feel inclined to admit his failings to Deliverance Felton. As well as an unfortunate habit of speaking his mind when he should keep a still tongue in his head, wine, women and a taste for cards would not sit well with her puritan upbringing. That is, if she had such an upbringing. Despite her name, she certainly didn’t behave like any puritan he knew.
“I think they call it a lack of proper respect,” he said.
Deliverance looked straight ahead, and he thought he could detect the hint of a smile playing around her lips. “Lack of respect? Really? You surprise me, Captain.”
Luke returned her smile. She had begun to trust him, and that thought gave him more confidence about facing the days ahead. Away from the castle and her responsibilities she seemed more relaxed and it surprised him to find that the formidable Mistress Felton had a sense of humour.
He liked it when she smiled. It transformed her face. The hard line of her mouth softened and the perpetual crease between her brows smoothed and the large, luminous grey eyes sparkled. A man could drown in those eyes, he thought. He would set himself the challenge of forcing her to smile more often.
He liked a challenge.
Chapter 4
“What are you doing?” Penitence asked.
Deliverance readjusted her position on the north wall, squinting at the distant woods.
“We’re being watched,” she said. “There’s a man on a horse just inside the tree line.” She pointed at the woods. “See the large oak?”
Penitence leaned forward on the ramparts, looking in the direction Deliverance indicated. “Oh yes, I see him,” she said. “One of Farrington’s men?”
“Most likely,” Deliverance replied.
“Hadn’t you better tell Captain Collyer?”
“I suppose so.”
“Speaking of Captain Collyer, where is he?” Penitence asked.
Deliverance waved a hand toward the west wall. “Oh, he’s over there, supervising the men on the earthworks. I suppose I should find him.”
The two women walked the length of the curtain wall, emerging from the Hawk Tower. As Deliverance looked along the battlements, she realised that quite an audience had gathered. It looked as if every maid in the castle leaned over the stonework, laughing and jesting with the men below.
Penitence looked over the ramparts. “Oh my! I really do think he should put some clothes on.”
“What on earth do you mean?” Deliverance joined her.
Her breath caught in her throat. Last time she had seen him, Luke Collyer had been fully clothed, albeit with his jacket unbuttoned and his shirt unlaced at the neck. Now he swung a mattock like one of his men, naked to the waist. His back glowed with the healthy tan of a man used to working outdoors… without a shirt.
Her eyes widened. She had never thought of men as being particularly attractive creatures. There had been no opportunity in her life to spend her time thinking about men much at all. While young, handsome men had queued at the gate for Penitence’s favours, the only offers Deliverance had received were from three old, bald and foolish men of her father’s acquaintance. Mercifully, her father had not sought to force her into accepting any of the offers.
Now, as she watched the smooth muscles across Luke Collyer’s back moving rhythmically to the swing of the mattock, she revised her opinion of men. She shifted her gaze to Ned Barrett, working a shovel not far away and similarly unclothed. By contrast, Ned’s tan ended at his neck and his body was pale and freckly. Further along the line of straining men, Sergeant Hale, wielded a mallet, his great hairy, bear-like chest heaving under the effort of each stroke of the mallet.
She turned back to Luke Collyer. Compared to Hale, he seemed slender and graceful. Almost— she bit her lip ashamed of the thought— beautiful.
Giggling from the assembled audience of maids reminded her she and Penitence were not Luke Collyer’s only audience.
