Page 39 of Stay with Me

After living with and visiting the outlaws of Devil’s Bend from time to time over the past five years, he’d learned a great deal about the wool industry, the main way the community earned money to buy and trade for the items they couldn’t produce themselves.

There were no signs of the pigs that had already been put out to pannage to feast and fatten by autumn slaughter. But the geese wandered about the meadow, many with goslings waddling close behind.

At the sight and sound of their horses trotting toward the village, calls rose, and women stepped out of their doorways or rose from where they were kneeling in their herb and vegetable gardens. The handful of children who lived in the village ceased their duties or play. Curious but wary gazes settled upon Sybil.

Nicholas slowed his horse to a walk as he passed by the first of the homes, all of them with smoke curling up from a center hole in the thatched roofs, their shutters open to allow in the freshness of the spring day.

When he reached the middle of the village, he halted. He had no choice, not with Beatrice blocking the grassy road, both hands on her ample hips. In a simple tunic and wimple, she was a plain woman with a dusting of freckles on her face. Her stature stretched wide, with thick arms and shoulders. No one dared to contradict Beatrice. And no one wanted to face her wrath.

She cupped a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sunshine. “So the men freed you, did they?”

“I have Sybil to thank for the rescue.”

At Sybil’s name, Beatrice shifted her attention. As she took in the half-open cloak along with Sybil’s immodest attire underneath, her brows drew together.

Although he’d kept his hands to himself the majority of the ride, he reached for Sybil’s waist, his fingers fanning over her possessively. The move was almost instinctual, and he did it without thinking about why, except that he wanted to protect her from anyone who might question who she was and what she was doing with him.

Immediately Beatrice focused on his hold of Sybil.

He pressed his lips together, hoping Beatrice could understand his silent message that he expected the village women to treat Sybil with respect. Yes, the situation appeared to be indecent, and Sybil looked like a woman of ill repute. But if Beatrice accepted and treated her kindly, then everyone else would take that as their cue to do likewise.

“Sybil.” He spoke as formally as he could. “This is Beatrice, Ralph de Legh’s wife. She is like a second mother to me, and I pray she will become that to you as well.”

Beatrice’s gaze darted between Sybil and him several times before she settled upon his face. After a moment, she broke into a grin, revealing the wide gap between her top front teeth. “Nicholas Worth has finally found himself a woman.”

~ 16 ~

Nicholas’s woman?

Sybil opened her mouth to refute the claim, but Father Fritz, who had reined in next to them, spoke before she could. “Aye, Nicholas is agog with the sweet bab.”

Agog. She nearly smiled again, especially when Nicholas squeezed her, as if to remind her of Father Fritz smooching at the air just a few moments ago. She didn’t need reminding. The image of Father Fritz’s portly lips puckering passionately at nothing was burned into her memory.

She glanced at Nicholas.

He lifted his brows, giving her full view of his rich brown eyes, which were twinkling. Even though he wasn’t grinning, she could sense the barely banked smile.

Father Fritz began to dismount. “He’s so agog, he’ll be marrying her before the day is through, that he will.”

Before the day is through?Yes, the men had alluded to her being betrothed. Ralph had insinuated that she and Nicholas should get married. But no one had mentioned actually having a wedding today. She started to protest, but in the next instant Nicholas leaned in to her ear.

At the warmth of his lips, the rasp of his breath, the pressure of his mouth—her protest died, and she could suddenly think of nothing else but his nearness.

“Only if you agree to it,” came his earnest statement.

This man. Her body melted into him. How could she do anything but agree to whatever he wanted?

She gave herself a mental shake. What was happening to her? Where was the solid sense of reasoning she’d always prided herself in having?

Beatrice was watching her and Nicholas with keen interest, likely reading too much into their interaction.

“Have no fear,” Nicholas whispered against her ear again. “I shall never force anything upon you.”

He’d proven himself to be noble and true. And she didn’t have any fear of him. In fact, she wanted to lean her head back and let him go on whispering in her ear forever.

But at Beatrice’s growing smile, Sybil forced herself to break the connection with Nicholas.

“I’m tickled pinker than a piglet’s belly.” Father Fritz finished dismounting and positioned himself next to Beatrice. The two beamed up at Nicholas and her as if they were staring at the king and queen.

---