been told, not long before her and Edythe’s
arrival. Eleanor had noticed furtive looks from the pair but had yet to hear a word out of them. She only knew their names because she’d heard Dame
Beatrice address them the day before.
Eleanor did not like not knowing things such as names and functions and al the doings wherever she found herself. Since she’d come to Harelby she’d
had little time to indulge her curiosity. Through al the tumult of the last few days she’d hardly had time to breathe, let alone ask questions. But what questions she had asked had met with lies from the castel an, rebuffs from the chatelaine, sweet inanity from the chaplain and surly silence from her
husband. She felt total y out of control of her life. Everything just seemed to be going on around her while she spent her time being tossed about by her husband. She was final y at the point where she thought she was going to burst from the frustration.
So, as al eyes turned to her when she threw down her work, she told off the litany of her ignorance. “I know not what a shire court might be or what guests are due to arrive. I know not the workings of Harelby or even more than a few names of the household. I know not who wil be our lord’s friend or foe in the company. Or the duties expected from the ladies of the house. I know nothing of use,” she added as everyone stared. “And,” she added, “most annoyingly, I know nothing of this Nicolaa Brasey that Sir Stian might have married!”
The twins bent their heads together and giggled and whispered. Eleanor couldn’t help but be reminded of Edythe and herself during happier times. She
exchanged a smile with her sister, who no doubt saw the resemblance as wel .
“Nicolaa Brasey,” one of the girls—Eleanor had no way of knowing which was which—final y found the bravery to say, “is the widow of Hugh Brasey. She
holds land bordering Harelby for her son Bertran. For now. Poor Bertran,” she added.
Before Eleanor could ask what she meant, the other twin spoke up. “Courts are when the sheriff and al the knights of the shire and vil agers gather to hear lawsuits and such.”
“And judge those who break forest laws,” the other twin added. “Bertran—”
“But what about Nicolaa Brasey?” Edythe cut in. “What do you know of this lady who wil soon be our guest?”
Eleanor squirmed at the teasing look her sister gave her. She was already regretting bringing up the woman’s name. Why should she care if the widow
Brasey was Stian’s longtime mistress and dearest love? It was nothing to her. The priests were right, curiosity was a wicked flaw in a woman.
“Wel ,” Morwina or Fiona began after the girls had giggled and cast furtive looks her way for a while. “Nicolaa’s marriage rights are in the gift of Lord Roger, but she’s managed to evade every suitor he’s presented to her.”
“She’s much sought after,” the other twin hurried on. “Even though she must be at least twenty-two or three.”
Eleanor had heard as much as she wanted about this Nicolaa Brasey. It didn’t matter. Learning about Harelby was far more important than gossiping
about a neighbor.
She stood and said, “I left some embroidery thread in my room.”
“I’l fetch it for you,” Blanche offered.
Eleanor waved the woman back in her seat as she started to rise. “’Tis no trouble to fetch it myself. I’l be right back,” she said, and left, not intending to come back at al .
But when she reached her room, she found Stian was there before her and her mind was immediately set on flight. He stood by the bed and watched her
under lowered brows as she sidled to the chest by the wal . He didn’t say anything, he just looked at her. Final y she noticed that his expression held as much curiosity as it did hostility. She wondered what he was thinking. Instead of hurriedly snatching the thread and fleeing, she found herself looking at him as wel .
Stian was stripped to the waist
arrival. Eleanor had noticed furtive looks from the pair but had yet to hear a word out of them. She only knew their names because she’d heard Dame
Beatrice address them the day before.
Eleanor did not like not knowing things such as names and functions and al the doings wherever she found herself. Since she’d come to Harelby she’d
had little time to indulge her curiosity. Through al the tumult of the last few days she’d hardly had time to breathe, let alone ask questions. But what questions she had asked had met with lies from the castel an, rebuffs from the chatelaine, sweet inanity from the chaplain and surly silence from her
husband. She felt total y out of control of her life. Everything just seemed to be going on around her while she spent her time being tossed about by her husband. She was final y at the point where she thought she was going to burst from the frustration.
So, as al eyes turned to her when she threw down her work, she told off the litany of her ignorance. “I know not what a shire court might be or what guests are due to arrive. I know not the workings of Harelby or even more than a few names of the household. I know not who wil be our lord’s friend or foe in the company. Or the duties expected from the ladies of the house. I know nothing of use,” she added as everyone stared. “And,” she added, “most annoyingly, I know nothing of this Nicolaa Brasey that Sir Stian might have married!”
The twins bent their heads together and giggled and whispered. Eleanor couldn’t help but be reminded of Edythe and herself during happier times. She
exchanged a smile with her sister, who no doubt saw the resemblance as wel .
“Nicolaa Brasey,” one of the girls—Eleanor had no way of knowing which was which—final y found the bravery to say, “is the widow of Hugh Brasey. She
holds land bordering Harelby for her son Bertran. For now. Poor Bertran,” she added.
Before Eleanor could ask what she meant, the other twin spoke up. “Courts are when the sheriff and al the knights of the shire and vil agers gather to hear lawsuits and such.”
“And judge those who break forest laws,” the other twin added. “Bertran—”
“But what about Nicolaa Brasey?” Edythe cut in. “What do you know of this lady who wil soon be our guest?”
Eleanor squirmed at the teasing look her sister gave her. She was already regretting bringing up the woman’s name. Why should she care if the widow
Brasey was Stian’s longtime mistress and dearest love? It was nothing to her. The priests were right, curiosity was a wicked flaw in a woman.
“Wel ,” Morwina or Fiona began after the girls had giggled and cast furtive looks her way for a while. “Nicolaa’s marriage rights are in the gift of Lord Roger, but she’s managed to evade every suitor he’s presented to her.”
“She’s much sought after,” the other twin hurried on. “Even though she must be at least twenty-two or three.”
Eleanor had heard as much as she wanted about this Nicolaa Brasey. It didn’t matter. Learning about Harelby was far more important than gossiping
about a neighbor.
She stood and said, “I left some embroidery thread in my room.”
“I’l fetch it for you,” Blanche offered.
Eleanor waved the woman back in her seat as she started to rise. “’Tis no trouble to fetch it myself. I’l be right back,” she said, and left, not intending to come back at al .
But when she reached her room, she found Stian was there before her and her mind was immediately set on flight. He stood by the bed and watched her
under lowered brows as she sidled to the chest by the wal . He didn’t say anything, he just looked at her. Final y she noticed that his expression held as much curiosity as it did hostility. She wondered what he was thinking. Instead of hurriedly snatching the thread and fleeing, she found herself looking at him as wel .
Stian was stripped to the waist
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