short time they had spent together that she was terrified of horses. Now to see Amy braving her fears, for her, made Van’s chest tighten. Loyalty from the men assigned to her, men she had proven herself to over the years was expected, but the loyalty this girl showed her was surprising.
The pack horse was loaded with a large trunk that held several newly made dresses, a pile of chain mail, a black helm, a long sword, and a thick chest plate. The men grumbled about the weight and threw glances her way. She was not positive if it was in suspicion or if it was just her guilty conscious that pricked at her.
Van watched her father spur his horse forward and grudgingly followed. She patted Damien’s neck, as much to comfort herself as him, and looked back at the cottage one last time.
She would make arrangements with Verges to fix the thatching on the roof and the windows that needed to be replaced. She had never been close to Dr. Paul and even though she would always make sure he was well taken care of, she didn’t believe she would ever return to see him.
A sudden feeling of loss assaulted her. She would never see this little house again and that disturbed her. Tears welled behind her eyes so she squinted into the sun to conceal them.
“ We need to discuss your saddle.” Matthew’s irritated voice sounded next to her, pulling her from her reflections.
Van turned to him, grateful for his interruption.
“ You need to be appropriate when you meet your husband. Come to think of it,” he said staring at Damien. “You just need to be in a carriage, not on that beast.”
Van grinned lopsidedly, patted Damien on his heavily-muscled neck and looked up at her father. She opened her mouth to dispute him but Amy’s soft voice stopped her.
“ Mi lady , your father is correct. No matter what your feelings are, you need to make a good first impression if you plan for any of this to work.”
Matthew looked closely from Van to Amy. Van turned and glowered at the young girl, but held her tongue. After all, Amy was right. If she was going to pull off this charade—and she had to in order to keep her secret—it had to be convincing.
Van turned to her father and conceded that once they arrived at his estate they would take a carriage, with Damien hitched to the rear of it.
Matthew smiled and nodded his head. “Good.” His grin widened. “You can meet my sons and their mother as soon as they return from their visit with her parents.”
Van’s breath hitched at the thought of his sons, the sons he had always wanted, the son that she was supposed to be. Anger boiled beneath the calm façade that she held before her like a shield. The anger didn’t surprise her, but the twinge of jealousy that accompanied it, did.
It was more than jealousy. She admitted, though reluctantly, it was envy. Envy of a life she had secretly dreamed of as a small child. To be the son of a rich lord, to not have to fight for everything she had accomplished.
She pushed away the lost dreams and the envy. She focused instead on the anger, the deep, painful thudding of her heart, and the memory of how good her life had been, despite all the tribulations.
She reminded herself that she could not be angry with his sons. They were innocent and not responsible for the sins of their father, and they were more than his sons. They were her brothers. “Brothers,” she whispered.
“ Aye, two of them, though neither look like me.” He glanced at her and smiled. “Like us, nor do they have my temperament.” His flicked the reins and his mount moved smoothly into a trot. Damien matched speed without encouragement.
He turned and studied her closely. His intense scrutiny slid across her skin like a caress. “Though you seem to have it.”
Goosebumps tickled right beneath the surface of her skin and she fought to suppress a shudder. She forced her gaze to remain on him. She could feel her shield slipping and a sneer twitching on her tightened lips.
His
The pack horse was loaded with a large trunk that held several newly made dresses, a pile of chain mail, a black helm, a long sword, and a thick chest plate. The men grumbled about the weight and threw glances her way. She was not positive if it was in suspicion or if it was just her guilty conscious that pricked at her.
Van watched her father spur his horse forward and grudgingly followed. She patted Damien’s neck, as much to comfort herself as him, and looked back at the cottage one last time.
She would make arrangements with Verges to fix the thatching on the roof and the windows that needed to be replaced. She had never been close to Dr. Paul and even though she would always make sure he was well taken care of, she didn’t believe she would ever return to see him.
A sudden feeling of loss assaulted her. She would never see this little house again and that disturbed her. Tears welled behind her eyes so she squinted into the sun to conceal them.
“ We need to discuss your saddle.” Matthew’s irritated voice sounded next to her, pulling her from her reflections.
Van turned to him, grateful for his interruption.
“ You need to be appropriate when you meet your husband. Come to think of it,” he said staring at Damien. “You just need to be in a carriage, not on that beast.”
Van grinned lopsidedly, patted Damien on his heavily-muscled neck and looked up at her father. She opened her mouth to dispute him but Amy’s soft voice stopped her.
“ Mi lady , your father is correct. No matter what your feelings are, you need to make a good first impression if you plan for any of this to work.”
Matthew looked closely from Van to Amy. Van turned and glowered at the young girl, but held her tongue. After all, Amy was right. If she was going to pull off this charade—and she had to in order to keep her secret—it had to be convincing.
Van turned to her father and conceded that once they arrived at his estate they would take a carriage, with Damien hitched to the rear of it.
Matthew smiled and nodded his head. “Good.” His grin widened. “You can meet my sons and their mother as soon as they return from their visit with her parents.”
Van’s breath hitched at the thought of his sons, the sons he had always wanted, the son that she was supposed to be. Anger boiled beneath the calm façade that she held before her like a shield. The anger didn’t surprise her, but the twinge of jealousy that accompanied it, did.
It was more than jealousy. She admitted, though reluctantly, it was envy. Envy of a life she had secretly dreamed of as a small child. To be the son of a rich lord, to not have to fight for everything she had accomplished.
She pushed away the lost dreams and the envy. She focused instead on the anger, the deep, painful thudding of her heart, and the memory of how good her life had been, despite all the tribulations.
She reminded herself that she could not be angry with his sons. They were innocent and not responsible for the sins of their father, and they were more than his sons. They were her brothers. “Brothers,” she whispered.
“ Aye, two of them, though neither look like me.” He glanced at her and smiled. “Like us, nor do they have my temperament.” His flicked the reins and his mount moved smoothly into a trot. Damien matched speed without encouragement.
He turned and studied her closely. His intense scrutiny slid across her skin like a caress. “Though you seem to have it.”
Goosebumps tickled right beneath the surface of her skin and she fought to suppress a shudder. She forced her gaze to remain on him. She could feel her shield slipping and a sneer twitching on her tightened lips.
His
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