Free Word and Deed by Rachel Rossano Page B

for Silvaticus.”
    My back tingled, suspicion bringing my pride
to bear. “You are here to evaluate the goods,” I accused. “Why else
would you be permitted to speak with me?”
    “I was not permitted.”
    “Then why are you here?” My head ached. I
normally enjoyed verbal play. Today it made me dizzy.
    “At the moment? To offer aid. I spotted you
at the door and witnessed your stagger. I feared you would tumble
down the stairs.”
    “Silvaticus would be sorry to lose such
choice coastline,” I observed.
    “Nay, I didn’t wish to see you break your
fair neck.”
    Contrary to my expectation, he didn’t look at
me as he delivered the sweetened line. Despite the fact I believed
he did not mean them, the words still warmed my cheeks and burned
my ears. What business did a servant have speaking such to a maid?
The answer was none, yet I was pleased.
    I brushed aside the notion without much
thought. It was simply the delusions of a woman barren of the hope
of love. Attention starved, I swooned at the smallest turn of a
pleasant phrase.
    I intended to give Bryn Wolfe a rebuke only
to find him gone. No sign of him remained. As Ealdine’s voice
called to me from within, I resolved to not mention the
stranger.
    I rubbed my throbbing temples. I didn’t
believe I dreamed him, but considering the condition of my head, I
preferred caution.
     
    ~~~~~
     
    The next day, I woke to skies heavy with
unshed rain. Ignoring the possibility of a dousing, I escaped bed
yet again. No unsteadiness hindered my descent into the garden this
time. My head ached a little, but I ignored it. I stepped from my
slippers and curled my naked toes in the cool grass. With a languid
sigh, I reveled in the moist earth compressed beneath my feet.
    I loved spring, rain, black loam crumbling
between my fingers, and the scent of green life. I breathed deep
and slow. The scents of the wild flora soothed my spirit. The
tower’s original resident, my grandmother, spent hours in the
garden daily until her death when I was twelve. Only God knew when
I would be able to enjoy the sensation of the earth unhindered by
leather again. I shoved the thought aside. Life as Silvaticus’ wife
was a mystery I had no desire to explore.
    “Best get inside Maid Favian. You will catch
a sickness from the rain. Silvaticus won’t like that.”
    I turned toward the sound of his voice, anger
flaring with the pressure of the frantic heart in my chest. “More
likely I shall die of a fit first if you do that again. You
frightened me out of my wits.”
    “Nay, your wits are sound. You are speaking
with me clear enough.”
    Today he stood close to the garden wall
opposite the stairs. He wore the attire of a soldier, leather
jerkin over a loose shirt, leggings, and worn boots. His hand
rested on his sword belt, but the scabbard hung empty.
    “Where is your sword?”
    He grasped out of habit for the hilt and
found air. “I was warned of your skill with the blade and reasoned
it was best to not bring it with me.”
    “Someone’s tongue appears loosely hinged. Who
are you? Why do you come here?”
    “As you said yesterday, I was sent by
Silvaticus to meet you and give him a report.”
    “I mean, why return? Surely you evaluated
enough yesterday.”
    “My task is not finished.”
    Aware of my exposed feet growing numb, I
crossed the flagstone path to retrieve my cast off slippers. “What
more would Lord Silvaticus seek to learn? Whether or not I am
pox-scarred or deformed? I assure you I stand whole and have all my
limbs and digits.” I spread my fingers for emphasis. “They are
straight and serve me well.”
    Bryn Wolfe’s mouth twitched. “Nay, Silvaticus
is concerned he should find a blade between his ribs on his wedding
night.”
    I laughed. “He fears a woman?”
    “He is a cautious man, not prone to
impulse.”
    “Yet he purchases a wife knowing nothing of
the maid he must bed.”
    “He has good reason and bedding you shall be
no trial, maid.”
    My face afire,