Free RulingPassion by Katherine Kingston Page B

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inside her. He collapsed into the circle of her arms and rested his head on her
shoulder. She cradled him, brushing her fingers through the tangled, silky
strands of his hair.
    She could have happily stayed with him that way for the rest
of the day, but duty called them both.
    When they’d washed, dressed, and broken their fast with
bread and cider, he took leave of her, saying he needed to check on some of his
tenants. Jeoffrey gave her a list of tasks to do while he was gone; including
ascertaining a hot bath would await him on his return that evening.
    Once he’d ridden out, Rosalind began sorting through the
chest of his clothes to neaten and organize them while checking for items that
needed to be repaired or replaced. She found an odd, shivery excitement in the
intimacy of invading his most personal belongings. It required a stern lecture
to herself about the dangers of indulging impossible dreams to get her back to
reality.
    The task of sorting through and organizing his clothing took
most of the morning. After a midday meal of plain bread, a small bit of cold
meat and an apple, delivered to their shared quarters by the same tongue-tied
servant as usually came, she worked on repairing the items on the stack she’d
made. In mid-afternoon, she ran out of thread, and went in search of more.
    She had to ask a housemaid and one of the cook’s assistants
where to find the head housekeeper before she finally located the woman
supervising a group of servants making candles.
    Elspeth listened to her request with one ear while keeping
her eyes on the vat of tallow and the girl stirring it. The housekeeper turned
to look her over when Rosalind finished her request, her mouth pursed into a
tight frown, eyes contemptuous. Finally the woman sniffed, called over another
housemaid and told her to show Rosalind to the linen supply store.
    “Mind you take only what you need for his lordship’s repairs
and no more,” the housekeeper enjoined as they turned to go. “We have naught so
much to give anyone who thinks they might have a right to whatever they will.”
    Rosalind, who’d begun to walk away, turned back to the
woman. Elspeth watched her with an unfriendly glare. The words to reprimand the
housekeeper for her forwardness rose to Rosalind’s tongue, but she checked
them. She had no position anymore, she reminded herself. For all the world, she
was now no more than any other servant, and the housekeeper had every right to
remind her of the reality of her position.
    Rosalind sighed and caught up with the girl who’d been sent
to guide her.
    At least this young woman, probably only a year or two
younger than her own nineteen years, was more friendly. “I’m Glennys, my…er,
ma’am,” the girl said, fumbling over how she should address Rosalind. Because
there was no malice in her confusion, Rosalind smiled at her and said, “I’m
Rosalind. Once it was Lady Rosalind, but that life is behind me now. Call me
Rosalind.”
    “Yes, ma…er, Rosalind. You mustn’t mind Elspeth so much. Her
disposition isn’t the best on the days her joints pain her. She’s not bad,
really. She tries to be fair at least. My cousin works in Sir William de
Railles’ kitchens, and the stories I’ve heard from her! I won’t say too much on
those, but some would make your skin crawl. ‘Tis enough to make me know how
lucky I am to be here.”
    The girl looked at Rosalind, looking to see if a rebuke for
her forwardness or chatter was coming. When it didn’t, she continued. “All do
try to be fair here or they do not last long. Sir Jeoffrey insists on it. I
know I am fortunate to be in his household. And isn’t he a handsome one? So big
and strong… And those eyes, they—” She stopped abruptly and blushed. “Of
course, you’re with him so much more, I’m sure you know.”
    Rosalind took pity on the girl’s embarrassment. “He is a
handsome man; perhaps the most handsome I have ever seen. But more importantly,
he is a good man,