Page 23 of Warrior’s Lady

Chapter Seven

"What is that woman trying to do to me?" Camden grumbled to himself several hours later. He'd accepted the challenge of watching over Violet, mostly because Rhiannon hadn't given him a choice.

Officiously he had escorted Violet to the lists where he and his men sparred with swords. He placed her on the fence to watch, but she didn't stay there. He'd pulled her away from two of his best warriors as they battled, swords swinging, unaware of their unschooled observer.

"Is that how you'll keep me safe, Uncle Camden, with your sword?"

Camden scooped her into his arms, realizing the lists were no place for a child.

Inside the castle, he took her with him down the back stair and into the storeroom where he kept his ale.

"What are you doing?" Violet asked as she watched him rotate the wooden barrels on the rack closest to the door.

"I'm making sure the fermentation spreads evenly through the liquid."

"What's fermentation mean? Can I do it, too?" she asked, placing her small hands against the wooden barrel closest to him. She pushed, her cheeks turning pink at her effort. But the barrel remained where it stood. "It won't move." She skipped ahead to the next one, then the next one, until she was out of sight.

"Violet?" he called when he could no longer see nor hear the child. He found her a moment later when a thunderous crash filled the air. He ran down the long row to find her at the end, her pretty blue gown drenched with ale.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Camden." She stood in a puddle of ale left behind by the barrel that lay on its side, spewing liquid through the small opening that had once been closed by a cork.

He righted the barrel, suppressing the groan he desperately wished to vent. "Are you hungry?" he asked, praying it was somewhere close to their midday meal. Together they went upstairs, and after drying her skirts by the hearth, the meal was set.

Weary from chasing the young girl about, Camden gratefully seated her at the high table beside him, then filled her trencher with honeyed mackerel, braised turnips, and a slice of cheese.

He searched the room for Rhiannon with a self-satisfied grin. The afternoon had been difficult. He would be the first to admit. Even so, he needed her to see that he and Violet had survived without her. It seemed essential that he prove to her he had lived up to her challenge.

His gaze moved from one table to the next, seeking a familiar head of golden hair. He frowned. The woman was nowhere in sight.

A tug on his sleeve brought his attention back to the little girl beside him. "I don't like mackerel. Mummy never made me eat turnips like this." Violet frowned down at her plate and rocked back in her chair. "Uncle Camden, why do I have to eat with you?"

The questions flowed after that, fast and apparently without needing a reply.

"Why doesn't that man use his knife to cut his food?"

"Can we play outside after we eat?"

"Can I have cakes with honey instead?"

"Uncle Camden, that man burped. Do you hear him? Mummy says it's impolite to burp."

Any triumph he might have experienced a moment before faded as the truth curled his ragged nerves into knots. Violet's high-pitched voice continued with one question after another until he wished he were temporarily deaf.

Camden scooted his chair away from the table. "Come, Violet. Let's go find Rhiannon. She'll know what you want for dinner. And she might be able to answer a question or two for you."

He assisted Violet with her chair. No sense suffering alone. A quick apology for insulting Rhiannon's skills earlier, and blessed silence would once again be his.

Rhiannon had just fastened the clasp on her cloak when a knock sounded on the wooden door of her chamber. In strode Camden, carrying a pink-cheeked Violet. By the joy that radiated from the young girl's face, Rhiannon would have to admit, he had done perfectly fine without her. Then she looked at Violet's dress.

"Oh, heavens, what have you done to her gown?" she asked before she caught herself. She pressed her lips together. Who was she to question him?

He set the young girl on the floor in front of him. "She's a child in need of a nursemaid. Teach her how to protect herself with a bow and arrow." He offered her a partial smile. "Teach her anything you want."

"Anything?" Rhiannon folded her arms over her chest to hide the trembling reaction to his nearness that had set into her limbs.

His smile vanished. "Within reason."

"Thank you for your trust, milord. But you gave me much to consider these last few hours." She hesitated. "Perhaps another nursemaid would be more appropriate."