Page 28 of May Queen: May Day

“I’m not sure, but it’s odd.”

“Everything is odd to you.” She reached for the piece and when she did, Ricard grabbed her hand and slipped the ring on her finger.

“It seems the ring fits you perfectly after all,” said Ricard.

“Well, I must have lost weight because it didn’t fit before.” She went to take it off and he stopped her.

“Nay. Wear the ring.”

“Why?” Her eyes flashed back over to her handmaid.

“Are you afraid to wear it because it holds the markings of Druids and you don’t want anyone to see it?”

“Of course not!” she spat. “I told you they are not markings of Druids or any kind of pagan symbols at all. It is just a design and nothing more.”

“If so, then you won’t be in such a hurry to remove it,” Ricard challenged her. “After all, if it was given to you by your mother, you’ll want to wear it to remember her and honor her, I’m sure.”

“Of course.” She looked down to the ring and then hid her hand in the folds of her gown. “I’d like my trunk brought to my chamber now, please. Afterwards, I’ll be resting, so I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Nash, take the trunk to Lady Flora’s room,” said Ricard, hoping his squire could find out more information.

“That trunk is heavy, my lord,” protested Nash. “Mayhap Dayton can do it.”

“I’m tired,” said Dayton, still lying on Ricard’s bed.

“Lang will help you,” said Ricard.

“Me?” Lang looked up in surprise, holding up the missive and still blowing on the wax seal. “What happened to I do my work and he does his? Besides, I need to find the messenger to send this missive to Wiltshire at once.

“Wiltshire?” asked Flora. “Who is the missive for?”

“It’s a missive to the baron about the missing money from the dowry,” Lang told her.

“That’s enough, Lang,” said Ricard. “Take the missive with you, and on the way back give it to the messenger and tell him to leave immediately.”

“I’d rather stay here and help you secure the dowry in the wardrobe.” Lang’s eyes shot over to the wine barrel.

“Make it back in ten minutes and I’ll give you a taste of the wine,” said Ricard with a sigh.

“Really?” Lang perked up. He shoved the missive in his pocket and ran over to the trunk. “Come on, Nash, get a move on. We’ve got a trunk to move and no time to waste.”

* * *

“Just setit down over there, by the bed,” said Flora, instructing Nash and Lang where to put her trunk. When they turned their backs, she lifted her hand to her mouth to talk to her handmaid. She didn’t want Nash reading her lips again. “We’ve got to get that missive.”

“Why?” whispered Albreda.

“I need to know what Lord Ricard wrote to my uncle.”

“What difference does it make?” asked the old woman. “He said it was about the dowry.”

“But what if it’s not?” This thought upset her. “What if it’s about me? Or what if my uncle calls off the betrothal because of whatever words are in the missive? Then I’ll have to return to Wiltshire and I’ll never find my father.”

“I thought you were blackmailing your uncle.”

“I was, but I’m afraid after too long he is going to find a way to get out of it. Plus, Gretta is precious to him. If she continues crying, she might talk my uncle into coming here to let her marry Ricard and sending me home instead.”

“That will never happen after the lie you made up about her.”