Page 59

John waited for Anne to reappear after her visit with Lady Elizabeth, but when an hour passed, he went to find her. He started in the kitchens with her friend Adalia, who told him she’d asked Anne to weed in the kitchen garden when her work with Lady Elizabeth was finished.

Anne had deliberately avoided him, John realized, and it didn’t bode well.

The cook herself seemed very hesitant with him, even suspicious, which seemed strange. How could she be upset with his role pursuing Anne? Would Adalia not want a maidservant to have the chance to marry a bailiff?

Outside, he entered the kitchen gardens, which were laid out with the vegetables needed for the consumption of the castle residents. Though he saw several maidservants bent over the rows, it didn’t take him long to find Anne. She was the only one wearing a wimple.

Considering she was an unmarried young lady, why did she wear it?

But he could hardly ask her such a personal question, not when he was trying to keep his distance.

The neat rows of greenery posed a challenge for his crutch—he was heartily sick of it after only a few days. He ended up straddling a row of beans and limping very carefully toward her. She looked up as he neared, shading her eyes from the sun, her face impassive. Nodding to him, she went back to weeding.

“Is this what a lady’s maid does now?” he asked, standing above her.

“A lady’s maid who has been deprived of her usual duties.”

He waited, looking down at the back of her head and her slim back, but she remained silent. All around them, he saw several servants giving them wide-eyed looks and trying to hide their giggles. At least the shocked stares of the past few days were finally being replaced by amusement.

When she continued to ignore him, he said, “Anne? Did you speak with your mistress?”

“I did.”

“And does she have something for me in return?” he asked in a low voice.

She sat back on her heels and wiped her perspiring face with the back of her hand. It left a streak of dirt that he found endearing—and then he was angry with himself for noticing.

“She feared its discovery would compromise you or her,” Anne said, “so she directed me to say that she read it, and would consider your words.”

He frowned. “That is all?”

“What would you have her say?” she asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

Although John felt angry, he was mostly frustrated with the whole situation: his inability to immediately help his betrothed; her refusal to leave should he infiltrate the tower; and mostly his overwhelming attraction to Anne and his increasing fears that she would not be easy to forget. Never had a woman occupied his mind as much as she did. Even watching her work in the dirt only reminded him of how supple and strong she was, how much he wanted her in his bed.

He gave a weary sigh. “Thank you for delivering the item for me. You are a loyal servant to her.”

She gave him a nod and went back to weeding as if it challenged her both physically and mentally.

Or gave her a good reason to ignore him.

* * *

Early that evening, just after supper, Elizabeth watched John’s movements carefully. When he was beginning a game of Tables with Philip and several knights, she snuck out of the great hall and hurried to his bedchamber. Once inside, she closed the door in relief and looked about, wondering where to begin. After throwing open the shutters to catch the last of the sunlight, she started with a satchel on John’s bed. Though she deserved to know the truth, she felt guilty for spying, for continuing her deception after John had told the truth.

She rummaged through the satchel, finding only garments. There was another satchel on Philip’s pallet, but she would not touch that unless she absolutely had to. A coffer against one wall was only filled with bedding. She ran her fingers along the mantel of the hearth, even searched for loose stones that a treasure might be hidden behind. Her breathing quickened, her heart raced, as more and more time went by and she felt the need to escape. She was just sliding her hands beneath the mattress when the door opened and closed. Her eyes went wide, and she held her breath.

Just as she was trying to quietly slide beneath the bed again, John said, “I know you’re here. By now the whole castle does.”

His voice was full of anger, which she wasn’t used to from him. Before she could even get to her knees, he was beside her, pulling her up by the arms until she was standing, then leaning over her, his face dark with fury.

“What did you think you would accomplish with this?” he demanded, flinging his arm wide to encompass the whole chamber.

“I—”

“A soldier saw you. He told another. Who proceeded to tell me, in front of the rest of the knights, what a lucky man I was to have you waiting in my bed.”

She gasped. “I never meant⁠—”