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And anyway, I was pretty sure the needlepoint was for show, not her real passion.
Passion, my lion rumbled, happy to fantasize a little longer.
I did my best to focus on something else. Like riding.
Wait. Riding…
My mind jumped back to the pretty white mare in the stable. The new arrival.
When the sun finally rose and we were finally released from prayers, I strode to the stable.
“Hello, Rita. Hello, Rosie.” I petted both.
Rita looked at me, and I sighed. “Don’t ask.”
Brother Matthew had already given me an earful about my broken vow of silence, but he’d failed to assign me a new vow…yet. It was just a matter of time, I was certain.
I went over to the white mare. “Hello, you.”
“Isn’t she a beauty?” Geoffrey, the stableboy, said in passing.
I nodded, taking in her fine lines and noble bearing. “Beautiful and classy.”
Geoffrey laughed. “The Maid Marian of horses, right?”
I froze.
Geoffrey went on enthusing behind me. “You should see the tack she came with. I wish my pillow was as soft as her saddle. And as for the engraving in the leather… Whoever owns her is as rich as the king. Maybe even richer.”
Beautiful. Classy. Rich.
And way, way out of my league.
I glanced in the direction of the library. Maid Marian?
“Whose mount is this?” I did my best not to sound too interested.
Geoffrey shrugged. “Don’t ask, because they won’t tell. That’s why we’ve got her back here with the mules. No offense, ladies,” he added quickly.
Rita scuffed the ground, annoyed.
I petted the mare a moment longer, then Rita, then Rosie. Eventually, I wandered to work in the brewery, but my mind was elsewhere.
Maid Marian. Could it really be?
* * *
I spent the whole day stealing glances at the library windows, wishing, wondering. Which made it one of the most agonizing days I’d spent at the abbey, but one of the most exciting too, because I finally had something interesting to occupy my mind.
Who was she? What was she really here for? And what were the odds of getting stabbed if I snuck into the library again that evening?
Throwing caution to the wind, I did just that, tiptoeing up the stairs an hour after lights-out in the dormitory.
Sneaking around at night had become such a regular habit that I had forgotten the adrenaline rush it used to bring. But that evening, my heart hammered and my senses piqued as I crept along. I halted at the faintest sound, the slightest hint of movement.
My inner lion twitched his whiskers. More fun than we’ve had in ages.
I grinned. And we weren’t even there yet.
