“Some,” she replied, her breath warm against his neck. “That’s Ursa Major, the Great Bear. And there’s Polaris, the North Star.” She pointed, her body shifting slightly in his arms.
Baldwin tightened his grip. “Be still. You’ve had too much mead.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, but made no move to demand he set her down. “Just... seeing the stars like this makes me feel small. Like a tiny speck in the vastness of time.”
Her words struck a chord within him. “I often feel the same when contemplating God’s creation. We are but moments in His eternal plan.”
Beth turned her face toward his, close enough that he could see the seriousness in her expression despite the mead’s influence. “Do you ever wonder about your place in that plan? If you’re where you’re supposed to be?”
The question resonated deeply. “Often,” he admitted. “Especially since my father’s death. The burden of lordship was not one I sought, yet here I stand.”
“Here we both stand,” she said softly. “Though I’m still not sure how I got here or why.”
Her face was tilted up to his, moonlight catching on her lips. Baldwin felt drawn to her, a pull as inexorable as the tide. His hand at her waist tightened fractionally.
“Perhaps,” he said, his voice rough, “some mysteries are not meant to be solved, but experienced.”
Her breath caught audibly. She shifted in his arms, whether from the mead or desire, he couldn’t tell. Her hand moved from his arm to his chest, resting over his heart, which thundered beneath her touch.
“Baldwin,” she whispered, and the sound of his name on her lips broke something loose within him.
He lowered his head slowly, giving her time to pull away. Instead, she tilted her chin up, her eyes fluttering closed as the distance between them narrowed to a breath.
“Baldwin!” Eleanor’s voice shattered the moment like a stone through glass. “Beth! Are you coming? Supper is nearly ready!”
He almost dropped her as she jerked back. He steadied her automatically, his jaw clenched in frustration.
“We should...” Beth gestured vaguely toward the castle, her cheeks flaming.
“Yes,” Baldwin agreed, his voice strained. “We should.”
He gently lowered her to her feet, but noting her unsteady stance, tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. The look that passed between them held a promise, unspoken but clear as the night sky above.
Later.
The air changed, charged with possibility.
Beth felt it too, he was certain. The slight tremor in her hand as she held onto his arm, the quick rise and fall of her chest, the way her eyes lingered on his face before darting away, all spoke of a desire that matched his own.
As they emerged from the trees to see Eleanor waiting impatiently at the castle gate, Baldwin allowed himself a small smile. Perhaps Father Gregory was right. Time was God’s river, and Beth had been carried to him on its current for a purpose.
It remained to be seen what that purpose might be, but for now, the promise of “later” was enough to sustain him.
CHAPTER 15
The dawn light slanted through the high windows of the solar, casting golden patterns across the floor. Baldwin sat at the oak table, quill in hand, reviewing the steward’s accounts. The summer had been kind to Glenhaven’s fields, but the farmers to the west reported concerns about the lack of rain. His brow furrowed as he made notations in the margin.
The door burst open with such force that Baldwin’s quill jerked, leaving an unsightly blot on the parchment. Jason stood in the doorway, chest heaving, his sandy hair darkened with sweat and dust from the road clinging to his tunic.
“My lord,” the young man gasped, extending a rolled parchment sealed with crimson wax. The royal seal was unmistakable. The rose of York pressed deep into the wax.
Baldwin set down his quill and took the missive, breaking the seal with a swift motion, scanning the elegant script, and with each word, the muscles in his jaw tightened further. He read the words once more, feeling a cold weight settle in his stomach. The queen’s command was elegant but brooked no argument.
Present yourself at court with haste. We expect the woman you shield.
“Why summon you now?” Jason asked, his young face pinched with worry.
His expression darkened as he rolled the parchment and set it aside. “Because the queen does not ask,” he said grimly. “And she does not wait.” He rose from his chair, his dark blue tunic rustling with the movement. “We leave at sunrise.”
