Beth leaned against him, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and cloves. “And how fared your meeting with the steward? Has the harvest been good?”
Baldwin nodded, his expression satisfied. “Better than expected. The new method you suggested for rotating the crops has yielded more than we hoped. The villagers are calling it a miracle.”
“Not a miracle,” Beth corrected. “Just science. Nitrogen fixation and soil regeneration.”
“Your ‘science’ sounds suspiciously like magic to most ears,” Baldwin said, his voice low and teasing. “Father Gregory still crosses himself when you speak of invisible creatures living in the soil.”
“Microorganisms,” Beth said primly. “And Father Gregory is more open-minded than you give him credit for. He’s been helping me translate some of the old Arabic texts on medicine.”
Baldwin’s arm slipped around her waist, drawing her closer. “I thank God daily that you chose to stay,” he murmured againsther hair. “Even if your knowledge sometimes makes me feel like the village idiot.”
Beth turned to face him, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. “You are the wisest man I know, Baldwin. You understand people in ways I never will. You see to the heart of matters, while I’m still puzzling over details.”
His gray eyes darkened. “I see to the heart of you, of the future. And find it matches mine, beat for beat.”
Before she could respond, the sound of laughter floated toward them. Eleanor appeared on the garden path, her golden hair loose around her shoulders, her blue gown swirling around her ankles. Beside her walked Sir William, the young knight who had caught her eye at court. His face was alight with admiration as Eleanor gestured animatedly, describing something that had clearly amused her greatly.
Baldwin tensed slightly beside Beth, and she squeezed his hand. “She’s a woman grown,” she reminded him gently. “And Sir William is a good man.”
“He’s still a man,” Baldwin muttered, but relaxed as the couple approached.
“Brother! Beth!” Eleanor called, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “We’ve been seeking you everywhere. William has news from court.”
The young knight bowed, his earnest face breaking into a smile. “King Edward has granted me the lands at Thornfield,” he said.
“With a proper estate of my own, I can now—” He faltered, glancing at Eleanor, who nodded encouragingly. “That is, I wished to speak with you, my lord, about a matter of great importance.”
Baldwin rose, pulling Beth up beside him. “I suspect I know what matter you wish to discuss, Sir William.”
The knight straightened his shoulders. “I have come to ask for Lady Eleanor’s hand in marriage,” he said, his voice steady despite the slight tremor in his hands. “With your blessing, of course.”
Baldwin regarded him solemnly, and Beth felt a flicker of sympathy for the young man who stood so bravely before her husband’s scrutiny. Then Baldwin’s expression softened.
“And what says my sister to this proposal?” he asked, turning to Eleanor.
Eleanor stepped forward, her chin lifted in the familiar stubborn tilt that Beth had come to love. “I say yes,” she replied. “I would have William as my husband, brother. He values my mind as well as my beauty, and has promised I may continue my sword and archery practice, in private, of course.”
Beth bit back a smile at the alarm that flashed across Baldwin’s face.
“Is this true, Sir William?” Baldwin demanded. “You would allow such... unladylike pursuits?”
William nodded, his gaze steady. “Lady Eleanor’s spirit is what drew me to her, my lord. I would not cage a falcon merely to admire its plumage.”
A moment of silence stretched between them before Baldwin inclined his head. “Well spoken,” he said. “We shall discuss the details of the marriage contract in my solar tomorrow. For now, you may walk with my sister in the garden, within sight of the castle windows.”
Eleanor beamed, pressing a swift kiss to her brother’s cheek before taking William’s arm. “Come,” she said. “I wish to show you the roses I’ve been cultivating. They’re quite unlike any others in England.”
As they walked away, Beth heard William ask, “Are these the roses that reportedly change color with the phases of the moon?”
Eleanor’s laugh floated back to them. “Beth says it’s merely a reaction to the soil’s composition, but I prefer my explanation.”
Baldwin shook his head, but his eyes were fond as he watched his sister’s retreating form. “She’ll lead him a merry dance,” he said.
“And he’ll be happier for it,” Beth replied, leaning into his side. “Just as you’ve been happier since I stormed into your life and disrupted all your carefully ordered plans.”
Baldwin turned to her, his hands coming to rest at her waist. “Happier? Is that what you call this constant state of bewilderment and concern that you’ll disappear back to your own time?”
But there was no real worry in his voice, not anymore. Not since the night of the storm, when she had made her choice and stayed.
