“I know, right? Talk about a lot of work.”
Marsha cocked her head, watching the two women. “The summer I turned thirteen, my parents sent me to Kansas to spend time with my grandmother. She made me help her pickle and can beets. To this day, I can’t stand beets. But I didn’t think you knew anything about canning. Come to think of it, you’ve never said where you grew up. Spill.”
Prepared, Ashley didn’t squirm. Instead she met Marsha’s curious gaze and said, “Buckhead. Our cook brought jars of sauce she canned when she made pasta for dinner.”
Her friend’s eyes widened a fraction before the jaded look was firmly back in place.
“Talk about a ritzy part of Atlanta. Wish I had a cook and a maid growing up. My brother and I were the help at our house. Silver spoon and all that, huh?”
“Something like that. Seems so long ago.”
“That how you snagged your fabulous apartment?”
“My parents weren’t thrilled with me moving to the city, so we compromised. They’d help with a place to live in a neighborhood they approved of, and I’d take care of the rest on my own.”
Marsha looked at the women, who were now laughing loudly enough to cause several tables to turn and stare.
“Glad you’re not some hick from some rinky-dink town with one stoplight.”
Ashley made an exaggerated show of shuddering.
“Can you imagine? How awful. Though thank goodness some people like to live out in the middle of nowhere. After all, if they all lived in the city, it would be even more crowded than it already is.”
“No kidding. I’d be bartering my future children so I could afford rent on the closet I call home.” Marsha drained her wine. “Not that I’d ever have kids, but you know.”
“I do.” With a lingering look at the tourists, Ashley clenched her hands together under the table, willing the shaking to stop.
CHAPTER 2
England—October1334
Christian Thornton,Lord Winterforth, had spent the entire journey thinking on his betrothed. ’Twas past time for him to do his duty. Marry. Have children to carry on the title and Thornton name. In the three weeks since he left his home at Winterforth and rode through the gates at Ravenskirk, not once had he wondered if he might come to love his bride to be. Duty first. Always. Let his brothers marry for love; recent events had shown him love was not to be.
After losing several prospective brides, he and his brothers—well, in truth, Charlotte and Melinda—had taken matters in hand, declaring he would marry at Ravenskirk. Charlotte had muttered about placing extra guards on duty or tying the girl to a chair until the deed was done. Christian had tried not to take offense. Henry’s wife was due to give birth any day, and her temper made even the fiercest of his brother’s guard flinch under her sharp tongue.
Though as he looked at his brother’s home, he noticed differencesbetween Ravenskirk and Winterforth. The new tapestries on the walls, cushions on the chairs, and the clean floors. He had never worried about the state of his hall. But now he was to be married, his wife would want changes. Women desired their homes to look and smell lovely. As he was thinking about the changes she might desire to undertake, and how much gold it would cost, a voice startled him.
“You look as if you’re off to the gallows this fine morn instead of meeting your intended.” Edward cuffed him on the shoulder. “She is a good lass from a wealthy family. Look happy, or she may think you do not wish to wed her.”
“If she is so delightful, why does she not run away like the others?”
“Hush, whelp.” Christian’s eldest brother leaned in close, trying to whisper. “Her dam has been ill and not heard the rumors. With a bit of extra gold, her sire was willing to ignore the foolishness of womanly gossip.”
Edward scratched his nose. “He is eager to wed into one of the richest families in the realm.” Then he smirked. “Best lock up the larder. His lady will eat everything, and you’ll have nothing left to survive the winter.”
If a wedding was to be a happy celebration, why did Christian wish to run home and draw up the bridge? Forget about duty and responsibility and find a girl who wanted the man, not the name or the gold. But he was a Thornton, so he would do what needs be done.
“When the girl hears what is being said about me, she will cry off like the others.” Christian kicked at the dirt as he watched Henry train in the lists.
John joined them, wiping his brow. “Her sire will see the deed done. Now go inside and make yourself ready. You are to be married, and I for one am looking forward to seeing the last of the Thorntons wed.”
“’Tis long past time. Even I wed whilst you’ve been ditheringabout.” Robert swaggered up to them, grinning. “If I could marry, certainly you can find one bride in the realm to have you. Though you are puny, and not as handsome as I.”
Christian narrowed his eyes. “If this one flees…”
“She will not,” James said as he poured a bucket of water over his chest, the steam rising from his skin. “For if she does, Melinda has sworn to hunt her down and drag the girl back by her hair.”
“Not if Lucy gets there first.” William rocked back on his heels. “Marry the girl, get her with child, and put these ridiculous rumors to rest. Nothing more than idle gossip.”
