“You will change out of your clothes and put these on,” he told her. “You will not ride into Longcross looking like you just swept some woman’s floor. You will ride in looking like a duchess.”
Still standing at the open door, Annavieve quietly closed it. She eyed him, hearing that hard and professional voice again. Nothing had changed since he had left her. Depressed, but curious about the items he had brought, she went over to the bed and picked up the lovely yellow lamb’s wool, a spectacular pale shade. It was simply constructed with long sleeves, a snug bodice, and a square neckline, but the work the seamstresseshad put into it to alter it to her shape was stunning. She held up the dress against her, awed.
“Look at it,” she said, incredulous. “They did this last night?”
Kevin nodded, opening the top of the jewel box. “They did this dress and eleven others,” he told her. “You, literally, have a wardrobe fit for a queen now.”
Annavieve nodded fervently. “Indeed I do,” she said, reaching out to finger the shift that was lying with a pair of soft hose. “I hope you paid them well.”
Kevin collected his saddlebags and went about organizing them. “Well enough that they will not have to worry over money for years to come,” he said. “They were well recompensed. Put the dress on now so that we may leave. The duke will be waiting for us.”
Annavieve put the dress back on the bed and began removing what she had just put on. A big basin of still-warm water was on the table alongside the bar of wood-smelling soap. Kevin glanced over, seeing that she was busy changing clothes. He also noticed that she looked very well groomed.
“Did someone loan you a comb?” he asked. “Your hair is well dressed.”
Annavieve nodded, running a hand over her dark head. “One of the serving wenches helped me,” she said. “She brushed my hair and plaited it for me.”
Kevin approved of her appearance but he said nothing. He thought he was doing very well at remaining professional even though he wanted to talk to her, to warm to her, but he would not. Hecouldnot.
Distracting himself, he collected the used soap on the table, wrapped it up carefully, and finished organizing his bags as Annavieve changed into the yellow lamb’s wool. He kept his back turned to her, giving her some privacy, even though in this topsy-turvy world they lived in, it was foolish to pretend as ifhe hadn’t seen everything the woman had to offer. He had, and he liked it. Still, out of respect, he kept his back to her as she dressed. When he finally turned around to glance at her, to see how far she had come in re-dressing, he was astonished at what he saw.
The yellow lamb’s wool clung to her like the skin of a grape, hugging every curve as it draped beautifully down her body. With her long arms and long torso, she looked exquisite and elegant, and Kevin paused a moment to simply enjoy the view. So much for being professional; he might actually have gaped at her. She was fussing with a gold-linked belt he had brought, hooking it around her waist, letting the long end drape down her leg. Since Lady Ashford had been a good deal heavier than Annavieve, there was a lot of gold link that trailed all the way to the ground.
Kevin’s heart was doing strange things as he watched her, thumping giddily against his ribs. He kept his eyes on her for several long moments, finally moving to the chest of jewels while she tried to secure the gold belt so it wouldn’t hit the ground when she walked. Opening the top of the rusty chest, he carefully pulled out several pieces of jewelry, inspecting them, until he came to a long gold chain that was studded by clear yellow stones. It was very pretty. He carefully put the other jewels back in and secured the lid before turning to her with the yellow-stoned necklace in his hand.
“I think this will go well with your gown,” he said, holding up the necklace for her to see. “It matches well enough.”
Annavieve looked up from the gold belt around her hips, seeing the lovely necklace in his hand. She simply nodded and reached out to take it from him, slipping it over her head. The gold chain, weighted by the stones, fell beautifully down her breasts.
“Magnificent,” Kevin said quietly. “Now, you look like a duchess.”
There was that soft tone again. This time, Annavieve would not be fooled by it. It seemed to be a game with him; he would lure her in with a soft word or a gentle touch, and then turn hard again once she responded. She was fearful of letting herself respond to his quiet tone and then being shoved back by the cold persona that would follow. Nay, she wasn’t going to let him do that to her again. She was beginning to learn how to defend her soft, naïve heart against him. Her defenses were up.
“All I have is my brown cloak,” she said, avoiding his statement. “Surely there is something finer in the trunks I now own to match this dress? It seems a shame to cover it up with my coarse brown cloak.”
Kevin slung his saddlebags over one shoulder. He noticed that she still seemed a bit moody with him, as she had been when he’d left earlier to go retrieve her clothing. He tried not to let it bother him.
“That brown cloak will not touch any of these fine things,” he told her. “There were at least two cloaks I saw in one of the trunks. We will retrieve one of those for you to wear. Also, I purchased a wagon to carry your new possessions. I still must hire a man to drive it, but that should not be a problem with the promise of excellent payment.”
Annavieve, seeing that he was ready to depart, gathered her old dress and the dirty brown cloak. “That is not necessary,” she said. “I can drive the wagon.”
He frowned at her. “The Duchess of Dorset does not drive her own wagon.”
She looked at him, exasperated. “So we must hire some poor man to take him away from his family just because you do not want me to handle horses?” she asked. “Ridiculous, Kevin. I will drive the wagon. I am quite good at it.”
She was already moving to the door as he opened his mouth to protest. “Do you not understand about perception, Madam?” he asked. “It will reflect poorly on the duke to have his wife driving her own wagon.”
Annavieve turned to him, sharply. “What does it matter?” she said in an uncharacteristic show of frustration. “The man cares nothing for me. He has ordered his knight to bed me because he did not have the manners to consummate his own marriage. I care not if driving a wagon reflects badly upon him because, clearly, he cares nothing about showing me the least amount of respect. Why should I show him any at all?”
With that, she threw open the door and headed out into the corridor beyond. Surprised at her somewhat harsh but entirely reasonable argument, and also with the fact that somewhere over the past couple of days she seemed to have developed a streak of courage, Kevin collected the jewel box and followed.
When they reached the street, Annavieve fell back and allowed Kevin to take point, leading her across the avenue, through the town square, and to the livery where a loaded wagon was waiting just inside the fence. A big, sturdy white mare was attached to the wagon and Annavieve inspected the horse while Kevin went to her trunks and found a suitable cloak, dark gold in color, with some kind of brown fur lining. It was quite beautiful. When Annavieve was finished petting the white horse, he held the cloak up to her.
“My lady?” he said politely.
He was looking at her but Annavieve refused to look at him. She was feeling hurt, and somewhat despondent, but she put her old garments in the wagon and dutifully went to Kevin so he could put the cloak on her. He swung it around her slender shoulders and politely fastened it at the neck. It was warm and velvety-soft and, in spite of her mood, Annavieve ran her hands over it and took pleasure in the feel.
“It is quite lovely,” Kevin said. “You make a very presentable duchess.”
