She laughed, and for a moment he forgot where they were. He’d seen her in fear, in passion, in the village, and here in the castle, and yet he did not remember hearing her laugh aloud like that before. He glanced over to see Lord Hugh’s reaction, but he was engrossed in the discussion with his men.
“So,” he said in a low voice, “Lady Margaret is leaving in the morn? And you remain?”
“Aye. Apparently this betrothal requires a visit, and so the lady is seeing to it. I was . . . not invited to accompany them.”
“You do not look disappointed in the least,” he offered, watching the delicate skin around her eyes crinkle as she smiled and shook her head.
“I would prefer not to leave here,” she admitted. “’Tis the only place I’ve known.”
He wanted to pass on word from Gavin but feared upsetting her. Her next words gave him the opportunity he needed.
“I know you have been through the village. Have you seen . . . him? Them?” she asked.
She smiled, but it was forced, the trembling in her lower lip exposing her vulnerability to anyone watching or listening. He stopped his thumb from touching her lip, as he wanted to, tucking his hand under his leg to keep from raising it to her face.
“Aye. This very morn,” he said. “I saw Gavin on my ride through the village to the hills. He asked about you.”
“How does he fare?” she asked. “Was my moth—Fia—with him?”
She had stopped calling them mother and father already. From the way her gaze flitted over to Lord Hugh’s as she mentioned them, he suspected it was her lord father’s decision to end that custom.
“He seemed well,” he lied. “He wanted to know about you and your new life here in the keep.” That part was true. “Has Lord Hugh forbidden you to leave the castle?”
“Not forbidden, nay,” she replied. “He asked me to remain here until I learned . . . until I learn what is expected of me as his daughter.”
He heard the hesitation in her voice and, from what Gavin had told him, he knew the reason—Lord Hugh was teaching her how to use her power over fire.
“And you agreed?” he asked, watching for signs of truth or lies in her answer.
“I have agreed, though sometimes I simply want to wake in the morning and find myself back in Gavin and Fia’s cottage.”
“He is a hard taskmaster, then?” He leaned back, enjoying the few minutes of conversation with her.
“Aye, very,” she admitted. “But I have so much to learn and so little time in which to do so.”
He was about to ask her about that, and he suspected it had to do with the bad feeling he had, but Lord Hugh interrupted then.
“Sir William, excuse my poor manners,” he said, standing. William and Brienne did so. “I must give Eudes a document from my chambers. Brienne, please keep our guest entertained in my absence.”
A blush crept up her cheeks at his request, and she nodded, clasping her hands in a way that showed how pleased she was to be asked. Within a few moments, all of the men followed Lord Hugh out of the chamber, leaving him alone with Brienne.
“Are you truly well and pleased by this change in your circumstances, then, Brienne?” He sensed something deeper in her that he could not name. Some ambiguity clouding her joy. “No regrets?” He would be leaving soon and wanted—nay, needed—to know she would be well.
“I do miss them,” she said. “I miss Gavin and Fia, I miss telling them of my day, asking their advice. I miss knowing my place and what is expected of me.” She glanced around and leaned closer. “You noblemen have so many rules to follow.”
“Wenobles,” he corrected. “You have joined our ranks now, Brienne.” He watched as she thought on that.
“Oh, aye.” She nodded and glanced off over his shoulder for a moment. “Who could have thought that a simple word of acceptance from one lord could have changed my life so much?”
And that sentiment described his life as well, for with one word from the king, one acknowledging word, William’s life could be as he wished it to be. He noticed she was now watching him closely.
“That could be said for you—could it not, William?” Had she read it in his eyes? Or just known the secrets of his heart?
“Aye, it could be, Brienne.”
He had never spoken of his bastardy to a woman before, never exposed what he considered his unworthiness as he had to her. Another connection he felt that tied them together in some way. And yet he would be leaving soon to report back to the king. Leaving her here.
“But your father has raised you and mine will not.”
