Antony laughed out loud, clearly delighted by my jest. Just then, my gaze flitted over to his son, who was watching us with wide eyes. He was a handsome lad, even at such a young age, and strong, from the looks of him. I knew without having to ask that he made Antony proud. “Would you be so kind as to show me the house?” I asked, directing my words at the boy.
“A-ah, yes. Of course, m’lady,” he stammered, blushing as red as a beet after he’d done so. I kindly schooled my features to show no reaction. “As you wish. Right this way.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, following into line behind him. Antony and I exchanged amused glances over the back of his head before his hand found mine and we walked, hands clasped, to the place that was to be my new home.
It certainly wasn’t a castle—and what house could compare with the splendor of the Hohenzollern palace? Yet, it was far more vast than I’d expected, and I found it endearing and sweet. I complimented the cleanliness generously, much to my young host’s delight.
“I’ve been sweeping every day, m’lady,” John informed me, shyly ducking his head as he seemed prone to do.
“Why, how very dedicated of you,” I replied warmly, resisting the urge to pull him to me for a hug. He was too old for coddling, I supposed—though I couldn’t help but hope that he might indulge me once we’d known each other a bit longer. “Your father is blessed to have such a bright lad for a son.”
“Oh, that I am,” Antony agreed, ruffling the boy’s hair.
“Thank you, m’lady,” John mumbled, offering another bow before saying that he was going to see to the chores and excusing himself.
“What?” I demanded, taking in Antony’s arched brows.
“Nothing, just that John seems quite taken with you is all.”
“And why shouldn’t he be?” I asked with a saucy toss of my head. “Perhaps if his father had the same sense, we wouldn’t find ourselves at opposite ends so often.”
“Ah, but the reason we find ourselves at opposite ends, my dove, is your tendency to be disobedient.” He walked toward me in quick strides and caught my wrists, holding them firmly between us. “And do recall that his father had the good sense to know a valuable jewel when he found one. I did marry you, after all.”
Mollified, I allowed myself to be kissed, and it wasn’t long before I was raising my head so that my lips could fully enjoy his attention. Antony pulled away just as my quim began to hum, and long before I was ready.
“We have chores to attend to as well.”
“Chores? But we’ve only just gotten here!”
“Yes, that’s the life of a farmer, I’m afraid. And, sadly, as you’ll come to know, the life of his wife. Now, I think it is time you learn to make bread.”
Instantly, a memory came rushing back to me and I nibbled my bottom lip before I found the courage to ask. “Sarah… your wife. She… she is John’s mother?”
“Yes,” he answered, hefting a flour sack onto the counter.
“And… you never did tell me… how did she die?”
“She gave birth to a little girl,” he said without preamble. “She died of childbed fever, and the child a few days after her.”
“Oh,” I gasped, the words hitting me like a blow. “I’m so sorry.”
“I am too,” he admitted frankly, avoiding my gaze. “John has gone almost three years without a mother. I should have told you about him—especially after you were so forthright about your own condition.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Antony looked up, staring me in the eye at last. “I suppose it’s because I’d fallen a little bit in love with you even then, and I feared if I told you… it was a foolish thing to do.”
“Mayhap,” I agreed, moving toward him. When I reached him, I put my hands on both sides of his face and looked deeply into his gray eyes. “But I assure you, I am happy to have married you. God willing, he will come to love me, in time.”
Antony’s smile stretched widely over his face. “I cannot see how he could not, my lady.”
* * *
Baking bread did not turn out to be nearly as simple as I’d always assumed. By the time we’d finished, there was only one decent loaf, although we’d made five and I was covered head-to-toe in flour and had an aching back and sore elbows to boast of as well.
John had finished his chores long before we had finished and had come in to sit and watch. He never made one comment, though I sensed his amusement, particularly when I was at my most frustrated.
“Perhaps the boy can learn to bake,” I suggested when I was at my breaking point. I’d looked pitifully at Antony, but he had only chuckled.
