The harvest had yielded much bounty this year if the caravans were any indication. Wagons creaked as they rolled by, piled high with pumpkins and gourds. Meat-sellers prepared their wares, displaying plump geese, legs of lamb, or whole pigs for roasting. And just inside the Village Square, Catherine spotted several women setting up tables to display fine woven fabrics and woolens. It showed the makings of a fine festival, with goods from far and wide.
She slowed with the others, preparing to ride closer to Alban as they entered the main portion of the marketplace, but a sudden movement off to the side made her pull her mount to a halt. Her heart bounded with happiness when she saw Gray emerge from the crowd to canter up to them. He looked exhilarated, and his eyes sparkled as he nodded to her and rode past to intercept Alban near the front of the riders.
She didn’t have to wait long to discover what had delayed him. After exchanging a few words with Alban, Gray wheeled his horse around and cantered back to her, indicating that she should follow him away from the rest of the group and outside the village gates.
“I trust you are well, my lady,” he said, when they stopped, smiling at her again as if he savored a pleasant secret. As always, she lost her breath when he looked at her like that. He seemed to see only her, and when he grinned in that charming, boyish way, with one side of his mouth tilted up, ’twas difficult to think of anything logical.
“I am, my lord. But why are we leaving the others behind?”
“I have something that I’d like to show you. We can rejoin the group later if you will accompany me now.”
“Of course. What is it that I am to see?”
“You’ll know soon enough.”
With another grin, he guided his steed toward the wide, leafy fringe of the forest. They left the clearing, ducking into the cool recesses of the wooded path. She gazed around her as they traveled, feeling as if she’d entered a magical land.
The season was full upon them, and sun peeked through the intertwined branches and leaves overhead, painting the thick canopy with strokes of brilliant orange, red and gold. Pockets of warmth lit her head, and the branches dipped and swayed in the breeze, making the air smell fertile and ripe.
She breathed in the fragrant, almost smoky scent, savoring the crackling of the leaves under their mounts’ hooves. Though the day was sunny, the air was crisp, reminding them that winter’s breath would soon frost everything in glistening layers of white.
After several minutes of riding, Gray pulled his steed up short and twisted to look at her. “We leave the path here. Do you need to rest before we go on?”
“Nay, I feel fine,” she answered, realizing that her training had done more than just help her to wield a sword. Only weeks ago such a jaunt might have tired her, making her long for the comfort of her chamber, but now she felt exhilarated and ready to ride all day. She patted her mare’s neck to make sure she fared as well. “Bella feels warm, but she’s not sweated yet. She’ll need to take water and rest soon, but I think ’tis safe to go farther for now.”
Gray nodded and pushed off the path into the woodland, picking his way through the brush and holding back large branches so that Catherine and her mount could pass by unhindered. Their travel slowed here without the trail. The horses stepped carefully to avoid tripping on uneven ground or stumbling on a rock. But Catherine enjoyed their leisurely pace, as it gave her more opportunity to study her husband without his knowing it.
She watched him riding in front of her, forging the way for them with his own body and the movement of his steed. The sun winked through the trees, burnishing his hair to blue-black and dancing over the broad, well-muscled expanse of his back and shoulders. Every now and then she heard him murmur something to his steed, talking him around a treacherous root, or guiding him under a low-hanging branch with soothing tones.
’Twas his way, she realized, feeling a ribbon of warmth unfurl through her. Gray took others into his care and tried to calm and settle them. It seemed as natural to him as breathing.
She’d seen him do it countless times during the weeks she’d lived at Ravenslock—with the children who played round the castle like happy ants, with his men, who respected his command and authority as if he were a brother rather than their lord…and especially with her. He’d worked with her every day, helping to make her stronger, to make her feel worthy.
To make her feel safe.
And many nights he’d come to their bed and simply held her close, telling her with his actions far more eloquently than words ever could that she mattered. That her feelings and needs meant full as much as his.
“We’re here,” he called to her, interrupting her thoughts as he reined in his horse. He turned in his saddle, his eyes alight with pleasure. Whatever he wished her to see was making him as excited as a little boy.
Was it ground for a new castle, perhaps? Or the site of an existing ruin that he wished to show her? Regardless, she realized that his desire to share his excitement with her pleased her well.
Dismounting, she tied her mare and approached where he stood waiting for her. Gray took her hand and led her the last few paces through the wood to the edge of what seemed to be a clearing.
“Come, lady. I discovered the spot this morn, during my ride.”
Pushing aside a thick bough that blocked her view, Catherine stepped into the clearing and gasped. A broad, green field sprouting with thousands of slender willows stretched before her. Swelling hills rose on three sides of the flats, providing the wetland with the protection and water needed to nurture the growth.
Speechless with pleasure, she stepped forward into the clearing. Her foot promptly squelched into the soft earth, and she jumped back with a shriek.
“Careful,” Gray said, laughing as he reached to balance her.
She stilled, suddenly aware of the way his palm cushioned the small of her back, supporting her. Warmth radiated through her clothing and sent a heated shiver up her spine. He was so good to her. His eagerness all during the ride hadn’t been over something he’d found for himself, but for a gift that he wanted to give her.
Tears stung her eyes, but she smiled through them. “This field is large enough to supply the castle for an entire year’s weaving.” Swinging her gaze to meet his, she was surprised to see an answering tenderness that made quivery feelings settle in her belly. “Thank you for this,” she whispered. “Thank you foreverythingyou’re doing—everything you’ve already done for me.”
He was silent as he gazed down at her, his eyes soft with some nameless emotion. “’Tis nothing, lady. I’m happy to have pleased you.” He cleared his throat and stepped away, breaking their physical contact. “But tell me, how do you judge these withies for their quality and readiness for culling?”
A sudden sense of loss overwhelmed her excitement for a moment. Yet it bubbled up again when she envisioned all of the beautiful pieces she would be able to weave from the harvest of this field—chairs and tables, baskets, platters, bowls. ’Twas a dream come true. More carefully, she took a step onto the field, motioning for him to follow as she picked around the lesser of the soggy spots.
