“Culth was my ancestor. When the Normans came, a king by the name of Ael ruled the province. He surrendered to the Normans without a fight and gave his only child, a daughter, to a general serving William the Bastard. They had thirteen children, the eldest of which was my grandfather several times over.” He grinned. “Funny thing about the Norman general; his name was not le Mon when he married the Saxon princess. All he could say about his new acquisition was ‘mine, mine’, so William took to calling him ‘mon’, which is ‘mine’ in French. So the name le Mon was born.”
Derica laughed softly. “A name borne of greed.”
“I certainly can’t blame the man being excited about his just reward.”
Derica shrugged in agreement. The conversation lulled and she couldn’t think of any more questions to ask him at the moment. He had been quite open with her and she was, in truth, feeling comfortable with him. He seemed to be a likable man in spite of her original impression. She was coming to regret not attending sup; yet if she had, she knew they would not have been able to converse as they were now with her brothers and uncles hanging over them.
A twinkle came to her eye. “Now,” she said. “Are you going to tell me how you got in through that window or are you going to dazzle me with more talk of the history of the le Mon family?”
“I am going to dazzle you with more talk.”
She shook her head, a reproachful gesture. Yet there was humor in it. “Then talk. God’s Bones, you risked your life to come to me. You may as well make it worth the risk.”
“It is worth the risk already.”
Derica could feel her cheeks grow warm. Lowering her gaze, she moved her chair back, away from the fire. “You may as well sit across from me rather than in the darkness, then. Let us be comfortable.”
Garren didn’t need to be told twice. He picked up his chair and moved it. Sitting an arm’s length away from her was much better than sitting an entire room’s width from her. He just sat there, looking at her, smiling when she would meet his gaze, looking at his hands when she looked away, both of them trying to think of something to say. It was not uncomfortable, but more than once they chuckled when they realized the flow of conversation did not come so easily.
“Is Chateroy a beautiful place, then?” Derica finally asked.
Garren nodded. “I think so.” He couldn’t think of much else to say to that. “Have you lived at Framlingham all of your life?”
“Aye,” she replied. “I was sent away to foster when I was eight years of age, but my family missed me so that they sent for mewhen I was twelve years and I have been back at Framlingham ever since.”
Garren cocked an eyebrow. “If they think to send for you when you and I go to Chateroy, they had better think twice. I will not return you.”
She was pleased by his statement. “It will be difficult for them. Being the only female in the family, I am something of a prized commodity. Women tend not to survive long in the de Rosa house.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “It is rare for a female de Rosa to be born. For several generations back there has been nothing but males. My father has three brothers and his father had one, and his father before him had six, and so forth, for seven generations. I am the first female in well over one hundred years.”
“And well worth the wait,” Garren said quietly.
Derica burst into embarrassed laughter. “You certainly are free with your flattery, Sir Garren.”
He shook his head. “Not really. It does not come easy to me, as I am not particularly comfortable with women.”
“You seem very comfortable with me.”
“That is because you are easy to talk to.”
She dipped her head graciously, to thank him. The conversation quieted once again, but there was no discomfort to it. Garren’s gaze moved back and forth between Derica and the dying fire. He was appalled and thrilled to realize he could grow to like this very much. She’d given him no reason to dislike her; if anything, the entire conversation had produced the opposite effect. The seed of confusion that had sprouted in his mind was growing in to a nice, healthy sapling, one he should like to rip out by the roots before it grew into a mighty oak and obscured his vision completely.
“Well,” he said softly, rising. “I suppose I should leave you to your sleep. I have taken enough of your time.”
Derica rose with him. “Strange, I am not tired at all, but I am sure you must be after your long journey today.”
“I am, a little,” he gazed into her eyes, longer than he should have. If only she had been the petty, spoiled female he had hoped for. “I will bid you a good eve, then, my lady. Pleasant dreams.”
“Thank you, Sir Garren,” she said. “Good sleep to you as well.”
He stood there looking at her just as she stood there looking at him. Garren couldn’t seem to move his feet. He felt like an idiot.
“Well?” she asked.
“What?”
