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Winnie pulled on a frown. “I can take care of myself,” she said weakly.
He stared at her, and his features softened. “There’s nothing wrong with needing help, Winnie. Or accepting it. To need help is to be human. To accept it is to be humble. I learned that from you.”
Winnie’s heart raced. That was the first time she’d heard him call her by her given name in…how long? Ever? But his words were what lingered the most.
“So you’re coming to understand that it’s good to accept help, then?” she asked.
He walked past her with a hidden smile. “I’m beginning to see the value in it, yes. Ready to go?”
Winnie could only follow in silence.
On the way down, she received three more compliments over her—no, Char’s—boots, which she accepted with a smile and a gracious, “Thank you,” and when they reached the kissing gate again, she pushed through before Matthew had the chance.
“I’ll be going first, thank you,” she said with a pointed look.
“Why, so you can demand a kiss?” he asked with a knowing smile that made her heart curl warmly in her chest.
She hadn’t been able to muster a response, so she’d merely slipped through and marched on, forcing the image of kissing Matthew Wintour from her mind once and for all.
Or, for her sake, she hoped it would be once and for all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“I’ve never been inside a castle,” Winnie said as she and Matthew walked toward their next destination, Skipton.
They’d parked their car in the lot nearby and now stood in front of the gatehouse—two large, circular towers holding up a portcullis at the back.
“Really?” Matthew asked. “Never?”
“The closest things I’ve seen in Utah are granaries, so I guess you could count those.”
He chuckled at her joke.
They neared the large precipice of the castle, and Winnie stared up at the brown and black stones, marveling at the alternating raised spaces of the towers, the coat of arms, and eventually the writing at the top.
DES OR MAIS
“‘Henceforth,’” Matthew said, motioning to the writing. “It’s the Clifford family motto. Lady Anne had it created as a defiant slight against Oliver Cromwell, who wanted the castle destroyed.”
Winnie smiled. “I like the sound of this Lady Anne.”
“You would,” Matthew said with a roll of his eyes, then he motioned her forward. “Come on. There’s much more to see than the gatehouse.”
He was right. Winnie couldn’t believe the sight before her as they passed beneath the portcullis and were greeted by the sight of a full-blown, real-life castle.
Stretching across the length of a pristinely cared for lawn, the castle boasted multiple drum towers, light brown stone, and a Union Jack that waved proudly at the foremost tower. Small windows speckled a few of the towers, and a broad staircase led up to the front entrance.
The medieval fortress—according to Matthew—had been preserved for over nine hundred years and was open for guests to explore every room, aside from those off to the side, where a family privately resided.
“It’s incredible,” she breathed.
“It really is,” he agreed. “I’ve been here countless times, and it still doesn’t get old.”
They moved forward, the noise from the town outside being cut off as the grounds of the castle echoed that same peaceful silence from Malham.
The area wasn’t full in the middle of the day, but those who were there still spoke in hushed tones. Was that just the English way? She couldn’t deny that it was a refreshing change to what she was used to.
“You mentioned Utah before,” Matthew said in his own lowered tone as they climbed the castle steps. “That’s where you’re originally from?”
