Haunted Knights (Montbryce~The Next Generation Historical Romance) (13 page)

Denis had no doubt Paulina was avoiding him. She rarely left the bedchamber. He often caught a glimpse of her at the window, gazing out.

He racked his brain for a solution to overcoming her fears. If anyone understood the isolation of being different it was him. The woman was as much a prisoner here as at Kingston Gorse, but now she was in solitary confinement. She ate in her chamber. He played with his food, the only person seated at the head table in the Hall at mealtimes.

He lost his appetite and found a thousand excuses to pass by her window. It was within sight of the well. He adopted a routine of stopping there for a long gulp of water before glancing up at her window. Occasionally he caught her watching before she ducked away.

Cats abounded at East Preston, a legacy of the days when the property had been infested with rats. Denis paid them no attention. If asked, he probably would say he did not like cats, though he grudgingly admired their independence.

One hot day, a brindled kitten rubbed itself against his legs as he drank from the dipper. Chuckling, he bent to scratch its ears. “My stature matters not to you, eh
mignonne
?”

The kitten purred loudly, its pointed little tail rigid as it pressed against him. It was too skinny. “Where is your
Maman
? Is she not feeding you?”

Soulful yellow-green eyes looked up at him as a pitiful, high pitched meow emerged from its tiny pink mouth. He picked it up, likely the first time he had ever done so in his life. The kitten flexed its claws, but did not struggle. It purred loudly as he held it to his chest. With sudden gut wrenching clarity it dawned on him this was the runt of a litter, left to fend for itself.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked up at Paulina’s window. She stood open mouthed, her gaze fixed on the kitten in his arms.

~~~

Paulina had seen several of the animals people at East Preston referred to as cats, but none as tiny as the one clinging to Denis’ chest. It was small, helpless. The dwarf could probably squash it with one hand, yet the way he stroked it, nuzzling its ear, brought tears to her eyes.

Those arms offered warmth and comfort, if she gave him a chance. Why was she afraid? What did the future hold if she insisted on remaining alone in her chamber? Was that how she wanted to spend the rest of her life?

Better to be dead.

Had the gentle dwarf cuddling the cat ever wished for death? She was sure he had. Yet he had made a life, one he seemed to relish, though she had noticed a recent melancholy.

He was still at the well, gazing at her window, the cat now struggling to be free.

Struggling to be free.

She went to the door, opened it, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the hallway.

~~~

Denis took several deep breaths, hoping to calm his raging heart when he saw Paulina walking towards him, her dainty feet raising puffs of dust from the sun baked packed earth of the courtyard.

The kitten squirmed, mewling loudly, but he held it firm. This scrap of fur might be his one chance.

Paulina stood in front of him, her gaze fixed on the kitten.

“Do you want to hold her?”

Her eyes darted from the kitten to him and back again. “Is it a cat?”

He lifted the animal by the scruff of the neck. It cried its indignation, its claws extended. She stepped back.

“
Oui
, but don’t be afraid. It’s a baby cat. A kitten. I think her mother has abandoned her.”

Paulina gasped and reached out her arms. “Kitten,” she whispered. “Abandoned.”

“Lean back on the wall of the well, and I’ll put her in your arms. Careful! She might scratch. Tickle her ears. Kittens love that. Hold the scruff of her neck like this at first. She’ll get used to you.”

She held her breath as he passed the animal. The kitten quickly gave up her protests, settling into the swell of Paulina’s breasts, narrowing its eyes as she stroked its head. “She’s making a noise.”

The innocently seductive smile that accompanied this observation sent blood rushing to Denis’ groin. “It’s called purring.”

I’d be purring too if my head was resting on those lovely globes.

Frantically he sought inspiration to make her smile again. “You should choose a name for her.”

Naming cats! His brothers would suspect lunacy!

She frowned, pursing her lips. “She’s many beautiful colours, golden brown, white, black.”

Suddenly, her frown intensified. “How can you tell it’s a she?”

He coughed as his erection bucked. In Normandie he had never heard of a male brindled cat, but perhaps in England, things were different. “We can check.”

He took the kitten from her and cupped it in his hand, lifting its tail, then parting the fur below its belly. It wriggled, clawing at the air. No little penis or
couilles
, thank God. He might have erupted in his leggings. He breathed a sigh of relief. “She does not have male parts.”

Paulina looked at him curiously as he handed the kitten back to her. “Male parts?”

Dieu
! How had this discussion come about? The woman had two brothers for God’s sake.

He swallowed hard, feeling his face redden. “Males have male parts, whereas females have—female parts.”

What an idiot!

She nodded thoughtfully, obviously interested in learning something new. But she blushed as she added, “Just as I have breasts, and you don’t.”

The light touch of her palm on her breast undid him. “
Ou—oui
,” he stammered, running his finger over the kitten’s belly. When our friend here bears kittens you will see little—”

The word stuck in his throat. Instead he murmured, “Teats. We call them teats on cats.”

“Teats,” she repeated in a whisper, fluttering her eyelashes innocently. “Why will she have teats?”

Denis wished they were abed so he could lovingly stroke her breasts and discover the colour of her nipples as he demonstrated how babies suckled. “A mother cat’s body makes milk for her kittens. They drink it from the teats.”

She looked down at her breasts. Her nipples were plainly visible, straining against the fabric of her
bliaut
. “Is it the same for people?”

Christ! If ever he did sire children he would make sure they were better prepared for the world than this vulnerable innocent. He took a deep breath to steady his voice. “It is.”

She remained thoughtfully silent for a few minutes, watching him tickle under the kitten’s chin. “She likes to be petted. I have much to learn from you,
milord
de Sancerre.”

If only!

“Paulina, it would be my honour to assist you as you make your way in a new world that can be difficult at times. But, please call me Denis.
Milord
de Sancerre was my late unlamented father.”

She kissed the kitten’s head. “You did not love your father?”

He shrugged. “I never met him. I was born after his death, but my mother assures me he would have done away with me as soon as he set eyes on me.”

She grimaced. “I believe my mother wanted to do away with both Rosamunda and myself.”

It was joy to converse with a woman and not have to crane his neck to look up. He put his fingers under her chin, gently coaxing her to turn her eyes to him. “That would have been a great loss for the world.”

She blinked away tears. “I will take my kitten to the kitchen. What do they eat? She reminds me of a ring my father wore. He told me once the stone was a topaz. I will name her that. It was a beautiful ring.”

“Perfect! Topaz it is!” he declared, his mind full of her wistful face, not the name she had chosen. “I will accompany you, if I may.”

~~~

Denis and Paulina strolled often through the herb gardens of East Preston in the ensuing days, Topaz their constant companion. Hortense brought an old satchel, sliced off the flap and padded the bottom with straw. Paulina wore the strap across her body, the kitten riding inside like one born to royalty.

“Topaz grows fatter and lazier by the day,” Paulina remarked one afternoon.

“She enjoys the cool leather of her carriage. These last few days of September have brought some relief from the heat, but for a kitten, it’s still hot.”

Paulina turned nervously to listen to far-off voices, tightening her grip on Denis’ arm. He put his hand atop hers. “No cause for alarm. Labourers are bringing in the harvest.”

There was much to learn. “Har-vest?”

“The fields here are fertile. In the spring, labourers plant seeds that grow with the rains and summer’s warmth. In the autumn, they reap the fruits of their labours. Then, here in the south where the climate is warm, they sow the seeds for the spring crop.”

She had eaten apples and pears. “I like fruit.”

Denis chuckled softly. “Most fruit grows on trees. Montbryce Castle in Normandie, family seat of Adam’s family, boasts an apple orchard that produces the finest apple brandy in the whole duchy. The rewards here in the spring are barley, vetches, oats, peas, and beans, and in the autumn wheat and rye. Cormant sells some of the wheat and rye, and the rest is used for bread. There is also flax for linen, and I believe one of the fields yields hemp which we use to make ropes.”

“And the barley?”

He laughed. “Aha! For making that most thirst quenching brew—beer!”

“And the oats?”

“Brevis and Nox love their oats, as does Rosamunda’s new palfrey.”

She thought of her sister then. How odd she had not missed her for several days. Denis had filled her time and her mind. She looked forward to the hours they spent together. Denis was patient, kind, and understanding. Because he was her height, she did not have to crane her neck to speak to him. She did not feel beneath him. They looked into each other’s eyes when they talked.

Adam had declared Rosamunda a natural horsewoman. Paulina was too terrified to go near a horse, though the reason eluded her. “I hope Adam and Rosamunda are faring well at Poling. I wish I had the courage to ride. I am a coward.”

Denis took her hand. “You must not believe that. You and I are small in stature. Most horses tower over us. I am not afraid because I have been riding since I was a child, but I can understand your fear.”

They walked in silence for a while until they came to the edge of the fields. “Are you a farmer, Denis?”

He grimaced. “
Non
,
ma petite
, I am a warrior, a cavalry officer. But noblemen interested in the prosperity of their lands must understand farming.”

“Like what?”

“Well, the sowing of the fields is on a three year cycle. Every field is sown for two straight years, and left fallow for the third.”

“What does fallow mean?”

“Nothing is planted there. This allows the land to rest, so it can produce more next time. Also, if you plant wheat in a field one year, the next year you plant something else.”

“Why?”

Denis smiled. “Land is like us. We get tired of the same old thing over and over. Do you understand?”

She snorted. “I do! Rosamunda and I grew bored and cross-eyed doing nothing but needlework.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What a horrible smell!”

He pointed to a pile of muck. “Over there. It’s manure, from the pigs and chickens. After they finish the harvest the labourers will spread it on the fields. It’s good for them.”

Another mystery solved. “That’s what Vincent meant by muck-spreading.”

Rosamunda was right, there were many interesting things to learn in the outside world. “Do they grow flowers here at East Preston? My mother grew roses.”

He furrowed his brow. “I don’t believe so.”

It was a disappointment. “I love roses. My brothers used to filch a few for me. When they faded, I used the petals and rosehips for all kinds of things.”

Denis turned to look at her. “If I had my own lands, I would plant roses for you, acres and acres of them.”

“These are not your lands?”

“They belong to my stepfather, Antoine. He holds sway over many properties. Something will come to me, either when he dies—or when I marry.”

Paulina’s world had consisted of chambers in the attic of Kingston Gorse. It was difficult to conceive of someone owning many properties in far flung places. She gazed around. “Would you want East Preston?”

He shook his head. “
Non
, I believe Adam wants East Preston.”

This was confusing. Vincent and Lucien had said Adam was the oldest son who would inherit Belisle Castle. “I believed Adam to be the heir to his father’s castle?”

Denis turned away abruptly. A chill swept over her. She had said something wrong. but what? “I am mistaken. I’m sorry. I have confused the tale.”

Denis turned back to her, his face bleak. “There has been a change in the succession. Adam’s brother Mathieu will take over Belisle.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why, but he took his leave without further ado.