Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Lockwood Tower

"A eron, if you are not going to help, then I am going to lock you in a room and throw away the key."

Andia had just delivered an ultimatum.

She was busily sweeping the entry of Lockwood while the two female servants, including the cook, were scrubbing the floor with hot water, vinegar, and ash from the hearth. It was a solution that had proven quite effective in cleaning, which Andia had undertaken after Torran and the king departed Lockwood. Truthfully, she wasn't sick any longer, and at the risk of becoming bored while she waited for Torran to return, she put herself to work. Lockwood hadn't been properly maintained in years because Torran's family remained south at Bexhill Castle, so she took it upon herself to clean the manse to repay Torran for his kindness in letting her and Aeron remain.

The trouble was that Aeron wasn't thrilled about being forced to work.

"I've done what you wanted me to do," he said stubbornly, standing near the entry with an empty bucket. "I want to go to the stables. Emile is going to teach me how to tend a horse's injured hoof."

Andia's eyes narrowed at her brother. "But I need you to bring us more hot water from the kitchen," she said. "You will do that, please."

Aeron was starting to pout. "But when can I go to the stable?"

"When we are finished with our work."

With a growl of frustration, Aeron stomped out of the entryway and headed for the kitchen. Andia shook her head at his behavior, but when she turned around, she could see that the servants were grinning.

That made her chuckle.

"Are all boys like that?" she said. "He is the only one I have ever had any experience with, honestly. I do not seem to recall the pages at Okehampton Castle being so disagreeable."

The cook, a big woman with big arms, went back to scrubbing the floor with a vengeance. "Boys need direction, m'lady," she said. "Even my Emile needed a purpose and focus. They need discipline and they need to know the value of hard work. He's young, your little brother. He'll learn."

Andia brushed hair out of her face with the back of her hand. "I hope so," she said. "Or I really will lock him in a chamber and throw away the key."

"What's this about a chamber and a key?"

The question came from the entry, and Andia turned to see Stefan standing just outside the door, unwilling to walk on the wet, scrubbed floor.

"Ah," Andia said with some volume to her tone. "Sir Stefan. How are you with a scrub brush?"

Stefan grinned, that toothy de Lohr grin that made him look so much like his grandfather. "Terrible," he said. "You would be so frustrated with me that you would beat me with a broom. I would make a terrible servant."

She laughed. "I do not believe it," she said, trying to coax him into helping her. "Why not show me first and let me decide how bad you are?"

Stefan eyed her suspiciously. "That will not work," he said. "I will not fall for your clever invitation."

"Nay?" she said, shrugging. "Very well. I will try something else to get you to do it."

"There is nothing you can say that will see me on my knees with a scrub brush in my hand."

"Not even if I promise the cook will make you something special for supper?"

That had his interest. But, then again, over the past few days, everything about Andia had Stefan's interest. "That depends," he said. "What did you have in mind?"

"What will it take?"

"I asked you first."

She broke down into soft laughter, shaking a finger at him. "Stop being so evasive," she said. "I do not like it."

"My apologies, my lady."

"Then prove it by picking up a scrub brush."

He clapped a hand over his forehead. "That again?" he said. "I will not do it. Not even if you beg and scream. I am immune to your pleas, so you may as well stop."

She made an unhappy face at him. "We'll see," she said. "I will ply you with food and drink, and when you are too weak to fight me off, I shall demand your surrender."

That had more than one meaning to Stefan. As he watched her smirk, a smile crossed his lips. "I would surrender to you in any case, my lady," he said quietly. "You need not beg."

Andia caught on to his tone almost too late. She was preparing to make a witty quip, but that deep, almost seductive tone had her looking at him again. He was smiling at her, and although he was a very handsome man, and charming if she were to admit it, the truth was that her heart belonged to someone else.

Someone she missed very much.

"Well," she said, trying to keep the conversation light, "that is not true, but I will not call you a liar. I've asked you to help me with the floor but you have denied me. I suppose it is beneath your dignity, so I will capitulate. We are at an impasse, I'm afraid."

If Stefan was disappointed by her refusal to engage in a conversation that had a romantic flavor to it, he didn't let on. He simply nodded his head.

"As long as we remain friends, I am satisfied."

"We remain friends. But I may challenge this impasse at some point."

He grinned. "That is your privilege, my lady."

She chuckled, waving him off irritably, as she gathered her broom once again. "Did you come here just to harass me?" she said. "Or did you have a purpose?"

Stefan nodded. "I did, in fact, have a purpose," he said. "You may want to dry these floors because I received a missive from Torran this morning. He is on his way here and should arrive soon."

Andia's heart leapt at the news. "Thank you for telling me," she said. "I hope he is not too angry that I wanted to clean the manor. It was in desperate need of it."

Stefan shook his head. "I am sure he will be most appreciative," he said. "You make a fine chatelaine."

Andia's smile was genuine. "That is kind," she said. "I've worked hard enough at it, so I am glad I was able to contribute what knowledge I have."

He returned her smile, nodding, before heading back out into the yard, as Andia watched him go. She knew that he was probably disappointed she wasn't responding to his gentle flirting, but that couldn't be helped. It seemed that Stefan had enough to be disappointed over in his life, most predominantly the loss of his hearing, and now he was trying to show his interest in a woman who had none in return.

Truthfully, she felt sorry for him.

But she couldn't dwell on it. Swiftly, she turned to the women who had paused in the floor scrubbing at the mention of Torran's return and clapped her hands.

"Quickly, ladies," she said, rushing to grab an empty bucket on the floor. "We must dry what we can of the floor. We do not want Sir Torran slipping and breaking an arm."

The servants were on their feet, rushing for rags that they'd been using along the edge of the room. Briskly, they began to rub the wet wood, drying it as best they could.

Meanwhile, Andia slipped away.

It was truly remarkable how her thoughts and feelings on life in general had changed over the past several days. She didn't even know Torran before the siege at Kennington Castle, but now she couldn't remember when she hadn't known him. When he hadn't been a fixture in her life. When her thoughts hadn't revolved around him all day. She'd never met anybody who had shown her more consideration or interest, and, of course, attention that made her heart race every time she thought about it.

It was that attention that gave her a reason to get up in the morning.

She knew that he was fond of her. She knew that she was fond of him. But what concerned her was the fact that he'd been gone for almost a week, and that was time enough for him to realize that he'd been hasty in his actions. She was afraid that maybe he had changed his mind, although she knew Torran was a man of honor. She would never believe that what happened between them had been on impulse, an opportunity and nothing more. She had to believe that it was because he wanted to kiss her and because it meant something to him.

She only hoped that it was really true.

In the beginning of their association, her concerns had been about Henry and what he was going to do with her and Aeron. How he intended to punish them for Anselm's crimes. She and her brother were being taken to London to answer for their father's sins. Those were still her concerns, of course, but now she had other concerns nagging at her.

Concerns about a knight who would one day be an earl.

There was some doubt there. If Andia was being honest, then she had to admit that even though she was the daughter of an earl, she was the daughter of a disgraced earl. That was worse than if she were nothing at all. Her home, the rich and prestigious Kennington Castle, was now rubble. Everything considered assets of the Ashford earldom was now in ruin. But there was still the matter of the coin she had hidden when the battle started, and she was confident it would never be found. It was money that belonged to her brother, but it was also possible to use it for a dowry. A man as important as Torran de Serreaux would require a bride who could bring something to the marriage. All Andia could bring was the vestiges of a bereft house that had once been important and established.

She, too, had been reduced to rubble.

Was there any point in hoping Torran would be able to see a bride in her?

Perhaps that was part of the reason she'd decided to clean and organize the manor. Perhaps she wanted Torran to see that she was useful. She wanted him to know that there was some value to her even if she didn't come with a dowry or the backing of a father with a big army. But it was equally possible that she was just fooling herself.

Time would tell.

In any case, Andia wanted to look presentable to him. She was wearing a simple broadcloth dress that had been included in Lady Penden's stash, but there was another dress as part of that collection that was equal to the stunning red surcoat she'd worn. Lady Penden had included five garments in all, including one the color of sapphires. It had gold embroidery around the square neck and long, drapey sleeves. After Andia stripped off the broadcloth and quickly washed with water and a bar of soap that smelled of rosemary, she donned the blue dress, braided her hair, and took a look at herself in the Genevieve's bronze mirror.

Then she went downstairs to wait.

There was nothing more to do.