“Perhaps he is a huntsman,” the farm wife whispered. “Sometimes they come to trap game for your father. With your wedding, more game will be needed.”
Liana shot the woman a quick look. Did everyone know of her life? Her wedding was what she’d come here to contemplate. She looked back at the man on the grass. He looked like a young Hercules, power and muscle now asleep, merely waiting to be awakened. If only Lord Stephen looked like this man, she wouldn’t mind marriage so much. But even asleep, this man radiated more strength than Lord Stephen had when clad in full armor. For a moment she smiled as she pictured telling Helen she’d decided to marry a lowly huntsman, but then her smile left her because she doubted that this man would want her if she weren’t endowed with wagonloads of silver and gold. For just one day she’d like to be a peasant girl, to see if she were woman enough to interest a handsome man.
She turned to the farmer’s wife. “Take off your dress.”
“My lady!”
“Take off your dress and give it to me, then return to the castle. Find my maid, Joice, and tell her no one is to search for me.”
The woman paled. “Your maid will never talk to the likes of me.”
Liana tugged an emerald ring from her finger and handed it to the woman. “Nearby is a knight, probably searching for me. Give him this and he will take you to Joice.”
The woman’s expression changed from fearfulness to slyness. “He is a handsome man, isn’t he?”
Liana narrowed her eyes at the woman. “If I hear one word of this in the village, you’ll regret it. Now, get out of here.” She sent the woman away wearing only a coarse linen undergarment, as Liana wasn’t about to allow the woman’s filthy body to touch the velvet of her gown.
The peasant dress Liana put on was very different from her high-waisted, full-skirted gown. The scratchy wool was one piece that clung to her body from her neck to below her hips, showing the slim curves of her body. The wool was crude and dirty and it stank, but it was revealing. She rolled the sleeves, stiff with years of grease, back to her elbows. The skirt reached only to her ankles and the shortness made her feel free to walk or even run through the ferns.
With this dress on, Liana felt she was ready to face what lay ahead. She peeped through the branches to look at the man again. Every time she’d ever seen the peasants laughing and chasing one another through the fields came back to her. She’d once seen a boy give a flower to a girl. Would this divinely handsome man offer her flowers? Perhaps he’d weave a garland for her hair as one knight had done for her a few months ago—except this time it would be for real. This time the man would present her with flowers because of her person and not for her father’s wealth.
Her heavy headdress removed and hidden in the bushes, her long pale hair streaming down her back, Liana stepped forward into the clearing and toward the man. He did not awaken even when she stumbled over a pile of rocks.
She moved closer to him, but he didn’t stir. He was indeed a beautiful man, made the way God intended a man to look. She could hardly wait for him to see her. She’d been told that her hair was like spun gold. Would he think so?
His clothes were in a heap not too far from him, and she went to them and lifted his shirt, holding it at arm’s length, putting her hands out to the wide edges of the broad shoulders. The wool was thickly spun, and she thought what a better job her women did at spinning.
As she looked at the shirt she saw something odd, then leaned forward for a closer look. Lice! The shirt was crawling with lice.
With a little squeal of disgust, she threw the shirt from her.
One moment the man was asleep on the ground and the next he was standing before her in all his nude glory. He was indeed magnificent: tall, powerfully muscled, not an ounce of fat. His thick shoulder-length hair was dark, but it looked almost red in the sunlight, and there was a reddish stubble on his heavy jaw. His eyes were dark green and alive with emotion.
“How do you do?” Liana said, holding out her hand to him, palm downward. Would he sink to one knee before her?
“You threw my shirt in a bog,” he said angrily, looking down at the pretty blue-eyed blonde.
Liana withdrew her hand. “It was crawling with lice.” What did one say to a huntsman when one was his equal? Lovely day, isn’t it? Would you like to fill my water jug for me? There, that seemed ordinary enough.
He gave her an odd look. “You can get my shirt out of the bog and wash it. I have to go somewhere today.”
He had a very pleasant voice, but she didn’t like what he was saying. “It’s good the shirt sank. I told you it was covered with lice. Perhaps you’d like to pick blackberries. I’m sure we could find—” To her consternation, the man grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward the pool, then gave her a shove.
“Get my shirt out of the bog and wash it.”
How dare he touch her without permission! Liana thought. Wash his shirt, indeed! She’d leave now and go back to her own clothes and her horse and the safety of her father’s castle. She turned away, but he caught her forearm.
“Can’t you hear well, girl?” he said, spinning her about. “Either you get the shirt out or I throw you in after it.”
“Throw me in?” she asked. She was on the verge of telling him who she was and just what she would or would not do when she looked into his eyes. Handsome eyes, yes, but also dangerous eyes. If she told him she was Lady Liana, daughter of one of the richest men in England, would he perhaps hold her for ransom?
“I…I have to get back to my husband and…and children. Lots of children,” she said haltingly. She had liked this man’s aura of power when he was asleep, but when he was holding her arm, she didn’t like it nearly as much.
“Good,” he said, “then, with lots of brats, you’ll know how to wash a shirt.”
Liana looked toward the oozy black bog where only his shirtsleeve could be seen. She had no idea how to wash a shirt, and the idea of touching the lice-infested thing repulsed her.
“My…my sister-in-law does my laundry,” she said, and was pleased with herself for having thought of such a good idea. “I’ll go back and send her to you. She’ll be glad to wash it.”