Chapter Five
Erith was a fortress under construction.
Three days after making his declaration, Braxton had transformed from a mercenary into a Master Builder.
True, all of his men carried varied talents and were well paid for their worth, but now they were focused on building something rather than killing people.
And the activity around the dying fortress made quite a site.
Braxton had sent Dallas and Geoff into the nearby town of Levens to recruit workers.
They had returned with about thirty men to do a hard day’s work at good wages.
The next day, those men had brought another fifty men with them looking for work, most of them farmers hoping to earn a decent wage.
By the third day, there were nearly two hundred laborers from all over Southern Cumbria working on the fortress: repairing walls, rebuilding the stables, and even building a new structure against the inner wall.
Braxton called it the barracks and the men were building it in sturdy stones quarried from a small valley three miles to the east. The area had once been a riverbed, long ago, and had tons of stone perfect for building.
Braxton had also put the word out over the countryside that Erith was seeking servants for the domestic chores.
He swore to Gray that she would never again have to churn butter or mend an apron.
In fact, he made sure that those female servants who could sew were already working on garments made from the fabric he had brought.
He wanted to see Gray in something lovely, as she was meant to wear.
He seemed to be trying to make up for her difficult life all in just a few days.
He couldn’t seem to do enough for her fast enough.
As overwhelming as it was, it was also bewildering.
Gray struggled to keep her wits about her as Braxton worked to take away all of her troubles.
She kept thinking that she was dreaming and that she would soon awaken back to the life she had always known, but so far, each day seemed to improve.
There was food aplenty, the fortress was being repaired, and Brooke was the first family member, on the third day, to wear a brand new surcoat with a pretty beaded belt to match.
Gray had wept at the sight of it. Braxton had merely smiled.
Through all of the building and sewing and restoration, Constance remained persistently arrogant and existed under a sense of entitlement.
As far as she was concerned, Braxton could build Erith into a golden palace and it would be fine with her.
She’d not spoken to Gray about it more than to simply voice her approval.
Gray, of course, had not mentioned anything about Braxton’s intentions to her mother.
It would only serve to bring about some manner of disapproval from Constance.
Moreover, Gray wanted to see if Braxton still felt the same by week’s end.
He could very well change his mind after a few days, realizing he’d gotten himself into far more than he’d bargained for.
So until then, Gray kept their little secret. But it was a deliriously wonderful one.
Without her usual chores, Gray had very little to do.
She had been in her father’s solar most of the morning, watching three of her serving women work on surcoats made from emerald brocade and off-white silk.
Both were exquisite. She wanted to help but didn’t want Braxton to catch her ‘working.’ He had caught her earlier in the day helping the cook carefully measure brown flour and had given her an earful, however gentle it was.
He didn’t want her lifting a finger any longer.
The result was boredom. Growing tired of watching women sew, she wandered from the solar and out to the kitchen yard.
There were more laborers there, rebuilding the big oven that had partially collapsed a few years before.
The cook and her fat daughter huddled near the door to the storeroom, grunting and hooting like frightened animals.
They acknowledged their lady with a panicked gesture in the direction of the oven.
Gray assured them that the men were only repairing it, not removing it.
The women didn’t seem convinced but Gray guaranteed that it was entirely true.
All of the activity at the castle was new and disturbing; the cook and her daughter weren’t the only servants she had reassured that morning.
All of the occupants of Erith seemed a little edgy.
Leaving the wary women in the kitchen yard, Gray meandered out into the stable area.
She watched the laborers rebuilding part of the stable before noticing the puny chickens seemed harried by the activity.
They were huddling in their coop. Gray went to the chicken coop and noticed there were several eggs inside that had not yet been collected. She reached in and plucked them out.
“What are you doing?”
She whirled around to find Braxton standing behind her. His eyebrows lifted in disapproval. “Well?”
She gestured weakly at the coop. “I was… gathering the eggs.”
He frowned at her, though it had no force.
“I thought I told you that you are no longer required to do domestic chores,” he took a step closer to her, looking down upon her.
“The servants will collect the eggs. You are the lady of the castle and these tasks are not for your lovely hands any longer.”
She found her tongue. “But, my lord, I am bored senseless. I must do something.”
It was difficult for him to maintain his harsh stance with her. “You will call me Braxton in private,” he muttered. “And you will do something. You will learn leisurely tasks that fine ladies occupy themselves with.”
“What leisurely tasks?”
“Well…” he shrugged. “Knitting, I suppose, or whatever it is fine ladies do with a needle and thread. Don’t you know any?”
She gave him an intolerant look. “Whatever tasks I know are necessary ones.”
“Then learn some unnecessary ones.”
She put her hands on her hips. “You cannot place me on a glass pedestal like a fine porcelain doll. I will not break. And I am not one to sit around when there is work to be done.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her. Then he reached out, took her hand, and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.
“Walk with me, madam.”
“Gladly. At least I shall be doing something.”
He fought off a grin. “You ungrateful wench. My men and I have been breaking our backs repairing your castle and all you can do is complain because you are bored.”
She looked up at him, a grin on her face to melt his heart. When he finally cracked a smile at her, she beamed wide at him. “I simply wish to help, Braxton. Can I not help?”
“Help with what? Can you lift stone or build a roof?”
“Can you?”
He tried to show her how outraged he was by her question, but he only ended up laughing at her. “I could rebuild this entire place myself if necessary. And I have it on good authority that you are about to be spanked if you do not curb this rebellious attitude you are displaying.”
She was properly contrite, though it was all an act. “I have no wish to be spanked. But I would like to help.”
He came to a halt, sighing with mock frustration. “Very well, then. What do you want to do?”
She lifted a timid eyebrow. “Sew my own dresses?”
His lips curled. “There are servants to do that.”
“Please? I enjoy it.”
He just shook his head. “You are the most ungrateful woman I have ever had the fortune to come across. Very well, if it pleases you, sew your own clothes.” As she grinned triumphantly, he moved closer, caressing the hand he held against his arm.
“You are also the most glorious woman I have ever had the fortune to come across. I want to spoil you, madam. Why do you resist?”
Braxton was awakening feelings in her she had never known herself capable of.
A look from him could provoke giddiness, a word could provoke elation.
Gone were thoughts of self-protection, of suspicion.
Those feelings had fled days ago. Without even realizing it, she had learned to trust him completely.
Not necessarily for the kindness he was doing for her or for Erith, but simply by his manner.
If he’d meant to capture her heart, he was well on his way to doing so.
“I am sorry if I seem unappreciative,” she replied softly. “I have simply never known anything else but hard work. I feel quite useless sitting around while you hire an army to work on my fortress. I do not want others to think I am taking advantage of your generosity.”
“What others?”
She shrugged. “These people are from Levens. They will talk and tell tale of the Lady of Erith sitting idle while an army of mercenaries repairs her keep. Soon all of Cumbria will hear such things.”
“Soon all of Cumbria will know that the repair of the fortress was my wedding gift to you,” he patted her hand gently; though he desperately wanted to kiss it, he would make no such move.
He did not want those who might witness such a thing to believe the lady compromised.
“Worry not what others think, madam. You and I know the truth.”
She gazed up at him, studying the lines of his handsome face. She hadn’t known the man a week and already she felt more comfortable with him than she had with anyone, ever.
“I suppose we do,” she agreed softly. She saw the same look in his eyes that she had seen when he had kissed her and, not wanting to make a spectacle for all to see, she backed away. “I shall go now and help the women with my clothes. They’re nearly done, you know.”
He was reluctant to release her hand. “We shall go into Milnthorpe tomorrow to obtain more fabric. Between you, your mother and your daughter, the fabric is gone.”
“We do not need more fabric,” she insisted. “What you have provided us is more than generous. We are very grateful.”