Chapter Four
Winchester was tied up.
It wasn’t usual that Mattie tied her dog up, but unfortunately, he had earned it.
He kept looking at her with sad doggy eyes, whining because he was restrained, but Mattie ignored him.
He’d done something so terrible that she couldn’t even look at him, horrified in a way that she had never been horrified before.
She could still see her dog hanging on to Gar’s breeches, tearing the whole back side into shreds and exposing the poor man’s taut buttocks to the world.
She wasn’t sure she would ever be over that.
Lady Hensingham was equally appalled even though she hadn’t witnessed the event.
Agnes had told Lady Hensingham, quite gleefully, and Lady Hensingham was suitably mortified.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t see to the man who had been offended in her bailey because she was busy with the man’s father.
As chatelaine, she had to focus on the most important person in her home—and that happened to be Troy.
It would be up to Mattie to apologize for her dog’s behavior.
That was the message that Agnes had given Mattie and the woman had been beside herself with embarrassment and indecision.
Gar had gone off to the knights’ quarters with her brother and Mattie wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t going to lambast her for her disobedient dog.
Not that she didn’t deserve it, but the last thing she wanted was for Gar de Wolfe, her betrothed, to be angry with her.
She simply didn’t know what to do.
Her first and only decision at that point was to tie the dog up so he couldn’t wreak further havoc, but after that, she contemplated the course of action to take.
As Mattie paced around in her chamber, wringing her hands with worry, her gaze fell upon her sewing kit.
She came to a halt, looking at the kit and realizing that she could repair the torn breeches if Gar would allow it.
There was only one way to find out.
Rushing into her mother’s chamber across the landing, she went to a big chest against the wall and began to rifle through it, looking for scraps of fabric that could be used to repair Gar’s breeches.
Agnes lent a hand and the two of them found several large pieces of sturdy linen that might be of service.
Gathering those scraps, and her sewing kit, Mattie made a dash for the stairs but Agnes was right behind her.
Perhaps a little too eager to see bare buttocks again, or so Mattie suspected.
Agnes tended to be a little man-crazy at times.
Forcing Agnes to remain behind was probably more difficult that trying to keep Winchester off Gar, but eventually, she triumphed.
Agnes returned to her chamber to sulk alongside the dog as Mattie made her way out of the keep and over to the knights’ quarters.
Truthfully, she never came to this part of the bailey because this was where the men were lodged, both knights and soldiers.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t allowed here, but it simply wasn’t a good idea for a woman to be in this particular area because of all the men.
Still, she had a job to do, a peace offering as it were, and she was determined to go forward with it.
Carrying the fabric, and the big sewing kit, she walked up to the door of the knights’ quarters.
Then, she paused.
She couldn’t very well go inside. Well, not really.
She shouldn’t. It was a men-only establishment.
As she stood there, indecisive, she began to hear water splashing.
Each chamber in the knights’ quarters had small windows for ventilation, and they were just above her head.
She couldn’t see in, but she could hear more splashing and some grunting going on.
At some point, someone cursed softly and demanded his skin not be scrubbed off his body.
Taking a deep breath, Mattie summoned her courage.
“My lord?” she called up to the window. “Sir Gar? Is that you?”
She was met with silence. Then, she heard more splashing and she called out again.
“Sir Gar?” she said. “This is Matilda. Mattie. Is that you?”
“It is.”
Suddenly, there was a face in the small window and a deep, bone-rattling voice had replied. In fact, it had startled her. With a gasp, she jumped back a little, looking up to the window and seeing a nose and eyes.
She recognized the pale green eyes.
“I… I am sorry to disturb you,” she said, suddenly nervous. “I came to apologize for my dog and to offer to repair your breeches. I have brought a sewing kit.”
She lifted it slightly, showing it to him, and his gaze moved to the rather elaborate box. But there was awkwardness in the air, something not missed by either of them. A good deed was turning into an odd moment as Mattie wondered if he was even going to accept her apology.
She held her breath.
“Your apology is appreciated,” he finally said. “But you do not have to make amends. It was just a dog, doing what dogs do.”
Relieved that he was at least in a forgiving mood, Mattie shook her head. “But he is my dog,” she said. “If you will give me your breeches, I will be able to repair them quickly.”
His eyes disappeared from the window and she thought he’d stepped away, but she could still see his head moving a little. That black, glossy hair was catching the light. She wasn’t sure what he was doing, so she thought that, perhaps, he might not have faith in her tailoring abilities.
“I promise that I do excellent work,” she said, trying not to sound as if she were pleading. “You needn’t worry.”
He finally looked at her again. “I do not doubt you,” he said. “I was simply looking at the breeches to see if they are even worth salvaging. I am afraid you would be wasting your time. I think they are beyond repair.”
“May I at least try?”
He sighed. “Lady, they are the most foul pair of breeches you have ever seen in your life,” he said. “I will be truthful and say that I do not want you touching them. I would be ashamed.”
Mattie wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, but she knew that, somehow, she felt hurt by his refusal. “Very well,” she said reluctantly. “I will again apologize for my dog. I have tied him up in my chamber. He shan’t bother you again.”
With that, she lowered her gaze and turned away, but he stopped her.
“Please do not think I am not grateful,” he said.
“I am very grateful that you should want to repair what was damaged, but I am not being dramatic when I say those breeches are horrific. I would not want your lovely hands touching them.”
Lovely hands. It sounded suspiciously like a compliment and Mattie could feel her cheeks flushing. It was the first nice thing he’d ever said to her. She came to a halt and turned to him.
“May… may I ask you a question, my lord?” she said.
“Of course.”
“Do you even remember me from those years ago?”
He nodded. “Of course I do,” he said. “You were being set upon by Percy de Vries. A nasty man.”
“Still?”
“He’s dead,” Gar said frankly. “Killed by one of his own men, I heard. Not surprising considering the entire House of de Vries is full of questionable men.”
She looked a little surprised. “I hadn’t heard of his death,” she admitted. “After your visit those years ago, I never saw any de Vries ever again. My father said that they had become our mortal enemies because we had insulted them.”
“How?”
“Lord de Vries wanted a betrothal between me and his son,” Mattie said. “My father refused because he wanted you instead.”
Gar hadn’t known that. He’d been removed from the betrothal negotiations and, being firmly against the betrothal itself, he’d never thought to ask how it came about. Now, the entire situation was starting to make a little sense.
“Ah,” he said. “Your father was hunting for a Wolfe.”
Mattie shook her head. “I would not know,” she said. “Like you, I was simply told about it. I was not involved in it.”
Gar’s gaze lingered on her for a moment. “You did not ask your father to pursue me?”
“Never, my lord.”
He had no reason not to believe her, but he was starting to think that she truly didn’t realize how undesirable the situation was for them both. She was young and perhaps the least bit na?ve.
“You do realize I am a good deal older than you,” he said.
“I am aware.”
He frowned. “And that does not trouble you?”
“Should it?”
“Do you not wish to marry someone your own age?” he said. “Someone who, mayhap, shares your same background?”
“What background would that be?”
Gar scratched his head. “That of a fine education and refined manners,” he said. “Someone who is more civilized. A scholar or a courtier, in fact.”
Mattie looked at him. She could still only see his eyes and nose, but in this brief conversation, she was starting to see more than that.
She was starting to see his reluctance. Without a word, she went to sit on an upturned tree stump, one used by the knights to sit outside of their quarters on nights with pleasant weather.
She was still within sight of Gar as she planted herself on it and opened up the sewing kit.
“You have been speaking to my brother,” she finally said.
Gar watched her pull out what looked like big patches of linen.
“A little,” he admitted. “My lady, we know nothing about one another. I hope you do not fault me for a conversation with your brother about you. I would not be angry if you wished to speak to my father or brothers for what they could tell you about me.”
Mattie laid the large pieces of linen in her lap and pulled out a big bone needle and some thread. “And what else did my brother tell you about me?”
Gar was careful in his answer because she seemed displeased. “Nothing terrible if that’s what you mean,” he said. “He said that you have been looking forward to this marriage for the last ten years.”
Mattie threaded her needle. “From the way you say that, I take it that you have not been looking forward to it?”