An Excerpt from Bloodchained by Diana Laurence

CHAPTER SEVEN

– Two days after the arrival of the travelers, in the back garden of Gilder's Inn

The next morning dawned warm and clear, a fortuitous thing since it was Grace’s gardening day.

Every week she made sure to be excused at least one morning or afternoon from her duties at the inn, so that she might tend the gardens.  She loved to be in the flowerbeds, away from laundry and cooking and bookkeeping.  She enjoyed the guests to be sure, but it was always refreshing to be alone among living things that made no noise for a while. 

Grace’s mother had taught her all she knew of cultivating flowers.  By continuing in Lorene’s habits, much to her surprise Grace found she could likewise bring up new blossoms from the gardens each year.  Meanwhile, it was the season when the vegetable patch began to yield its first produce:  lettuces, light beans, peas, cucumbers, green onions and peppers, and tender little carrots.  There was so much joy to be taken at the sight of all this bounty from the soil.

So Grace put on her pale green smock with the deep pockets, her straw sunbonnet with the yellow ribbons, and her mother’s gardening gloves, which had been mended countless times.  She took a basket and got busy weeding the ornamental gardens.  The breeze was cool, but the morning sun shone hot through the clear air, and Grace was perfectly comfortable.  It was times like these she thought she needed nothing more in life than her brother and their inn, the sturdy stone walls, the tavern that smelled of beer and stew, these fine flower beds and the soft green lawn.

She had been about her work for only a few minutes when she looked up to see Liam standing near her.  He looked clean and brilliant in the morning sun.  His dark hair gleamed, and his bright blue weskit, ivory linen shirt, and tan trousers and boots were all immaculate.  He smiled down at her quite beneficently. 

“Well, Grace,” said Liam, “don’t you look a picture there in the flower bed?  Would you mind company?”

“Not at all—please stay if you like.  I thought your party might be off early into town today,” said Grace.

Liam squatted so as to not tower over her.  “We’re in no hurry,” he said.  “The Temple isn’t going anywhere.”

He grinned, and Grace’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of it.  She gave a polite little laugh and went back to weeding, glad to have a reason to look away from that perfect face.  She was certain her expression must give away the fact that he could make her pulse race with a smile.

“I daresay you do better than my gardener back home,” continued Liam.  “These beds have a less structured look, and I like it.  And everything’s thriving, that’s for certain.”

The two of them chatted for a few minutes about flowers and the difference in the climates of central Audica and the western shore.  They were thus happily engaged when a third party strode up to join them:  Finn.

“Excuse me,” he said.  “Liam, I thought we were heading out this morning.”

“Eventually,” said Liam with a smile, squinting up at him.  “I’m rather engaged at the moment talking horticulture with our hostess.”

Finn’s gray eyes, pale as ice in the bright morning light, turned to her.  “Is there no chore about the place for which you aren’t responsible, Grace?”

Grace sought a response, but before she could formulate one, Liam interjected good-naturedly, “By the gods, Finn…you do have a way of formulating any question like a criticism!”  He turned to Grace.  “My friend here does have a point, however ill he makes it.  You and Sebastian do work awfully hard here.  Are there no privileges of ownership, dear?”

Grace felt her cheeks color at the endearment.  “We’re just in the habit of frugality, gentlemen,” she told them.  “For so long we’ve put all our profits back into improvements, you see.”

“Well, it shows,” said Liam.  “But surely at this point you could afford to hire two, maybe three more servants, and allow yourselves a bit of leisure.  The whole point of owning property is leisure, is it not?”

To this Finn responded with a snort.  The eyes of the other two turned to him.  “I laugh,” said he, “that you have such a narrow opinion, Liam.  In fact, you place an unusually high value on leisure, even for a noble.  I’ll presume to say, Grace is not like you.”

Grace felt she ought to bridle at this stranger’s quick declaration of what she might or might not be like.  However, Finn was quite correct in his assessment of her disposition, and she was too impressed by that to be angry.  Liam made no reply except to turn to Grace with a mischievously questioning look, and obviously she had no choice but to say something.  “I suppose Bastian and I ought to give some thought to working a bit less,” she agreed.  “I just hadn’t thought much about it.  Except of course on Departure Eve, when we are quite aware of needing more hands.”

Her eyes met Finn’s and he gazed into them with such steady determination that she simply couldn’t leave her reply at that.  She turned from him to Liam and said, “But Finn’s right—I do like to work.”

She glanced back at Finn.  While he did fold his arms over his chest, Finn didn’t allow any smugness to cross his face.  “There’s doubtless a great satisfaction in bringing forth fruit from the earth,” he commented dispassionately.

“There is,” she agreed, turning back to pull the last weeds within reach and toss them into the basket.

“Be that as it may,” said Liam, “It troubles me that you are so preoccupied with your labors that there is no opportunity to enjoy your company, Grace.”

She cast her eyes over to him.  Was he serious?

Abruptly Finn said, “Well, Liam—I trust you’ll let Nessa and I know when you have chosen to depart.  Good morning.”  And he turned on his heel and strode off.

Grace watched him go, then turned to Liam, who shrugged.  “We are quite different in disposition, my friend Finn and I,” he said.

“I should say!” exclaimed Grace.  “It’s not my business, but—”  She stopped herself.  She made it a practice never to speak of the personal affairs of guests unless they raised such topics first; oftentimes they didn’t even wish to acknowledge their intentions of going to the Temple.  For some, it was rather embarrassing.

“If you think Finn might be ill-tempered because he is lovelorn,” said Liam, “rest assured that’s not it.  The man has been this out of sorts since birth, really.”

His bemused expression made Grace laugh.  “Well, I’ll admit that was my suspicion.” she told him.  “And certainly you don’t give the impression of having a broken heart, Liam.”

He feigned a sad look and put his hand over his heart.  “Only if you would break it, Grace,” he said.

She blushed again and shook her head, laughing nervously.  “Well, it’s time for me to see what we might have in the vegetable patch,” she said, rising a little awkwardly.

Liam sprang to his feet and took her hand.  “Lead on!” he cried with good cheer.

They made their way to the vegetable garden and Liam stood by as Grace assessed the situation.  “We could certainly have beans tonight, if Dori likes,” she declared.  Then she arrived at the rows of carrots, their lacy green fringes dangling tantalizingly above the soil.  “Oh, but I do love carrots,” said Grace.  “But I’m sure they’re not ready.”

“How can you be sure?” asked Liam.

“I just know from looking at the tops—and you know it’s bad luck to pick a carrot early.  ‘Two-inch carrot,’ you know.”

The man frowned at her, obviously confused.

“It’s an old superstition—we had a cook when I was little who always said, ‘Two-inch carrot, if you pluck, all the year will bring bad luck.’  Which is a shame, since I’d eat one any size.”

Liam fell on his knees at the edge of the carrot patch, examining the row of feathery green tops.  “Now, there must be one big enough…” he said. 

Grace knelt down next to him in the grass and looked.  As she did so, Liam held out his hand and passed it slowly over the nearest tops.  Finally it stopped above one; he set his hand on the dirt above the root and pressed it there.  Grace looked from Liam’s hand to his face, finding him gazing intently at the spot. 

Then he pronounced, “This one.”

Grace cocked her head.  “You think so?  It looks no taller than the others.”

Liam gave her a smile.  “Over two inches, I guarantee it.  Pick it.”

She shrugged.  “All right, but the bad luck will fall to me then.”

“The luck will be good.  I guarantee it.”

Grace looked at him, then down at the carrot, and resolutely closed her fingers around the top.  With an easy tug she drew it from the soil:  a fine carrot three inches long.  It came forth so cleanly it looked like it had been washed, and gleamed like gold.

“Beautiful!” exclaimed Liam with approval.

Grace eyed him.  “How did you know?”

He simply smiled and shrugged, with a humble look.  “Aren’t you going to eat it?” he asked.

“I’ll split it with you,” she said gleefully.

Liam nodded and Grace broke the carrot in two, keeping the piece with the top for herself.  It was so clean it didn’t even need to be wiped off on her smock.  She handed the bite to Liam and took a crunch off her own piece.  It was scrumptious, crisp and honey sweet…certainly the best carrot she’d ever eaten.

Liam popped his piece whole into his mouth and chewed approvingly.

When they had both swallowed the orange morsels, Grace couldn’t help but burst out, “Liam, you’re amazing.”

He sighed and leaned forward.  “Yes, I know,” he said.  He didn’t smile.  In fact, his face had gone quite earnest. 

At first Grace thought the sunshine was simply growing too hot, for a strange warmth went through her.  But the heat was clearly not from the sun…it felt more like the sensation of slipping into a hot bath, except the feeling of warm wetness was within rather than without.  The peculiar liquid heat swiftly flooded all her limbs.  She felt like she had floated off the ground, but she could still feel the rough blades of grass against the palm of her left hand, which rested on the lawn. 

Liam’s soft, full lips curved into a slight smile, and Grace was seized with the certainty that she might stare at them, hungrily even, and it wouldn’t matter…in fact it would be good.  He needed to know how badly she wanted those lips against her own.  He would be glad to know it, she was sure.

And yes, now he was leaning towards her.  Close your eyes came the whisper, and so Grace did, and then she felt his mouth. 

What sort of kiss was this?  This thick softness flooding into her, down her throat, into her breasts?  It was magic…Liam must possess magic….

Grace lifted her hand to bury her fingers in his curls, and found his hair impossibly soft.  And his fingertips, which she felt now slipping under her own hair, making tiny stroking motions on the back of her neck, they too were so soft it was painful.  It was painful because she wanted him so much, she wanted to lie back on the grass and do nothing while he did anything, everything….

“Liam?” came a small, childlike voice.

Grace opened her eyes and drew back, pulling her hand away from Liam’s head.  The sky seemed too blue, the grass as green as emeralds, and there stood Nessa above them.

She looked positively ill.  As Grace’s wits returned to her, her first thought was that Nessa must be sick—perhaps have a fever.  She expected Liam’s next words to be, “Nessa, what’s wrong?”

But he only said, “Ah, Nessa, darling,” and rose, stepping quickly to the young woman’s side.  “We need to be off soon, don’t we?”

He put his arm around her and kissed one cheek while the other he stroked gently with his hand.  The kiss appeared to Grace to be a little longer and a little deeper than one would expect from a brother.  Nessa responded by closing her eyes tightly, holding herself still for a moment.  Then she seemed to relax and her arm went around her brother’s waist, as if it might steady her. 

“Let’s go find that rascal Finn,” said Liam cheerfully.  Nessa nodded and pulled away, turning and walking back towards the door to the inn. 

Liam followed, taking but a moment to look back at the stunned Grace, who still knelt on the grass.  “Thank you for sharing that lovely carrot, Grace,” he told her.  His eyes were large and open and warm.

Then he departed across the lawn with a vigorous stride.

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