Page 55 of The Blacksmith

“No garlic today,” she said, breaking their unspoken agreement not to speak of Mother’s condition.

“The new physician should have been here by now,” her sister said. Indeed. Idalia reminded herself to speak about it with Father when they returned.

Rounding a bend in the road, they could hear the market square even though they could not yet see it. Voices rose up above the treetops. The clanging metal reminded her of the forge.

Nay. I will not think of him.

An impossible feat given the very man she was supposed to forget called out her name from behind her as she and Tilly arrived at the market.

“My lady.”

He rode up alongside her, which was apparently Tilly’s cue to leave. If Idalia hadn’t known better, she would have suspected the little minx had planned it. Spurring her mount forward, Idalia called back a quick farewell.

Although Idalia wasn’t actually alone with Lance, given the throngs of people all around him, she very keenly felt his presence.

“Master Lance.”

She continued in her approach toward the stables, refusing to look at him. While he fell in line with her, Lance did not speak until they’d dismounted and handed over their mounts.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” she said at last.

The smith worked as hard, if not harder, than their previous smith. A fact many seemed to have noticed. Of late she’d heard his name on the lips of more than one man and woman about Stanton, and while she was glad of it for his sake, she found it difficult to listen to talk of him.

It reminded her of that day.

Of what he did to her, and the way her body had responded to him.

Pretending she did not care seemed to work much better without him standing by her side.

“I’ve heard much about market day and was curious.”

He walked with her past stalls of fresh fruit and cloth. Idalia should have stopped by now—she had quite a bit of shopping to do for Cook and Dawson—but neither her feet nor mouth seemed to be functioning well at the moment.

“Stanton has one of only three market charters in all of Northumbria,” she said without thinking.

“And has utilized it well. Covered stalls?”

“My father’s idea. He hoped it would attract unique vendors, which would encourage people from other villages to travel here for market day.”

She nodded and smiled to each of the vendors they passed, pretending not to notice curious looks Lance was receiving. Idalia made her way to a table filled with cheeses of all kinds, but to her surprise, Lance stayed at her side. After a quick negotiation and agreement to have her purchase sent to Stanton’s kitchens, they continued on their way.

“You did that well.” Lance was looking back at the merchant. “I don’t think I could have gotten his price so low.”

“Being the earl’s daughter has its advantages.”

There was much she wanted to say, but none of it would be proper, especially not here, where anyone might hear them. Instead, Idalia pretended it was perfectly normal to have kissed her, on more than one occasion.

And then there was the small matter of the night he’d lifted her skirts with his hand and brought her the most unimaginable pleasure with his fingers inside her.

God’s teeth. Idalia, stop!

“There is a market town in France known for its exquisite cloth. The lord there built a structure,” he pointed to one of the stalls, “like this one, but much larger. More than ten merchants fit inside.”

“Ten?”

“Aye. It stands in the square’s center, and neither snow nor rain can disturb the merchants and those who deal with them.”

Idalia stopped, attempting to imagine such a thing.