Bewitching the Baron by Lisa Cach

Author:Lisa Cach [Cach, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
Published: 2011-11-22T17:59:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Eddie gave the new hinges and hasp on the stocks a final polish with his rag and stood back to admire his work in the dawn light. The twittering birds in the shadowed trees had kept him company as he worked through the early morning, tearing out the old metalwork by the light of the lantern that now sat extinguished at his feet.

He understood that repairing the stocks was a punishment for his own foolishness, and the care he took in his work was a reflection of how richly he felt he deserved the task. It was his own cock that had bewitched him, and the scent of Gwen, not witches or owls. He could see that now. The baron was an educated man, and he trusted that Valerian was nothing but an herbalist and midwife. His lordship probably thought him the dimmest of the dimwitted to have made such claims against her.

Eddie flushed, thinking of the fool he had been these past weeks. It was as if the moment a woman came by, his brain gave over all control to his crotch.

A heavy hand grasped his shoulder, and he turned to look at his father. Eddie watched as the man ran his assessing eyes over his work, then nodded in approval, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze. His father had not once reproached him for his part in this mess, for which Eddie was eternally grateful. He felt a mixture of love and shame well up inside at his father’s calm acceptance of his errors and penance.

He would not fail his father so again. Until he was ready to marry, he would keep a dozen paces between himself and any woman. And as for Gwen—well, she could practice her wiles on some other cock-headed fool. He did not need one such as her controlling his life.

The sun rose above the horizon, accompanied by the beat of a rawhide drum. A procession came around the corner, led in its stately pace by Randolph Miller, Gwen’s ten-year-old brother. His freckled face was grinning, his head bobbing with each beat of the drum that hung from a strap around his neck.

Several paces behind Randolph marched Gwen, eyes red-rimmed and glaring, and behind her her father and mother, looking stiff-necked and more ashamed than their daughter. Baron Ravenall and Paul Carlyle took up the rear, mounted on their fine horses, faces somber.

The drum slowly drew the villagers from their houses and shops, as if they had not been waiting behind the shutters since the crack of dawn for this very sight. The solemnity of the procession was mimicked by the villagers, although one attuned to the moods of the town could sense the pulse of their excitement underneath. Whether Gwen deserved the stocks or not, ’twould make for an entertaining day.

The procession drew to a halt, and the baron rode forward to address Gwen in tones that carried to the gathered crowd.

“Gwendolyn Miller, for the crimes of assaulting an innocent woman, accusing

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