The Black Knight's Tune by Naomi Finley

Author:Naomi Finley [Finley, Naomi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Novella One
Publisher: Huntson Press Inc.
Published: 2019-05-05T16:00:00+00:00

WHEN WE PULLED INTO LIVINGSTON, Kipling looked out the gap between the curtain and the window. The weariness from our journey faded as his expression transformed into one of wonder—a look he often wore when he thought or spoke of Willow. A pang seized my heart, and without looking, I knew who’d caught his attention.

The driver opened the door, and I could see Willow waiting on the front gallery. She stood shivering in her rain-drenched blue gown. Her pinned-up hair had flattened in the rain and escaped tendrils cascaded over her shoulders. Excitement and anticipation animated her face. I felt a twinge of jealousy. Only she’d be an image of beauty and poise in her given state.

The driver waited for Kipling to exit, but he sat unmoving as if lost in a trance, his expression tender. At that moment, I felt a strange connection between us—the respect and passion he held for Willow, a woman who viewed him as a friend, matched my affection for a man who’d become my greatest of friends.

“Sir,” the driver said.

Kipling shook his head, and his eyes fell on me. Though I wanted to offer him a friendly smile, I couldn’t. The dread of having to watch Kipling swoon over Willow plunged me into despair. She didn’t deserve my ill thoughts, nor did he, but I couldn’t shake the despondency overshadowing me.

Kipling opened his mouth to speak, but then as if reconsidering, he stepped out.

The driver stood holding the umbrella over Kipling. I disembarked and closed the door. Kipling splashed through the puddles toward Willow and the shelter of the gallery. The driver ran to keep up with him, never once offering the courtesy of cover from the storm to a slave. I hastened my steps to follow behind my master…my friend.

After a stableman came and took the driver and horses around back, Willow spoke. “What happened? Where’s Ruby?” Disappointment lined her words.

Guilt and shame swept over me at the jealousy I’d harbored over Kipling’s feelings for her. She was my friend, and her affection for me was palpable in her voice.

“I give you Jacob.” Kipling sidestepped to give Willow a clear view of me.

I removed my hat and bowed graciously.

“It’s a pleasure,” Willow said to me and eyed Kipling with building annoyance. “That’s all well and good. Now, answer my question. Was she ill?”

Kipling tipped back his head and laughed. His amusement was utterly lost on her.

Mary Grace and a tall, lanky slave girl stepped out onto the gallery. Mary Grace’s face radiated her delight at our arrival but soon slipped into the same puzzlement on Willow’s face. The other slave girl stood with her hands aligned at her sides and her eyes fixed on the ground.

“Mary Grace, please see to it that our guest is fed and made comfortable until Kip’s ready to leave,” Willow said.

Mary Grace gestured for me to follow, and replacing my hat, I hurried after her.

“Sending me on my way already?” I heard Kipling say as we rounded the gallery to the back of the house.

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