The Princess and the Huntsman (11 page)

“Aye, Tom. I shall try to be patient.”

“Good enou’,” he whispered in her ear as he pulled her in for more cuddles. “Good enou’.”

* * *

After a quiet evening and pre-dawn cuddles and fondlings, Tom left to see to the hunt, leaving Brandywyn to try to clean the cottage and wash their clothes on the rocks in the stream. The morning wore on, and although she had exchanged her borrowed shirt for another of Tom’s, she wore nothing else while she cleaned and washed the clothes.

She rested in the afternoon warmth and wondered where Tom was, but she did not venture out to find him, remembering the spanking she received all too recently for her wayward behavior. There was a tiny peep from the tree nearest the cottage. It was a big elm tree, with branches that spread far and wide, tall and stately and verdant. The peep sounded again, and Brandywyn looked all around for its source, following the peeping until she found a baby bird, fallen from its nest. It looked like a fledgling who had tried to fly too early. It was woeful, bringing pity to Brandywyn’s heart. She picked up the bird and took it to the cabin where she gave it water and tiny crumbs of bread. It ate everything she gave it and peeped contentedly. She gently rubbed its downy feathers, enjoying the commune they shared, human to bird.

A shadow fell from the cottage door, and Tom stood there, smiling when Brandywyn looked up. “I see you have a friend.”

“Aye. He lost his mother.”

“And found one in you,” Tom said, coming into the cottage and putting a pair of partridges on the table.

She looked from the baby bird to the man. “We must keep it, Tom. It will die if we do not.”

“Perhaps ‘twould be best do we find its nest and return it to its home.”

“Please, Tom? I would care for it, I promise.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Is it not beneath your dignity to toil over a demanding pet?”

The truth was hard to accept, but Brandywyn hardly felt like a princess anymore. She was closer to the earth now, less inclined to disdain work with her hands. Besides, Brandywyn had always loved animals. She had lost sight of that since her mother died. She had lost sight of so many things since that awful day.

“Please, Tom. I would like to try.”

He appeared to consider her request most seriously, then nodded. “Very well. But do not be surprised if it dies, Brandywyn. ‘Tis a hard world for an orphan, especially a baby bird. Where will you keep it?”

“I can…” Where
would
she keep it? “I can build it a nest out of rags and straw in your extra hat. Surely that will keep it safe here inside the cottage.”

“Mayhap. Or mayhap it will wander from its nest and get underfoot. We could stomp on it in the middle of the night.”

“Tom!” She clutched the bird in gentle hands. “Do not say it! We shall be cautious. Soon it will be old enough to fend for itself. It is a fledgling, and nearly able to fly away.”

Tom sighed broadly. “Very well. I shall keep my big feet out of its way.”

Brandywyn felt her heart expand. He was giving her a boon, and one she needed. Animals were dear and nothing would give her greater pleasure than nursing this one back to its freedom. “Thank you, Tom.”

“Now, from one bird to another.” He patted a fat partridge. “Let us get to making supper, or we shall starve just like that fledgling was wont to do.”

“Aye. Do you show me what to do and I shall do it. I can learn.”

Smiling, Tom gave her a lesson on roasting partridge.

Chapter Seven

The fledgling grew quickly, and within a week Brandywyn watched it fly away on its own. She smiled, but she was also sad to lose her little pet. Instead, there was Tom to see to. She had been steadily learning how to care for him, and to find joy in that caring. Brandywyn wondered at her own bitterness after her mother’s passing. There were miracles in the world—like her rescue from the kidnappers, and the recovery of the baby bird—and her focus should have been upon those things, not taking her hurt out on others by hurting them in kind. It was a hard realization, for she had wronged so many people in the past four years. She vowed to make up for all of that once she returned to the royal palace.

Brandywyn had just pulled her best loaf of bread out of the oven when she heard noises outside the open cottage door. She turned and saw two urchins. One, a dirty young girl of perhaps eight, and the other a young boy, perhaps four years old. The boy had his dirty thumb in his mouth and was holding his sister’s hand like a lifeline.

“How now?” Brandywyn asked. “Who are you?”

“I am Pansy and this is Brake. May we have a bite of bread?”

“Aye. Come in. Where are your parents? In the village?”

The girl shook her head, cautiously moving into the cottage as though Brandywyn would bite her. “We have no parents. The villagers give us a crust and a bone when they can, but it is not a rich village and they have little to spare.”

Orphans! Brandywyn’s heart swelled. The poor babies. “Here,” she gestured. “Come sit by the hearth and warm yourselves. I have bread and butter aplenty. You may eat your fill.”

“Thank you, mistress,” said Pansy, taking a slab of bread and butter. She looked at it for a moment, then passed it to her brother, who gobbled it up as quickly as his tiny bites would allow. Pansy smiled gratefully at the second slab of bread and butter that was to be hers.

The children ate as if it was their last meal, and Brandywyn asked them questions as they stuffed their little faces.

“How long have you been orphaned?”

Pansy spoke around a mouthful of bread. “A year, mayhap? We have seen the full seasons since our papa and mama succumbed to a fever.”

“I am sorry for your loss. No one in the village took you in?”

“They tried, mistress. We were… unhappy, and did not see our bounty. Now we wish we had.”

Brake spoke up, licking his fingers. “May I have more? Have you any honey?”

“Brake!” his sister scolded. “Do not ask for more than what is given, and be grateful for that.”

He looked chagrinned, his eyes filling with tears. “I am sorry, Pansy.”

She patted him on the back. “Do not cry, Brake.”

Brandywyn added, “I do have honey and you are welcome to some.” She got it from a shelf. “Here, my dear.”

Brake brightened immediately and welcomed the sweet syrup Brandywyn spooned onto his bread. She offered some to Pansy, who took it gratefully and gave her thanks.

They were good children and deserved more than a poor orphan’s existence.

* * *

Tom sold much of his catch for that day to the villagers, but kept back some fat trout for his supper with Brandywyn. She was learning to cook them in butter and make a succulent feast of even such lowly fare. Tom was very proud of her development, but he had decided to test the change in her, for it had been dramatic. He hoped it wasn’t short-lived, but he had to be sure. He formulated a plan to lead some orphans from the village to the cottage and see if they were accepted there. The episode with the baby bird gave him hope, but this test would prove the truth once and for all.

The orphans he had chosen had been on their own for a year, but the villagers saw to their care. They moved from one family to another, while the village elders made a careful search for a permanent home for them. Tom had heard that such a family might be found somewhat distant from the village, on a small farm. The couple there had lost their children to a pox and were a loving and generous pair. They were saddened by their loss and eager to regain the family they missed. The orphans did not know of this potential new home—it would have been cruel to give them hope, in case it did not work out—but they were perfect for Tom’s test and they would be rewarded for their help in his plan.

Tom stood at the cottage window and peered in as the drama unfolded. Brandywyn took the children in, fed them, talked to them in a kind and gentle voice. She washed their hands and faces and would have attempted to mend their torn garments, but Tom felt it was time to make himself known.

“Good den! We have guests.”

Brandywyn was quick to stand and rush to him. Her sweet kiss on his cheek brought back memories of other stolen kisses, but he did not press her for more. “Tom! Please do not be angry with me. These children are Pansy and Brake; they are orphans from the village. They have wandered far away, looking for a crust and a home.”

“I am not wroth with you, Brandywyn.” He turned to the children with a smile and a stealthy wink. “Welcome, Pansy and Brake. Mistress Brandywyn has seen to your comforts?”

“Aye!” they said in unison.

“The hour grows late, and this fish will not keep forever. Brandywyn, please cook supper, and I shall entertain the children. I can tell them a faery tale.”

Brandywyn smiled her sweet smile, delight written in the twinkle of her eyes. “Aye, Tom. Oh, and I milked the cow this morning. We have fresh milk.”

“Excellent! Now, children, let us move to the corner where we shall be removed from Mistress Brandywyn’s path. I promise a sumptuous feast is in store.”

Tom watched Brandywyn as he told his story to the children. She smiled often as she worked and hummed a light melody. Her hands, soft and delicate, were growing more and more effective when cleaning and preparing the animals he brought home. She had learned to cook both in a pot and in a skillet, and her bread was better every day. The fact that she’d learned to milk the cow effectively was a joy to his ears.

Things were right between them. It was time to make his proposal.

* * *

The next day, Brandywyn washed the children and fed them. She was playing at being a mama, and she knew the falsehood that was, for these were not her children. Her attitude about children had changed over the past weeks. Whereas, in the palace, she had been adamant about never giving her love to one who could die and break her heart, she now saw the beauty in expanding oneself into the life of another, making them happy and gaining happiness in return. Giving was more important than receiving for her now, and Brandywyn saw how selfish she had become upon her mother’s death. Her father would dearly love to spoil grandchildren, and she would dearly love to care for them, to see their shining faces and teach them of all the goodness in the world. She had nearly forgotten that she was a princess, but upon taking in the children, she realized that she had much to give to the unfortunate in this world. Much that she had greedily held only for herself in the past. She vowed to be greedy no more.

Tom came in from milking the cow and sat down to break his fast. Brandywyn ventured to speak her thoughts, as the children played with household items imagined as toys. “Tom…”

“Aye, sweeting?”

“I was wondering… Since the children are orphans, and we have so much bounty to share, can we not take them in and care for them?”

He smiled, and shook his head in disbelief. “What has happened to the young termagant who made demands and lost her temper? Have you forgotten your claim to be the princess of Ring?”

“No, Tom, for I am the princess, but I will not demand your agreement, I ask it. I would like to care for these children and give them a happy home.”

“I am familiar with these children,” he explained, “and I am aware of something you are not—that
they
are not.” He lowered his voice so that he would not be overheard. “The town elders have come very close to finding them a permanent home outside the village. The arrangement needs only final agreement among the elders, but it is widely speculated that it will go forward. They will indeed have a happy and loving home.”

Part of Brandywyn was exceedingly happy and another part sad. She wanted the children to be cared for and supported, but she also selfishly wanted their caregivers to be her and Tom. With great effort, she tamped down her selfish impulses and focused on the children’s lucky bounty.

“I am pleased for them, Tom. Truly.”

He touched her hand across the table. “You have also forgotten that you and I are not wed, Brandywyn. It is scandalous for the two of us to be here unchaperoned, though we have done so for weeks.”

“But Tom, I remain a virgin! You have done nothing I did not encourage.”

“True enou’,” he agreed. “But it looks bad, sweeting. Were we not so far from the village, we would be cast out and shunned certes.”

A flare of panic surged through Brandywyn. Would Tom lose his business? Would they fall upon hard times because she was here with him? Mayhap she should move to the village and stay with a family until her father came for her. The thought brought tears to her eyes. How she would miss Tom. But to save his business…

“I—”

He held her hand to his lips. “I have an answer, love. Marry me and all will be well.”

Marriage! How ironic such a match would be. Her father had been trying for several years to entice her to marry a man of nobility and means, and now she was in love with a huntsman and seriously considering his proposal. What would that mean to the kingdom? Tom was an honest and brave man. He was a fine provider, generous and thoughtful. Wisdom sang in his words and his deeds.

Perhaps most important of all, however, was the fact that she needed him. He set her wrongs to right, soothed her tempers, taught her when she needed correction. He settled her in a way no other person had managed since her mother died. Brandywyn knew she was a better person for knowing Tom, and better yet for loving him. She did love him, with all her heart.

“Can you love a poor huntsman as he loves you?” he asked softly.

“Aye, Tom. I do love you. I will marry you.” It was a scary declaration, but incredibly freeing at the same time. The pressure to marry her father’s choice was lifted from her shoulders. There would be hell to pay when King Dent found out, but that was a trouble to be dealt with at another time.

Tom smiled brightly and stood, bringing her up with him. They kissed deeply. Brandywyn tingled all over with longing and pleasure. She wanted to mate with Tom and seal their bargain. Of course, that could not happen while the children were playing in the cottage with them. But soon it might happen. She loved cuddling with him every night, and their one sensual experience after the last spanking had really opened her eyes to delights she had never imagined. They had not done it again—Tom had shown great restraint. Greater than her own, for she would have done it again and again. In her secret heart, she had imagined it. The sensation of him entering her back channel, deeply stroking her, bringing her to her peak in so earthy a fashion, was enough to make her wet and breathy. If Tom noticed, he said nothing. He was a man who controlled his passions well. But soon… aye, very soon…