A Servant's Security

Chapter 12

(John's POV)

Riding out of town, John urged his horse into a run as he took a small path across a meadow and over a hill toward the river. Finally, he slowed the horse to a trot and patted Buttercup's neck. He surveyed the countryside, green and thriving along the river bank, despite the lack of rain. The river shimmered a nice blue against the shining sun. He couldn't have chosen a more perfect village for his new home.

Jane would've hated it.

Just thinking her name sent a painful, sick feeling through his gut. But he learned to live with the pain, to think of it as a helpful reminder to him to never be so foolish again.

It was good to be away from the too-familiar paths and discover an, unspoiled place.

Glynval was the location he had run to, an area where he intended to live life at ease, flow with the simple rhythm of village life, breathe fresh air, and keep to himself. His peace would come from the natural beauty of the countryside, from his own independence and freedom. There would be nothing and no one to stir strong feelings of any kind.

His plan wasn't working so well.

His mind went back to the girl, the merchant's daughter, he refused to think of her name, who had been forced by him and by her lazy family, into his service. She couldn't even walk through the village without attracting the wrong kind of attention, but perhaps that had been her intention. 

Even his new carpenter, Henry, was smitten with her. The bailiff certainly had an unhealthy interest.

But the girl seemed afraid of the bailiff. He would have to have a talk with Bailiff Richard and warn him to leave her alone and stop following her around, now that she had made it clear she didn't want to marry him.

John hated to think it, but the girl haunted him too, and he of all people should know better. Her perfect features, her beautiful blue eyes, and her blonde hair waving around her shoulders... but it was her kindness to others, her quiet nature and the way she performed her duties with meekness and without complaints that had caught his attention.

He scowled at his foolish thinking, noticing a woman's beauty, especially a servant's.

He remembered his anger when he caught her looking at his paintings in his bedroom. Recalled her bad manners.

But intelligence sparkled in her expression, and she was too well spoken to have been born into servant hood. Rather, she had been born a freeman's daughter and probably been taught to marry a rich man or even a knight. Someone with importance and money to his name. Her mother was the daughter of a knight, and her father was a wealthy merchant, until fate had turned against him.

How well John knew about the heartless twist of fate.

But she was indeed a servant, and he wasn't the type of lord to dwell on a servant's beautiful features and graceful movements. He was determined to cast her face from his mind. The only way to do that, though, was to leave this place and find a new village. A village that didn't have her there. He had already made good progress on building his new home, and people would say he had lost his mind, but why should he care?

John didn't want to leave, but he also didn't want to let the young woman haunt him. He was haunted enough as it was. His wife, dead for three years now, had also been very beautiful. And she had used her beauty like a dagger.

Beautiful women were not to be trusted or allowed into a man's heart when that man was less than perfect. He had learned that lesson well.