Zipporah fingered through her braid and plaited it again to make it look like she hadn’t been out riding. It would have taken too long to work the ribbons back around her hair, so she tucked them under some straw and left them behind.
She’d just stepped out of the stable yard when she saw Gilburn leaning against a fencepost with his arms crossed over his chest, watching her. Caught off guard, she froze, and then forced herself to act naturally.
“You,” he said, like one might to a disobedient child, “have been out riding.”
If he wanted to play it that why then she’d go along. “Only a little,” she said sweetly.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“You were occupied. I didn’t wish to disturb you.”
“I can’t keep you safe when I don’t know where you are.” He pushed away from the fence, his face suddenly softening. “If you need to get away from the castle I can understand, but please tell me first. If I can’t escort you personally, then I’ll assign someone who can.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m not too busy for you,” he said. “If you ever need anything, I’ll be there. No request is too trivial.”
Oh, he was coming on too strong. “I understand. Of course.” She smiled for good measure.
Gilburn walked her up the stone steps at the front of the castle keep then stopped and took her hand in his. “I’ll see you at supper. I’m looking forward to it.” He bowed his dark head then turned back down the stairs. Zipporah let out her breath, glad he hadn’t questioned her further. All this attention was bothering her. He’d always been intense, but this was just too much.
*
Zipporah remained in her chamber for the rest of the day, coming out only for supper. Even then, she walked into the great hall with all the zeal of a woman with a warrant out for her arrest. Her mother was in her usual place at the high table, Sir Gilburn near her. He smiled as if pleased with his day’s accomplishments.
Zipporah forced herself to keep her emotions off her face as she made her way up the steps of the dais. Gilburn stood so that she could slide onto the bench at the trestle table. With a nod of his head, he sat back down next to her.
Why did she agree to share a trencher with the man?
Oh yes, she hadn’t. He’d taken it upon himself to accept his own offer for her.
“Sir Gilburn,” she said in greeting.
“My lady.” His gaze found hers. He smelled of cloves. Had he bathed?
She glanced at Lady Havendell, wishing she’d told her mother earlier that Gilburn had taken on the role of a suitor. “How is Father?” she asked.
“He was awake for a short time this afternoon,” her mother said.
“I’m sorry I missed it.”
“He wasn’t himself anyway.”
He never was. Not anymore.
They were served their meal by a young blonde maidservant. Zipporah watched the woman move around the table, her hips swaying beneath coarse green wool. She tucked a curl behind her ear and smiled at Gilburn, but he glanced at her with disinterest and turned away. The maid’s face withered. Zipporah pursed her lips at that. Poor girl. Hopefully she wasn’t with child by him.
Why did men have to think with their cocks anyway? That left her with the unsettling thought that after three years away Peter had to have other children by now besides the one he’d made with her.
Zipporah felt sick to her stomach.
Darcy Branwyn 
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