Page 78 of An Agreement with the Soldier (Necessary Arrangements 2)

“Perhaps,” John answered with a shrug.

“Definitely,” Sam said sweetly.

John turned and caught his breath. He would never be used to the effect she had on him. She stood on the road, a basket in her hands, strands of her hair playing in the wind. “I hear former soldiers make for the best husbands.”

“Good day, My Lady,” Malcolm greeted her with a bow. The other men echoed the sentiment as they greeted the lady of the estate.

“Perhaps we can organize a celebration or a festival and invite young women from the neighboring estates,” she continued, and John’s mood darkened immediately. The talk of a celebration, hundreds of people on his estate, sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

“Perhaps we should discuss it privately before breaching the subject to the tenants,” he said between his teeth.

“Come now, Master, you wouldn’t deprive your loyal subjects of a celebration, now would you?” one of his comrades said light-heartedly.

“Yes, we need the distraction. The beginning of the summer is a perfect time for a festival!” another one chimed it.

“It is time this land saw a celebration,” one of the older tenants echoed, and John got even surlier. Sam just had to go and make a suggestion in front of the workers, didn’t she?

“A summer festival! Sounds lovely.” Sam beamed at the workers.

“What are you doing here?” John finally asked, tired of hearing the exuberant glee about the blasted festival. “Are you walking alone again?” He looked around, searching for her escort.

“I am not alone. I am with you.” Her smile hadn’t faltered. She raised the basket a little. “Since you are working on the manor, I thought maybe we could eat in the garden. It’s closer to here than walking down to the stream, or even back to the house.”

“If you keep feeding me like that, I shan’t be able to fit through doors soon,” he said darkly.

John didn’t know where that came from, but he was annoyed with her, and was trying to pick a fight no matter what. He was already angry at her about the idea of a festival, and now, she further ignited his temper by endangering herself. He walked right up to her with angry, ground-eating strides.

Her gaze grew puzzled, and she started chewing on her lower lip. The action drew his gaze to her lips and sent jolts of awareness through his body. He wanted to draw her lip from under her teeth and suck on it. He was suddenly aroused, and that made him even angrier.

“I don’t need you feeding me like a child,” he grumbled. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t distract me during work.”

“You didn’t mind before.”

“Well, that was before you started throwing ideas of celebrations in front of our tenants. So, we need to finish the manor in time for summer.” He turned away, determined to walk away from her, angry.

“It was just an idea, John, no need to get surly again,” she said, sounding confused. “If it’s that unpleasant of an idea for you, we don’t have to do it.”

“Good. Then we won’t do it.”

“I just thought it would be good for the villagers. It’s not like they have much to look forward to. And now that half of them are former soldiers… They deserve festivities. Would you be so selfish to deprive them of a celebration?”

John groaned inwardly.She is right.The people deserved a holiday, a celebration. Some time to relax. They’d gone through war, many of them lost their loved ones, their lands, homes, work. Now they were working harder than many of them ever had. The least they could do was throw a celebrative festival at the beginning of the summer. His foul mood didn’t let him answer with grace, though.

“Very well,” he said. “Do what you like. But I shan’t be here to see it.” He turned his back on her and left her standing there with a lunch basket and big round eyes, full of hurt. But he was determined not to think about that.

* * *

For the rest of the day, John took on the most exhausting physical labor. He hauled wood, moved stones, and ran back and forth between locations bringing necessary materials and throwing away heavy rubble. He was tired, filthy, and sweaty at the end of the day when the men went down to the stream to clean up. Christopher walked beside him on the way there, clearly wanting to say something, but not sure how to start.

“If you want to say something, just say it, Chris,” John barked when they were nearly by the stream.

“All right.” Chris cleared his throat. “I think you are overreacting to the celebration. Lady Ashbury has her heart in the right place.”

“She knows how I feel about big crowds, loud noises, crushing atmosphere. It was one thing to invite the soldiers over for work, but I can’t deal with a party.”

“None of us can, My Lord.” Chris threw him a sideways glance. “You need to remember that we’ve all been there. Some soldiers have it easy. They don’t suffer as much, some of them get to move on. But not the men who are here. We all needed a fresh start, an escape from the nightmare that was war.”

“For some of us, the nightmares haven’t stopped.” John halted in his tracks and leaned his back against the tree. “Nothing’s changed for me.”

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