Chapter six - Gilbert

Thwack-thunk.

The axe cleaved through another block cleanly and lodged itself in the stump beneath. Gilbert watched with satisfaction as the two halves of the split wood fall off the edge and bounce onto the sod. A trickle of sweat rolled down his brow, and he absently huffed at it.

Blinking against the rush of air, he bent to grab the two pieces and chuck them at the growing pile near the necessary. He would stack them properly later. For now, he was tired. His arms ached, and his back was protesting, but the mindless chore kept him busy and away from his unintended guest.

He left the axe buried in the stump and stepped back, grabbing his shirt tail to pull it up over his head. Balling it up, he used the material to wipe the sweat and grime off his face. Hard physical labor was the only thing to keep his thoughts from wandering to the pretty woman inside his castle. He had already fed and watered the animals, harvested the eggs, and milked the cow. The milk and eggs he stored away in the root cellar to stay cool, safe from critters and vermin alike.

His gaze swept over the area. There were so many other chores he had yet to accomplish here. The henhouse was complete, but the stable needed one more wall sheeted. He had the boards already split and piled, ready to be put in place. Once the building was closed in, it would house the old milk cow who grazed in the small paddock nearby. He could even invest in a couple of horses to share the space. After that, he would need a sturdy wagon.

Of course, he would have to widen the narrow, twisting path that led to the river before a wagon could access that narrow route. Right now, the forest was encroaching on the path, and even a man on horseback would have trouble. But having a means of transportation to cart goods back and forth would make his life so much simpler. Not to mention being able to accomplish the heavier tasks and repairs needed around here.

The castle was barely habitable even after all the work he'd already accomplished. He'd done his best to shore up the stone walls using lime plaster and every rock he could find. At least the keep was mostly finished. Just a few more fine details to work out. With a good team of work horses, he could haul the heavier boulders he would need in order to  move on to rebuilding the rest of the castle.

His gaze moved over the newly plastered stone, inevitably finding the back door to the old keep. In his mind's eye, he could again see the woman as she sat there, watching him carry in that last armload of split blocks. He had expected her to be frightened, maybe intimidated by his appearance, but he hadn't seen fear. What he had seen was pure annoyance. The idea tickled him, and he gave a soft, soundless chuckle.

No doubt she thought he was ignoring her because he had not spoken to her. He found most people were unnerved by his silence. Sometimes, he even enjoyed their discomfiture. Many others assumed that because he couldn't talk, he was simple-minded. Another reason to avoid society as a whole. But this little bit of a thing was different. She really was a most unusual woman.

He couldn't quite put his finger on exactly what made her stand out from the rest. Yes, she had been frightened at first when he entered the room. He had expected that, considering the abuse she must have endured. But then her expression turned to first shock and then outrage. She demanded her clothes, like a queen. He had been hard-pressed to keep the delighted grin off his face. She reminded him of a tiny kitten spitting at a bear. Despite the mistreatment she had endured, she still had the courage to make her demands known. When he simply tossed her clothes to her and turned to leave, her jaw had nearly dropped to the floor.

A grin quirked to his lips. She hadn't expected that, and he thoroughly enjoyed thwarting her expectations. He never realized before that he had a hidden contrary streak. His second treck in had been even better. Even though he hadn't counted on seeing her dressed and on her feet, he managed to focus on dropping his armload into the wood box and getting out of there.

If she thought he was ignoring her, she was mistaken. His grin faded. He was more than aware of her every move. That was the problem. When she was unconscious, he'd had little difficulty ignoring the fact that she was a flesh-and-blood woman. She was merely another human being, ill and in need of his care. But now that she was recovering, awake, and aware of her surroundings again, he was far too conscious of her. That was not good.

He was far too affected by the sharp intelligence in that green-eyed gaze. It left him bemused and eager for her company. He had no idea how to combat the attraction he was experiencing. He could only hope she would succumb to exhaustion again and be asleep by the time he returned. Maybe by then, he would have had time enough to prepare himself and regain some self-control.

It had been a decade since he'd been alone with a woman. He usually avoided interacting with society in general, females in particular. Most of them were intimidated by his sheer size. Even grown men would avoid catching his eye in hopes of escaping his notice. His size had always separated him from others. He was an anomaly even in his own family. There was nobody else of his massive size. His two older brothers were both of average build, like their father. Even his mother's relatives were nowhere near his own height or brawn. It was part of the reason why the family virtually ignored him.

As the youngest, he wasn't expected to carry on the family name or tradition. He had no hope of holding the family seat or title. Father had his heir and a spare. As third son and being much younger than his siblings, he was more of an afterthought. Barely acknowledged, even by his own mother, a frail woman who often took to her bed with a plethora of ailments. Rarely did she ever even acknowledge she had any children. She hardly even ventured from the sanctuary of her own rooms.

Father was also absent for much of their lives. The only times Gilbert ever saw his sire were when he had been naughty and was disciplined for some infraction. Not that Father spent any more time with the older boys. He was stern but indulgent with his heir, Richard. Even Johnathan, as second son, received some praise and encouragement. But not Gilbert.

Gilbert was virtually ignored. So long as he did nothing to court actual notoriety, his father couldn't care less what he did. Even his marriage to an equally unimportant commoner's daughter had not raised any concerns.

His features softened with fond remembrance. Rose had been his childhood friend. The daughter of Father's estate manager, she was his playmate when his older brothers shut him out of their games. She had never been afraid of the clumsy young lad he was then. Nor did she shy away when they grew older. While he expanded to alarming proportions, she blossomed into a lovely woman, and their youthful friendship bloomed into young love. Their courtship was swift and the wedding unassuming. The small holding left to him by his mother's family served them well as residence for the three short years of their marriage. And then it ended. Suddenly, tragically and he remained alone and devastated.

With a brisk shake of his head, he turned away from those memories. He needed something to distract himself before he was dragged to the depths again. With more force than necessary, he threw down his shirt and stepped over to the hand pump. A few good cranks and icy cold water gushed out of the spout and sloshed into the trough beneath. Gilbert bent and stuck his head in under the frigid stream. He shivered and sputtered, shaking his head vigorously. Then he leaned over the trough and swiped the water from his face, wringing it from his hair and beard.

As the water below him settled, he caught sight of his reflection and barely recognized himself. He really needed a trim and a shave. Living alone, he had never felt the need to maintain more than a rudimentary cleanliness. Out here, there was really no reason to primp and preen. He was definitely not properly groomed for company. Was it any wonder the woman had been startled by his appearance? And then a grin quirked to his lips.

She really was a pretty little thing. Some might say she was a bit too plump, but he never did like those stick-thin girls paraded out on the marriage mart. He preferred softly rounded curves. Even after several days of being sick with fever, her figure had lost none of its fullness. Gilbert found himself grinning at the thought of those lovely curves. Having bathed her and taken care of her every need for the last few days, he was fully aware of how curvaceous she truly was beneath that modest garb. Her fair skin was slightly sallow and shrunken with illness, but that did not detract from her appeal. With all that thick, fiery red hair and those brilliant emerald green eyes, he found her very appealing.

His libido stirred, and his loose-fitting breeches became a bit snug. He shifted, trying to alleviate some of the discomfort even as he reminded himself to behave. He had no business pondering any licentious ideas about his young guest.

She had to be gentry. Her complexion was far too fair, her speech and manner far too refined. Obviously, she was well educated and intelligent. By the condition of the clothing she wore, he guessed her to be living in gentile poverty. The dress was obviously of fine quality, the cut, extremely modest, but the material was so worn its colour was barely discernible. Even with his lack of fashion knowledge, he knew the style to be several years out of date. No doubt it had been crafted for a much younger version of herself.

Gilbert shook his head at such pondering. What did it matter? He didn't have time to play games. He wasn't interested in tumbling a female who just happened to be under his roof. She didn't belong here. The sooner she recovered her strength and returned home to her own family, the better. She must have a family somewhere close by. Someone had to be looking for her, worried about her. Maybe even a husband and children of her own.

The idea stopped him cold, and his heart stuttered in his chest. He frowned, rubbing angrily at the pain as he struggled to deny it. She wore no jewelry, no wedding ring, no necklace, not even a broach. But in her impoverished state, perhaps they could not afford the expense. What difference could that make? If she was married or even merely pledged, it should be no concern of his.

And even if she had no husband, surely there was a father or mother, brother or sister looking for her. He would have to ask her, and then he nearly smacked himself as he realized he couldn't ask her anything. How did someone who couldn't speak quiz a guest about such personal information? At least when he went into town, he mostly pointed to what he wanted and used hand gestures to relay how much he was willing to trade his gold and his carvings for.

He would have to find a way. He didn't need nor want her here. He liked his solitude and intended to wallow in it, no matter how pretty she was. With a deep, exhausted sigh, he gathered up an armload of kindling and reluctantly headed for the back door. It was time to face his guest.