Dream of Me/Believe in Me

take proper care of it once I had it.”
    The young steward nodded thoughtfully. They continued back to Hawkforte.
    W HERE KRYSTA WAITED, HAVING AWAKENED SUD -denly not long after the Hawk flew from her bed. She opened her eyes surprised to find it a fair morning and stunned to find him gone. Gone without word or touch. Gone as though he had never been.
    Had she imagined him? Had her exhausted mind somehow conjured his presence from no more than wisps of longing? Barely had such a tentative notion sprung up within her than Krysta quashed it firmly. No, by heaven, she had not. He had shared her bed and the lingering warmth on the sheets proved it. Not to mention the depression of a head on the pillow next to hers.
    She stared at that pillow as she dressed and made some scant order of her unruly hair. Far in the back of her mind, a memory stirred of safety and warmth, of being held against hard, smooth skin, in arms at once gentle and strong.
    A light flush stained her cheeks. She nibbled at her lower lip and wondered how she was to face him.
    He had not wanted her. That much was evident, for all too clearly she recalled her audacity at slipping back between the covers naked. He had been kind to her, true enough, but it was not kindness she sought. Or at least notentirely. Humiliation stung her. Her one and only effort to tempt a man had failed spectacularly. She could not think how she was to go on.
    But go on she must and as though naught had occurred, for her pride would allow nothing else. Yet was she tormented by the growing fear that Daria was right: Hawk wanted a different bride, the “lady of true worth” who so held his heart he could lie naked in bed beside another woman, even hold her for the sake of kindness, and remain immune to passion's lure.
    Damnable woman! What did she possess that Krysta did not? No doubt her voice sounded like lark song or something equally insipid. Her hands would be lily white, and should a drop of blood ever appear on them, the cause would be an embroidery needle, tool of that gentle art with which Krysta had no experience. She would not have freckles earned by gamboling in the sun. She would never speak above a murmur. Never challenge her lord or disagree with him. Never labor like a peasant to save his crops … or dye her hair and pretend to be a serving girl or—
    The fact remained, their promised marriage was the pledge of peace. They were both of them trapped in a promise they could not break lest they plunge thousands into untold suffering.
    With such thoughts at her back, she descended to the hall and from there went outside to see what the storm had wrought. Her mood lightened when she saw how little damage had been done. Yet did she still glance around anxiously, wondering where Hawk was and hoping she would not have to face him anytime soon. It was a coward's wish and she despised it, but try as she might, Krysta could not help but wonder what hope there was for their future together.
    She was trying hard not to think of that when Aelfgyth found her. The young maid looked entirely recoveredfrom the past day's labors and in high spirits. “My lady, there you are! What a relief to have that over and how lucky we are to have escaped all but unscathed.” Her smile faded as she surveyed Krysta. “Are you still tired, my lady? Perhaps you did not sleep with all the noise last night?”
    “Oh, no, I slept well enough,” Krysta said. She was anxious to put that subject behind her as quickly as possible.
    “Good, then perhaps we could get started? There is much to do.”
    “Started on what?” Surely, after all they had just done, there couldn't possibly be much of anything left. Could there?
    “Why, preparing for the harvest celebration, of course. Is that not the custom in Vestfold?”
    “Celebration? Yes, of course. But are you certain I should be—”
    “Lady Daria never has anything to do with it. She says only prayers of thanksgiving are appropriate and the rest is pagan.” Aelfgyth wrinkled her nose but a moment later she laughed. “Fortunately, the Hawk feels differently. Edvard has seen to most of the preparations in recent years, but this time he thought you should be involved. He told me so last night—I mean … yesterday.” A blush suffused Aelfgyth's cheeks.
    “I see,” Krysta said with a smile. “In that case, I would be delighted. Where do we begin?”
    It soon became clear that the food was most important because everyone would expect a