This week, a rival for my heroine’s affections enters the
scene. Not each of these sentences relates to
Monday: ’Twas the
second time Sarah had observed more of Marguerite’s heart than Marguerite had
wished her to, but she could make no reply for Sir Warin had rejoined them.
Tuesday: Clever. It
was what men called women who knew how to read, and Marguerite knew it was not
always meant as a compliment.
Wednesday: Speak,
a voice whispered in her mind, but a vying flutter in her breast murmured, Not
yet, not yet.
Thursday: She could
not take advantage of his chivalry after rejecting his heart so cruelly.
Friday: (Two
sentences, for context) Marguerite had earlier watched Lady Lovell draw a
yellow ribbon from her hair and tie it to Strode’s lance as a favor. It
fluttered its unabashed contempt of Marguerite’s pride for too many chagrining
moments as the king uttered his royal blessing—“Fight this day with courage and
honor. May God be with you.”—in a humdrum voice that revealed his continued
displeasure with his “favorite”, and waved Strode on so that he might bless the
next knight and the next.
Saturday: Thankfully,
he never spoke to her for if he had, she was quite sure it would have shattered
her restraint and set her flailing at him like a madwoman.
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