The maid’s eyes rounded in surprise and she stared.
“Miss Beatrice,” she breathed.
Sibyl didn’t know what to say. Goddess, she wished she’d listened to her father more closely. How did one talk medieval?
There was nothing for it, Sibyl would have to bluff it.
“Where’s your master?”
She must have said the right thing because the woman’s face melted knowingly. “He’s…” Her eyes dropped to Sibyl’s body. “But you’re not dressed.”
Sibyl looked down at herself knowing it was most likely not seemly that she was running around in her nightclothes but she didn’t care. Time was of the essence.
“I need to see, um… Sir Royce right away.”
She felt like an idiot but she didn’t care about that either. At any moment, she could wake up.
“But Miss Beatrice…”
“Where is he?” she cried desperately.
The woman jumped at her tone which was obviously something with which, coming from Beatrice, she was not familiar. Then she spoke. “He’s at his meal in the Hall.”
She said more but Sibyl didn’t hear her. She flew down the corridor like the very devil was at her heels and then bounded down the stairs. Finally, she skidded to a halt, seeing the used dishes on the table… but no Royce.
She stomped her foot.
“Blooming hell!” she said in more than mild exasperation.
“Beatrice?”
His deep, smooth, velvet voice came from her right and she whirled.
Royce, standing straight and beautiful in one of the two semi-circular windows, was watching her with obvious amusement. His hair shown gold and was breathtaking in the sun pouring in from the window and she wondered if her own looked like that when hit by the sun’s rays.
“Royce,” she whispered then she flew right to him and regardless of her relief at finding him, she stopped a foot away and exploded, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
He grinned down at her. Without giving any sign he noticed she’d just yelled in his face, he lifted a hand and traced his finger softly down her jaw.
“I see, no matter that we will be wed this day, you are still not capable of a pleasing morning humour.
Her eyes widened and her brows shot up. “We’re getting married today?”
His grin immediately turned teasing. “You forgot?”
“No, yes… I…” she stammered and his grin broadened into a knowing smile.
“I should not be surprised you would forget, you forget many things, my Beatrice, but our wedding day? You wound me,” he joked, taking his finger from her jaw to put his hand to his heart in mock injury.
This was just too weird and he was being too sweet. But Sibyl didn’t have time to process Royce’s effective teasing, she had things to say, things to do so she charged on. “We don’t have time for this, we have to…”
But she stopped speaking when he leaned forward unexpectedly and reached around her then she felt a soft, deft yank at the back of her head.
“I do not like this,” he muttered, his hand coming back around and he held a pale blue ribbon in front of her face. He dropped it and she had to swiftly throw up her hands to catch it as his reached back around and she felt him uncoiling her braid.
Good goddess, just like Colin.
Her knees went weak.