Secrets In The Light

4

Harold recognized her the moment she stepped in. Wearing your family's broach on such a beautiful, elegant, light-pink dress, doesn't help with being unnoticed.

Her brown hair was a light color, looking like it has been kissed by the sun for numerous days in row. He didn't understand why, but especially for this event, she chose to pin only half of it up, letting the rest loose to come down in waves on her shoulders.

And her eyes...he had to wipe his face clean to take a better look at her. Those bright-green eyes could see through everyone's soul without even trying. Everything about her seemed light. Even her voice. A calm tone with a generous amount of boldness to it.

Her skin was something else as well, a pale, milky colour that emanated youth altogether.

Having a young woman asking for a drink in a kitchen because the party is too much to handle was something he never pictured for this evening. A few drunk men and a larger amount of angry women who are trying to hide it with smiles, waiving their fan in front of their faces, yes. Definitely. But a girl who looks as though she doesn't belong to this world, never.

He wanted to study her closely, ask a lot of questions and be as bold as he could, but in this moment, he is a simple cook. And he was looking forward to see her face the moment the Lord of Essex kisses her hand with respect.

During his speech, his eyes darted for a brief period of time in the crowd to look for her. Especially because he wanted to know what to expect the moment they were to meet. But she was nowhere to be seen. Now he knows why...She hates these things probably even more than he does.

"Here, My Lady.", Harold pushed a glass of his best wine on the counter, after wiping his hand clean from preparing the food.

"Please, do not, ever, tell my mother about this. She will never forgive me.", she pleaded with those red lips that he has found himself staring at.

"I'm just the cook, Miss. What do I know?", he answered, hiding the smile on his face by turning around to take the bread out of the oven.

The food was smelling delicious and he knew it tasted even better. When he had some spare time on his hands, he always used to sneak into the kitchen when the cook was taking a break and prepare something for him for when he gets back. It has never been something big, or glamorous as a child, but the simple fact that little Harold surrounded himself with recipes, helped a lot for the future, for now.

Also, he wanted to see where this little game between them would go. After all, she might just be his future wife. It has always been up to him to choose a woman by his side.but time goes by and he will always find something to force himself to say no. He's already twenty-four years old. How long is he going to wait to produce an heir? If his sister wants to be free, this is his burden.

"What is your name, cook?", she asked sweetly, taking small sips from the strong wine in the glass.

Harold contemplated for a second there. If he is to tell her his real name, the whole game would be over, but if he is to lie about it, she might get angry about it later on, when the truth needs to come out. So as he turned back to her, after placing another bread on a thicker cloth to keep the warmth in, he responded with the only think he knew would make sense.

"Harry. My name is Harry, my Lady."

She looked slightly amused but also content with his name. It felt odd to present himself like that. He hasn't spoken that name out loud in too many years and now, as those letters fell off his lips, it reminded him of the only time happiness has felt the greatest in his life.

"I like it, Harry. Tell me, how well do you know your master?", she asked another question, this time finishing the glass of wine off and pushing it towards him for a refill.