Wildly Yours

Lord Griswold leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he regarded Leofric. His gaze lingered on the knight's stern face, his thought hidden behind a mask of neutrality. He admired the man's adherence to tradition and duty, qualities he believed would counterbalance Isabella's impulsive nature. "So you seek my daughter's hand in marriage."

Leofric nodded, his expression confident. "Yes, Lord Griswold. I have come to admire Lady Isabella's grace and charm."

Lord Griswold cleared his throat to conceal his laughter. "I see," He said, his voice measured. "What makes you think you are suited to my daughter?"

Leofric straightened. He had expected the question. " I offer stability, security, comfort. Your daughter will want for nothing."

Lord Griswold had not an ounce of doubt for the man's words. "If you must know, there is more to my daughter than meets the eye."

"Is she sick?" Leofrics asked, brows drawn together in concern.

"Nothing like that. She is… how do I put it?"

"Stubborn?"

"Aye, how did you know?"

"I saw it in her eyes last night," Leofric stated firmly. He had gotten a glimpse of the type of girl Isabella was, but that didn't deter him from wanting her as his wife. He didn't know much about the girl, but he knew she needed a firm hand.

Lord Griswold's eyes narrowed, his mind racing as there seemed to be an unspoken understanding between them. " I have heard all you have said. I must consider my daughter's happiness." He said, his tone cautious.

Leofric's back straightened. " I assure you, Lord Griswold, I will provide for her every need. Remember, you gave me your word last night."

Lord Griswold's gaze drifted to the window, his thoughts consumed by Isabella's wild and rebellious spirit he had been unable to curb. He thought of Leofric possibly abandoning Isabella when he found out about her unladylike character or, worse, beating her as a way of correction. Though hardened by war and other things he didn't want to think about, Griswold didn't see Leofric as a violent or aggressive man. The man's discipline would be a balm to his daughter's reckless nature.

Isabella paced back and forth outside her father's office, her silk gown rustling softly with each step. Her eyelids drooped from exhaustion. Sleep had evaded her the previous night, replaced by restless tossing and tortured thoughts of Leofric's proposal.

Yes, she found Sir Leofric attractive and charming, but that did not ease the nagging sense of unease she had always felt in the pit of her stomach around him or when she thought about marriage to the man.

She had asked herself questions: Was it love? Was it because of his remarkable sense of humour? His unusual rugged handsomeness and charisma? None of those questions answered her question or eased her mind, but after much thinking, she finally realised why she felt the way she did. Like a flash of clarity, it had hit her so hard. Freedom. Leofric looked like the type of man who didn't like to compromise. Something about the man told her he represented the very constraints she had fought against. Marriage to him would mean surrendering her hard-won freedom.

"What are they still talking about?" She asked herself. As she waited for the outcome of her father's discussion with Leofric, her mind churned with anxiety. She clasped her hands, her fingers intertwining in a desperate prayer.

"Please, Father, find fault in him," She whispered. "Please, let Father think the man is too tall and too big, or let him discover that Sir Leofric's laugh sounds suspiciously like a constipated boar." A faint smile flickered on her lips, but it quickly faltered.

She hated how her fate hung in the balance, as Leofric and her father deliberated over marriage. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She prayed that Lord Griswold would find fault in Leofric and turn down the request. He could find fault in the man's height or size or handsomeness, blast it! She rubbed her temples, trying to massage away the fatigue.

Her heart skipped a beat when the office door opened, and Leofric stepped out. She glared at him, hoping he would take the hint and not talk to her. His face was blank, there was nothing to give her a hint of what they talked about. When he opened his mouth, she quickly rushed into her father's office and jammed the door.

Inside the office, she looked at her father, but just like Leofric, the man's expression revealed nothing. When Isabella couldn't stand the silence any longer, she asked, "Father, did you decline his request?"

"Isabella, my child," Lord Griswold began, "You know there is no way I can go back on my words."

Isabella's heart sank. "But father," She ventured. "You don't even know him."

"Nor did I know those men you arranged as suitors." Lord Griswold raised an eyebrow.

She clenched her hands, "At least I know them well enough to know they would take care of me."

"Or rather, you know them well enough to know they will turn a blind eye to your rebellious behaviours."

"Is this all I am to you? Something you can give away when it pleases you?" Isabella tried to guilt-trip her father.

"Heavens forbid such a thing." Lord Griswold's face softened, but that didn't change the determination in his eyes.

"Father, please. Don't get me married to that man."

"I am doing this for your own good."

"No, father. You are doing it for yourself. You are doing it because of your ego and pride."

"Yes and no. I have already given the man my word in front of other lords and ladies, it will drag our family name through the mud if I do not honour my word."

"You know that's not the truth. You can compensate the man with other things. You can give him horses, food, a piece of land, or even some men as squires."

"I already tried bargaining with him, but he didn't want any of those things." Lord Griswold lied. "I don't understand. What is so bad about Sir Leofric? I thought you liked him."

Isabella's eyes widened at her father's assumption. "I was only fulfilling my part of the agreement of being a dutiful daughter." She gritted her teeth. How and why did she let her father talk her into participating in anything that had to do with Leofric? She promised herself never to make such a mistake for any reason. Even if it were to be the King visiting the Manor, she would gladly stay in her room.

"Well, look where your dutifulness has landed you. The man is smitten by you, which should make you feel delighted."

"Oh, you don't know how delighted I am right now." Her sarcasm only made her father's eyes narrow into slits.

Lord Griswold leaned into his chair. "I saw how you looked at him yesterday."

"How did I look at him, father?" She asked, her blood boiling with anger. She didn't like the direction in which her father was taking the conversation.

"I have never seen you laugh or smile so much as you did yesterday when you were with him."

She flailed her hands out of frustration. She loved her father dearly, but sometimes, to throttle the man didn't sound like a bad idea. "I laugh and smile all the time, father."

"No, you don't."

She frowned at her father. "Yes, I do. What you need to talk about is your poor timing."

Lord Griswold shook his head, he was tired of the banter. "Young lady, I would advise you to start getting ready for your wedding. The date will be communicated to you soon."

"Father, I don't want to—"

"Silence! Sir Leofric has my blessings, and there is nothing you can do about it."

"Christ's wounds! There won't be a wedding."

Lord Griswold glared at Isabella. "Watch your language."

"What if I talk him out of it?" She asked with hopeful eyes.

Her question was met with an indifferent shrug. He knew it would be a waste of time talking on her side, but he said, "If he concedes, then good for you."

She nodded and turned on her heel. In her haste to reach Leofric, she had failed to see Lady Sarah approaching, causing her to bump into the woman. "Watch it, young lady," Lady Sarah cautioned.

"I am sorry." Isabella quickly apologised. Just as she was about to turn around and walk away, Lady Sarah stopped her.

"Where are you rushing to like this, Bella?"

"Have you seen Sir Leofric?" She asked, eyes darting around with the hope of seeing Sir Leofric around so she could jump on him and wriggle some sense into the man.

"I saw him a few minutes ago heading to his room," she confirmed.

Isabella's lips tilted into a mischievous smile. "Great." She was about to leave when Lady Sarah stopped her again.

"Why are you looking for him?"

"Why else would I be looking for him if not to talk some sense into him?"

"You don't want to marry the man, I believe."

"Your belief is correct, Lady Sarah."

"Good because I wouldn't have you drag this family in the mud with your choice of husband."

Isabella's frown deepened, confusion clear on her face. "What do you mean, Lady Sarah?"

"You can't marry that man." Lady Sarah's expression turned grave. "His background, child. He may have earned his lordship through bravery, but his roots are humble. His father died a mercenary, and his mother, nobody knows anything about her."

Isabella didn't know why she felt a sudden surge of anger towards Lady Sarah's belittlement of Leofric and the sudden urge to defend the devil's son. "That doesn't necessarily dictate who he is. Besides, he is doing well for himself."

Lady Sarah's grip on her arm tightened, "Perhaps, but consider his upbringing. He lacks the refinement and elegance our family expects."

Isabella's eyes squinted at her stepmother. "Your husband seems to approve of him. Perhaps you should channel your energy into convincing him, not me."

Lady Sarah's voice turned sharp. "Do you think I have not tried? Your father thinks he is worthy of this family. He only sees the benefits: the land, the title, the connection to the crown because the King has taken a special liking to Sir Leofric. But I see the man beneath. He is rigid and unyielding. He will stifle your spirit, Isabella."

Isabella's thoughts swirled, Lady Sarah's words echoing her doubts. "What if I told you I share your concerns?" Isabella asked, eyes flashing with determination.

Lady Sarah's eyes widened, hope flickering within. "Then we must try as much as possible to convince your father to reconsider. You deserve better than a man who will suffocate your freedom."

"I second that. You should focus on convincing your husband while I try to talk to Sir Leofric."

"I will do just that." They shared a look of determination and went their separate ways.