Squire's Passion

By Tiana LeBeau

Will you break tradition to follow your heart? 

A fiery seamstress confronts a timid squire after his pompous prancing leads to the loss of an invaluable memory. Anwen is taken by surprise when he tries to make things right. Being a widowed single mother of three and business owner, kindness was a foreign concept. 

Edwin found his heart in a tiny town far from Camelot. She had the deepest red hair, strong willed personality, and a heart unlike anything he encountered in the city. He only made a fool of himself. Around her he fumbled, felt awkward, and destroyed things of great importance. 

The timid squire found his voice with an invitation to dinner with the king. Would his confidence return? Or will it be the end?

When you read this fun, historical romance you'll get caught up in the world of Port Caer a small town outside of Camelot. Follow Edwin's meandering, Anwen's warming, and the whole family as the story weaves together in a fun tale of love at first sight.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: TheWritingNetwork
• Release date: Feb 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393540984

Tiana LeBeau

Tiana LeBeau is a variety author, creating tales from the heart and the muse. If you enjoy this story, you can follow me on Facebook: http://facebook.com/MsTLebeau Or join my newsletter https://mailchi.mp/thewritingnetwork/tianal

Book preview

Chapter One

For the first days each month the marketplace flooded with everyone in the village and nearby. With the stalls newly stocked, and ships docked with rare goods, everyone seemed to shop at the same time. One couldn't take a step left or right without being pushed, pulled or groped in some way or another. Anwen was no exception.

Anwen hated going to the markets, especially on the first. Today she had no choice. With two of her three children ill, Edda, her nanny was caring for them. Unfortunately that meant Anwen moved among the hundred or so who made their way through the village square. In reality, she was in a good position as she side-stepped a particularly harried looking man whose arms carefully balanced every vegetable that grew under the sun. She only had to get one item. She’d be home sooner than most.

The markets were situated in the very center of the village of Port Cear. When they had first begun, they had consisted of a few small shop fronts selling everything a person could possibly need.

They occupied the town square perfectly, allowing enough room for even the most arrogant shopper to get by without knocking into someone. As time went by the concept of What everyone could possibly need, somehow inflated and more and more shops were slowly added.

Now, with the town square stuffed to breaking point, the markets ran through the adjacent alleys and side streets too. Most were operational all day and all week and even more than that, sold nothing that Anwen could imagine anybody ever needing.

Anwen made sure to keep her head down as she pushed her way toward the edge of the square where her one stop awaited. Past the old lady dragging three screaming children behind over, stepping over the miscreant who was passed out drunk in the mud, and dodging the busker who had decided that the very middle of the square was the perfect spot to juggle knives.

It was as she came within distance of the small shop tucked into the corner of the square that its friendly looking merchant called out to her, Hey!

Anwen, letting out a sigh of relief, returned the greeting with a smile that would stop most in their tracks.

Don't worry, it's still here. All packed and ready. he offered. I saw you from across the way and thought to myself, she's heading straight for me. And sure enough here you are.

The fact the shopkeeper saw Anwen coming wasn't odd in the slightest. In a small town like this Anwen stood out like a cow ridden in a jousting contest. She wasn't particularly tall. She doubted her small stature or natural beauty made it possible for him to see her coming across the busy square.

It was more likely her flaming red hair that gave her away. Like something in a fairy tale, Anwen was kissed by fire. Long red locks flowing freely down her back gave her a unique look that set her apart in this small port town.

Although she was rather fond of her hair, it was also a constant point of annoyance with Anwen. It often cast attention on her that she didn't want or need. More often than not, that unwanted attention was from young men looking to entertain her virtue. She sent every one of them away disappointed.

Oh my, thank you. You are a lifesaver. Anwen offered earnestly as she reached the stall. Fiona was being clingier than usual today. I didn't think I'd ever get away. And Sean... she sighed.

The merchant chuckled as he reached down to his feet, pulling up a basket of sewing supplies. That's always the way isn't it? I remember when my youngest was...how old are the twins now? Four?

Three. It really makes you realize how fast time moves. Anwen joked as she reached for the supplies. How much do I owe you? If you need extra for hanging onto it for me-,

Don't be silly. My wife would have my head if she found out I was charging you extra, after that job you did for her.

Thanks so much. Anwen earnestly responded. In truth, she didn't have enough to pay for the extra she so graciously offered. Please, tell your wife I say hello and if she needs anything else fixed the waiting list doesn't apply to her."

The merchant chuckled again, rubbing his own belly as if for good luck. I'll tell her. I think she'll be very please - Oi! What did I tell you about hanging around 'ere? A sudden movement from behind Anwen all but pulled the older man from their conversation. Don't be touching that! With Anwen now completely forgotten, he quickly bustled around his stall, making for a young man who was lingering nearby.

With her wares in hand Anwen shook her head as she smiled to herself. She was mentally preparing to make her way back through the crowds.

What should have been a fifteen minute walk was stretched to twenty, as Anwen made her way to her home on the far side of town. The whole way she was promising herself to never go to the markets on the first day of the month again. Her house was a small, two bedroom, single story home. Although it was indeed tiny, it was a veritable mansion for a widowed single mother of three. So much so that she had converted the living area into her workspace.

I'm back, she called out as she pushed through the front door, dumping her bundle onto the table in the center of the room. It was already covered in food scraps, sewing equipment, and toys. The constant mess on this table and indeed through the whole house served as a perfect example of the struggle Anwen, as a single, windowed mother, lived with.

In here, a soft voice called from the adjoining bedroom. Just cleaning up a mess Sean made.

Sighing, Anwen headed into the room to see what the mess was this time. The single bedroom consisted of three tiny beds, crammed together practically filling the entire space. A young girl, Edda, was hunched over one of the beds, collecting the soiled linens.

Oh no. Anwen muttered, as her eyes fell on the mess. Where are they now?

It's not so bad, Miss, Edda replied, the tone in her voice saying otherwise. I think the piles are actually getting smaller. They’re just next door. Gwen offered to take them while I cleaned up.

Again? She already does too much... Anwen, remained in the doorway watching as Edda worked. She was pulled from her trance by a sudden knock on the door. One minute! She called over her shoulder. Do you know who? She glanced at Edda.

That will be Ms. Coldwell. Edda replied, I'd say she's here to pick up the quilt.

Oh right! The quilt. And she owed another five...or did she come by earlier and pay that off? She said she was going to do it at first light.

No. She still owes five pence. I think you could push for six if you showed her your stitching.

Anwen tried not to smirk at the compliment as she rushed toward the front door. Already in the house and waiting for her stood a tall man who was by no stretch of the imagination Ms. Coldwell. He was lanky and exhaustion was etched in his features. Mr. Coldwell wore a truly sour expression. Anwen guessed his displeasure stemmed from having to run the errand in the first place. 

Ah, Mr. Coldwell. I'm assuming you’re here for the quilt? Anwen asked pleasantly, scooping it up on her way to the door.

That's right. His reply being more of a disinterested grunt than an actual words.

Here you are. It's just going to be -, Mr. Caldwell snatched it from her hands, cutting Anwen off mid- sentence. That's going to be another five, just so you know. She finished, doing her best to ignore his obscenely rude gestures and behaviors.

Wha'? Another grunt.

Five pennies. Your wife never finished her payment and -,

She never said anything about this to me. He stated matter of factly as if this negated the matter. His grip on the quilt noticeably tightened.

What you and you wife talk about is, I'm afraid, it's none of my concern. What is my concern is how much more you owe me for my work. Five more. Mr. Coldwell was barely paying her any attention, studying the quilt as if looking for some justification for the price.

She already paid five. I know she did as I was the one that gave her the money. He narrowed his eyes. You saying she out spendin’ what’s mine on -,

No, not at all. Anwen cut in, getting a little frustrated but working hard not to show it. She paid me the first five. But I told her it was going to cost more. You see the way that it had been torn required very precise -,

Look, little lady. Mr. Coldwell stood taller, squaring his shoulders as if trying to assert authority. I don't doubt you been puttin’ the work in here. What with your husband and all...but regardless. No quilt job is worth ten pennies. Heck we were generous enough givin’ you five. And five is all you’re gonna be gettin’. Understand?

Well if That's how you feel, as she reached for the quilt. Mr. Coldwell quickly pulled it away, looking down at her as if she had just personally offended him.

What do you think you’re doin'?

I'm taking back what’s mine. Under the King’s law, until I'm paid that quilt belongs to me.

The King's law? Mr. Coldwell suddenly let off a gigantic laugh. Yeah, alright missy. How about this? You go and get the King. Bring him back to mine and we can discuss it. Until then I'm keeping the goddamn quilt. He turned and left the property, chuckling to himself as he went.

Anwen remained where she was, fuming as she watched Mr. Coldwell go.

"What