urke came to the midday board impatient to finish what he and Alys had begun. Indeed, a mere nod from his lady would have him presenting his suit If he could find her before the meal, he could secure her agreement and they could make the nearest town by dusk.
But Alys was not readily found. Indeed, she was not in the hall, even engaged in some petty labor. He could not hear her voice, even from the women’s chambers above.
Had he underestimated her response? Burke had thought Alys uncertain, shy, perhaps startled by the passion in his touch. At worst, he had assumed that she had been reminded of the trials that had ensued when they last had embraced in that same place.
But could she be deliberately avoiding him?
Nay! Burke could not permit that, not before the truth was laid out between them.
Deirdre took her seat, her daughters filing dutifully into place, and indicated that the meal should be served, though there was still no sign of Alys. There was a quiet in the hall that pricked Burke’s senses. Indeed, it seemed that Cedric avoided his glance.
Something was amiss, Burke could fairly smell it.
And he was nigh certain it had to do with his lady.
“Where is Alys?” he asked as lightly as he could manage.
“She does not join us, of course,” Deirdre declared, her sharp tone indicating that the matter was closed. She smiled coolly. “Tell us, Burke, of the wonders of Paris.”
The knight’s unease only increased at his hostess’s manner. She spoke too crisply and was too quick to change the subject. “Perhaps Alys should join us,” he suggested carefully. “Indeed, it seemed she labored so intently last evening that she could not have had time for a meal.”
Deirdre turned a cold stare upon him. “Again you show marked concern for those beneath your station.”
Burke smiled with an equal measure of frost. “ ’Twas part of my knightly pledge to ensure the welfare of those who cannot defend themselves.”
Cedric caught his breath tellingly at those words and Burke straightened in alarm.
Had Alys been in need of defense?
Cedric frowned at the board, but Deirdre shrugged as if naught was unusual. “I have told you that the girl does not come when she is summoned, and a search would only appeal to her vanity.”
The serving lad looked up from his task. His gaze flicked to meet Burke’s, then averted quickly. When the boy’s footsteps faded, ominous silence again flooded the hall. ’Twas as if all knew something he did not, and Burke did not care for the sensation in the least.
“Nonetheless, I will fetch her,” he said firmly. “Where might I find the lady?”
“You cannot!” Deirdre declared.
“You should not!” Cedric insisted, half rising from his seat.
“You must leave her to her labor,” Deirdre insisted. They were too intent on changing his course, their response only setting Burke more determinedly upon it.
“Where is she?”
All four of them stared back at him mutely.
“Where is Alys?” Burke demanded again. “Is it such a puzzle to know where your ward might be within your own keep?”
They eyed him uneasily.
Burke rose from the board and cast his napkin upon it. “Surely there is some corner she favors?”
But still the family said naught. Burke snorted in disgust at their indifference and strode from the hall, heading for the kitchen. ’Twas, after all, where Alys had been headed when last he saw her.
And ’twas likely to be where the servants congregated and slept. Indeed, he would not be surprised if this lot dispatched Alys to the very stables. He and Alys could not be away from this wretched place soon enough!
“NAY!” Deirdre cried from behind him, but Burke cared naught for what she thought of his actions.
Burke’s lips set grimly. If he had to tear this keep apart stone by stone, he would find Alys before he sat at the board again.
Cook was just easing an ill-gotten log onto the fire when the door to the kitchen was abruptly shoved open. He jumped, dropped the log on his toe, and spun guiltily to face certain retribution.
But ’twas the visiting knight who stood on the threshold, not the lady of the keep. Indeed, that knight’s broad shoulders fairly filled the portal, and his expression was dangerous enough to make Cook fear for his considerable hide.
“Where is Alys?” he demanded, much to Cook’s astonishment.
With the great worktable in front, Cook realized that the knight could not see the niche where Alys slept. Then he wondered what this fierce man wanted with Alys, especially after she had argued so heatedly with him the day before.
Cook was not prepared to see Alys abused twice in quick succession. He took a deep breath and stepped forward with all the boldness he could muster. “You will not learn from me!” he declared. “I will not let another lay a hand upon her this day.”
“Another?” The knight’s eyes narrowed and his voice dropped dangerously low. “Alys has been harmed?”
Cook folded his arms across his chest. “Aye. ’Tis hardly news.”
The knight’s eyes flashed with anger.
“Burke, come back to the board!” Her ladyship’s honeyed tones echoed down the corridor. The knight winced in precisely the same manner as most of the servants when they heard their mistress’s sharp voice, then slammed the door behind himself with a vengeance.
Cook decided that he could like this man.
“Where is Alys?” the knight demanded. He stepped forward, his gaze steady. “I swear to you that I have no intent to harm her.”
Cook knew concern when he heard it. He gestured to the niche and noted the shock that crossed the knight’s features at first glimpse of Alys.
Her cheeks were marked with the streaks of her tears, strands of her golden hair had worked free of her braid and hung loose over her shoulders. Her skin was still stained with soot from the night before.
The knight stepped forward as Cook watched, knelt beside Alys, his hand hovering just above her shoulder as if he could not comprehend what he saw.
“She has just fallen asleep,” Cook confessed, coming to stand behind the knight. He wondered whether this man saw the sweet vulnerability of Isibeal’s daughter, whether his gut clenched as Cook’s did to see this woman abused.
Or whether he noted the telltale bloodstain on the threadbare blanket cast over Alys’s slender shoulders.
“What happened?” the knight asked softly.
Cook lifted the blanket, his heart swelling when the knight caught his breath. The gashes left by the willow switch were marked in thin lines of blood across Alys’s back. The wounds were visible even through her torn kirtle, and they had already swollen. Alys would be sore on the morrow, but Cook knew that she would not reveal that to any.
If naught else, a solid slumber would aid her healing.
“Who is responsible for this abomination?” the knight demanded.
Cook shook his head, torn between his responsibility to the lord who held him in thrall and his desire to see justice served. His dismay must have shown in his expression, for the knight landed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“You do not have to say it,” he murmured, his piercing gaze filled with understanding. “I realize your position.” He looked back to Alys. “Her family does her a great disservice.”
Cook heaved a sigh. “I cannot agree more.”
The knight’s gaze ran over the accommodations Cook had made, then he bent and swept Alys gently into his arms. She did not awaken, thanks to Cook’s concoction, but settled against the knight’s shoulder with a sigh.
“I thank you for your compassion.” The knight’s voice was low with approval when he turned to face Cook anew, Alys safely nestled against his chest. “I do not mean insult, but she needs a proper bed.”
“You speak aright, sir, but I had only the pallet.”
“Burke! Here you are!” Lady Deirdre burst into the kitchen, Malvina and Lord Cedric close on her heels. The false smiles on their faces turned to shock when they saw Alys in Burke’s arms.
“It seems that Alys has been hurt,” Burke said coldly, accusation evident in the hard glance he turned upon the family.
Lady Deirdre lifted her chin and was bold enough to feign ignorance. “Indeed? How very sad. Cook can see to her welfare. Come, Burke, our repast grows cold.”
“My apologies, but my appetite has waned,” the knight retorted. He crossed the room with long steps, holding Alys with such care that Cook had a distinct sense that the tide had finally turned in this keep.
And for the better.
“But where are you going?” the lord demanded. “Surely you do not intend to leave Kiltorren?”
“Say ’tis not so!” Malvina implored.
“Where,” Lady Deirdre asked icily, “do you intend to take my niece?”
“She has need of comfort.” The knight did not smile when Malvina giggled, his stern glance silencing the girl. “I should see her sleep in a bed more fitting of her birthright.”
Lady Deirdre sniffed. “We have not a spare mattress in all of the keep.”
“Then she shall have the one granted to me,” the knight countered smoothly. “If you might excuse me?” He shouldered his way through the door.
“But, Burke, you cannot do this!” Lady Deirdre finally cried.
The knight did not halt, his footsteps echoing in the corridor.
Lady Deirdre nudged Lord Cedric hard and that man jumped. “Nay! I cannot permit it!”
When they trotted after the knight, Cook crept to the door on silent feet and peered after the party.
“Halt!” Lord Cedric cried.
The knight pivoted to face them anew, his expression no less stony. “Do you spurn my concern for this noblewoman’s welfare?” he demanded. “Do you dare to suggest I discard my sworn pledge to protect all those unable to protect themselves? A man’s word is the measure of his worth, is it not, Lord Cedric?”
The lord scuffed his boot against the floor, looking to his spouse for the right answer before he nodded. “Aye, that it is.”
“Then I shall see this noblewoman cared for in fitting circumstance.”
“You cannot keep my niece in your chamber!” Lady Deirdre huffed.
The knight arched a brow. “But I could have bedded her in the bathing room without complaint? Your concern for your niece seems less than consistent, Lady Deirdre.”
The lady of Kiltorren sputtered, and Cook covered his smile with his hand. Indeed, this knight reminded him of the old Lord of Kiltorren, a great lord and father of both Lady Deirdre and Lady Isibeal. There had been a man worthy of service! It could be no small thing that this knight resembled the old lord, no less that he championed Alys, babe of that man’s favored daughter.
“Have you a maid to send to her side?” the knight asked, clearly expecting to be granted his request. “The lady needs care.”
Cook dared to raise his voice in the silence that met the knight’s question. “Fear not, sir, I shall send Edana when she returns to the hall.”
“And I shall remain with the lady until that time.” The knight smiled, solely for Cook. “I must thank you again for your assistance. What is your name?”
Cook, despite his years, felt his cheeks heat to be the center of attention. But there could be no fault found in answering a simple question from a guest. “Beauregard, sir.”
The knight’s smile broadened. “And rightly named you are, good man, for your sight is clear.”
“But, Burke, wherever shall you sleep this night?” Malvina demanded.
“I shall join my steed in the stables.”
And with that the knight spun to carry his burden toward the stairs, apparently oblivious to the outcry behind him. Lady Deirdre muttered something beneath her breath, then lunged after him, her voice high with appeal.
And Cook turned back to his kitchen, more delighted with affairs at Kiltorren than he had been in quite some time.
Alys was surrounded by softness, enfolded in a warmth alien to her. ’Twas luxurious even to dream of such comfort, and she fought against the persistent ray of sunshine that heated her cheek as though ’twould urge her to abandon sleep.
Nay, she was safely ensnared in her wondrous dream, and Alys would not surrender that pleasure readily. She nestled deeper beneath a thick coverlet, wiggled her hips against the fullness of a feather mattress, and sighed contentment. ’Twas a perfect dream. She envisioned herself wrapped in her dream lover’s secure embrace and smiled as her memory conjured a familiar masculine scent. ’Twas one that unfurled a heat in Alys’s belly and sent her toe sliding across the linens in search of Burke’s warmth.
At least, ’twas but a dream, and that already confident knight of Montvieux would never know how Alys secretly longed for his touch. She buried her nose against the fine linen of her chemise and tried to drift deeper into sleep.
But Burke’s scent was so strong there that Alys’s eyes flew open.
And she realized suddenly that this was no dream. Her back ached from the twitch of Aunt’s wicked willow switch, yet still she reposed in a fine bed.
What was this?
Alys noted the angle of the sunlight, frowning as that made even less sense. ’Twas late morning. Belatedly, she recalled downing Cook’s brew. Had she slept a few hours or an entire night and day? Alys could not understand that she had been left to sleep for so long.
Let alone that she had done so here.
What trick did Aunt play on her now?
Alys scanned the room suspiciously. The bed was broad, the mattress plump, the coverlet thick and warm. She was alone, alone but for that errant ray of sunlight that eased its way through the shutters and fell across the pillows.
Alys rolled to her back, frowned at the canopy overhead, the four great bedposts, the heavy draperies, and suddenly realized where she lay. ’Twas the guest chamber so rarely used, the one that overlooked the bailey and stables.
’Twas the bed she had made ready for Burke.
Alys sat up with a start, her hair falling unbound over her shoulders. Her heart skipped a beat when she noted saddlebags propped against one wall. Alys knew well enough who had ridden through Kiltorren’s gates with such fine leather bags. They could not be mistaken for those of anyone else, given their remarkable workmanship—the mark of a distant Italian city—and their insignia.
’Twas the lion rampant and three lilies, the same mark of Montvieux that graced Burke’s tabard.
Alys shoved one hand through her unbound hair. The neck of the chemise gaped, the sleeves fell over her hands, and she looked at the garb for the first time.
’Twas a man’s chemise, wrought of linen finer than any she had known.
And Alys knew, without doubt, to whom it belonged. Her eyes widened in dismay. She could not have slumbered with Burke—could she? Alys peeked beneath the fine white chemise and found naught encouraging, for she was as nude as the day she had been born.
Oh, this tale grew less promising with every moment! She was in Burke’s bed, nude but for his own chemise, and he had not abandoned his quarters.
That she recalled naught of how she had come to be in the man’s bed, or even what had occurred afterward, was far from heartening. Alys felt the residual thickness on her tongue from Cook’s concoction, and tried to clear her thoughts.
Surely she could not already be compromised?
That single thought had Alys scanning the linens in a panic, seeking the evidence that her maidenhead had been lost. The bedding was blissfully unmarred, but Alys was far from reassured.
The man had a scheme, she knew it well.
A merry knock sounded on the door and Alys spun to find Edana peeking around the wood.
Alys did not wait for a greeting. “Edana, you must tell me—what has happened?”
“Oh, Alys, ’twas wondrous!” Edana bounced into the room, her gestures broad in her enthusiasm of reliving events. “Cook said you had only just fallen asleep when your knight strode in the kitchens demanding to know of your whereabouts.”
Alys folded her arms across her chest, disliking how her heart stirred to this tale. “He is not my knight, Edana,” she insisted, though the case was difficult to make, kneeling in the man’s bed, garbed in naught but his chemise, her hair spilling loose over her shoulders.
“ ’Tis not what he says,” Edana declared. “And ’tis not what Cook says. Your knight fell to his knees beside you, then swept you in his arms. He granted you his chamber, despite her ladyship’s protests, and sat beside you until I came.”
Alys studied the room uneasily. What would Aunt have to say about this? Naught good, she could well imagine.
“He was most concerned for your welfare,” Edana bubbled. “Indeed, he gave me an unguent for your back from his own belongings and insisted you wear his spare chemise, since yours was in tatters. Oh, you should have seen his eyes!” Edana fairly bounced in her excitement. “ ’Tis like a fine old tale! Alys, are you not the most fortunate woman in Kiltorren?”
Alys was not nearly certain of that. There would be a price to be paid for this, of that she had no doubt. She swallowed the lump in her throat with difficulty. “Where did he sleep, Edana?”
“In the stables.” The goatgirl grinned. “Truly there was never a more gallant man to cross the threshold of Kiltorren. He asked most urgently after your welfare this morn and insisted you be left to sleep undisturbed.”
Alys sat back cautiously. Edana’s version of events did indeed sound like an old tale come to life, but Alys knew ’twas not.
Truly, naught could have painted Burke’s intent more clearly than this! She had been deposited in the man’s own bed, in a chamber he had not abandoned, and he was in haste for her to heal. ’Twas obvious enough that Burke intended to take his pleasure with her. If ever he had spoken of nuptials before, ’twas clear he had no such plan this time.
Despite his fine words, Alys’s suspicions were painfully true.
Then she recalled a deed left undone and was anxious for another cause. “Did you go to Heloise?”
“Yesterday,” Edana confirmed. She sat down beside Alys and bobbed lightly on the mattress, her eyes widening at its softness. “You have slept clear through the night and the morning. Cook says ’tis his brew at work, though on a bed like this, ’tis scarcely any wonder to me that you did not wish to awaken.”
“How was Heloise?”
“Well enough.” Edana wrinkled her nose. “She did not believe my tale, though ’twas close to the truth.”
That was enough to take Alys’s thought from her own troubles once more. “Why? What did you tell her?”
Edana lay back across the mattress and sighed appreciatively. “I could sleep a week in this bed.”
“Edana!” Alys let her frustration slip into her tone. “What did you tell Heloise?”
The goatgirl sat up, her red-gold braid tumbling over her shoulder, her expression unrepentant. “I said that her ladyship had set you at an impossible task and you dared not disappoint.” Edana grimaced. “ ’Twas the wrong tale to tell, for Heloise grew most agitated.”
“Did she fall ill again?” Alys demanded.
Edana shook her head. “Nay, she muttered a great deal and I could not discern her words.” She flicked a glance to Alys. “She told me that she was not addressing me when I asked. In the end, I pledged that you would visit her shortly.”
Alys stretched her shoulders and was surprised to find how much they had already healed. If naught else, Burke’s unguent had aided her, and she grudgingly admitted it had been gracious of him to offer it.
Even if his desire to see her healed had a selfish root.
No doubt Burke would demand a token of her esteem for his thoughtfulness, a kiss that would quickly turn to his advantage. ’Twould be like him to be so incorrigible, so quick to press any advantage in his pursuit. Her pulse leapt, but Alys knew better than to follow its urgings.
She dared not risk meeting him this day.
“I shall go this very day to see Heloise,” Alys declared, and smiled for Edana. “I would not have her worry.”
Edana’s brow puckered with concern. “But are you certain that you should? Cook insisted you should rest, and your knight was most intent that you remain in his bed.”
In his bed? Those unwelcome words were all the encouragement Alys needed to get up.
“ ’Twill do me good to be out in the air,” she insisted. She quickly peeled off Burke’s chemise and reached for her own humble undergarment, deliberately ignoring how rough the cloth was in comparison.
Indeed, Alys smiled when she noted it-had been carefully mended already. “Edana! Is this your labor?”
“Your knight wanted me to ensure that you were undisturbed this morn and there was little else to do here. I mended your kirtle as well,” the girl confessed shyly. “Though my stitches are not as fine as yours.”
“ ’Twas most thoughtful of you!” Alys ran her fingertip across the repair. “And all the more appreciated for I know how you dislike a lady maid’s employ.” She gave the girl a quick kiss on the cheek and Edana flushed.
“I do this willingly for you,” Edana said with a stubborn set to her chin. “But never for them.”
Would that Alys had such a choice. She sighed at the unwitting reminder and donned her garb, determinedly humming Heloise’s tale beneath her breath.
She could not be away from here soon enough.
Alys descended to the hall and, grateful to find it empty, hastened onward to the kitchen. Cook inquired after her sleep and she reassured him with a smile, setting to the task of packing some foodstuffs for Heloise. They argued briefly about Alys’s intention, but Cook quickly resigned himself to the fact that she would go, with or without his endorsement.
“If you must go, then take this treat for Heloise, with my regards.” Cook handed Alys a warm loaf of bread, his manner telling her that ’twas of the finer flour. Alys tucked it into the depths of the basket, then cut a measure of the new wheel of cheese. She worked quickly, determined to be gone before Burke could come upon her.
But Alys was not quick enough to avoid another.
Malvina strode into the kitchen in obviously poor temper, her voice rising in a whine. “Alys, why did you sleep so very late? My favored kirtle is in need of mending and I would have it done before the midday meal.”
Alys did no more than glance up before she continued what she had begun. “I cannot tend to it now, Malvina.”
Her cousin pouted. “Whyever not?”
“Because I am on my way to visit Heloise,” Alys explained patiently. “I shall do the mending when I return.”
“But, Alys! I would wear it for the midday meal!”
“Surely you could don it as it is,” Alys observed. One look confirmed ’twas the kirtle she had mended a week before and Malvina had worn it just once since that time. “It cannot be so badly damaged as that.”
“But I want it perfect!” Malvina wailed. “ ’Tis a hue that favors me, you said so yourself, and I want to look my very best for Burke.”
Alys froze, not liking the sound of that. “For Burke?”
Malvina smiled. “Aye! He has been most charming to me these past evenings, telling me tales of his adventures and coaxing my laughter in a most chivalrous manner. And last night, last night, Alys, he kissed my hand with such ardor that I nearly swooned.”
Alys blinked. So much for Edana’s tale that the knight had been consumed with concern for her last evening. Clearly his attention was easily won. “Burke kissed you?” she asked woodenly.
Malvina smiled. “Aye! I am certain he would have kissed me fully if Mother had not been hovering so close. The man’s eyes had a gleam in them that made me tingle clear to my toes.”
Oh, Alys knew that gleam, as well as its potency. She had no doubt that Malvina embellished the facts, but still there must be a kernel of truth in her tale.
Malvina was not that imaginative a soul.
“And his touch!” Malvina shivered with the thrill of recollection. “He touched my chin so gently, despite his strength. I could have denied him naught!”
Alys knew that sensation better than she might have preferred and did not appreciate knowing how broadly the knight spread his charm. She jammed a pair of apples into the basket, her ears ringing with the recollection of Burke’s laughter two nights past.
He had been enjoying Malvina’s company while Alys toiled, which lent credence to her cousin’s tale. And he had not seemed inclined to peel Malvina from his shoulder.
It seemed the man must have every woman panting for him to suit his considerable pride. Alys swallowed and blindly shoved a napkin atop her basket’s contents.
Malvina continued, apparently oblivious to the impact of her words. “Oh, Alys, Mother is certain the knight means to offer for my hand. So you see, I cannot risk looking less than my finest.”
“I cannot do this now, Malvina.”
“Nay?” Malvina leaned closer, her eyes bright. “Alys, I shall tell Mother if you deny me. She would be most vexed with you.”
Alys straightened and held her cousin’s gaze for a telling moment. She was not afraid of her cousin, who did little but whine when her will was not fulfilled.
“What else do you imagine Aunt could do to me?” Alys asked coldly, then hefted her basket, wincing at the pain across her shoulder.
“Alys, are you certain you should go?” Cook asked quickly.
“Of course. Heloise is worried.” Alys forced a smile. “I cannot let her fret, and she will only be reassured by my presence.”
Cook frowned at the truth of that and turned reluctantly back to his onions.
“That is a lie! You only do this to deny me,” Malvina charged.
“I told you that I would repair the kirtle later.”
“You must repair it now! Do it first, before you go—that old harridan can wait.”
Alys stiffened at Malvina’s disregard for everyone besides herself. “Nay, for once in your days, you will have to wait.” And she pivoted, heading for the portal with purpose.
“You only want to keep me from charming Burke utterly and completely,” Malvina cried. “But you cannot do so, Alys, ’tis too late for any dreams you might have had of him.”
Alys halted halfway across the floor, unable to keep herself from looking back. “I have no dreams of Burke de Montvieux.”
“That is not what he says! Oh, he told me all about you,” Malvina declared, her tone scathing. “Indeed, we had a fine laugh over the way you so obviously long for his touch. You are a wanton, Alys, and our guest is most embarrassed by your manner.” Malvina flicked the hem of her veil over her shoulders. “In truth, he asked for my aid in dissuading you from your pursuit.”
Alys set the basket down heavily. “I have never pursued him!”
Malvina chuckled. “Truly, Alys, do you believe that no one notes the way you sigh when he looks your way? Your blushes do not go unnoticed, you may be certain of that. Mother even confided that she had forbidden you to see Burke, hoping only to preserve your virtue, but it seems your mother’s taint is overstrong.”
“Nay! That is not true!”
“Alys is the daughter of a whore,” Malvina chanted childishly. “Alys was born to be a whore.”
“Isibeal was no whore,” Cook muttered angrily.
“Aye, she was!” Malvina lifted her chin, her gaze bright. “Even a chivalrous knight is prey to a man’s desires, Alys. You have pushed Burke overmuch, and now he will grant you what you so clearly want.” She smiled, looking very much her mother’s spawn. “Mother says that men are weak when it comes to temptations of the flesh. Surely you cannot make naught of the fact that you slept in his bed?”
Alys held herself stiffly. “Edana said the knight was concerned for me.”
“Aye, he spoke of your needing comfort? Malvina laughed as Alys’s cheeks burned, then shook her head. “Ah, Alys, do you not see how pathetic you are?”
“It seems I owe you thanks for making the matter clear,” Alys said frostily.
“Make no mistake, Alys,” her cousin declared with a shake of her finger, “you shall find yourself out of Burke’s bed as quickly as you were dumped within it, with naught to show for it but a rounding belly.” Malvina sneered. “Just like your mother. The man knows for what you were wrought.”
“You are wrong!”
“Aye? Mother says that men believe that bestowing their seed is a great gift—but ’tis where they put their ring that matters.”
Malvina looked pointedly at Alys’s bare fingers. Alys could not keep herself from hiding them in the folds of her kirtle.
“ ’Tis odd, I note no ring on your hand,” Alys commented.
“Yet.” Malvina smirked. “Knights do not wed bastard serving wenches, Alys.” She laughed. “No doubt Burke and I shall share a jest over your foolish hopes at the midday board.”
Alys’s heart thudded in her chest.
“Mend my kirtle now, Alys,” Malvina invited, tossing the offending garment onto the table, “and I shall permit you to attend my nuptials with Burke.” She paused, letting her scornful glance drift over Alys. “Even if he has had you as his whore.”
Alys snatched up her basket angrily. “Mend it yourself!” she cried, and flung herself out the kitchen door.
Burke was impatient beyond anything he had known.
He knew that Alys needed her rest, but still it vexed him to linger in this cursed place. Indeed, he would have simply carried her away while she slept, but he was quite certain his lady would have much to say about that.
He would have her agreement first.
Burke conceitedly avoided Deirdre, not trusting himself to hold his tongue over what Alys had endured the day before. Indeed, the sight of those marks marring his lady’s soft flesh could not be pushed from his thoughts. He fervently wished he had a healer’s skills, not merely some unguent, to ease those marks away.
He would have sat diligently beside her all the night long, ensuring that she slept well and undisturbed, but Alys’s charges of his disinterest in her reputation had cut deep. ’Twas true enough that such a course would have prompted chatter, though Burke would have cared little for that.
But Alys cared. Out of respect for his lady’s desires, Burke stayed away.
It nigh killed him.
His mood was not improved when Malvina came to seek him out. He and Kerwyn were occupied with the cleaning of Moonshadow’s hooves, a task the destrier tolerated poorly and one that, in all honesty, was not even due to be done.
That ’twas better than doing naught said much of Burke’s mood.
“Burke! Where are you?”
The sound of Malvina’s voice made Burke wince and Kerwyn chuckle. “I believe the ostler has need of me,” the stable-hand said with quiet mischief, earning a dark glance from the knight.
“Abandon me to her and you shall regret it,” Burke muttered through his teeth. “I shall hunt you down and wring a penance from your hide.”
“Ah, but this lady’s presence is a heavy penance in itself,” Kerwyn retorted, his eyes dancing. “I must weigh the cost of lingering against any threat you make.”
Burke chuckled despite himself at the truth of that. “You can ride the beast, if you only remain.”
“Aye, if he will permit me.” Kerwyn scraped at the hoof Burke held and Moonshadow shuddered in agitation. The destrier twitched and fought once more to pull his foot from the knight’s grip. He whinnied when he failed and Burke tightened his grip.
“Finish it quickly!” he bade the stablehand, feeling Moon-shadow’s temper rise. ’Twas time to be done with this labor or abandon it.
“Burke! Here you are!” Malvina appeared suddenly at the end of the stall. Her shadow slanted into the tiny space and a deluge of exotic perfume wafted before her. Moonshadow’s nostrils quivered dangerously and Burke knew trouble was, quite literally, in the wind.
“Leave it be and step away!” he instructed tersely.
“Done!” Kerwyn cried in the same moment and darted backward, his hands in the air.
Burke released the stallion’s hoof just as Moonshadow threw back his head in fury. The steed kicked hard, narrowly missing both men, and swung his hip against the wall of the stall, clearly intending to flatten those who tormented him. Kerwyn swore as Moonshadow’s weight landed solidly against the wall a mere arm’s length in front of him.
“He must like you,” Burke teased. “For he missed.”
The stablehand laughed in his relief but the stallion exhaled mightily. Moonshadow had not had his say fully as yet, and Burke took a wary step back.
To his astonishment, Malvina appeared betwixt him and his steed. He had nigh forgotten her presence, but clearly that omission was not to go uncorrected.
“Burke,” Malvina chided with a sly smile, clearly oblivious to the furious steed behind her. “How can you so ignore me when I have sought you all the day?”
Moonshadow fought the tether and the bit. He lifted one heavy foot and Burke spied trouble just before it happened.