alvina, look out!”alvina, look out!”
Burke caught the girl with one arm and swept her out of harm’s way in the nick of time. Moonshadow kicked directly where she had been, his tolerance of perfume limited at the best of times. The destrier stamped, flung his weight against the opposing wall of the stall, snorted and fumed.
Then, apparently satisfied that he had made his opinion clear—or that his tormentors had retreated sufficiently—the stallion settled.
He blew insouciantly at the contents of his feed bin, scattering hay in every direction. Clearly pleased with his deeds, he acted for all the world as if naught were amiss.
Burke breathed a sigh of relief. The beast would not willfully hurt another, but there was always a chance of his miscalculating his weight and strength.
’Twas then Burke realized that Malvina still clung to him. He stepped back, trying to set a distance between than.
But to his chagrin, Malvina wound her arms around his neck. “Oh, Burke, you saved me from dire peril! How wondrously gallant!”
“Anyone would have done as much,” the knight said grimly, working a little more diligently to extricate himself.
“But you did” the girl breathed, landing a wet kiss on his cheek. Burke met Kerwyn’s gaze and nearly laughed, for the stablehand—safely out of the girl’s view—puckered his lips in a swooning mimicry of the daughter of the house.
Burke tried to look stern. “Malvina, you must not make much of little.”
“How modest you are.” Malvina purred, and rubbed her breasts against him. “ ’Tis no small thing to be so brave a man as you.”
Burke refrained from commenting that ’twas her own foolishness that had placed her in jeopardy.
“No doubt your father would have been sorely displeased if my steed injured you,” he said with a cool smile. He deliberately broke her embrace, then stepped away.
The girl was not so easily deterred as that. “I think we should seal the moment with a kiss,” she suggested. “Mother constantly asks me about the course of your suit.”
With those words, Burke knew he had to find some means of escape that would not reveal his utter disinterest in Deirdre’s eldest.
And he was fortunate enough to find it.
“Ah, Malvina! Your kirtle has been mired.” Burke grimaced as if this were more dire, hoping against hope that she would see fit to change. “Malvina, you should not have sullied your garb with a visit to the stables,” he said with a winning smile. “Perhaps if ’tis cleaned immediately, there will be no stain.”
Kerwyn smirked, but Malvina’s brow darkened as she examined the mark upon her skirt. She laid her fingertips on Burke’s arm and leaned closer as the knight fought his urge to recoil. “I shall not be long. Wait for me!”
Malvina trotted to the stable doors, and Burke ran one hand through his hair in relief.
“One can only hope that it takes her half the day to choose her garb,” he muttered, and Kerwyn laughed aloud.
Edana came into the stables just as Malvina left, the two passing in the portal. The goatgirl uttered a greeting, but Malvina brushed past, her nose in the air.
Kerwyn straightened as Edana headed toward them with a pert smile. The goats, stalled beyond Moonshadow, began to bleat as if they knew she drew near.
“I am coming, ladies!” she called with a cheerfulness Burke found far from his own mood.
“Good morning, Edana,” Kerwyn said with surprising formality. The girl flushed and returned the greeting.
But Burke eyed Edana. “I thought you minded Alys.” He surveyed his surroundings impatiently. “Indeed, if the lady would only awaken, we would be gone before that one returns.”
“But she is awake,” Edana declared. “That is why I come for my ladies.”
“She is?” Alys was awake and she had not sought him out? Burke frowned. “Is she well? Does her injury still plague her? There is more of the unguent, if she has the need.”
“She is well enough. Indeed, she has gone to visit Heloise.” Edana graced Kerwyn with another warm smile, and the stablehand grinned foolishly. Then the goatgirl headed for her wards, her hips swaying.
But Burke blinked, unable to credit her tale. Alys had awakened in his bed and left, without even thanking him for his concern? ’Twas unlike his lady to show such a lack of manners.
And how could Alys not have desired to see Burke as ardently as he wished to see her this day?
A less confident man might have been insulted, but Burke knew there was still some issue between them. Alys was avoiding him, he had guessed aright. Why else would she take such an unnecessary mission upon herself in this moment?
Burke propped his hands on his hips and turned to call after the girl. “And who is this Heloise? Where might she be found?”
“The anchorite,” Kerwyn supplied instead. “She lives in the stone hut on the point. ’Tis a good few miles along the coast.”
“Miles? Alys was to lie abed this day!” Burke protested. “She was to heal, not walk miles alone!”
Edana shrugged. “Alys insisted on visiting Heloise. She was supposed to go yesterday but could not in the end. I went in her stead, but Alys worries about Heloise.”
With a pert smile, Edana opened the latch and the goats spilled noisily into the corridor. She patted them as they passed her, greeting each by name, Alys’s doings clearly the last matter upon her mind.
Burke gritted his teeth. He had not surrendered all to win naught. Nay, he would not countenance Alys’s avoidance. She would hear him out, and she would hear him out on this day.
“Fetch Moonshadow’s saddle for me, if you will,” Burke requested of the stablehand, who still stared after the goatgirl. “And point me in the direction of this anchorite’s abode.”
“Burke! I am coming!” Malvina cried from the keep. “The mark was removed with but a bit of water and I am again at my finest.”
Burke deliberately ignored the stablehand’s smirk. “Kerwyn, make haste, if you value your hide!”
“Empty threats,” Kerwyn teased, but he fetched Moonshadow’s saddle so quickly that Burke had no complaints.
Alys paused and caught her breath. She saw Heloise in the distance, crouched, staring at the pebbles that covered the ground, her head cocked to listen.
’Twas going to be one of those visits.
Alys sighed, summoned a smile, and waved. Heloise had always recognized her, but each time Alys visited, she feared the worst. The older woman’s thoughts grew progressively more muddled as time passed.
“Good day, Heloise!” she called with a cheer she was not feeling, then lifted her skirts and made her way closer.
The older woman looked up and squinted into the sun. Though another might have been startled, Alys barely noted in these days that one side of Heloise’s face hung slack and expressionless, or that her right arm was nigh useless. She had learned to focus upon the other half of the older woman’s visage, where still Heloise’s smile curved her lips and her eye sparkled.
“Alys!” The older woman hobbled past the crude stone hut that now was her home, her quick steps ample evidence of her concern. ’Twas not easy for her, for still her right leg fought against movement. “What has she done to you?”
“Naught, Heloise, naught,” Alys lied, putting an arm around the woman’s shoulders before she could see even the mending upon Alys’s kirtle. They did not need to repeat the past this day. “ ’Twas some whimsy of a task Aunt granted me, no more than that. You see? I am here, hale and hearty.” She kissed Heloise’s cheek. “You have naught to fear for me.”
Heloise shot a sharp glance her way. “Aye? Did she set you to scrubbing the hall with one fingertip?”
Alys laughed and declined to elaborate. “How are you?”
“Well enough, if not for them.” Heloise looked back to the pebbles and frowned.
“Them?”
The older woman leaned closer, her eyes gleaming. “The stones! They are speaking, keeping me awake all the night with their chattering.” She sighed. “They grow louder each and every day so that I cannot bear their din. Listen to them!”
The older woman stared fixedly at the pebbles in question. Alys held her tongue, as ’twas clearly what she was meant to do, but discerned naught beyond the typical whistle of the wind, the crash of the sea, and the cries of the seabirds.
She jumped when Heloise looked sharply at her once more. “Well?”
Alys shrugged. “I cannot hear them.”
Heloise clicked her tongue in agitation.
’Twas clear that solitude was addling the older woman’s wits, and Alys felt a surge of anger that Aunt had insisted the older woman be removed to this place. ’Twas a poor prize for years of loyal service. Heloise was too old to be left alone, too frail to be subjected to the dampness of the wind from the sea, too forgetful to ensure her own welfare.
Indeed, Alys had no doubt that Heloise had let the fire die again.
“How fares your hearth?” she asked, trying to distract the older woman from the stones. “Cook has sent you some lovely bread, and we could melt a piece of cheese atop it.”
Heloise’s gaze brightened, then she frowned in confusion. “There is no hearth here.”
“Of course there is.” Alys took the maid by the hand and led her to the stone hut. ’Twas dark inside, no glimmer of a coal upon the flat stones placed for a fire.
The firewood Alys had collected upon her last visit was either still there or Edana had replenished the stock. Clearly, though, the girl had not known that she must start the blaze for Heloise. Alys left Heloise to peruse the contents of the basket and collected some wood, then struck a flint.
Heloise, as always, cried out at the first sight of a spark. For some reason, she associated the fire with events leading to her fit, regardless of what Alys said of the matter.
Perhaps that was why she left the hearth untended.
“ ’Tis all over, Heloise,” Alys said crisply, coaxing the first tinder to burn. “ ’Tis in the past and can hurt neither of us any longer.”
“Let me see your back,” the older woman said suddenly.
The fire caught as Alys glanced up. “There is naught to see,” she argued, wondering at this unexpected demand. Heloise’s eyes were oddly bright. “ ’Tis long healed and you know it well.”
Heloise shook her head. “The stones say nay.”
Alys felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle at this oddly accurate claim. She straightened, ensuring she faced Heloise. “The stones are wrong,” she asserted. “Would you have some cheese and bread?”
Heloise considered her for a long moment. “You are well?”
Alys smiled. “I am fine.”
But Heloise shook her head, clearly troubled by her memories. She squatted down and rocked on her heels in agitation. “She should not do this, she should not hurt you, she should not disserve the memory of Isibeal. Ah, Isibeal!”
As was often the case when the maid was agitated, she fingered a chain around her neck that Alys had never seen her remove. There was a pendant upon it, though Heloise guarded it jealously and never let any look upon it. Alys assumed ’twas a token from her family, or perhaps that of a love gone astray.
“Isibeal!” Heloise whispered, and began to cry. “I failed her in this one important deed. She bade me care for you, protect you.”
“And so you did.” Alys crouched before the older woman and pulled her into a loose embrace. “Heloise! ’Tis because of you and your love that I grew so straight.”
Heloise bit her lip and abandoned the pendant to touch Alys’s cheek. ’Twas as if she had to prove Alys’s presence to herself, and Alys ached at the older woman’s uncertainty.
“There is no reason for concern,” Alys crooned. “I had an onerous task that kept me from visiting you, but ’tis done, and I am none the worse for wear.”
Heloise stroked Alys’s cheek, her gaze filling with an affection that reminded Alys of the maid’s younger days. “Sweet like Isibeal,” she whispered.
Alys held Heloise while the fire flickered to life, unable to avoid thinking that their roles had been transposed. She could remember Heloise holding her close in reassurance—and knew how much those embraces had meant to her.
Heloise finally shook her head, gave the pendant one last rub, then tucked it into her chemise with fumbling fingers. “Has your knight come for you yet, Alys, as Aucassin came for Nicolette?”
“Nay.” Alys forced a smile and cut the bread, well aware of how Heloise watched her.
“Are you certain?”
Alys took a deep breath. She met Heloise’s gaze and decided to ask. No one would know, especially a certain cocksure knight. And this was the only person she knew she could trust.
“Heloise, do you remember a man, a knight, named Burke de Montvieux? He came to Kiltorren three years ago.”
Heloise shook her head. “I was here then, I have been here since Isibeal died.”
Alys shook her head, well accustomed to Heloise’s uncertainty over timing of events. Her thinking had been much muddled by her fit. Though it had cleared markedly, still some matters were confused. “Nay, you were still at the keep then. Isibeal died when I was only a babe, and you know you told me tales every night for years. That was at the keep.”
The older woman chewed her lip.
“Heloise, do you remember that tale we used to sing?” she asked. Alys began to sing the familiar chanson, fully expecting Heloise to join the words.
“Once, far afield, there lived a man
With wealth and fortune to his hand.
He had one son, a tall, strong man
The handsome knight named Aucassin.
Aucassin’s father, he did fret
For he did want his son to wed.
But no bride would that knight accept,
For he loved only Nicolette.
Nicolette had a beauty pure,
Though her parentage was not assured.
Raised humbly by a childless brewer,
Her sweetness won her knight’s amour.
When Aucassin would not deny
His lady or seek another bride
His father did the brewer advise
The maid must vanish or die.”
“Aye!” Heloise crowed, her voice rising high and clear as she began to sing in turn.
“But Aucassin searched without cease,
He sought his lady on seven seas,
His banner snapped upon the breeze,
Graced by a lion and three lilies.”
Alys stiffened, oblivious to the melting cheese that dripped into the fire with a sizzle. There was only one insignia she knew with a lion and three lilies. And this verse echoed rather too strongly of Burke’s insistence that he had sought Alys far and wide.
What did Heloise remember?
“This is not the tune as you taught it to me.”
Heloise grinned, the firelight painting her features with an uneven light that made her disfiguration even more marked. She seemed more intently present than she had been in years.
“The stones say ’tis how it should be sung now.”
The hairs prickled again on the back of Alys’s neck, but suddenly Heloise spied the toasted cheese and bread. Her face lit with pleasure and she reached impatiently for the bread, chattering of her love for cheese. Once again she was naught but a confused older woman in need of Alys’s care.
The moment was gone, but Heloise’s unexpected verse would echo long in Alys’s thoughts.
The sun was sinking low when Alys climbed from Heloise’s hut and turned to wave farewell. But the older woman had already forgotten her. Heloise was bent once more over the stones, her head cocked. Alys watched her for a long sad moment and resolved to come more often.
She wondered whether Aunt could be persuaded to let Heloise back into the hall. If naught else, the elderly maid would be warmer and better fed than she managed on her own.
Aunt. The very thought of confronting her was sobering. Perhaps Alys should retire to this hut and care for Heloise herself. Undoubtedly the feud between the two older women was a bitter one. Alys sighed, frowned, and turned to trudge homeward, only now acknowledging the ache in her bones.
She had done too much this day, that was certain, but there had been no choice. Heloise had her alone to rely upon, and truly, Alys’s debt to her mother’s maid was not small. She would do anything for Heloise.
Perhaps even challenge Aunt.
Alys glanced up, gauging the distance to the keep, and caught her breath.
For a knight stood silhouetted against the brightness of the sky, his destrier grazing beside him.
Burke was clearly waiting for her.
Alys willed her heart to slow and tried to continue on as if the sight of him, waiting, did not trouble her in the least. Her lips twisted with the recollection of Malvina’s claim that they laughed together over her desire for the knight. Whether ’twas true or not, Alys resolved that Burke would see no evidence of her wayward yearnings this evening.
’Twould do the man good to have some doubt of his appeal.
Burke knew the very moment that Alys spied him.
She had been trudging tiredly along the stony coast where no path was discernible to the eye. He had waited impatiently, his boot tapping, knowing that he had no place invading the solitude of an anchorite, yet anxious to assure himself that Alys was well.
The way she walked when she finally appeared did little to reassure Burke. She was exhausted, ’twas evident, yet still she intended to walk the few miles to the keep. He did not know whether to kiss her or kill her over her reckless disregard for her own health.
Then Alys spied him. She straightened as if bracing herself for a battle—or deliberately hiding her fatigue—lifted her chin, and strode in his direction with purpose. And Burke found a smile of anticipation curving his lips.
Oh, he liked the fire that had been kindled in his lady love.
Alys’s eyes flashed when she drew near him, though she neither halted nor glanced his way. ’Twas left to Burke to turn and match his steps to hers. Moonshadow, his reins hanging slack, ambled behind.
Burke felt as much as saw Alys’s sidelong glance.
“You wait for me.”
“And have all afternoon.”
Alys sniffed. “Surely Malvina made more pressing demands upon your time.”
Aha! Suddenly Burke understood the reason for the lady’s irritation and that made him smile. “Are you jealous?” he teased.
“Not I! I merely heard you courted her,” Alys said tightly. She strode with a vigor that belied her stated indifference, and Burke was vastly cheered by this. “Indeed, she insists your offer for her hand will come shortly.”
“And she is sorely mistaken,” Burke clarified. Alys looked to him in surprise, and he smiled. “Alys, why are you walking all this distance on this day? I had intended for you to remain abed.”
“In your bed!” Alys corrected. “Aye, there is little import to be missed in that. Did you expect me to welcome you between my thighs for your aid?”
“Nay! I am a man of honor …”
Alys pivoted smartly to face Burke, her eyes snapping. “Yet ’tis your deeds that continually make trouble between us. What am I to think when a knight deposits me in his bed, nude but for his chemise, and does not abandon those quarters?”
Burke folded his arms across his chest in annoyance. “I slept in the stables. Did Edana not tell you as much?”
“Aye. But the presence of your saddlebags indicates your intent to return.”
“They indicate naught beyond the fact that I forgot them.” Burke leaned closer and let his voice drop low. “Alys, I was concerned for you. Did you not think to seek me out this day? To thank me? To set my fears to rest?”
Alys studied him for a moment, as if wanting to believe him but not daring to do so. Then she shook her head and continued on her route. “I understand that you are anxious that I heal, that you might have your pleasure.”
Burke strode after her, infuriated by this tale. “Who told you such nonsense?”
Alys lifted her chin. “Malvina claims you two are confidants.”
“Malvina.” Burke swore softly. “The truth is as likely to fall from that one’s lips as a volley of pearls.”
“I saw you and I heard you, making merry at the board with her,” Alys retorted. “And there is no lie in that.”
“And what am I to do?” Burke flung out his hands in frustration. “Your aunt and uncle insist I must have come to court your cousins.”
“Fair enough. ’Twas what you said when you arrived.”
Burke chose not to argue that. “They already have threatened to cast me out over doubts of my intent. I must make a show of courting Malvina, at least until you grant me a fair hearing.”
Alys slanted a glance his way. “Consider yourself to have had it.”
“I have not, for still you think poorly of me and I have done naught to earn that,” Burke said with a growl. “Alys, it seems I can do naught aright in this. I granted you solitude this morn, because you declared that I did not give enough care to your reputation within the hall. So, out of deference to your concerns, I did not sit in that chamber all the night long and ensure you were undisturbed.”
She glanced up, but Burke did not cease. “And my reward for this is that your family have the opportunity to pour poison into your ears, which you believe at my expense!”
“Fairly spoken, but your deeds do little to reassure me that I have misinterpreted you in truth.” Alys pivoted to walk ahead of him, obviously untroubled by his frustration.
And Burke’s annoyance faded to naught when he noted a thin trickle of fresh blood staining her kirtle.
He lent chase, concern making his voice low. “Alys, you have opened your wounds again.” When she did not halt, Burke caught at her arm and turned her to face him. “You have done too much this day, as I feared you would.”
Alys shook her head. “It matters naught. Indeed, I had no choice.”
“Surely this Heloise could have waited another day.”
But Alys shook her head firmly. “Nay. Edana told her some tale and she was fretful for my welfare. I had to come.” She took a deep breath and summoned a smile. “I shall be back at the hall soon enough, if you permit me to continue, and, with some fortune, will not have too much labor to do.”
“You jeopardized your welfare to see her fears laid to rest,” Burke murmured, awed by her selflessness. “Alys, you must show yourself more mercy.”
His lady shrugged, her cheeks pinkening slightly. “I would not see her have another fit.”
Burke cupped Alys’s chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “And I would see you healed in truth. ’Tis the same concern for a loved one that drives us both, Alys.”
Her expression turned assessing. “What of Malvina?”
Burke grimaced. “I have told you the truth, as always I have done. I would ride from the gates with you at this very moment, Alys, and never glance back to Kiltorren again.” Uncertainty lit her golden eyes and Burke leaned closer, intent on securing his victory. “Alys, ’tis you alone who holds my heart, you alone who haunts my dreams.”
“Oh!” Alys rolled her eyes, pulled herself away from his touch, and marched ahead of him once more.
Burke flung out his hands and bellowed, feeling cheated of his prize in the last moment. “What did I say?”
“Oh, Burke, whenever I come close to believing what you pledge, you make some preposterous compliment that cannot be believed,” the lady complained, her irritation clear. “Do you make the same sweet promises to all the women whose affections you court?”
She cast him a skeptical smile. “Indeed. It sounds as if you have practiced that claim as well.”
Burke growled and matched steps with his lady once more. He forced himself to pursue matters on another front. “ ’Tis a sorry state of affairs when a man finds himself jealous of the time his lady spends with an old woman.” He took a deep breath. “And truly, this place vexes me beyond all.”
“Not just me?” Alys teased unexpectedly.
Burke chuckled despite himself, enjoying her quick wits. Aye, she saw right to the meat of the matter, and he liked that well. “You have had a role in my frustration, Alys, no doubt. All the same, I would apologize for my poor temper.”
They walked in silence for a few moments.
“Tell me of this old maid,” Burke invited finally.
“Heloise is not that old,” Alys said, her tone carefully neutral.
“Who is she?”
“She was my mother’s maid.”
“And how did she come to be an anchorite?”
“ ’Tis not pertinent, Burke.”
“On the contrary, you speak her name with affection,” he insisted. “ ’Tis of great import to me to know of those you love.”
Alys considered Burke as if this thought had never occurred to her before. “Heloise raised me as her own when my mother died,” she admitted. “ ’Twas she who defended me from Aunt, at least until they two did match wills several years past.”
Burke frowned. “Was she here when I came?”
“Three years past, she was yet in the hall. You may recall her, though she tended to stay in the shadows.”
And those few words alone did prompt Burke’s recollection. “The older woman, with silver in her chestnut hair,” he said with a snap of his fingers. “She was sparsely built. She said very little but gave an impression of great strength.”
“That was Heloise.”
Burke grinned. “And I recall that she oft looked daggers at your aunt.”
Alys obviously tried to fight her answering smile, but her eyes sparkled. “That was she.”
“She did not look to be a woman of God.”
“Nay, she was a handmaid then, albeit one who grew older. Until the day I vexed Aunt overmuch—”
“Doubtless you did naught wrong,” Burke interjected.
Alys sighed and frowned. “Nay, I broke a favored trinket of hers and she was not inclined to let the matter be. ’Twas the first time she whipped me.”
“The first time?” Burke heard anger ripple in his voice. “This then is typical? How often has she raised a hand against you?”
“There has only been that time and this.”
“Once is too much,” he muttered. “What stayed her hand?”
“ ’Twas Heloise. She leapt to defend me and Aunt, in her fury, turned upon her. She struck her and Heloise fell to the floor in a fit.” A shadow drew across Alys’s features, and Burke guessed the memory was both vivid and painful. “ ’Twas horrible to watch, for she was in great pain, but none knew what to do.” Alys shivered but did not pull away when Burke caught her hand in his. “ ’Twas dreadful to stand by and do naught, but I could not help her.”
“No one could have.” He squeezed her fingers reassuringly, guessing how her thoughts would turn. “Though no doubt you felt responsible for this.”
Alys swallowed and then nodded with reluctance. “Aye, in a part of my heart, I do blame myself, for if I had not defied Aunt …”
“If you had not been the daughter of the woman Heloise served with such dedication,” Burke interrupted with vigor, “she would not have felt compelled to defend you from such injustice.”
Alys met Burke’s insistent gaze.
“Heloise loved you, so she defended you,” he continued with conviction. “ ’Tis your aunt who was wrong, and your aunt alone, for no one should be struck as you have been.”
Alys frowned. “I only wish Heloise had not suffered.”
Burke ran a thumb across the back of Alys’s hand and urged her to walk closer to him, encouraged by her trust.
“And what did she suffer?”
Alys sighed. “When her fit subsided, one side of her body was without sensation. She could not move her arm, nor her leg, and her face was slack upon that same side.”
Burke nodded. “I have seen this once, and that time it did ease away.”
“So did Heloise’s affliction fade, though still a vestige of it lingers. She cannot use that hand with any dexterity, and she limps. Her smile does not travel fully across her lips.” Alys frowned. “And her thinking is not so clear as once it was.”
“Why then is she out here, left alone to the elements? ’Tis unfitting for a woman in such a state. She should be sheltered within the hall, where others could aid her.”
“Aye, she should!” Alys straightened in indignation. “But Uncle declared ’twas the hand of God that struck down Heloise, that He used Heloise as a tool to intervene in Aunt’s dark deeds. Uncle insisted Aunt never strike me again, lest she attract God’s wrath once more, and so she did not.”
“Until yesterday.”
“Aye.” Alys swallowed. “Aunt did not take well to Uncle’s dictate. She insisted that if God worked through Heloise, then Heloise must be fully pledged to His will. At her command, Heloise was cast from the hall and moved here”—Alys raised her voice to a mimicry of her aunt—”that she might live in solitude and contemplate God’s mysteries in peace.”
Burke snorted. “That she might fall ill and die, or at least not interfere with Deirdre’s plans again.”
Alys met his gaze solemnly. “You have called that aright, but Heloise is stronger than might have been expected.”
Burke studied his lady, thinking the same might be said of her. “It seems your concern for Heloise grows greater.”
Alys winced. “She is forgetting to tend the fire,” she admitted in a low voice. “I fear ’tis a bad portent. And she is more confused than before. I fear she will forget to eat or to ensure her own welfare. And none come this way but me.”
“You would have her return to the hall.”
Alys nodded. “I wish I could persuade Aunt to welcome Heloise.”
Fear shot through Burke at the very possibility. He grasped Alys’s shoulders, pulled her to a halt, and turned her to face him. He had no doubt that she would do battle for this elderly maid and disregard any cost to herself.
“Alys, you cannot challenge your aunt, not after what she has just done!”
“Aunt cannot do worse to me and Heloise needs my aid.” Alys turned an appealing look upon the knight that melted his heart. “Burke, understand that I owe her much for all the years she cared for me. I cannot let her perish out here alone! ’Tis wrong by any accounting!”
“Heloise may need aid,” he said firmly, “but it does not have to be from you.”
“But there is no one else who cares for her.”
“But I care for you,” Burke insisted. “I shall raise the issue with your family.” He looked Alys steadily in the eye, willing her to believe him. “Not you.”
“You would do this? Aunt will be most vexed.”
“All the more reason for me to take this cause.” Burke smiled slowly and squeezed her shoulders. “Do you not understand, Alys? I would do far more to win the sweet treasure of your smile, and even more again to win your hand within mine.”
But Alys bit at an unwilling smile. “Burke, you must cease with these overwrought compliments.”
“What did I say?”
“Sweet treasure of my smile?” Alys made a face. “ ’Tis too rich for even a minstrel’s taste!”
“ ’Tis praise fairly won!”
Alys laughed at his indignation. “ ’Tis a compliment too fulsome to be believed!”
But Burke did not smile. “And your belief in me is the issue that lies squarely between us, is it not?” he asked softly.
Alys sobered and looked away, the truth needing no confirmation.
He studied her for a long moment and had to ask. “Did your Heloise remember me?”
Alys caught her breath. “Her memory is addled.”
Heloise did not recall him. Burke felt disappointment as keenly as a blow. ’Twas clear enough that the woman’s endorsement of his suit would have gone far to win favor in his lady’s sight.
“A week, Alys,” he insisted. “Grant me a week to win Heloise’s return to Kiltorren’s keep.”
Alys eyed him and Burke saw a flicker of hope dawn in those amber depths. Then she nodded abruptly. “One week.”
Burke noted suddenly how his lady sagged beneath his hands. ’Twas as if relief stole the last of the fight within her. He recalled that trickle of blood and knew he could not permit her to do yet more. “Alys, you must ride back to the keep.”
She glanced to him, then to Moonshadow, her alarm at the prospect more than clear. “There is no need …”
“There is every need. You have done far too much this day. You know that your wound is open again.” He turned her and frowned at the mark of the fresh blood, relieved to see that there was no more. He saw no reason to tell Alys as much.
She should be back in bed, his or any other.
“I will not ride that beast,” the lady insisted with a flick of her braid.
“You will ride that beast or I shall toss you over my shoulder,” Burke retorted, letting her see his resolve. Alys’s eyes widened slightly and he was pleased that she believed something of what he said. “ ’Tis your choice—one of us shall carry you.”
Alys lifted her chin. “I would walk.”
“Sadly, that is not among your options.”
And Alys smiled unexpectedly up at Burke. “You are most stubborn.”
Burke felt his brow arch high. “And you would know naught of such a trait, of course.”
Alys laughed aloud, her eyes sparkling merrily, and Burke felt a surge of victory beyond anything he had known. “I choose the steed, then, for you are most unpredictable.”
“On the contrary, there is none more predictable than I.”
The lady’s smile faded, though whether ’twas at his words or the prospect of riding Moonshadow, Burke could not say. He fitted his hands around Alys’s waist, deliberately ignoring his urge to taste her sweet lips first, and lifted her to sit side-saddle.
When he set her down, Alys’s eyes widened in shock and she clutched the saddle in obvious fear. “ ’Tis so high! I shall fall.”
“You will not fall. Moonshadow will not permit it.”
“He will have naught to say about it when I lose my balance and plummet from his back.”
’Twas true enough that his saddle was not wrought for a lady and that Burke’s stirrup dangled far beneath Alys’s toe. Her perch would be solid enough, though, for the destrier moved at a leisurely rolling gait.
“You have only to grip the saddle.” Burke took the reins and urged the beast forward, not missing his lady’s gasp of terror. He looked back to find her complexion ashen and her knuckles white as she bumped awkwardly on Moonshadow’s back.
And Burke immediately understood the problem. “Have you ever ridden before?”
Alys made a choking laugh. “And where would I ride a destrier, if even there was one to be found at Kiltorren?”
Aye, she had said she had never left the estate.
Burke slowed his pace to walk beside her, the stallion perfectly content to stroll without direction. “You must be one with the horse, Alys, and let yourself be carried with his rhythm.”
“I cannot!”
“ ’Twould happen of its own accord, if you were not so frightened.”
She shot him a dark look. “ ’Tis only sensible to be frightened when you are about to fall as far as I. I shall break every bone within my body for your stubborn insistence.”
Burke could not help but chuckle at that.
“ ’Tis not amusing!” the lady charged, her own lips curving in an unwilling smile.
“Nay, ’twill not be amusing on the morrow. You will be sore indeed, if you do not heed my advice.”
“This is impossible! I shall walk instead.”
“ ’Tis the steed or I who will bear you.”
Alys fired a mutinous look Burke’s way that was far from flattering. “Then I shall take the bruises.”
“You shall have no bruise if you heed my advice.” Burke laid one hand on the back of her waist to emphasize his point. He pushed her with the rhythm of the steed’s walk. “Roll with his gait, Alys. ’Tis simple enough. Do not fight the rhythm.”
She frowned and clearly tried to do his bidding, though still she was stiff with fear. Burke realized that Alys was almost within the circle of his arms, her buttocks beneath his hand and her legs nearly against his chest. He could have plucked her from the saddle and held her close, the very knowledge making his heart pound.
The lady’s delicate feet hung bare before him, tormenting him with their perfect femininity. They were tanned on their tops and dirtied on the bottom, so achingly fragile that Burke longed to spend the rest of the day tickling her toes.
Alys shook her head, apparently oblivious to the direction of her companion’s thoughts. “Yet you insist this will do less damage to my hide than a leisurely walk. Burke, you would torment me!”
’Twas naught compared to how she tormented him.
Burke glanced up, intending to make some quick remark, but was snared by the laughter in the lady’s eyes. The dimple that so fascinated him flashed in her cheek and she looked young and mischievous once more.
Burke could not help but stare. Alys held his gaze for an endless moment and it seemed he could not breathe. Her gaze fell to his lips, her own lips parted, and Burke could resist her allure no longer.
Before he could question the wisdom of his intent, he pulled Moonshadow to a halt, cast the reins over the steed’s neck, and put his foot in the stirrup.
“What is this you do?” Alys asked breathlessly, even as he swung into the saddle behind her. Burke clamped one hand around her waist and pulled her back against him, not caring if she felt the evidence of his own torment.
“You must forget your fears,” he said softly, then raised one hand to Alys’s jaw. When he turned her face to his, he saw anticipation lighting her eyes and knew he was not the only one longing for a kiss.
’Twas the only encouragement he needed to continue.
“ ’Tis my duty, Alys, to ensure you are injured no further,” Burke murmured, then lifted one brow. “I must do my best to distract you.”
Alys gasped as if she guessed his intention, but she did not pull away. Burke captured her lips with his, his eyes closing when she trembled, then leaned back against him. She parted her lips and he fanned his fingers wide, spanning the slenderness of her waist, even as his kiss deepened.
Alys murmured something against his lips, then arched against him. She abandoned her clutch upon the saddle to turn more fully into his embrace, her hands landing on his shoulders. Moonshadow continued undeterred as Burke kissed his lady thoroughly.
’Twas a long time before he lifted his head, and when he did they both were breathing quickly. The shadow of Kiltorren’s keep was surprisingly near, though Burke did not want to surrender Alys’s company as yet. The lady dropped her gaze, even as Burke noted that they both moved now with the rhythm of the steed.
“You see, Alys,” he said with amusement, “you had only to forget yourself to ride with ease.”
The words made Alys straighten with a vengeance. “Aye, I have forgotten myself in truth,” she declared with unexpected heat, then turned a tearful glance upon Burke. “No doubt you and Malvina shall amuse yourselves well this night with the tale.”
She flung off Burke’s grip and jumped for the ground.
“Alys! Nay!” Burke snatched at her but missed. To his relief, Alys landed without injury, for she was quick to flee toward the hall.
But Burke did not intend to let her escape so quickly as that. “Alys!” he roared, giving Moonshadow his heels.