hen the sky lightened the next morn, Alys rolled over in the soft bed and sighed contentedly. Edana still slept on a pallet before the single coal glowing feebly in the brazier, as the first golden rays of sunlight slanted through the shutters.hen the sky lightened the next morn, Alys rolled over in the soft bed and sighed contentedly. Edana still slept on a pallet before the single coal glowing feebly in the brazier, as the first golden rays of sunlight slanted through the shutters.
But to Alys’s surprise, Brigid hovered on the threshold, the tangle of her dark auburn hair hanging loose over her shoulders. She was clad only in her chemise and looked on the verge of tears.
Alys swung out of bed in a heartbeat and crossed the cold floor. “Brigid, what is amiss?”
Edana started, even at Alys’s low tones, and jumped to her feet, hastily coaxing that coal to a flame. Brigid bit her lip and considered the two, her gaze finally meeting Alys’s again.
“M-m-mother said I c-c-could not call you again,” she admitted, her tears welling. “B-b-but my hair!” She touched the cascading tresses and her tears spilled. “W-who will help?”
Alys gathered her cousin into a tight hug and led her toward the bed. “Of course you can call me. You know I love to braid your hair.”
Brigid’s hair had a will of its own, its wild curls having no interest in being tamed. It was beautiful, thick and glossy, and Alys had never seen the like of its auburn color. But Brigid was terribly self-conscious about the glory of her hair, thanks to Malvina’s jealousy.
Malvina called Brigid’s hair “witch’s tresses” in a cruel childhood taunt, demanding to know whether Brigid was a witch or perhaps a faerie changeling. Brigid had been horrified by the thought, but Malvina had compounded the damage by telling the ever-trusting Brigid of the havoc a witch could wreak by unbinding her hair.
Ever since, Brigid had been adamant that her hair be safely braided away at every moment of the day. Brigid was not the brightest soul, but she could be stubborn once she had hold of an idea—and it troubled her deeply to believe that she could in any way bring misfortune upon others.
She was so distraught this morn that Alys’s reassurance fell on deaf ears. “B-b-but Mother said …”
Alys stifled a rebellious condemnation of her aunt’s insensitivity. “Aunt is too cautious in this,” she counselled. “Have you brought your favorite comb? We shall quickly make some order of it all and have it safely braided away.”
“N-nay!” Brigid pulled herself from Alys’s embrace. “M-m-mother said nay!”
Alys took her cousin’s hands in hers and kept her voice low. “Brigid, you must heed me. If I do not braid your hair, who will do it?”
Brigid bit her lip, looked at Alys, and her tears fell. ’Twas clear she did not know the answer, and equally clear how much that troubled her.
Alys cursed her aunt silently, but turned a smile on Edana. “Brigid, do you know Edana from the village?”
Brigid eyed the girl solemnly while Edana bowed her head. “ ’Tis a great pleasure to meet you, milady.”
Twin spots of color lit Brigid’s cheeks, just to find herself the center of a maid’s attention. “Hello,” she mumbled, and gripped Alys’s hand more tightly.
Alys gave those cold fingers a squeeze and leaned closer to her cousin. “Aunt says that I am to teach Edana to be a fine lady’s maid. I could teach her to braid your hair, just the way you like it, and Aunt would surely find that fitting.”
Brigid’s whole countenance brightened. She even managed a small smile. “T-t-truly?”
“Truly! Would you like that?”
Brigid’s smile broadened and she looked shyly at Edana as she nodded. Alys put out her hand and Brigid slipped her favored comb onto Alys’s palm.
“Your hair is so lovely,” Edana declared with a characteristic smile. Brigid flushed, but the compliment obviously pleased her.
Alys showed Edana how to ease the comb through Brigid’s hair. “You must begin at the ends and progress slowly up each length, for it tangles terribly and will not be rushed into order.”
“Ooooh,” Edana whispered in awe as she took the first lock in her fingers. “ ’Tis so very soft!”
Brigid giggled, then blushed, but still she let Edana make order of her hair. She flicked a glance to Alys, then tentatively covered her cousin’s hand with her own. “C-c-can you talk to me again? Mother always s-s-said you had labor.”
Alys felt a pang of guilt. She wished that she had discerned Brigid’s loneliness sooner. ’Twas not easy for Brigid to talk to others, and there had been a time when she and Alys talked so often that Brigid’s stutter had begun to fade.
’Twas only now that Alys realized it had become worse again.
“All has changed now, Brigid.” She sat on the bed beside her cousin and took her hand. “We shall talk as once we did, and perhaps once more you will grow less shy.”
Brigid slanted a surprisingly knowing glance Alys’s way. “And perhaps my st-st-stutter will go away again.”
“Perhaps.” Alys smiled encouragement. “ ’Tis a matter of practice, and you know, ’tis worse when you are afraid.”
Brigid nodded solemnly, then bestowed a sudden sunny smile on Alys. “I am g-g-glad that B-B-Burke came back again.”
Alys did not understand the connection and her puzzlement must have shown, for Brigid tapped one finger on their interlaced hands. “H-h-he made Mother let you b-b-be here.” She deliberately took a deep breath while Alys accepted her cousin’s endorsement of Burke’s deeds.
But Brigid’s next words stole Alys’s breath away.
“I liked him b-b-both times he came before.”
Alys blinked, but Brigid smiled. Surely there must be a mistake! “Both times he came before?”
Brigid nodded easily.
Alys shook her head. “Nay, Brigid. Burke came only for the tournaments Uncle Cedric planned. ’Twas three years past.”
Brigid nodded happily. “And then ag-g-gain,” she asserted. “The n-n-next year.”
Alys sat back, stunned to have Burke’s claim confirmed. She wondered whether her cousin was confused, but then Edana leaned forward.
“I remember that,” she affirmed. “ ’Twas but a year after the tourneys and he rode through the gate on that great black horse, those blue caparisons flapping in the wind. ’Twas like an old tale come to life.”
Brigid nodded agreement, her eyes shining recollection. “Handsome,” she declared, then blushed at her own boldness.
“Oh, he is indeed!” Edana agreed, the pair collapsing into giggles. “Have you ever glimpsed such a finely wrought man? And noble!”
Brigid nodded happy agreement.
“There is a man who could steal my heart away and be welcome to it,” Edana concluded with a sigh.
Brigid sighed dreamily, but Alys frowned. “I do not understand. How can it be that he was here and I did not know it?”
The pair sobered and stared back at Alys, Brigid reaching suddenly to grasp the comb from Edana’s busy fingers. She held it out toward Alys, the missing tooth glaring in its absence.
This was not an ornate comb, but one carved simply of wood. Its virtue in working Brigid’s tresses lay solely in how frequently it had been used and how smooth the wood had been worn.
“N-n-naughty Alys,” she whispered, her eyes filled with sympathy as she shook the comb.
And Alys gasped.
’Twas only too easy to recall how Brigid had come by the comb. Alys had inadvertently broken that tooth when this had been Aunt’s comb. This was the broken treasure that had precipitated Alys’s first beating, the crime at the root of Heloise’s fit and the event that had cast the entire keep into chaos. Alys had forgotten naught of the terror of that night, no less of the challenge of moving Heloise to her hut and tending that woman’s recovery for weeks afterward.
But she had forgotten precisely when the deed occurred.
Two years past, in the spring. And ’twas then—according to Brigid—that Burke came again to Kiltorren’s gates.
God in heaven, he had not lied.
Alys could not summon a breath.
Aunt had soon afterward discarded the purportedly prized comb, Alys recalled. Brigid had found it among the refuse in the kitchen and, with her usual compassion for all objects and small creatures, could not bear to see it cast away for lack of a tooth.
Brigid was always taking the smallest things to heart, retrieving a wilted flower discarded in the garden, setting a beached mollusk back into the waves that it might swim away, saving the pebble that lodged in her shoe in the belief that it desired to come home with her. ’Twas an endearing trait, and a mark of the sweet simplicity of her nature.
And she had liked the knight both times.
But why had Burke abandoned Kiltorren so quickly on that visit? If he truly returned to sweep Alys away, would he have taken nay for an answer so readily? Would he not have stormed the keep, scoured the countryside, and sought her out?
Would Aunt not have willingly pointed him to Alys, if only to be rid of her ward?
But what if Burke were right? What if Aunt had lied, both to her and to him, against all expectation? Could he be right in his belief that there was more to Aunt’s animosity than Alys knew?
Deirdre had lain awake half the night, planning her strategy, and by morning she had concocted a scheme that she was certain could not fail. Indeed, once her annoyance eased with her defiant niece, she knew precisely what must be done.
Alys was weak when it came to this knight’s company, and clearly not even a beating could encourage the girl to avoid his company. But Alys must be kept from Burke’s side if Malvina was to succeed. Fortunately, the knight had already shown that he could be manipulated by his particular weakness.
Deirdre dressed with particular care, lingering in her chamber to be certain that she would make an entrance. She swept down the stairs and smiled to find her daughters and ward breaking their fast together.
Perfect.
“Cronan!” Deirdre called. “Perhaps you might summon our guest and ensure that he does not miss our repast.” Alys smiled in anticipation as the steward bowed and left upon the errand, though Deirdre knew that smile would not endure long.
She would ensure as much. Alys would learn not to trifle with Deirdre, one way or the other.
“Good morning, Mother!” Malvina said. Deirdre spared a kiss for her eldest, delighted with the richness of the girl’s garb. “I trust you slept well. I slept with the angels last eve, with Burke’s sweet pledges ringing in my ears.”
Deirdre could not stifle her smile of victory. How she loved when Malvina followed her bidding. Alys’s lips tightened and she seemed suddenly very interested in her crust of bread.
Deirdre took her seat at the board with a majestic flourish. “What pledges, my darling?”
“Oh, Mother, ’twas marvelous. I swear the man spends all the day thinking only of how to court me better.” Malvina smiled at her companions and Alys’s expression turned grim.
“Do tell,” Deirdre urged.
“Why, yesterday morn—after you departed, Alys—Burke summoned me to the stables to steal a kiss. He made some excuse about the temper of his steed to catch me in his arms!” Malvina sighed. “He looked deeply into my eyes and insisted he loved me alone, then he kissed me with an ardor that left me breathless …”
Alys spread honey upon her bread with a purpose the task did not require.
“ ’Tis not how you t-t-told it before,” Brigid said irritably.
Deirdre glanced up in surprise. “And what would you know of the matter?” she asked. “You were not there!”
“The t-t-tale changes with each t-t-telling,” Brigid insisted.
Malvina grimaced. “You are jealous, ’tis no more than that. You know that Burke favors me and we shall be wed. He told me that I and I alone held his heart.”
“N-n-nay. He d-d-did not.” Brigid looked mutinous. “He w-w-would not.”
“You know naught of him!” Malvina cried, bounding to her feet. “I am the one he courts. I am the one he will wed! You should have heard his ardor! Once he had gathered me close, smiled down upon me, and whispered his pledge of undying love, he kissed me with a passion that made me shiver.”
“He d-d-did not the l-l-last time,” Brigid muttered.
Malvina spun. “Do you call me a liar?”
Brigid lifted her chin with rare defiance. “Aye.”
Malvina’s eyes flashed. “You wish only that Burke had eyes for you, but he does not, for you are naught but a little mouse. The man sees quality and desires me alone. Mother says as much.”
“Yet he grows ever more passionate in each telling of the tale,” Alys said in defense of her younger cousin. “One must wonder whether the truth was not ardent enough.”
“One must wonder whether there are other maidens with eyes above their station,” Deirdre interjected coolly. Brigid flushed and stared at her hands. Alys colored similarly, but she squared her shoulders and did not drop her gaze.
Malvina drew herself to her full height. “You will regret that impertinence! You will not even be welcome at the wedding. I will never welcome either of you at my gates, once I am Lady of Montvieux!”
And the knight of Montvieux, at that crucial moment, set foot into the hall. Deirdre watched his expression change from delight to dismay, his gaze moving from Alys to Malvina as he belatedly understood what was said.
Deirdre rose smoothly to her feet. “And here is none other than the man whom we discuss,” she purred. “Do join us, Burke. We are having a most lively discussion of your courtship of Malvina.”
The knight swallowed and looked somewhat discomfited. “My courtship?” His gaze flew to Alys once more and he did not hasten to the board. ’Twas unlike him not to be supremely confident! Deirdre knew she had not forced this exchange a moment too soon.
“Aye.” Deirdre feigned surprise. “Surely I have not misunderstood your intent to win my eldest daughter’s kind?”
Cedric descended the staircase just then and his voice boomed across the hall. “Surely you do not toy with the affections of my child?” He frowned in a most ferocious manner, and Deirdre decided she must reward him for his unwitting aid.
“Do your kisses mean naught?” Malvina demanded. “And your pledges of undying love?”
Burke looked between the three of them, his manner that of a cornered cat. “I certainly would not intend to deceive anyone …” he began, but Cedric took a menacing step forward.
“Declare yourself, sir, and do so now. You cannot linger within this hall and persist in kissing my daughter without making an honorable offer for her hand.”
“But I did not kiss her!”
“Oh, he lies!” Malvina charged. She raised a hand to her mouth, as if she would weep, her lips trembling dangerously. “Father, he toys with my affections!”
“Say ’tis not so!” Deirdre demanded.
“Aye, state your intentions for my daughter’s hand!” echoed Cedric. “Or I shall turn you out of this keep and set the dogs at your heels until you are run clear from Ireland. Did you lie about coming to Kiltorren to seek a bride?”
Burke’s brow furrowed. “Nay, of course not!”
Cedric folded his arms across his chest. “We have dallied enough and you have had time enough to confirm your choice. Name your bride and name her now.”
The knight, tellingly, looked to Alys.
“Do tell, Burke,” Alys urged, her tone tempered with steel.
’Twas clear the man won no favor in that corner.
Burke frowned, he looked to Cedric, he glanced at Malvina, then his gaze locked with Deirdre’s. She certainly did not imagine how his eyes turned a frosty silver or how his jaw set, before he turned to Cedric with a smile.
“Of course I court Malvina,” he said flatly. “You guessed aright from the start.”
Cedric grinned, then stepped forward to shake the knight’s hand. Malvina gave a cry of delight and launched herself across the hall to embrace the knight. Brigid pouted, but Deirdre smiled yet again when Alys pushed away from the board and strode from the hall, her chin held high.
The knight looked after her for but a moment before Malvina dragged him toward the board. “We must plan our nuptials in grand detail,” she enthused. “But first, a betrothal ceremony. We shall have to invite everyone of our acquaintance and Father will host a wondrous meal. Perhaps we should have tournaments and you could compete with my colors …”
Alys and Brigid sat glumly in Kiltorren’s garden, which flourished in a small courtyard attached to the kitchen. Neither of them had borne Malvina’s planning long, though in the silence of the garden, Alys had naught to do but think about all Burke had said. She watched Brigid embroider a band destined for a hem or cuff and hated that the knight had fooled her again.
“He d-d-did not say it,” Brigid repeated. “And he d-d-did not kiss her.”
“Maybe not,” Alys said, then studied her cousin as an unwelcome thought struck her. “Does it matter to you, Brigid, if Burke courts Malvina?”
Her cousin’s scarlet flush was all the answer Alys needed.
Brigid busied herself with her embroidery, her cheeks burning, as Alys stared at her. ’Twas one thing for Burke to toy with her, but Brigid had no means to defend herself against the man’s allure.
Surely he would not take advantage of Brigid’s innocence?
A man cleared his throat just then and Alys’s head snapped up. Burke himself leaned in the portal, his arms folded across his chest, his expression bemused. There was a determined glint in his eye, though, that warned Alys to meant to see something done this day.
“I have been searching for you,” he said softly.
“Malvina and Aunt will not approve.” Alys rose to her feet and placed herself between the knight and her trusting cousin before she even realized that she did as much. Burke took a step into the garden, his gaze running appreciatively over her. Alys straightened at his obvious approval.
“ ’Tis not the best hue for you, but we shall do better in Paris,” he said with an easy smile that rankled.
“I will not go to Paris with you,” Alys retorted. “My situation is not so dire that playing mistress while Malvina is wife would be appealing.”
“Alys!” Burke looked exasperated. “I am not going to wed Malvina!”
“I kn-kn-knew it,” Brigid muttered to her needlework.
Reminded that they were not alone and knowing Burke would have his say, Alys led him to a far corner of the garden. “How odd. I heard you say precisely that just this morn.”
“Nay, I said I courted her. ’Tis a far cry from a proposal.”
“Oh, you play with words!” Alys shook a finger at the smug knight. “You know well enough that Aunt and Uncle believe you intend to wed her!”
“Aye, and you know well enough that I had no choice but to answer as I did.”
“Since you have been kissing Malvina.”
“I have not!” Burke was clearly frustrated and Alys found she enjoyed the sight. “The girl makes much of naught—’tis you alone I kiss.”
Alys arched a brow. “ ’Twill not happen again.”
Burke growled something uncomplimentary beneath his breath and took a determined step closer. “Alys, you must understand that I had no option. If I had not said my intent was to win Malvina, they would have cast me from the gates! You heard your uncle. And if I was not at Kiltorren, then I could not pursue your reluctant heart.”
Alys folded her arms across her chest, resolved not to be swayed by the knight’s apparent sincerity. “So you lied.”
Burke waved off the thought. “ ’Twas not truly a lie.”
“You told them you courted Malvina, yet you do not,” Alys retorted, her demeanor stern. “That, Burke, is a lie.”
“Alys! ’Twas merely a small falsehood.”
“Small or large, a lie is a lie.”
“ ’Twas a convenience, no more, no less. You make too much of too little. ’Twas for the greater good!”
Oh, this man was too quick to turn anything to his own advantage. Alys was not prepared to let him escape so readily as that. “So, one may readily lie for the greater good.”
Burke shrugged. “Aye, when one must.”
“Aha!” Alys leaned toward him, her gaze bright. “Yet you expect me to trust you.”
“Of course I do!”
“Then how, Burke, am I to know when the greater good is being served and when you are telling me the truth?”
“Alys! You know I am a man of honor.”
“I know no such thing. Indeed, you have just confessed to being a liar.” Alys argued. ’Twas quite enjoyable to put Burke in a corner, for he always seemed to hold the upper hand.
“ ’Tis not the same,” he insisted grimly. “Not at all.”
But Alys spread her hands. “Burke, if you do not tell the truth, then how am I to know when to believe your tales?”
“But I have always told you the truth!” Burke insisted.
“By fortune or design?” Alys tilted her head to survey him. “Just now in the hall you admitted you told a falsehood in my presence.”
“Alys!” Burke snatched at her shoulders, his eyes gleaming. She caught her breath to have his will so surely bent upon her. “I pledge to you that I have never deceived you.”
Beneath the heat of his regard, Alys’s resistance eroded dangerously. Indeed, she knew now that Burke could well have returned while she tended Heloise two years past. In this moment, she could not think of a lie he had deliberately told her, which was little help. Alys fought to keep her wits about her, but Burke smiled that wondrous smile and slid his thumbs persuasively against her shoulders.
Irresistible, indeed. Every thought seemed to have abandoned her at the first brush of those thumbs. She completely forgot her cousin’s presence as she stared into Burke’s eyes.
“Did they not give you shoes?” he murmured.
“Aye, old horrible ones.”
“Surely you could have worn them still?”
Alys seized on this practicality. She stepped away and pulled up the hem of her kirtle to reveal her ankles and bare feet. She wiggled her toes against the moss-encrusted flagstone. “But I like to be barefoot in the summer.”
When she glanced up, Burke’s eyes had darkened and he looked as agitated as she had felt beneath his touch. Certainly his breathing was uneven and his jaw was clenched. Alys looked back to her toes, but there seemed to be naught amiss there.
’Twas most unlike Burke to be silent.
She eyed the grim knight warily. “What is amiss?”
He looked once more to her toes, then shook his head, summoning a smile that did not mitigate his expression. “Ye gods, Alys, but I will win your trust if ’tis the last thing I do.”
“It may well be that,” she could not help but tease.
Burke grinned. “Deeds you demanded and a deed you have, Alys.”
Alys took a step back. “I thanked you already.”
His smile widened. “Most enchantingly. And you challenged me to learn more of you, which I have done.” Burke eased closer, his manner confidential. “There was a third challenge you made, though, one that I would answer this day.”
Alys watched as Burke tapped his thumb with purpose.
“Loyalty,” he said firmly, and without further preamble. Alys caught her breath, knowing precisely what argument he made. “There is not a man alive who would not welcome a woman by his side with such fierce loyalty as burns within you, my Alys. That is one.”
Oh, Alys was in trouble. Burke was not even touching her and she could barely summon a coherent thought. A lie had only just fallen from his lips in the hall, a lie by his own admission, and Alys was feckless enough to fancy she could discern the difference in his manner between then and now.
She was a fool. The man knew his own assets well and plied them with merciless ease.
But she still wanted to believe him. Alys’s mouth went dry when Burke’s vivid gaze did not swerve from hers. He did not smile, but touched his index finger.
“Compassion. ’Tis the mark of a noble heart to show such concern for those weaker or in more dire straits, a sign of great character to put one’s own troubles aside to aid another. ’Tis compassion that takes you to Heloise with such dedication, Alys, and I do not miss the import of that.”
Burke paused as Alys swallowed. “That is two.”
God in heaven, but he was exceeding her challenge as never Alys might have imagined. A trembling began in her belly when Burke took another step, his attention fixed upon her. There was only an arm’s length left between them when he marked the next finger.
“Fortitude,” he declared softly. “And this is the greatest of them all. The same flame that melts wax forges steel, Alys. Though you have borne much in this place, still you rise to a challenge, still your spirit is undiminished, still you walk with the dignity of a queen. ’Tis no small thing for a man to know that his lady will be undaunted by whatever fortune is cast across their path.”
But Alys felt far from strong in this moment. Indeed, her knees threatened to buckle beneath her weight. That tremble grew to a roar, yet she could not even break Burke’s gaze, let alone turn away.
“That is three.” Burke took the only step remaining, bringing them toe to toe. Alys tipped up her chin to hold his gaze, caught the scent of him, and saw that beguiling smile begin to curve his lips. He captured her hand within the breadth of his and raised it to his lips.
“Those are but three of the reasons I love you, Alys,” he murmured with such resolve that she could not doubt his claim. Her heart began to thunder and Alys knew she was lost.
Burke opened her hand and pressed a burning kiss to her palm with exquisite slowness. He leisurely closed her fingers over the embrace, each one in succession, the warmth of his own fingertips sliding over her skin in a deliberate caress. He met her gaze once more as he kissed her knuckles, but even then he did not release her hand.
“This change in garb favors you, but truly, Alys, I would see you garbed as richly as the queen you are.”
She would never be able to deny the man anything he asked in this moment. Isibeal’s ghost hovered more closely beside her daughter than ever before.
Even knowing that she was cursed with a wanton’s urges, even knowing that Burke had likely spoken precisely thus to Malvina just a day past, even knowing that naught but trouble would come of this in the end, Alys knew she would succumb.
Indeed, there was naught else she wanted but the man’s kiss. Burke leaned closer, his eyes gleaming. Alys found herself rising to her toes.
Then Aunt’s voice rang through the keep. “A-LYS!” that woman shouted. “Where are you? I have need of you—Alys!”
And the web of enchantment Burke had spun was instantly shredded.
Alys straightened and stepped away, all too readily imagining what Aunt would have to say of this. She pulled her fingers from Burke’s gentle grasp, but felt oddly cheated. ’Twas the only evidence of her wanton nature that she needed.
“Alys! You cannot go!” Burke protested.
“I must, I must,” Alys argued wildly, picking up her skirts to hasten across the garden. “My aunt summons me.”
Burke’s eyes flashed. “Your aunt can go to hell!”
And Alys chuckled despite herself, glancing back from the threshold. “Oh, I have no doubt that she will,” she murmured, and Burke grinned in turn.
“Stay, Alys.”
But Alys shook her head. “I dare not.”
’Twas not easy to turn her back on the knight’s appeal, but Alys managed the deed. Barely. She fled down the corridor, half fearing she would change her course if she did not run with all haste. She had come dangerously close to temptation, of that there could be no doubt.
And there was even less doubt that Burke would tempt her again.
Alys wished she knew that she would be strong enough to deny him.
Yet again Burke could fairly taste how close he had been to success. Aye, he had seen Alys’s expression soften, he had glimpsed the welcome in her golden eyes.
And he had been robbed of his lady’s kiss, no less the chance to offer for her hand with all the ceremony such an offer demanded. Her footsteps echoed on the stone corridor, then faded to naught. Burke bowed his head, shoved his fingers through his hair, and wished that his lady could be more readily won.
But then she would not be Alys.
Indeed, he admired how she clung to her convictions. Burke knew that once Alys cleaved to him, once all her doubts and questions were set to rest, that loyalty would be his alone.
Surely that was an objective more than worth a pitched battle.
But he had come so close! Burke swore with rare thoroughness, forgetting that he was not alone. Indeed, he started when a tiny voice cleared beside him. He glanced to find Brigid hovering behind him, her cheeks burning, her gaze downcast.
“I t-t-told Alys you w-w-were here t-t-twice,” she admitted. “D-d-do not be angry. She c-c-could not have known.”
Burke’s curiosity was prompted and his annoyance faded. “Why not? Where was Alys when I returned?”
Brigid’s gaze danced to the portal, then back to Burke. She gestured cautiously toward the seat.
Burke smiled softly. “I would be delighted to join you and most pleased to hear anything you can tell me of your cousin.”
Brigid flushed scarlet at his attention, but she immediately perched on the bench. She looked up expectantly at Burke, a hopefulness in her gaze that could not be misconstrued.
And Burke understood fully.
She sought his company for the same reason he sought out Alys’s companionship. But Brigid was young, and truly she knew naught of the man to was. ’Twas but a case of girlish infatuation.
Burke had no desire to wound Brigid, so ’twould be best if he were honest with her. False hopes could only hurt more in the end.
Burke seated himself beside her, leaving a discreet distance between them. First, he would listen to all Brigid had to say, then he would explain to her how matters lay.
Aunt’s demands were readily satisfied. Indeed, Alys had the sense her aunt merely wanted to keep track of where she was. Still puzzling over this, she was halfway back to the kitchen before she realized that Brigid had been left alone with Burke.
She gathered her kirtle in two fistfuls and quickly walked back to the garden. But naught seemed awry.
Alys paused in the shadows of the portal when she found knight and maid seated in the sunlight. Burke sat well apart from Brigid, his manner much as one would take with a child.
“So, Alys erred in breaking the tooth of a comb, your mother saw her punished for this crime, and ’twas then that Heloise intervened.” The tight line of Burke’s lips told Alys what he thought of this deed. “Heloise fell ill and was moved to the point, Alys tending her there for some weeks. That is why she was not in the hall when I came.”
Brigid nodded quickly, then flicked her fingers toward the gates. “Y-you left, Alys returned.”
As simple as that, and Alys had never known. Only now she realized the real reason for the runners Aunt had sent to ensure she remained longer with Heloise—at the time, she had thought it an uncharacteristic concern for the older woman.
But Aunt was never uncharacteristic, and never concerned for Heloise.
Burke had been here and Aunt strove to keep him for Malvina.
This time, however, the knight seemed to share that objective—at least in Aunt’s presence. But what was the truth of Burke’s intent?
Burke arched a dark brow as Alys wondered, his expression hinting that he thought little good of this revelation. “It seemed I erred in sending word of my arrival ahead, for Alys paid the price,” he muttered, and Alys’s eyes widened.
Aunt had known he was coming? A horrible dread took root within her. Alys had wondered at the time how a humble comb could prompt such a vicious response.
Aunt had used the comb as an excuse! Clearly, Alys’s beating had been intended to remove her from view but had borne unexpected fruit in Heloise’s attack.
Alys could have wept that Heloise had suffered so much for Aunt’s selfish goal.
Burke frowned at his boots for a long moment before his toe began to tap. “Why was she beaten this time, Brigid? Do you know?”
“N-n-naughty Alys.”
Burke was consummately patient though the girl was flustered. “But why, Brigid? What sin did she commit?”
“Alys b-b-broke her promise.” Burke lifted his brow, inviting more, and Brigid took a deep breath. “T-t-to not see you.”
Burke’s brow darkened ominously. He pushed to his feet, he paced, he shoved a hand through his hair, and he muttered something that Alys was quite certain Brigid should not hear.
“ ’Tis all my fault!” he declared in vexation. “ ’Tis my pursuit that brings the lady such punishment. But WHY? Surely Deirdre would be glad to see Alys gone?”
Aye, that was exactly the riddle that Alys could not solve. Burke sat down heavily, and she knew his mind worked like lightning. He spoke aright in this one thing—there must be another piece to the puzzle.
But Alys forgot her own concerns as Brigid suddenly reached for the knight’s hand. “I-I-I-I like you,” she confessed. Alys took a step forward, halting only when the knight smiled gently.
Would he be kind to Brigid?
Or would he take advantage of her trust?
What could Alys do to intervene?
Burke captured Brigid’s fingers, even as Alys watched, and pressed a chaste kiss to her fingertips. Brigid’s eyes widened with wonder.
“I thank you, Brigid, for you honor me with your honesty,” he said in a low voice. “Indeed, if my heart were not already captured by one lady, I would be honored by your esteem.”
He set her hand back in her lap as Brigid stared at him and Alys eased back into the shadows. “But, as you doubtless know, a man can grant his heart but once, if he grants it fully.”
Brigid clasped her hands together and leaned toward the knight, rapturous at this romantic tale. “Who is she?”
Alys nearly gasped aloud. ’Twas the first time in a long while that she had heard Brigid utter a full sentence without stammering.
And Brigid did not even note that she had done it.
Burke glanced up abruptly. Alys saw the flash of surprise cross his features. So he had noticed as well.
“ ’Tis not evident?” he demanded, amazement in his tone.
Alys’s heart warmed that he pretended ’twas Brigid’s question alone that surprised him. Brigid shook her head, her eyes shining.
Burke shook his head in turn. “Ah, but I should not be so bold as to utter the lady’s name before she accepts my suit.”
Brigid rolled her eyes and smiled. “Tell me!”
“I should not.”
“You must!” Brigid wrinkled her nose. “It cannot be Malvina.”
Burke echoed her expression, making Brigid laugh. “Nay, not she.”
“I knew you did not court her! Tell me.”
Burke looked from side to side and Alys drew back into the shadows. “ ’Tis a secret!” he whispered, and Brigid’s eyes sparkled. Alys bit back her smile, unable to tear herself away from the sight of this bold knight being so gentle with a maiden’s heart.
Oh, there were times when this man was too good to be true.
“Tell me!” Brigid insisted.
Burke grinned. “ ’Tis my heart we discuss here! If I share the tale, then you must pledge to keep this secret for me.”
Brigid smiled and made a cross over her heart with one fingertip, then touched that fingertip to her lips. “Secret,” she whispered.
Burke leaned his dark head close to Brigid’s and dropped his voice yet lower. “The lady is here at Kiltorren,” he confided.
Brigid poked him when he took too long for her taste. “Tell me!”
“ ’Tis your cousin, Alys, who holds my heart,” Burke admitted. “ ’Twill be hers for all time.”
Alys’s felt her heartbeat falter before it began again to race.
Later she knew she would doubt that she had heard aright. Later Burke would make some charming comment that could not possibly be true, some lover’s words that made Alys feel as if she were only the current candidate in a long, long line of women that stretched both before her and would continue after she was forgotten.
For that was the trouble with Burke. He was so handsome, so charming, so utterly alluring, that Alys could not believe that she—or any other woman—could hold his attention for all time.
’Twould be against the odds, indeed.
She forced herself to note that he made no mention of nuptial vows, except when compelled to do so about Malvina, and felt disappointment swell within her. And indeed the knight himself confessed that a lie did not count in pursuit of the greater good.
The greater good would always be to his advantage, she was certain. Nay, Burke was not her Aucassin, even if he did fill that knight’s shoes in her dreams.
Alys folded her arms across her chest. No doubt that even if she ceded to Burke, his interest would fade once she was no longer in distress. It might not happen for years. But one day a beautiful maiden would catch his eye and Burke would be gone, as surely as if he had never been by her side.
As surely as Alys’s own father had been.
Or Burke would take a wife in truth. The very thought chilled Alys’s blood. She could not imagine being forced to share Burke’s attentions with another for all her days and nights—another, perhaps like Malvina.
Nay, Alys would rather have naught than hold a dream doomed to be shattered. She would not repeat her mother’s error.
Alys would not die alone, pining for a lost love.