albot paced the hall with impatience. He was finally alone, though Kiltorren’s foul apple wine clouded his thinking. At least, this Isibeal was dead—whether she was his uncle’s Isibeal or not—though the confirmation that she had a child was far from welcome.
Could this Alys be the daughter of Millard? The very possibility made Talbot’s blood run cold.
But it could not be so. This Isibeal had been a whore, according to those at Kiltorren, which made Talbot doubt that she was truly the Isibeal of his uncle’s memories.
For Millard was naught if not rigorously moral. He had never left any question that he might have spawned a bastard in any city. Millard did not employ whores. He did not approve of Talbot’s indulgences with whores.
But Isibeal had been a whore, and this Alys was a whore, evidently following the role of her mother. So she could not be Millard’s spawn.
Talbot knew only a moment’s relief before he realized that his uncle might not let the truth interfere in this matter. Millard had nigh decided that his Isibeal was Isibeal of Kiltorren.
And the child of Isibeal of Kiltorren would be exalted in Millard’s eyes, by dint of her mother’s name alone. Aye, Millard might well lavish gifts upon this whore, he might take her into his household. Indeed, men were known to become whimsical in their dotage, and Millard was oddly fixed upon Isibeal of Kiltorren.
It could become even worse. Millard could grant this worthless woman his holdings!
Talbot had to sit down to come to terms with that possibility. He breathed with deliberate slowness, bracing himself for what he must do. Even the wine seemed to desert him in this moment, leaving him with little boldness for the task ahead.
Aye, Talbot had already asked for the whore. He was alone in the hall and would have the opportunity to ensure that this Alys met with an accident.
The very thought made Talbot tremble. He was not a man of violence, but Villonne, prosperous Villonne was all he had ever desired.
Villonne should be his! Talbot drove his fist into his palm and bounced to his feet with newfound resolve. He would not bow to his uncle’s will in this, he would take an active role in ensuring his legacy. Aye, he would fight for what should be his by right!
The very words buoyed his ambition, rekindling the power of the wine. Talbot paced the hall with quick steps. Aye, he would take what he deserved and leave naught but the bones for any other. Ha! He would command Villonne like a king, he would slaughter any cocky knight like Burke de Montvieux who did not grovel before him. He would be surrounded with wine and luxury and willing wenches for all of his days and nights.
’Twould be perfect, all the more so because ’twas no less than he deserved.
God’s blood, but Talbot had need of a woman! Ambition had raised his warrior to full battle, and he decided he would use this whore before she met with her untimely end.
A curvaceous wench hesitated on the stairs in that very moment. ’Twas not Alys, but this one was far more tempting than Isibeal’s skinny child could be. Talbot stared, then he smiled, for his fortune already changed.
Attitude was all. He would have this one first.
The woman was cursed with the red hair and pale skin that so many of these Irish seemed to share, but in this light, her hair hung loose over her shoulders like liquid fire. She looked faintly familiar, but they all looked somewhat similar, particularly now that the wine had blurred his perceptions.
He must have seen this one earlier in the hall. Talbot let his smile broaden, wanting her only to come closer.
The woman smiled in turn and strolled across the room. Her hips rolled with the easy seductiveness of an Eastern whore he had once had the fortune to sample.
And she smiled. Indeed, she had already unfastened the neck of her kirtle and now worked the drawstring of her chemise. Her fingers hung with rings, a testimony to her skill. Even the lady of this pathetic keep was not so bejewelled, and Talbot knew suddenly where the lord spent his wealth.
And with such a shrew of a wife, who could blame the man?
Talbot grinned. He liked the idea of bedding the lord’s own whore. ’Twas fitting of a visiting king to take the finest for himself and disregard any result. He liked the ripe perfection of the creamy breasts this one revealed, he liked the tentative way her tongue flicked over her lips.
“Would you join me in a quiet chamber?” she asked throatily. “I would not have us be disturbed.”
Talbot smiled and took her hand. Aye, she would do very well.
Alys moved with haste. She cast away the shredded kirtle and donned Burke’s chemise, the one that Edana had repeatedly forgotten to return, and breathed deeply of his lingering scent. ’Twas as if his protective concern surrounded her, and she closed her eyes, drinking in reassurance.
The door jiggled and Alys jumped in alarm.
“Alys?” Edana hissed. “Why is the door bolted?” The maid fiddled with the latch again. “May I come in?”
Alys touched her bruised cheek. She could not let the goat-girl see her in this state. “Nay, Edana. I have a task for you.”
“Aye?”
“Aye. Run to Brigid and tell her to pack with all haste.”
“Pack?” Edana squeaked. “You are leaving?”
“Aye, immediately. And—”
“But, Alys, why? Where are you going?”
“Brigid and I leave with Burke, Edana, to find Brigid a spouse.” Alys knew she should go to Brigid to explain, but she had to hide her rising bruise and she had naught to wear. “Perhaps you could assist Brigid to pack. Ask Burke how much she can take.”
“But, Alys …”
“Edana, I have naught to pack, and there is much to be done.” Alys considered how angered Burke would be if he glimpsed the blackened eye she was certain she would have in the morning.
She must ensure that Burke did not do something they all would regret. Aunt would demand a penance for any misdemeanor within Kiltorren’s walls. Alys wanted only to be gone, to never have to look back.
“But, Alys …”
“Edana, please ask Brigid if she has a kirtle she might grant me for travel and a spare cloak, one with a hood. Make haste, if you please. Burke would leave immediately.”
Alys held her breath. She could nearly hear the goatgirl thinking furiously. The latch moved one last time, Edana sighed, then her footsteps faded away.
Edana ran.
She stumbled down the stairs, she tripped over her skirt, she scraped her knee and stubbed her toe, but she did not stop.
For Alys was leaving. Edana could not bear the thought of remaining here without Alys, or even Brigid. She fled the keep on fleet feet, not caring who jumped when she raced through the kitchen. The sky darkened already, the bailey was damp underfoot. Edana heard the low murmur of men’s voices and raced for the stables.
She found the knight packing saddlebags, deep in discussion with the ostler. The very sight made her heart chill. ’Twas true! Both men looked up in surprise at her sudden arrival, and Edana had to catch her breath before she could speak.
“ ’Tis my lady Alys.” She gasped.
The knight stepped forward with concern. “What is amiss?”
“She wants to know how much Brigid should pack.”
He smiled, then looked at the ostler. “That depends. Is it two palfreys you can spare until we reach the port or three?”
The ostler frowned as Kerwyn stepped out of the shadows.
Edana took a breath, but she had no chance to speak before Kerwyn hailed the knight. “Are you truly leaving?”
“Aye, with all haste. We shall be gone this day.”
Kerwyn cleared his throat. “I would travel with you, sir. It seems you could use a squire.”
Not Kerwyn, too! Edana nearly cried aloud.
The knight paused. “Are you not beholden to Kiltorren?”
Kerwyn shook his head. “Not I. I am a freeman who labors for his keep. I would welcome the chance to leave this place.”
“And I would welcome your hand, Kerwyn, for you are gifted with horses,” the knight admitted. “But understand that I cannot offer you much. Perhaps not even the security of a crust of bread thrice daily or a roof over your head. I am without legacy in these days and must tourney to win my own keep. Until then I have naught.”
Kerwyn shrugged. “I have lived with uncertainty all my life, sir.” His dark eyes glowed. “I would do it in your employ, caring for your fine steed, rather than age unappreciated in this place.”
The knight smiled slowly and offered his hand. “Then I welcome your labor, Kerwyn freeman. Know that I will do my utmost to ensure your security and welfare.”
“I know, sir. ’Tis why I would travel with you.” They two shook hands, then the knight turned back to the ostler.
Edana found her voice. “But what of me?” she cried.
All the men looked to her. Edana’s goats stirred at the sound of her voice, or perhaps her dismay. They milled from the sheepfold into the stables, sleepily butting their heads against her knees.
“You?” the knight asked.
“I do not want to remain at Kiltorren if Lady Alys and Lady Brigid depart!” Edana felt her tears rise. “I do not want to stay and be beaten with the willow switch and labor for naught but sharp words.” She bit her lip, forced to face one unwelcome truth. “But I am not free.”
Edana sat down amidst her ladies, her tears falling. “I was born on Kiltorren. I am beholden to this estate for all my days, as were my parents, as will be my children. I cannot go.”
The goats surrounded her, as if they would console her, the eldest doe nuzzling her hand. Edana flung her arms around the gentle beast and curled her fingers in its fur. She cried, hating herself for appearing so weak before these men.
Before Kerwyn.
To her surprise, the knight cleared his throat at close proximity. Edana looked up to find him squatted beside her, his expression grave. “Do you truly want to go with us?”
Edana wiped her tears. “I would hate to leave my ladies.”
“But I heard you were a maid now,” the ostler interjected. “You may be certain that you will not be cast to the fields again. Her ladyship and Lady Malvina will be expecting your aid.”
“Them!” Edana could not stop her grimace, and she noticed that the knight failed to smother his smile.
“Well?” he asked again.
Edana looked to Kerwyn, she could not help it. His dark gaze was fixed upon her, and there was a glimmer there that made her heart skip. “Every journey is both an end and a beginning,” he said quietly, and Edana suddenly felt warm all over.
With an effort, she tore her gaze from his and looked to the patient knight once more. “I would come, given half a chance.”
Burke smiled and pushed to his feet. “Then I shall endeavor to see it done.” He paused to shake a finger at her. “There is no guarantee in this, though. I can only try.”
Edana bounced to her feet, unable to suppress the quiver of excitement that ran through her. She had no doubt that if any could achieve this end, ’twould be the man before her. “Aye, sir. But I still need to know how much Lady Brigid might bring.”
The knight winced. “Best make it as little as possible.” He turned to the ostler, asking after the closest harbor, and was quickly embroiled in a discussion of steeds.
Edana hesitated before running back to the keep. If she did win the chance to leave, she would not be able to speak to her ladies again.
She had best do it now. Edana kissed the top of the eldest doe’s head and brushed her hands over all of her flock. When she was done, she stood reluctantly, only to be halted by Kerwyn’s gaze upon her. He leaned against the far wall, motionless as a shadow, silent as the night. He was watching her, smiling slightly, as if he waited for her attention. The knight and ostler were gone already, pacing the length of the stable corridor and discussing horses.
Edana held the stablehand’s gaze until she was certain she would faint from not taking a breath. Then Kerwyn winked and loped after the other men, leaving Edana staring at his back. Her fingers rose to cover her dawning smile.
An end and a beginning indeed.
While Burke readied the trio of palfreys, the mist rose from the sea and enshrouded Kiltorren, making it seem truly on the edge of Christendom. All was ready quickly, leaving Burke anxious to be gone.
’Twas not long before Brigid stumbled down the stairs to the bailey. She held one end of a small trunk, Edana puffing with the other, and was garbed for travel in plain homespun. Burke relieved the two of them of their burden, setting Kerwyn to the task of lashing it to one steed.
Brigid wrung her hands before herself, her eyes filled with concern. “Is it true?” she asked, her hope undisguised.
Burke smiled for her. “Aye, Brigid. We shall find you a spouse.”
“So you can wed Alys.” Brigid sighed with satisfaction.
“Aye.” Burke had no chance to say more, for Deirdre erupted into the bailey.
And erupt was no understatement. She fairly flew out the portal, her kirtle flaring behind her, her expression fearsome.
“THIEF!” Deirdre raised an accusing finger at Burke and screeched, her voice echoing oddly in the fog. “You would steal my daughter without the burden of marital vows! How dare you bring such shame to my door?”
Brigid shrank back but Burke faced Deirdre squarely. “I would find your daughter a spouse, as you have failed to do,” he retorted coolly. “ ’Tis clear enough that none are to be had here, so we ride to Paris.”
“You cannot do this! You cannot take her away.”
“But I will. The lady has given her consent.” Burke pivoted with crisp ease and escorted a wide-eyed Brigid to one of the palfreys, murmuring reassurance to her under his breath. He aided her to mount and left Edana settling her skirts, both women’s nervous gazes following him as he faced Deirdre anew.
“I shall see Brigid wed to a good man of good fortune, you have my pledge in that.”
The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “ ’Tis an odd way you have of seeking my endorsement of the match you would make,” she complained. “Abducting my daughter to win my niece.”
Burke spoke even more coldly than before. “You may well recall that more conventional methods met with little result. And understand, Lady Deirdre, that my interest in Brigid’s fortunes stems purely from Alys’s concern for her cousin. They both will marry well, despite your efforts.”
“You cannot do this!” Deirdre’s lip curled. “I shall send word to the king of your deeds! I shall tell him that you abducted my own daughter!”
Burke was not afraid of anything this woman might do. Indeed, now that he knew that Alys would be safely by his side, there was no reason not to speak his mind.
“And I shall counter with revealing yours. Trust me in this, for your king thinks little of those who would deny children their inheritance, even an inheritance as humble as Kiltorren. Such testimony would win you little in the royal court, and still less for your own daughters.” Burke smiled coolly. “Go to the king and you shall never see these two wed.”
“You are insolent! I should have had you barred from Kiltorren’s gates.” Deirdre sputtered. “Indeed, I shall not permit you to pass within these walls again!”
Burke did not even raise his voice, so ridiculous was her claim. “You could not stop me, not with the lack of knights you have within your employ. Indeed, madame, you should count your good fortune that I do not covet Kiltorren.”
“Kiltorren is my family home and my legacy,” Deirdre cried. “ ’Tis a fine abode and you—a man of no estate—have no place finding fault with it.”
“ ’Tis an adequate enough abode,” Burke conceded. “And much could be made of it. My disinterest is wrought of Alys’s memories alone. You have tainted this place for her, and although a part of me would delight in seeing you deprived in recompense, I put my lady’s needs first.”
“Your lady.” Deirdre sneered. “Alys is no lady, and I do not believe that you truly intend to wed her. ’Tis a whore you steal from me, and one less mouth to feed, in truth. Take her!” Deirdre flung out a hand. “And take Brigid as well, if she is fool enough to follow your lies.”
“Indeed,” came a cool voice from the shadows of the portal. “ ’Tis lies we leave behind.”
Burke glanced up to find Alys hovering on the threshold, though he could not have guessed how long she stood there. A homespun cloak was wrapped over her shoulders, the hood drawn so high against the foul weather that he could not see her features.
“If you leave, then do not return to Kiltorren, Alys,” Deirdre snapped. “I will have no space for you, even if you come to beg.”
“Do not fear, Aunt,” Alys declared with quiet conviction. “I shall never return.”
And she stepped out into the bailey toward Burke, her regal bearing making him proud she would be his bride. He offered his hand, closing his fingers over hers when he felt the tremble in her touch. Alys brought no baggage, not so much as a comb, and Burke knew ’twas a decision she made to take naught of this place.
“There is an opportunity here for graciousness,” Burke said to Deirdre as he drew his lady close.
Deirdre’s lips thinned. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Clearly. But your daughter and niece ride out into the world, blessed only with myself to protect them. It might be suitable—”
“Who else would you take with you?” Deirdre interrupted. “Who else would you steal from Kiltorren?”
’Twas clear that Deirdre cared little for her ward and her daughter’s safety. Burke chose to be blunt. “The women will have need of a maid. I can only suggest your contribution to this journey in the person of Edana.”
“EDANA?” Deirdre was enraged. “She is a serf! She is the property of Kiltorren!”
“Who else would you send?” Burke asked. “Or would you have your daughter scorned at the royal court?” He guessed that this was a weak flank by the way the older woman caught her breath. “Would you have all mock Kiltorren and its daughter?”
Deirdre’s lips tightened and she glared at Brigid. “A pox on you for forcing me to this,” she declared, and Brigid flushed agitatedly. But Deirdre had already turned back to Burke. “Take her, then, though I suppose that is not the last of it. Why is this stablehand lingering by your side?”
“Kerwyn intends also to accompany us.”
“To return the horses?”
“Nay, the ostler will ride out and return with your palfreys. Kerwyn, who as you know is a free man, intends to travel with us.”
Deirdre’s countenance darkened. “My daughter, a slave and a stablehand, and the ostler gone for days. Do not trouble yourself to ask my opinion of your lofty plans!”
“I shall not,” Burke replied, refraining from commenting that Alys was, again, absent from her aunt’s list. “You have wrought enough damage as the matter stands.”
“Who else do you take? Am I to be left with anyone within these walls?”
Burke permitted himself a cold smile. “Look upon the bright side of matters, Lady Deirdre. You shall have fewer mouths to feed.”
Her lips pinched tightly, her eyes flashed, but Beauregard strode out of the keep before Burke could turn away. The cook dropped a sturdy sack before the lady of the keep, and his expression was apologetic.
“I heard of this expedition,” he said, his voice a solemn rumble. “And I must offer myself as chaperone to Lady Brigid. ’Tis not proper for two maidens to travel alone with a knight, even one as reputable as Burke de Montvieux.”
Deirdre gaped at him. “You would leave as well?”
“Aye.” Beauregard’s expression set. “I would assure their safety with mine own hands if need be.” There was an air about him that told Burke that this man had fought with his hands before.
Indeed, he would welcome Beauregard on this journey.
“But this is highly inappropriate,” Deirdre protested. “You are not free! You cannot simply leave. What should we eat?”
Beauregard looked troubled. “But the maidens …”
“Have made their choice and will have to bear the burden of the results,” Deirdre snapped. “Return to your duties, Cook. I shall expect a fine repast at midday.”
But Beauregard did not move. “My lady Deirdre, would you deny me the only request that I have ever made of you?”
“Aye!”
“But your daughter …”
“I do not care!” Deirdre screeched. “Get to your labor!”
Beauregard’s face fell. He turned aside, then bent to scoop up his belongings, the very image of a defeated man.
Alys sighed softly under her breath and her fingers tightened on Burke’s own. He knew well enough that she had an affection for the gentle man and knew also that Beauregard had oft cared for Alys.
“And hasten yourself,” Deirdre snapped. “We have a guest in the hall who expects finer fare than you usually conjure.”
Beauregard paused for a telling moment when the barb hit its mark, and Burke guessed that he took great pride in his labor. ’Twas not as if Kiltorren’s larder burst with fine ingredients.
“ ’Tis so unfair,” Alys whispered.
Burke impulsively reached beneath his tabard and withdrew a small pouch. He did not have much coin left to his name but this cause was a worthy one.
He withdrew a silver denier, ruefully noted there was but one more, then called the cook’s name. The large man turned, his eyes widened, and he snatched the flashing coin out of the air instinctively. He turned it in his palm, then looked to Burke in astonishment.
“Buy your freedom from this place, Beauregard, and join us. I would welcome your companionship.”
“Oh, Burke.” Alys’s voice wavered slightly. “Bless you for this.” Burke slipped an arm around his lady’s waist and drew her closer, liking how she leaned on his shoulder. ’Twas no small thing for Alys to lean on anyone. Aye, all would be fine, provided Brigid and Guillaume found each other pleasing.
Beauregard clutched the coin. His eyes misted with tears but he grinned like a madman. “I thank you, sir, I thank you. I shall see that you never regret this deed!” Then the cook stepped forward, bowed to the Lady of Kiltorren, and presented the coin to her.
Deirdre’s mouth worked silently for a moment, then she snatched up the silver. “Begone with you, then, all of you! And good riddance to the lot.” She spun and stalked back to the portal, hissing something under her breath.
“Let us go before she thinks again,” Alys said anxiously.
“Alys?” Burke murmured, easing her closer. He could fairly taste her distress and knew ’twas more than how Deirdre had addressed Beauregard. But when he would have looked into the shadows of the hood, Alys kept her face averted.
That could be no accident. A chill sliced through Burke with the surety of a knife. “What is amiss? Alys, tell me!”
“I cannot,” she whispered, though her fingers clung to his. “Not before we are at sea.”
“Alys, what has happened?”
The lady’s fingers tightened. “I cannot tell you as yet, but I will. All will be fine once we leave Kiltorren behind. Please, Burke, I ask only that you trust me in this.”
“You will tell me?”
“Once we are at sea.” A smile crept into her voice. “I pledge it to you.”
The change in her tone reassured him slightly. “I will do so, Alys, if you consent to ride with me.” He heard the breath of her laughter and his concerns were immediately eased. If she laughed, matters could not be as dire as he had feared.
“Aye,” Alys agreed. “Aye, I will.”
She would ride with him, she would wed him, she left Kiltorren with him. Burke could want naught else. He lifted Alys onto his saddle with a flourish, then swung up behind her, clamping his arm protectively around her waist. Moonshadow pranced impatiently while Beauregard mounted the second palfrey. Kerwyn helped Edana mount behind Brigid, then swung up himself behind the ostler on the third palfrey.
Burke drew Alys tightly against him, wrapping his fur-lined cloak around them both. The mist changed subtly and a soft rain began to fall as he gave Moonshadow his spurs. ’Twas folly to ride out so late, but there was not a one of them who would have stayed another night at Kiltorren instead. Burke knew he did not imagine his lady’s soft sigh of relief when they waved to Godfrey and rode beneath Kiltorren’s gate.
Aye, all was finally as it should be.
Malvina awakened from a languid sleep at the sound of her mother ranting in the kitchen. Deirdre slammed pots and pans, shoved furniture, and swore like a sailor.
Indeed, her mother sounded even more vexed than usual. Malvina nestled back against Talbot’s warmth where they lay secreted in the storeroom, fearing that her deeds were responsible for her mother’s wrath. But Deirdre stomped from the kitchen, her angry footsteps echoing in the hall and finally on the stairs.
Malvina bit her lip and turned to watch the knight sleep, wondering how she would manage this to ensure she won her heart’s desire. Surely her knight would do the honorable thing, after the dishonorable things they had done? How she wished she knew! She surveyed him through her lashes, her heart tripping at his handsomeness, and knew one way to have her answer.
Malvina rolled against him, rubbing her breasts against his side in the way that had made him moan all the afternoon, and walked her fingers up his chest.
Talbot grimaced, swatted at her hand, and turned his back to her. “Leave me be, wench.” He growled. “My head aches fit to explode and ’tis all from that miserable wine your lord served me. Awaken him with your lust and leave me sleep.”
Malvina’s hand stilled. “Awaken my lord?”
“Aye. I have eyes enough to see that you are his favored whore. Seek your pleasure elsewhere, wench, I have had all I require of you.” And the knight settled in to slumber.
Talbot thought she was a whore?
He thought she coupled with her own father?
He thought he was done with her?
“How dare you so insult me?” Malvina grasped a fistful of the knight’s chemise and shook him back to wakefulness.
“I am sleeping!”
“You will do no such thing before you listen to me!” Malvina retorted. She lifted him slightly by his chemise, then released her grip.
He thunked his head, his eyes flew open, and he frowned. “What is this you do? I shall see you paid for your service.”
Malvina leaned over him, her anger clearly evident, for he warily eased backward. “I am no whore, sir,” she declared with a precision that could not be missed.
“But—but you came to me and offered yourself,” the knight argued wildly. “No woman of decency would do as much!”
“And no man of decency would shame his host by coupling with that man’s daughter!”
Talbot blanched in a most satisfactory way. “You are not his daughter. You cannot be his daughter!”
He had not even looked at her. Disappointment unfurled in Malvina’s belly, for she had done her utmost to win this man’s attention. Indeed, she had thought he greeted her with such pleasure because he was attracted to her.
But ’twas all a lie. He thought her a whore, he thought her innocence was his for the taking.
He had not even noticed her innocence.
“I am the daughter of this house,” Malvina corrected, her voice shaking with cold anger. “Had you troubled to look my way but once since your arrival, you would have realized the truth.”
“Dear God!” The knight dropped his face into his hands. “You are the one they want to force me to wed.”
His choice of words did little to appease Malvina. “I am the one you will wed,” she declared vehemently. “I shall see you account for the taking of my maidenhead, and I shall personally ensure that you pay penance for this insult.”
“Maidenhead?” Talbot sat up, shoving a hand through his hair. What vestige of color remained left his face. “You cannot do that! You cannot force me to wed you!”
“I can do anything. You have erred, sir, and I shall see that you pay the debt due.” She stood and shook out her hair, arranging it over her shoulders to look even more dishevelled than it had. As the knight watched in dawning horror, Malvina tore her own chemise, baring her breast.
“Mother!” she cried with feigned dismay. She flung open the door to ensure her voice carried. “Your guest has compromised me!”
“God’s blood!” Talbot buried his face in his hands.
Truth to be told, he was rather appealing when he looked so woebegone. Malvina decided that she would ensure he oft felt out of control of his circumstance.
Deirdre, as might have been expected, was quick to reappear. She gasped when she spied her daughter, her eyes rounded with horror in a most satisfying way. “CEDRIC!” she shouted. “Get yourself here!”
Talbot groaned pitifully. Malvina lifted her chin and managed to summon a tear that she hoped was compelling.
“And what precisely has happened here?” Deirdre demanded.
Malvina decided ’twould be a good opportunity to weep. Truly, she doubted that Talbot would correct her version of events.
Indeed, he would not be believed if he did.
“Oh, Mother! I came to the hall to fetch a sip of water and this knave forced himself upon me!” Malvina sobbed as if horrified by all that had transpired.
The knight shook his head. “I cannot believe this.”
“What is this?” Deirdre demanded. “He kissed you? He touched you? Tell me the fullness of his familiarity, Malvina!”
“Oh, Mother, the shame of it all.”
“Shame?” Deirdre’s tone sharpened. “What shame?”
Malvina threw herself weeping into her mother’s arms, noting the timely arrival of her father. Perfect. “He stole my maidenhead!” She wailed. “He dragged me to this room and ravished me! He took my greatest treasure and now no man will wed me!”
Her parents stiffened. Malvina caught the glance they exchanged, then Cedric strode closer. “Nonsense, my dear. This man shall wed you.” And both parents turned to glare at the knight in question.
Malvina smiled against her mother’s shoulder and sniffled.
But Talbot bounded to his feet. “This is madness! I cannot wed this woman! I will not wed this woman!” He pointed an accusing finger at Malvina. “She came to me, with her bodice undone and her hair loose! She seduced me! She has wrought this situation!”
“Lies!” Deirdre charged before Malvina could.
“ ’Tis an abomination that a knight should stoop so low as to blame a lady for his own crimes.” Cedric turned a glance of paternal indulgence upon Malvina. “Are you certain that you want such a man as your own, child?”
Malvina wiped at her damp cheeks, surveyed the knight, and let new tears well. “I do not believe there is any choice, Father.” Her lower lip trembled in a manner she hoped was convincing. “Indeed, who else would have me?”
And she let a new volley of tears fall, ensuring that she sobbed noisily. Talbot’s lips tightened in a way that made him look most beleaguered. The very sight made Malvina’s blood quicken.
“Indeed. The man must make rights of his transgression,” Deirdre said crisply. “We shall plan the nuptials for a fortnight hence.”
Talbot glanced about the kitchen as if seeking an escape. “I cannot be wed in a fortnight. I cannot be wed at all!”
“You should have thought of that before you shamed my daughter,” Cedric declared.
“But I cannot take a bride!” Talbot argued. “I have no holding, I have no inheritance.” He turned an appealing glance upon Cedric. “Surely you cannot wish to consign your daughter to such an uncertain fate?”
“There is no uncertainty.” Cedric was unusually decisive, his tone one that brooked no argument. “Kiltorren has need of a lord to follow me, and a man such as yourself will suit the task well.”
“Kiltorren!” Talbot echoed in ill-disguised horror. “I cannot be consigned to this hovel forever!”
“Indeed, you may have new ideas for this holding to improve its lot, for there is always much to be learned from the French.” Cedric fixed the knight with a stern glare. “You shall become Lord of Kiltorren, and Malvina its Lady.”
“But, but, but you cannot do this!”
“I can do this,” Cedric retorted. “I am Lord of Kiltorren. You stand in the hall of my holding—indeed, you claimed my daughter’s maidenhead within my abode. And you, sir, will not leave Kiltorren without taking a nuptial pledge.”
Malvina’s mother caught her breath. “Cedric! I have never seen you so … masterful?”
“ ’Tis not a trifling matter, my dear. We cannot allow a guest to bring shame upon our house.”
“But I have a quest!” Talbot cried, clearly less content with matters than the other occupants of the hall. “I have a quest that I must fulfill for my uncle.”
“Then you may certainly do so,” Cedric said calmly. “In a fortnight. After your wedding.”
“What is this fixation of knights upon quests?” Deirdre demanded. “We are only rid of Burke de Montvieux and his quest …”
Talbot’s head shot up. “Burke is gone?”
“Aye,” Deirdre supplied. “Gone with Alys and half the household on some fool quest to see Brigid wed.”
A lump worked in Talbot’s throat. He stepped forward in evident dismay. “Alys is gone?”
“Aye, should Dame Fortune smile upon us for a change, we shall never see any of them again.”
If Talbot was agitated before, that was as naught to his current state. “But nay, this cannot be! She cannot be gone!” He snatched up his belt and scabbard, fastening it about his waist with shaking hands. “Nay, I must find her, I must lend chase!”
“You cannot leave before your nuptials!” Deirdre declared.
“You cannot abandon my daughter in shame!” Cedric chimed in.
“I cannot remain. My quest …”
But Talbot got no further before Malvina launched herself out of her mother’s embrace. She caught the surprised knight by the shoulders and forced him back against the wall.
His repudiation of her followed by his determination to see Alys was too much to be endured. ’Twas too close to Burke’s choice for comfort, but this time Malvina had more at stake.
And she was furiously angry that this man cared more for pursuing Alys than he did for her honor.
“I will hear no more about Alys!” she cried. “Do you think I did not note how you asked after her? Do you think I did not see your gaze follow her, that I did not see she was of greater interest to you than I?”
“Well, I …”
Malvina gave him a shake. “How do you think that made me feel, when I was trying to win just a modicum of your attention?”
“I cannot …” Talbot had that cornered look that tore at Malvina’s heartstrings.
“How do you think it feels to always be the unwanted one? To always be second best? To always be the plain one, the plump one, the unattractive one, the burden upon everyone?”
“I find you neither plump nor plain,” Talbot dared to suggest, but Malvina was not prepared to listen to him.
“You wanted me this day,” she insisted in a choked voice. “I saw it in your eyes and could not resist it. ’Twas the sweetest gift that ever I have been granted.”
“Well, I …” Talbot colored.
“How much of a burden do you think it is to know that no one wants you, that no one finds you pleasing, that no one desires you for yourself? To watch every man’s glance slide over you to linger on a poor cousin?” Malvina caught her breath and felt genuine tears gather. “To know that you will never be good enough, that you will never measure up to expectation?”
Talbot blinked. He seemed to consider this, then he looked at Malvina, truly looked at her for the first time. His gaze danced over her features and, to her astonishment, he smiled ever so slightly, as if what he saw was pleasing.
“I think,” he said carefully, “that I know the weight of that burden quite well.”
Malvina stared back at the knight, stunned that they might hold something in common. Indeed, Talbot also looked surprised. He smiled sheepishly and Malvina barely noticed her father send a runner to ensure that Godfrey kept the gates barred.