Chapter Six

“Smile, daughter! You are meant to be having fun.”

Edwina offered her mother a feeble smile and let her eyes scan the countryside one more time. The day had dawned cold and sunny after last night’s snow—magical, enchanted snow! The world gleamed white and blue, blinding to the eyes. Led by her father, they had all gone out in a group to gather greenery with which to deck the hall.

Edwina usually adored this part of the Christmas celebrations. She enjoyed the feeling of lighthearted abandon and loved the way the hall smelled when filled with fir and pine boughs. To be sure, everyone else seemed to be having a wonderful time. But she had too much on her mind to allow for frolic.

“Mother,” she said, “I wish to put an end to this madness.”

“What madness is that?” Marta looked puzzled.

Edwina waved her arm. “The suitors, the competition for my hand—all of it.”

Marta’s face lit. “Does this mean you have made your choice? Oh, it is young Cormac, is it not? His sweet music is enough to win any girl’s heart.”

“No one has won my heart.” A barefaced lie, that. She had bestowed it among the whirling snowflakes last evening. Edwina knew that as she knew her own name. But the fool had been foully taken from her. The thought brought a rush of anger and helplessness that confounded her where she stood.

“What is it, daughter? Are you unwell?”

“Mother, when did you last see the jester?”

Marta stared as if Edwina had taken leave of her senses. “Who?”

“You know, the fool with bells on his hat and toes.”

“You are indeed unwell. Perhaps you should go back and lie down.”

“Someone must have seen him.”

Marta shrugged. “He may well have left. You know how these vagrants are—away with a change in the wind.” Her eyes narrowed. “What is it to you?”

“Come, daughter!” Cedric bellowed then. “Help Lord Michael gather the holly.”

With a leaden heart, Edwina went.

****

In the end, Lord Angus carried the great pile of greenery in his brawny arms—showing off, no doubt, since he cast more than one look in Edwina’s direction. The rest of them trailed him, most still talking and laughing, the mood light.

Edwina, walking close behind her father, knew a grand repast awaited them in the warm hall, and a masked dance later in the evening. But none of that served to raise her spirits.

What had Lord Julian done with Thorstan? For she did not doubt the despicable Julian had a hand in the fool’s disappearance. Her stomach turned over as she eyed the back of Julian’s head where he walked alongside her father. How could she learn the truth without betraying her feelings? She needed to know if Thorstan had been chased away alive or hauled away otherwise.

Her father’s lands made a valuable and tempting prize—enough to entice a ruthless man to murder?

They entered the hall, where servants bustled around setting out the noontime feast, in a large noisy throng. The greenery made an unwieldy mound against one wall, and with everyone milling about discarding cloaks and shedding snow, Edwina did not at once see the figure lounging beside the fire.

When she did, her heart leaped in her breast and then began to pound madly.

Her fool! But what, oh what, had happened to him? His brown head lay bare and damp, his bright suit hung off him in ruins. Scrapes and bruises mottled his face, and his eyes—formerly so merry—narrowed intently on the face of each man who entered the hall even though he maintained an attitude of casual ease.

Edwina went hot and cold in quick succession. Aye, some ill fate had befallen him, because of her. But at least he lived.

She longed to rush straight to him but knew very well she could not. Instead, she laid her cloak carefully across the hands of a servant and bit her lip. She heard her father’s voice boom out and saw him place a friendly hand on Cormac’s shoulder.

“How about some of your music, my good man, to play us into our feast?”

Nothing loath, Cormac fetched his lute. Soon the troubadours joined in and the confusion in the room intensified.

Edwina’s gaze encountered Thorstan’s and, as if forcibly drawn, she made her way across the hall, feigning a lack of concern.

Ah, and he looked even worse close up, the skin on one cheekbone darkened and split, a lip swollen, one eye puffed. The ruined suit, like his hair, bore streaks of mud.

“What happened to you?” she breathed.

“An attack by a group of men, my lady, last night after you retired.”

“Did you see them?” If he could identify Julian, she might then take the matter to her father.

He did not immediately answer and she searched his eyes, wondering what she saw there. Anger, surely, along with a glint that made him look suddenly dangerous. “I saw no one clearly, but I did hear a voice I will know again.”

“Listen closely,” she bade him, “the next time Lord Julian speaks.”

Thorstan’s gaze quickened. “What do you know, my lady?”

“He has made an implied threat, even while pressing his suit. What can I do for you?” she asked, in longing.

“Naught. We should not be seen together. Quite clearly he watches.”

“Aye.”

“And I would not have any harm befall you, my lady.”

“What could happen to me in the safety of my father’s hall?”

His eyes narrowed further. “Any man whose greed is frustrated may become dangerous.”

Impulsively, she said, “We will take this to my father, tell him what has occurred.”

His gaze held hers with a hint of irony. “And how explain your interest in the fate of a mere fool whilst all these lords are busy leaping through hoops for your attention?”

“I do not care,” Edwina said stubbornly. “I will tell my father I have made my choice—that is, if there is a choice to be made that may join you and me.” For she did not wish to overstep herself on the strength of dreams conjured during a dance in moonlight and kisses stolen in the dark.

Heat kindled in his eyes. “By my very soul, lady, I would lay down my life for the chance of a future with you. But, what to tell Master Cedric? That his daughter, and sole heir, has chosen an untitled commoner? For as you said, ’tis all he will see.”

Edwina lifted her head. “He will not deny me if I tell him my heart.”

Her fool smiled. “You may have been much indulged all your life, love, but this is about a man seeing his legacy safe into the future. I doubt much you will prevail.”

“Then what—?”

“Be canny and careful, and wait. Go now—far too many eyes watch.”

Edwina went, but she carried that precious word—love—in her heart.