“Both admirable reasons,” Richard said sagely. “Neither of which are particularly like you, Grendel. What is your real reason for choosing plain Alys over the lovely Claire?”
“Perhaps because I don’t consider Lady Alys to be the slightest bit plain, my lord,” he said.
It worked, as well as he could have hoped. Brother Jerome nodded in approval. Lady Claire looked suitably pleased at the praise to her sister, something which raised her a notch in his esteem. Lady Alys managed to lift her gaze from the bread in front of her to cast a curious, hopeful glance in his direction. It was, of course, tinged with doubt, but he was already used to the lady’s intelligence. She would take nothing at face value. He would have to work hard to keep her off balance, but he always relished a challenge. It kept him alert.
“Reasonable, I suppose,” Richard announced. “I should be used to your odd ways by now. When do you wish to be wed?”
If he answered in three months’ time, the wedding would be performed that day. And while he had a great deal of interest in seducing shy Lady Alys, he wasn’t particularly eager for the complications of marriage quite yet.
“As soon as it pleases you, my lord.”
Richard rose to the bait, as always. “We shall see. Lady Hedwiga will have something to say in the matter, and I expect she’ll insist on waiting. My sister needs time to accustom herself to the change in her circumstances. She’s not used to men, and she’s certainly not used to men like you. You need to woo her, Grendel. Court the girl. Write her love poems. Bring her flowers. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Alys?” he demanded.
Alys looked up, her hazel eyes wide with relief. “Yes, my lord,” she said softly. And Simon knew perfectly well it was the delay in their nuptials, not the anticipated courtship, that she found pleasing.
“If he wants you, and for some reason he seems to, then he’ll have to earn you,” Richard pronounced, draining his ale. “Though I shudder to think of what offspring he’ll get on you.”
And Simon of Navarre noticed lazily that Lady Alys shuddered as well.
The curving stairwell was shadowed, lit only by the narrow arrow slits, but Claire moved swiftly downward, keeping her full skirts tight to her body. She didn’t dare change her clothes—it would cause too much comment, and right now the smartest thing she could do would be to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.
A difficult thing, given the looks God had graced her with. Alys loved to tease her about her vanity, but indeed, it was no such thing. As she had told Alys, the pleasing contours of her face and form were no accomplishment of hers, and therefore nothing to take pride in. She had been fashioned a beauty by a generous God, and while she took pleasure in that fact, she took no responsibility.
Brother Emory had warned her, the holy sisters had warned her, and they’d been right. This was her first trip out into the world, and she had discovered she was, indeed, extraordinary. They stared at her when she moved through the halls, the old women with pleasure, the young ones with jealous anger. And the men.
She shuddered. She disliked the hunger she could see in their moist eyes, their thick-lipped mouths. Even her own brother let his red-rimmed eyes travel over her with a look that felt like a touch, and she hated it.
There were only three men in that castle of men who seemed impervious to her: the magician, Simon of Navarre, who possessed an entirely illogical desire for her older sister; and Brother Jerome, whose calling and whose goodness precluded lustful thoughts.
And then there was the knight The handsome one, who stared at her with cool dislike, the only one in a crowd of leering men. It was no wonder he’d caught her eye.
Perhaps he wasn’t that handsome. He was tall enough, and his pale hair was cut short in the Norman style, presumably to fit under his helm. He looked very strong, very stern, with flinty blue eyes that never seemed to soften, a hard mouth that never seemed to smile. He looked at her with blatant disapproval, and her mischievous nature had immediately been aroused.
She had more important things to think about this morning than a dour knight, however. She’d managed to escape the tower room Richard had allotted them, but just barely. Alys was ill, with a pounding in her head that she insisted was nothing dangerous; she simply needed peace and quiet. While the serving women sat by her side, Claire had slipped behind the tapestry and out into the empty hallway, intent on finding her way to the stables.
She’d been too long without seeing Arabia. She’d raised the mare from a foal, and there was no greater bond between horse and mistress imaginable. She loved her sleek, beautiful horse with a passionate intensity. The only creature who took precedence was Alys, and while Claire loved her more than Arabia, she would far rather spend time with the horse.
She had no idea whether she’d be able to escape the stifling confines of Summersedge Keep and go for a run through the countryside, the wind slapping her in the face. She needed fresh air, away from the smell of men and dogs and smoke. She needed the sun on her face, or the rain drenching her skin, she didn’t care which, as long as she was out in the fresh air.
There was a door into the courtyard at the bottom of the tower, and she stepped out, keeping close to the walls. The kitchen buildings were a hive of activity;
