For now, it pointed to her story being real. All the more reason to stay away from her.
He made it home in time for supper, but he had no intentions of going into the great hall. He did look inside the open door when he passed it. He found her immediately. She sat with Elia at a different table. She smiled and looked spellbinding doing it, but there was a deep sadness in her eyes. Was he the only one who saw it? Elia was a clever woman. She would pick Miss Locksley’s thoughts to pieces, until she discovered the truth.
“Are you going in, my lord?”
Nicholas scowled and growled down at William, Reg’s eldest son. He was twelve, just like young prince Edward, but nothing like the king’s son.
“Are you going in?” he countered, gravelly.
“Who were you staring at?” the brat demanded.
“Get moving,” Nicholas ordered. “Before I kick your arse all the way to your seat.”
The boy hurried in, calling to his father and drawing all attention to Nicholas. Miss Locksley was already looking his way.
He felt his scowl growing darker, harder. Had she seen him watching her? There was nothing else to do now but go inside. He didn’t want to eat with everyone, but it was too late now. He was here. And so was Miss Locksley. He gathered his wits and control and walked inside.
Boldly, she watched him. He lifted his hand to his hair, his chest. He became acutely aware of how he was walking. As he grew closer to his chair at the head of his table, he decided he didn’t want to sit there with Reg and Adele. But sitting with Miss Locksley was a bad idea. No matter what her story was, it turns out poorly for him.
He yanked his chair from under the table and sat.
Adele lifted her hand to her head and then glared at him when her husband spoke. “Nicholas, can you not make your chair screech across—”
Nicholas pulled himself and the chair in, adding banging to the screeching.
Now Margaret added her hateful glare with her lady’s.
Nicholas held up his cup for some ale, ignoring them and Reg’s flaring nostrils.
“I will sit in my castle however I wish,” he said quietly, calmly. “I will say what I wish and do what I wish, without worrying about offending any of you. You were not invited here. Have you forgotten?”
Reg looked at Adele. Whatever they spoke in their heads to each other worked because they nodded and softened their expressions.
Nicholas set his icy gaze on Margaret the maid while a server poured ale into his cup. Margaret was in her late thirties, never married, and wanted Nicholas in her bed more than anything else in the world. That was what she told him anyway.
His eyes sparked with a challenge. Would she say something about the noise he made? No. She remained quiet.
The ale was watered down. He would speak to the servers about it later.
He looked over to where Miss Locksley sat and watched her while she spoke to Elia and the others sitting around her. She seemed to be settling into her new surroundings. She was no longer crying and going on about the future. He hoped.
She should be sitting with him so that he could manage her conversations. And keep her from the stake. He would speak to Elia about it later. He’d have to make something up. Even Elia couldn’t know their guest’s beliefs.
These responsibilities on his shoulders didn’t bother him. He had strong shoulders. He was built for this. It was Reg, his only living relative, who hated him since they were children, but liked him enough as an adult to come for a visit and never leave that made his mood so foul.
He was sorry he’d come inside. Being in the same room with her was as bad as sitting right next to her. He was aware of her. He could see her through his side vision. His neck was beginning to ache from tilting in her direction.
The only thing that made supper quite extraordinary was an appetizing little cake with some kind of fluffy, stiff sweet mixture atop it. It was set down before him on the table. In fact, one cake was given to everyone at all the tables.
“A cupcake!” the head server called out and then motioned toward Miss Locksley.
She stood up. “A lemon and meringue cupcake,” she announced. “It’s a recipe handed down to me by my grandmother. Cook and I made enough for everyone.”
A few people clapped. Most stared at her and then at her cupcake.
He held one up and examined it. The meringue, as she called it, was white and sticky.
“It’s made with egg whites and sugar. And a little cream of tartar which, thankfully, your cook had. It’s quite sweet.
“Ingenious.” Nicholas didn’t hesitate to sink his teeth into his. He sat back. He’d never tasted anything like it. “Delicious,” he called out and ate the rest.
He couldn’t help but smile at her again when after her first bite, she came away with meringue on the tip of her nose. Apparently, it was happening all over the hall, for laughter could be heard from every bench.
Nicholas ached to stand up and walk to her bench. But she was hanging on the precipice of something and he didn’t want to fall with her.
But finally, he jumped.
Chapter Seven
Nicholas stood up, turned his feet, and marched toward her table.
When he reached her bench, he motioned for Charlie Mayfair, one of the guardsmen, who was sitting next to her, to move.
“Aye, Commander,” Charlie said and left without another word.
“You didn’t tell me you were a commander,” Miss Locksley said as he sat.
He smiled. Slightly. “My fighting skills didn’t prove
