Part 7 (1/2)
”Biddy!” Servanne gasped, jolted wide awake.
”But you! I thank the Lord your sweet, saintly mother did not live to see such a thing. And with such a one as him! him! Sweet Sweet Jesu Jesu, had I but suspected such a need in you, I would rather have seen you serviced by one of the guardsmen along the way-”
”Biddy!”
”-than by that great, l.u.s.tful brute! At least it could have been arranged with some discretion! Not like this! Not ... not brazenly brazenly walking through the hall, with him naked as a bull and you”-Biddy waved a hand in unfathomable distress- walking through the hall, with him naked as a bull and you”-Biddy waved a hand in unfathomable distress-”you hanging off his neck, looking as if you could scarce wait to have a bed beneath you!” hanging off his neck, looking as if you could scarce wait to have a bed beneath you!”
Servanne made a strangled sound in her throat and sat bolt upright. ”Biddy! What are you saying? What are you accusing me of doing?”
”Do you deny you were hanging off his neck when he carried you in here?” Biddy demanded with narrowed eyes.
”I was not hanging off his neck!. hanging off his neck!. I was in a faint!” I was in a faint!”
”So would any normal woman be to see the size of him,” came the scandalized retort. ”Curse me if I did not think he had grown a third arm to support you!”
Servanne flushed. ”Biddy! He was naked because he was bathing in the pond. I fainted because I was ... I was exhausted-you, of all people should know why! And he must have carried me back here because I could not walk the distance on my own.”
Biddy stopped fussing with the bit of linen long enough to arch a brow sardonically. ”And I suppose he helped you out of your clothing because he was concerned they might choke you in your sleep? I suppose he remained with you in here for nigh unto an hour because he was worried you might not be able to fall asleep on your own?”
Servanne clutched the layer of furs to her naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s. ”He ... unclothed me?”
”He did indeed. And And he enjoyed the view for considerably longer than it should have taken to fold the garments and lay them neatly aside-had he troubled himself to do so, that is.” he enjoyed the view for considerably longer than it should have taken to fold the garments and lay them neatly aside-had he troubled himself to do so, that is.”
Servanne followed an accusing finger and felt her mouth go dry at the sight of her gown and under-garments strewn across the earthen floor. She swallowed hard and pressed a trembling hand to her temple.
”I do not remember,” she whispered. ”I do not remember anything after I fainted.”
Yet that was not exactly the truth either and she did not have to hear Biddy's snort of disdain to feel the heat creeping upward in her cheeks. She did remember something-a feeling, or a sensation of intense warmth and pleasure. But ... it was not possible for him to have lain with her and not left something of his presence behind.
Servanne flung the pelts aside and examined herself critically, searching for bruises or faded blotches that would either condemn or vindicate her in Biddy's eyes. There was nothing, however. No marks on the ivory smoothness of her body, no scent of human contact, no telltale tenderness between her thighs. Surely a man of his size, his weight, his temperament would have left a mark of some kind, either branded onto her body or seared into her mind.
Lacking proof one way or the other, she drew upon her anger. ”Where were you all this time? How do you know he was alone with me for an hour? Why were you not here by my side to defend and protect me?”
A new flood of tears sprang from the matron's hazel eyes. ”I tried, my lady! Oh how I tried to run to your side! It was that wretched Woodc.o.c.k who held me back. Firstly, he led me on a merry chase around the forest. Then, when he finally returned to the abbey-just in time to see the outlaw leader bringing you in here-the rogue drew his knife and bade me sit in company with several other ruffian misfits while his lord 'attended his private affairs privately.' To have moved or cried out would have earned a blade thrust into my breast, and I did not see how I, dead upon the ground of a pierced breast, could have been of any further use to you.”
”What use are you to me now,” Servanne snapped, trembling with anger, ”when you refuse to believe me when I say I have no memory of what happened, and no cause to feel shame or guilt over my behaviour!”
A second anguished wail from Biddy's throat sent Servanne's eyes rolling skyward and her hands crus.h.i.+ng against her temples. A further distraction-the swirl of her uncombed, unfettered hair around her shoulders-sent her anger boiling in another direction.
”Where is he? Where is the rogue: I shall have the truth from him myself!”
”Oh! Oh, my lady, no. No!”
”My clothes,” Servanne commanded. ”My combs, my wimple-where are they?”
”Not within my grasp, my lady,” Biddy replied, sniffling wetly. ”What trunks were fetched with us in the ambuscade have not appeared since. Where they are or what has become of the contents, I cannot say.”
”Never mind, then. Just help me dress.”
Biddy hastened to collect up the scattered garments. The gown was slightly more crumpled and stained from its stay on the floor, as were the knee garters and short silken hose. The samite surcoat was nowhere to be seen, but Biddy removed her own plain gray mantle and wrapped it securely about her charge's shoulders for warmth. She was about to part and plait the tousled skeins of hair into more modest and manageable braids, but Servanne pushed the fussing hands away and swept out into the corridor.
After a moment's pause to gain her bearings, she followed the dank stone hall to the right. It emerged at the top of a shallow flight of steps overlooking the pilgrims' hall at a point midway between two of the roofless stone arches. The scene before her appeared much as it had the previous evening, with fires crackling in the roasting pit, and torches burning smokily from their wall sconces. Cauldrons bubbled steamy clouds of aromatic mist into the cooler air, adding to the dull sheen of moisture that clung to the charred walls and broken ribs of the abbey.
Trestle tables had once again been set in an open-sided square under the sheltered portion of the roof. He He was sitting there on the dais, the vest of black wolf pelts reflecting glints of fire and torchlight. He was engrossed in a conversation with Gil Golden, but when the latter's eyes flicked to the far wall, the Black Wolf stopped and followed his stare. was sitting there on the dais, the vest of black wolf pelts reflecting glints of fire and torchlight. He was engrossed in a conversation with Gil Golden, but when the latter's eyes flicked to the far wall, the Black Wolf stopped and followed his stare.
Servanne had no notion of the image she presented, nor would she have cared a potter's d.a.m.n if she had. The dark woolen cloak she wore completely encased her slender body from shoulders to toes, leaving only the wild, voluminous cascade of silver-blonde hair to outline an ethereal image against the shadows. The ghostlike apparition startled several of the outlaws, even those who were open in their scorn for the legends and superst.i.tions surrounding Thornfeld Abbey. Many went so far as to reach instinctively for their weapons before recognizing the figure as being of this mortal earth.
The Wolf rose and walked slowly around the end of the table and down the hall. If not for the fickle light that kept his features veiled in shadow, she might have noticed the strange gleam that mellowed the gray of his eyes, softened them, even, to a shade verging on pale blue.
”I trust you are feeling better for your rest?” he asked.
Servanne said nothing until he had come to a full halt before her. When she did speak, it was in a voice so low he almost had to bend forward to hear.
”I trust you enjoyed the liberties you took while while I was resting?” I was resting?”
”Liberties, my lady?”
”How dare you touch touch me,” she snapped, ”let alone remove so much as a slipper from my foot!” me,” she snapped, ”let alone remove so much as a slipper from my foot!”
”Ahh,” he said, and straightened. ”Those ”Those liberties. You would have preferred to sleep in cold, wet clothes?” liberties. You would have preferred to sleep in cold, wet clothes?”
”My clothing was not wet,” she objected. ”I was no nearer the edge of the water than I am to you now.”
His grin broadened. ”You were very nearly headfirst into the mud and weeds had I not caught you in time. Furthermore ...” His gaze raked appreciatively down the shapeless form of the cloak and left no doubt as to what he recalled seeing beneath. ”I did what any chivalrous fellow would do to save his lady the possible discomfort of fever or flux.”
Servanne clenched her small hands into fists. ”I am not not your lady. And if you were so concerned over my health, why did you not call my waiting-woman to attend me?” your lady. And if you were so concerned over my health, why did you not call my waiting-woman to attend me?”
”I could have,” he agreed blithely, ”but I thought it a convenient opportunity to a.s.sess the precise value of the goods I am holding to ransom. Had I done so earlier, I heartily believe I would have put a much higher price on returning them undamaged.”
”Then ... you did not-” Servanne bit her lip, resenting the flow of ruddy colour that made his smile widen further.
”I am crushed, indeed, my lady, that you should have to ask.”
”Biddy believes you did more than see to my comfort. She does not believe I have no recollection of what happened after I fainted beside the pool.”
”My reputation as a lecher will be in shreds,” he murmured.
”Did you or did you not take ill advantage, sirrah?” she demanded, giving her foot a little stamp of annoyance.
”If I did?”
”If you did”-she searched his face in vain for a trace of humanity-”then you are a lower, viler creature than ever I could have imagined.”
The Wolf laughed. ”I was under the impression your estimation of my character could sink no lower than it was already.”
”I have erred before in crediting a man with too much character,” she retorted. ”For that matter, most men in general tend to show a glaring lack of consistency when their true faces come into the light.”
”Spoken like a woman who is tired of being sold into marriages with one stranger after another.”
”Nay, wolf's head. I am simply tired of men who continually deign to know what is best for me and who then proceed to rearrange my my life to suit life to suit their their needs.” needs.”