Part 13 (2/2)

9.

Sir David erupted out of my lady's solar. He didn't notice me or anything else. His lips were tucked tight and his face was red, but I didn't read the signs of interrupted pleasure on his face. Usually I knew, for to speak to one of the men when they were nursing blue ballocks could bring on a cuffing or worse. But I didn't think Sir David would bother with something so trivial as mounting a woman. Of course, I badly wanted the man I so idolized to marry Lady Alisoun, my lady and my liege, but I never considered that their union would end with two bodies wrestling on a bed.

As Sir David strode toward the outer door, I shoved a large chunk of bread in my mouth and scampered after him. I had to know whether my ploy had succeeded, for in my eleven-year-old mind the only thing standing in the way of Lady Alisoun's love for Sir David had been Sir David's own behavior. By dint of coaxing and instruction, I had turned him from a crude, common knight to a prieux chevalier, and now I expected my reward to be the happy news of their betrothal.

Instead Sir David snarled like a grumpy old tomcat. ”Put on your boots. We're going out.”

And when I tried to tell him I didn't need boots in the summer, he looked at me and I found myself scrambling to obey. While I tried to squeeze my rapidly growing feet into the boots that pinched, he loitered in the great hall, teasing Heath in quite a normal manner and playing peek-and-squeal with baby Hazel.

Philippa allowed it now. She no longer treated Sir David as if he were a fork-tongued viper. Neither did she leave her baby alone with him.

When I finally had my boots on I rushed at Sir David. Gently, he wiped the drool off the baby's chin and waved bye-bye, and I demanded, ”Did Lady Alisoun like the kitten?”

”You gave her a kitten?” Philippa sounded scandalized.

Standing up straight, Sir David glared at her. ”Why shouldn't I?”

His stare might have been a fist. Philippa s.n.a.t.c.hed her baby, holding her so tight Hazel howled, and shrank back against the wall.

Sir David muttered an oath and stomped from the great hall, and I followed. Slamming the outside door open, he stepped out on the landing before he said, ”You don't have to tell everyone everything we planned.”

Well, he hurt my feelings. I was young, but I wasn't stupid. I hadn't told anyone what we planned, and I couldn't see what harm it did that Philippa knew he'd given Lady Alisoun a kitten. She was only a maid. By her speech I knew she was probably an obscure cousin of Lady Alisoun, and fostered in a n.o.ble household. But I was being fostered in a n.o.ble household, too, and if I failed to become a knight, I'd be nothing. Less than nothing. A mere servant like Philippa.

I guess some of my thoughts showed on my face, because all of a sudden Sir David ruffled my hair. ”Lady Alisoun will come to love it as she loved her other cat.”

David knew he ought to tell Eudo the truth. It would be bracing, like this fresh breeze. He ought to explain that Eudo's mistress was a cold woman who wanted labor for her money and feared affection because of the loss it eventually brought. It would save the lad from later disappointment. But he didn't. Instead he ruffled Eudo's hair and lied.

Eudo grinned as he led the way down the stairs and into the bailey. ”I knew it. I knew it! That was the best idea I've had yet. You stick with me, Sir David, and I'll turn you into the perfect mate for the lady. Why, right now I bet she's cradling the kitty just as she'll later cradle your babes.”

Eudo's confidence amazed David, and he was already overwhelmed from an excess of unrequited pa.s.sion. After that tiny, dark chamber, the summer suns.h.i.+ne seemed a tonic and he soaked it up as he strode toward the stables. ”You may be antic.i.p.ating a little too much.”

”Why?” Eudo demanded, quick as a squirrel to pick up acorns.

”The lady doesn't seem to like me.”

Sometimes young Eudo displayed a frighteningly adult comprehension. ”She's been kissing you again, hasn't she? I'd say she likes you a lot.”

Abruptly, David's sense of humor returned. ”Mayhap, but she shows it too infrequently.”

”You're the one who decided that restraint would win her.” Eudo was still young enough to sulk. ”I saw no reason to wait.”

”You're impatient, lad.” But not as impatient as David. He badly wanted to go home to Radcliffe. Last month, Guy of the Archers had sent a message back with Alisoun's servant. The drought seemed to be broken and everything was growing with the summer. His daughter grew, too, and Sir David ached because he missed her.

He wanted to find that which threatened Alisoun and rid her of it at once so he could go home. She still didn't trust him with the information he needed, and that both infuriated and relieved him. After all, he needed this time to court Alisoun. He wanted to learn her preferences and cater to them. If he could leave, he would forget all about those twelve sacks of wool and rush away. Then Alisoun would never allow him to take a permanent place at her side.

Still, the sense of urgency propelled him, and he wished to woo Alisoun rapidly, rush her into bed, circ.u.mvent her clever mind with more of his kisses. But he had become a legend by being a tactical genius, and it didn't take half his genius to know that wouldn't work with Alisoun. With Alisoun, he had to be crafty and reserved. He had to let her make her own decision about him while tipping the scales in his favor.

Eudo had apparently decided he'd been quiet long enough, for he piped up, ”What are we going to do?”

”Train squires.” David bit off the words, and Eudo retreated back into silence.

So David had been trapped in her tiny accounting chamber for an hour, talking about hopes and dreams like some castrated monk while she said nothing. He might have been talking to himself for as little as she understood. The only smart thing he'd done was hug her, for that proved that she'd been thinking about him more than he'd realized, and certainly more than she would like.

Unfortunately for him, he'd been thinking about her, too. Thinking with a particularly active organ, and wondering if she could possibly be as good as she appeared to be.

Not good with estate management or good to her people, but good in bed. It had gotten to the point where he feared to touch her for any reason, or he'd never stop. He could have sneaked into the village and swived one of the very available women, and Alisoun wouldn't have known, but he didn't want to. He dreamed about her long, cool hands on his body and her tall, warm body moving under him on the bed...or on a table.

He'd built a fire on that table with the two of them as kindling. A youth of seventeen would have shown more restraint. If he knew anything about women-and his knowledge was dated, but surely they hadn't changed-she would bolster her defenses when next they met.

”But her hair is red,” he said aloud.

Eudo c.o.c.ked his head. ”Sir David?”

”Lady Alisoun's hair is red.”

”It's not so bad,” Eudo said defensively.

”Bad?” David grabbed Eudo's shoulder and stopped him. ”Who says it's bad?”

”The priest says red hair is a sign the fires of h.e.l.l reign. I think she should replace him, but he's old and he's been here forever, so she won't turn him out.”

The pinch-faced priest who said Ma.s.s every morning should indeed be replaced. He was stone-deaf and half-blind, with a sour disposition that showed itself at random times as he hobbled through the castle. His disapproval, especially if he was Alisoun's childhood confessor, explained why she kept the flame of her hair guarded by such stern coverings. It made David all the more intrigued with the way she relished its freedom when she loosened it.

Eudo leaped ahead of David and held the stable door open. When David had pa.s.sed, he carefully shut the door. David realized the lad foresaw trouble. He was right, of course, but it wouldn't be Eudo's trouble. It was all David's, and Louis, by G.o.d, was going to share it.

As he neared Louis's stall, he heard a loud, rude snort and a banging noise, and saw a stableboy come flying over the top rail of one of the stalls. Louis stuck his head over the top and bared his yellow teeth at the youth, and the lad glared back as he painfully stood up.

”There you are,” David said, walking up to his horse and letting him smell his arm. ”Have they been taking good care of you?”

Louis grumbled, making sounds from his belly that kept Eudo and the lad well back.

”Stop stomping the stableboys every time they come in to feed or groom you,” David advised, ”and you'll have no more complaints.”

Belligerently, the lad said, ”He's nasty.”

Eudo turned on him, fists doubled. ”He's Louis, the legendary destrier. You can't say he's nasty, Siwate.”

Siwate took a fighting stance. ”Can, too.”

”Cannot.”

”I can say anything I want to you.” Siwate sneered. ”You're just a little b.a.s.t.a.r.d my lady took in out of pity.”

<script>