Lady Gallant (15 page)

Christian bowed to Lady Jayne, who curtsied according to the moves of the pavane they were dancing. Having returned to the great hall with his guests, he'd been captured by the woman and forced to partner her or appear rude. Jayne tried to burn him with her eyes, but he was distracted by the sight of Nora pacing by with her father. He had had to give her up to Becket. One couldn't refuse a maid's own father, but if he weren't careful Flegge would try to steal her again.

"The disguising house."

He glanced down at Jayne. "What?"

"Meet me at the disguising house."

"Do you have Jack Midnight's head in a bag beneath your skirt?"

"Of course not."

"Then tender me no invitations."

Jayne dug her fingernail into the skin of his palm. "Foul urchin, you're bored with me already, are you not?"

"Cease gouging my flesh at once, or I'll step on the hem of your own gown and your breasts will pop out of their mooring."

Releasing Christian's hand, Jayne did a stately prance in a circle, then returned to him. They began to pace forward once more.

"Such lewd suggestions, my lord. It must be all those years you spent with Midnight that turned you into a ruthless bawd."

He scowled at her. "God's teeth, you're aroused."

"That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Bowing as the music ended, Christian shook his head. "Go away." Giving Jayne no time to protest, he slipped past her to catch up with the retreating Nora and her father.

As he reached the pair, Flegge appeared and snatched Nora's hand. Pressing it to his lips, he begged for a dance. Flegge was about to kiss her hand again, but Christian shoved his own hand beneath the descending mouth and grasped Nora's. Flegge jerked his head back, glaring at Christian.

"I told you, Sir Percivale," Christian said, "Nora Becket's company is forfeit to me and me alone, saving her father." He bowed to William.

Before Flegge or William could reply, Christian hustled Nora away to take up a position among the dancers for another pavane.

"Look what you've done," Nora said as she swayed along beside him. "Father is furious."

"Don't quiver so. He's only a little irked. If you nearly faint at the thought of annoying him, how are you going to tell him you're not marrying the fatuous Flegge?"

"I can't tell him that."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I can't. That's why I'm dressed this way." Abruptly, she frowned and pursed her lips.

"What mean you? You're turning red." Christian stared at the delightful flush, then chuckled. "So that's what convinced you to take my advice and uncover yourself. Fear of Flegge has made you bold."

"Please, my lord. It isn't charitable of you to tease me when I'm so desperate."

"Gather up your courage and tell your father you won't marry Flegge."

"I can't. Father would cast me out. He said so."

"Idle threats. All you need do is stand firm. Once he sees that you won't change your mind, your father will admire your spirit. Men like women of stomach and valor."

"But-"

"Bow, Nora."

She bowed and gave Christian her hand as the dance came to a close.

"My lord."

"I'm going to help you."

"But I can't."

"Yes, you can, if I'm there to give you solace. I'll send your father to the library in a few minutes. When I nod at you, you must leave and meet us there. I'll stand behind the arras in front of the northern door. You stay near it, and I can talk to you without being perceived."

"What will I say?"

"Tell him you won't marry Flegge, lackwit." He escorted Nora to a place near the Duchess of Suffolk's chair. As he turned to leave her, she grabbed his arm.

"I'll never be able to do it," she whispered.

"Do you know where the library is?"

"Yes, but I don't think this is a good idea."

"I'll warn the guards to expect you so that you aren't stopped."

Ignoring Nora's anxious look, Christian set about finding Becket and directing him to the library on the excuse that the earl wanted a private word with him. To Christian's annoyance, Flegge attached himself to Becket's side and accompanied the older man out of the hall.

God's teeth, Christian thought. Nora could hardly face her father. Having Flegge there, too, would send her into a fit. He glanced around the hall in search of Nora. She was still planted beside the Duchess, but she looked too calm to have seen Flegge leave with her father. Christian nodded to her. She pursed her lips, swallowed, and excused herself to the Duchess.

Leaving his father to play host alone, Christian took a circuitous path through the scullery and kitchens to reach the chamber next to the library. There was a connecting door between the room and the library, and an arras hung in the small entry-way that joined them. Christian slipped through the entryway and peered into the library by the gap between the arras and the door frame.

Flegge and Becket stood next to a table in the middle of the room, inspecting the shelves of books. Christian ground his teeth together upon sighting Flegge. The man looked like a fox anticipating making a meal of some unsuspecting chicken.

"And so we agree on the settlement?" Flegge asked.

"I'll have my clerk draw up the documents tomorrow."

"You're sure your daughter won't mind forfeiting her dower house or the income from her lands in Norfolk?"

"You've met Nora. Biddable, that's what she is. Why, I can't remember a time when she disobeyed me. Give her a few pets and some books, and she's happy."

"I'll give her babes, my lord. My family wants issue from this union quickly."

Becket shifted from one foot to the other. "Where is the earl? It's not like him to keep a friend waiting."

Christian backed away from the arras and looked down at his hand in surprise, for it was wrapped tightly around the hilt of his dagger. He didn't remember drawing the weapon.

"S'blood," he whispered.

Fading away, he stalked from chamber to chamber in search of Nora. If she didn't hurry, Becket would have her married that night, so eager was the man to rid himself of his daughter.

His search took him down a gallery and out onto a back landing. Only one candle had been lit there, and he searched the darkness for a glimpse of Nora's white gown.

"Oh, dear."

The words floated up to him from the bottom of the stairs.

"Nora?"

"My lord? I'm lost."

"Marry, lady, I know that. You're almost in the cellar." Christian cursed under his breath as he realized what he'd said. "Hold! Nora, stay where you are. Don't go any farther."

Snatching the candle from its sconce on the wall, Christian charged down the stairs to the first sharp turn. There Nora stood, skirts gathered in both hands, blinking at him.

"Your father is waiting," he said.

"Ahhh!"

Nora jumped and dashed behind Christian, then peered down the stairs into darkness.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Nothing. Probably servants at my ale kegs again." Christian turned and began shoving her up the stairs in front of him.

"Eeeeh."

"God's sacred body," Christian said as old Tom Birch whizzed up the stairs beside him. "Get you gone, crackbrain."

Christian lifted a foot to kick the lackwitted heretic, but Tom shrank against a wall and shook his head so vigorously, his beard seemed to take flight.

"Rats, my lord. Rats as big as dogs be living down there."

Moving to stand in front of the curious Nora, Christian grabbed the neck of Tom's gown and lifted the smaller man off his feet. Controlling his rage, Christian spoke quietly, yet Tom cringed.

"Get your puling carcass below or I'll mince your flesh for a pasty." Christian dropped his victim, and Tom scuttled backward, his mouth working noiselessly. He stumbled back down the stairs.

Nora poked her head around Christian's shoulder. "Who was that?"

"A lazy old minion of my father's."

"He didn't look like a servant."

"Father spoils old Tom with gifts of clothing and an allowance because Tom had charge of him when he was a child. Hurry. Your father may be gone by now."

He urged her up the stairs again, giving her no chance to ponder old Tom. Christian was going to get rid of those thrice-cursed heretics upon the morrow. He was lucky it was only Nora who'd seen Tom.

They reached the library door. Christian left Nora there and crept into position behind the arras. By the time he got there, Nora was in the room. She stood huddled against the door as if she were a deer cornered by wolves. Since Becket and Flegge had their backs to him, Christian parted the arras and beckoned to Nora. In her panic she'd forgotten to stand near him.

Her eyes widened when she saw him peer out from behind the tapestry, and she stuttered in her greeting of Flegge. Chris-tian slipped back behind the cloth and watched her walk around her father and come toward him, wringing her hands.

"Sir Percivale has consented to the betrothal," Becket was saying. "We will sign the contracts tomorrow."

Flegge began a courtly address to Nora that sent Christian's hand groping for his dagger again. And Nora stood silent. Christian scowled at her back through the slim gap of the two halves of the arras, then jabbed her ribs with his finger. She squeaked, but only he heard her. Still she said nothing, and Flegge progressed to the crimson beauty of her cheeks. From the smirk on his face, Christian knew he wasn't talking about Nora's face. He poked her again. Nora stuttered, but Flegge ignored her and continued his address.

Christian put his lips close to the arras and hissed at her, "Speak up."

Silence.

"Tell him."

Nothing.

Neither Flegge nor Becket were looking at Nora. In desperation, Christian reached and pinched her bottom.

"Oh!" She jumped and thrust her hands behind her back.

Flegge paused in his discourse. Becket looked up from the book he was studying, and both men stared at Nora.

Christian cupped a hand to his mouth and whispered, "I do not wish for this betrothal."

"I do not wish for this betrothal," Nora said.

Flegge's mouth went slack, and he turned to Becket.

Roaring his daughter's name, Becket pounded his fist on the table. "You must be possessed. You would deny my word? By God, I'll teach you obedience."

Nora gasped and took a step back from her father as he stalked around the table to stand beside Flegge.

Again Christian whispered, "I won't marry Percivale Flegge."

"I w-won't—"

This time Becket's roar made even Flegge cringe. It sent Nora farther back into the arras, and Christian had to steady her with a hand against her back. He couldn't see anything with her so close, but he could hear her stuttering protest and Becket's curses.

"You'll obey me or suffer for it," Becket said. "I'll give you this night to contemplate your sin before I beat some virtue into your dimwitted skull."

To Christian's alarm, Becket grasped Nora by the arm and thrust her out of the room. He apologized to Flegge, muttered something about finding out what had happened to the earl, and left. Christian was about to leave as well to find Nora, when he heard Flegge growl.

"A pox on it," the man said to himself. "What a man must endure for the sake of gold and an heir."

Christian lifted the arras and stepped into the library. "Methinks you'd avoid any mention of the pox."

Flegge whirled around to face Christian.

"What do you here, Montfort?"

"This is my house," Christian replied. "I can't take a moment's respite from a host's duties without coming upon disputations and discord."

Puffing up his chest, Flegge began to circle around Christian like a fencer looking for an opponent's weakness. "You were spying."

"What makes you think you can father an heir? You've never begotten so much as one whelp on any of your whores."

"You presume to concern yourself with my affairs?"

Christian took no notice of the circling Flegge. He rested his hips on a table and leaned back, contemplating a bookstand.

"You make bold with an innocent like Nora Becket," he said, "when you'd do better to mate with a woman whose appetites match your own." He finally stabbed Flegge with his glance, and the man paused. " 'Forgo your dream, poor fool of love.' "

Flegge planted himself in front of Christian. Crossing his arms over his chest, he jeered at the younger man. "I'll marry where I list."

Thrusting his body upright, Christian curled one hand around the neck of Flegge's brocaded doublet while placing his other hand on the hilt of his dagger.

"Marry Nora Becket and I'll send you to hell much sooner than you'd wish."

Flegge tugged at Christian's fist and snarled. "Get your foul hands from me, Montfort. I know your game. You want her for yourself, and haven't been able to seduce her yet. Becket's offer is ill-timed for your schemes. You want her for yourself."

Flegge succeeded in freeing his doublet because Christian suddenly dropped it. He turned away to stroll idly over to the bookstand. He flipped through a few pages of the Greek text resting there as he spoke.

"Say rather that I don't want you to have her."

"You'd have me believe you've turned virtue's champion after years of teaching the most jaded lords in the kingdom new sins?" Flegge snorted. "There is naught so vile as a jade masquerading as a saint. If you're going to cultivate a virtue, Mont-fort, try honesty. Admit that your cock is leading your brain and you can't endure the thought of anyone else having what you want."

Closing the book, Christian spread his hands out flat on the leather backing. He could hear Flegge's breathing, labored from his prancing around the room. It was the only sound in the library. Without turning around to face Flegge, Christian jerked his head in the direction of the door.

"Get out."

"I want your word that you'll leave Nora be."

"Begone, you simpleminded grub, before I decide to cut out your tongue and make you eat it."

Christian waited until he heard the door close before lifting his hands from the book. They were shaking with the fury that threatened to consume him. What ailed everyone? His father, Flegge, even Inigo Culpepper accused him of being besotted. He held up his right hand and watched it tremble. Balling it into a fist, he struggled to deny the urge to fly after Percivale Flegge and beat the man until his bones turned to sand.