The Mermaid's Knight (8 page)

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Authors: Jill Myles

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BOOK: The Mermaid's Knight
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He nodded agreement, and she let out a tiny breath of relief.

“Do you know of the FitzWarren name?” He casually brought his goblet to his lips and drank again, his eyes avoiding her.

She sensed tension in the air, and was more hesitant with her response this time. Again, she shook her head no.

“It is the name of a bastard.” His fingers gripped the goblet tightly; she could see white around his knuckles. At first, she didn’t grasp his immediate meaning. His father was a creep?

Then she realized – it was his parentage.

He was a bastard. Not a jerk, but illegitimate.

It seemed to bother him quite a bit, too, judging from the clench of his jaw. When she didn’t automatically leap up in disgust, he turned to her, studying her expression. “It doesn’t bother you that the man sitting across from you is of less than noble birth?” Leah shrugged idly. Why should it matter who his parents were?

He seemed to take a moment to digest this, then continued. “My father and his legal wife had a rather unhappy marriage. I remember she used to slap me whenever I walked past her. My mother had been one of her chambermaids. My father did not want to claim me as his heir, but

when ten years passed and he had no children by his wife, he legitimized me and named me heir to Northcliffe.”

He paused, thinking hard. “It was shortly before I was to be sent away to squire when Baron Rutledge took over our castle. It seemed that my father had insulted him at a nearby tourney in front of the king, and Baron Rutledge decided to get his revenge by taking Northcliffe, which was rich with goods at the time.”

Another pause and he studied her before he took another drink of wine. “I don’t recall much about that night, but I do remember seeing Rutledge standing over my father. I remember my father begging for mercy and Rutledge laughing in his face. I remember that he took a very long time to kill my father.”

A sick feeling grew in Leah’s stomach.

“I can still hear the screams as Rutledge systematically went through the castle and began to slaughter all that did not bow a knee to him immediately. He slaughtered my father’s wife. My mother.” The grim line of his lips tightened. “I escaped with my younger sister. We knew of a secret passageway and hid there. We escaped to the village the next day. Baron Rutledge found us there.” Very calmly, he placed his wine goblet down and gestured at her food. “You are not eating, Leah.” His eyes were intent on her own.

She raised a hand weakly and shook her head. She couldn’t eat while listening to his tale, as if it were nothing.

“Rutledge found my sister. We had both hidden from him – I with the blacksmith and she with the herbalist. She ran out, screaming, when he set the herbalist’s hut on fire and they ran her through.”

Leah put a hand to her mouth, shaking her head.

“I hid in that stack of hay for two days, until the blacksmith forced me to come out. He fed me and sent me on my way with instructions to go to one of my father’s friends, the man I was to squire with. Lord Bowland kept me hidden until I was of an age to seek out my own revenge.”

The anger and strength was back in his voice, and he ignored her, turning his face toward the window and staring out it without seeing anything. “It was a long time before I became a knight. Longer still until I made my fortune on the tourney circuit, but I did. I trained my men to be the best fighters I could make them. I am now invaluable to King Henry as a vassal. Baron Rutledge could not touch me now if he wanted to.” He turned back to her, his eyes steely. “But I found that was not enough for me. I wanted to break Baron Rutledge. Make him suffer as my family suffered. And I decided long ago that I’d steal everything of value that belonged to him.

His good name.” He smiled, and the expression did not reach his eyes. “His castle. His wealth.” He leaned over and took Leah’s hand in his own, bending low to kiss her knuckles. “His woman.”

Before she could protest, he stood, gesturing at the table. “I will send a servant to come and clean this up after you are done. No more hiding, Leah. I intend to make it known that you are my leman tomorrow.” He swept his gaze over her – a chilling, possessive look – then stalked out of the room.

Leah was frozen, a slice of cheese dangling from her fingers as her mouth gaped. He’d decided with all the force of his personality what he wanted – and he wanted her.

The thought excited her and frightened her all at once.

Chapter Ten

The next day was a long one. Not because of pain – she’d managed to sneak out to the shore late last night and enjoy a long soak in the waters. She’d stayed out most of the night and, as a result, managed to luckily sleep for most of the day.

Ginny arrived with a bundle in her hands and a timid expression on her face. “Mistress,” she said, hesitant. “I know how hard you’ve worked on letting out your gowns…” She paused, and a nervous giggle escaped her when Leah held out the laces. “Nay, mistress. My lord Royce has given me orders that you’re to wear this one. He had one of the castle women cut it down to size for you.”

A vague feeling of dread crept over her and she approached Ginny, extending her hand for the new dress. She saw that it was crafted differently than the other ones. Instead of one set of laces up the back, there were two, one up each side. Soft fabric of a deep, velvety green swirled down the skirts, and Leah suspected that this one would be tailored for her tall form.

Royce wanted to show off his prize.

A bitterly wry smile curved her mouth at the sight of the lovely dress. What would Royce say if he discovered that she wasn’t this Rutledge person’s whore? Would he be half as fascinated with her? She doubted it.

That dark thought turned over and over in her mind as she took off her old, faded dress and allowed Ginny to lace her into the new one. It fit well, Leah had to grudgingly admit as the sleeves settled over her arms. She’d wondered about the extra set of laces when she’d first seen

the dress, but now it was obvious. The different cut of the new dress allowed it to hug her curves

– to emphasize her long, lean body, unlike the other shapeless gowns.

It didn’t help matters when Ginny brought out a length of golden cord and settled it low around her hips, yoking the seductive ‘Y’ at the juncture of her thighs.
Well
, thought Leah with a hint of amusement.
That fashion concept certainly didn’t leave much to the imagination
.

“You look lovely, mistress,” Ginny breathed. “Lord Royce will find it impossible not to fall in love with you tonight.” She brought out a comb and began to work at Leah’s long hair, fretting over the bangs. Eventually she settled on a half-coronet of braids and wove a bit of golden ribbon in. “‘Tis a shame that Lord Royce didn’t think of a wimple for you, Lady Leah.

You would look so lovely with one, and you’ve got a face that it would show off well.” Images of some ghastly medieval contraption perched on her head made Leah giggle at the thought.

Ginny laughed, too and tucked the last bit of ribbon into the braid. “I believe that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh. You should do it more often. It takes that sad look out of your eyes and makes you so pretty.”

Uncomfortable, Leah gave her another faint smile and looked away, picking at a thread on one of her cuffs. Did she look sad? Perhaps that was why Royce had taken such an interest in her – he imagined her as the sad, lonely ex-mistress of his greatest enemy. Easy pickings.

She didn’t want him to think of her as sad. She wanted him to fall in love with her, damn it. Four days down, twenty-seven to go.

When she finished dressing, she followed Ginny down the winding corridors to the great hall. Leah could hear the low rumble of talking voices as they drew closer. Her heart hammered in her throat, and she began to hope fervently that no one would notice their arrival. Ginny gave

her an encouraging smile over her shoulder moments before throwing open the double doors that led to the main hall.

The room was enormously noisy. Crowded, too. The long rows of tables were packed full of men. Soldiers, judging by the common cut of their clothing. A few of them had knowing looks on their faces as they glanced at her, then at the head table.

Leah’s gaze followed theirs. Royce sat at the front of the room, a predatory half-smile on his face that made her knees weak. His gaze shifted over her figure, outlined in the dark green dress, and then back to her face. He looked handsome tonight, she noticed, with his hair neatly combed, his face clean-shaven, and a dark tunic covering his broad shoulders. He sat at the head of his table in a massive chair with a wooden back that rose up behind him. One of his men sat to his left, and no one sat to his right.

She suspected that place was being held for her. As she watched, Royce arched a brow, taunting her. Challenging her. Daring her to turn tail and run from his staring men and the acknowledgement that she would be his leman.

She didn’t. Straightening her shoulders, Leah smoothed her skirt with nervous hands and fixed a brilliant smile on her face. Let him take that. She’d be as beautiful and charming as he wanted her to be tonight.

And elusive, she decided, spotting an empty seat at the end of a nearby table. The rough-looking men gave her surprised looks when she sat down. Well, she’d eat fast and then return to her own chambers.

“Mistress!” Ginny’s voice materialized behind her shoulder and she turned. “You can’t sit there!” The girl sounded scandalized. “‘Tis below the salt!”

Below the salt? What was she talking about? Leah glanced down the table and noticed that all the men were staring at her with rather surprised looks on their faces, and she flushed.

She’d done it again – some medieval faux pas she wasn’t even aware of. Quickly she stood, gathering her skirts and giving Ginny a helpless look.

Ginny took charge. She gave a firm tug and pulled Leah toward the front of the room.

The look on Royce’s face was inscrutable as Ginny dragged her forward and sat her in the chair to the right of his.

Leah sat, her mind racing even as she kept the serene smile on her face. She felt like she was on display at the front of the room. She glanced down at the table. There were no utensils for her, no goblet, but all the same she felt as if it had been waiting for her.

Royce had been waiting for her.

Leah clasped her hands in her lap and turned her serene smile to him.

He was not smiling back at her. A dark look shadowed his face and her smile momentarily faltered at his expression. Royce leaned in and loomed over her face, his eyes searching hers. “No matter how Lord Rutledge may have treated you, madam, when you belong to me, you do not sit below the salt. To do so is an insult to my name as well as yours. Do you understand me?”

Leah flushed. He had misunderstood her error, thinking that Lord Rutledge had sat her in a place of indignity to insult her? She was painting the man to be quite the devil, wasn’t she?

When he reached for her hand and pulled it into his own, her eyes flew to his face. Gone was the grim expression, and in its place was the teasing, seductive smile he’d worn before. He brought her palm up to his lips and placed a soft kiss against the flesh. “I am glad to see you tonight, Leah. Your beauty outshines all others.”

A warm flush shot through her body so swiftly she didn’t have time to react. Dazed at the gentle touch, a soft sigh escaped her.

He regarded her for a moment, then gestured a servant over, motioning to his goblet.

“Bring some spiced wine.”

The servant nodded and returned a few moments later, filling the goblet with a hot liquid.

As she watched, he wiped his mouth, drank, and then offered the goblet to her.

Was she supposed to drink after him, or was this another form of branding her as his own? Wary, Leah glanced around the room, and a quick look showed that most of the diners shared a goblet. Ah. She graciously took the cup from his hands, wiped her mouth in his fashion, remembered to beam him a winning smile, and sipped.

Hot, spicy and not nearly as overpoweringly strong as the last wine. It was delicious. As she sipped, she watched his manners as they brought the food out. Royce’s hands, she noticed, were elegant despite their large size. One of the servants approached with a delicate basin filled with water and held it as Royce washed his hands. The boy turned to her and she placed the goblet aside, mimicking his actions and washing her own hands. Once done, a silver platter with a long, flat length of bread was set before the two of them. Royce took it in hand and broke it in half, handing her one portion. Another hovering servant came and served her several large chunks of dark, cooked meat that she couldn’t identify, along with a few swimmy-looking green things that might have been vegetables. It looked thoroughly unappetizing.

He laughed at the expression on her face. “Not fond of eel, lady?” Eel? As in the sea creature? Her eyes widened and she stared down at her plate. ‘Not fond’ was a gross understatement. She gave a slight shake of her head. Bile crept up the back of her throat, and she reached for the goblet again.

Royce leaned in again as she drank. “I cannot stand it myself, but I did not wish to hurt the cook’s feelings. I’ve been told she’s rather sensitive on such issues.” He took the goblet from her hand and drank after her, his eyes on her face. “I suspect we might have to sneak another repast in the solar after this, if you’re interested. Just the two of us.” Leah gave him a prim shake of her head.

He laughed, grinning at her expression. “You play the game well, lady, but make no mistake. I will catch you, and the prize shall be sweet.” A thrill shot through her at his words. Oh, she had no doubt he’d catch her – he had to if this fairy godmother thing was to be successful at all – but she intended to make him work for it.

She took the goblet from his hands this time, placed her mouth on the same place his had been, and drank deeply, watching him the whole time. Her head buzzed as the thick alcohol ran through her system, but the look in his eyes made her even dizzier.

“My lord,” a page said behind him.

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