A VOW TO KEEP (The Vengeance Trilogy) (14 page)

With a promise to visit again on the morrow, Alyna moved into the great hall, still empty except for a few servants setting up the long trestle tables and benches for the evening meal. A few words had some of the maids clearing the old rushes from the floor and going in search of fresh ones. She had the other servants line up the tables at an angle to the head table so all who dined there could see her grandfather. Clean tablecloths were found. A more thorough cleaning of the hall would have to wait until the next day. She and Enid had their work cut out for them.

Alyna returned to her chamber to make herself presentable but found the room empty. Her kirtle was dirty from her activities so she searched inside the chest Enid and Charles had brought. Her thoughts drifted back to the scare with Nicholas. The incident would give her nightmares for weeks. Thank goodness Royce had been able to control his mount and avoid trampling her son.

What had Nicholas meant when he spoke of a black horse hurting him? Was it merely something from a child’s overactive imagination or an event he knew of because of his second sight?

She longed to have someone to discuss his budding gift with, for what else could it be? Someone who understood and could help make sense of the things Nicholas said or did. There was no point in discussing it with Enid. The maid refused to believe in Myranda’s abilities, let alone a young boy just past four years of age having that kind of gift.

The chest revealed little that caught her fancy. The garments all held the familiar scent of lavender, but nothing there could compete with what Florence had worn earlier in the day. She wondered what Royce thought of Lady Florence.

Just thinking of him made her catch her breath. Lord, but he was handsome. Not just his face was pleasant to look upon. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of his broad shoulders and narrow hips. Something about him stirred her in a way she hadn’t known she was capable of feeling.

She shed her gown but kept on her linen shift as she pondered her meager choices.

Enid entered the room. “There you are, my lady. I’d wondered where you’d gone. I’ve left Nicholas with Charles for a time with stern instructions to keep an eye on him.” She watched Alyna sort through the chest. “What is it you hope to find in there?”

Somewhat embarrassed at being caught in her indecision, Alyna merely shrugged. “There is another lady here–my great-aunt. She dresses quite nicely, and, by way of comparison, I didn’t want to look as though I’m better suited to scrub the floor.”

Enid smiled and shook her head. “Should you be dressed in sack cloth, you wouldn’t look like that.” She reached into the chest. “How about the plum-colored bliaut, my lady? We could use the cream riband to lace it.”

A short time later, Alyna pushed her feet into her soft leather shoes, and smoothed her hands down her gown, pleased with her appearance. The gown clung tightly to her slim figure and the color was quite complimentary. Enid placed a circlet with a sheer veil over her hair. Alyna felt better, knowing she looked her best.

“You look lovely, my lady.”

“Why, thank you, Enid. Will you be sitting by Charles this eve?”

The maid gave her a suspicious glare. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just surprised how well the two of you traveled together without shredding each other to pieces,” she said, delighted when Enid’s cheeks flushed. “You haven’t said an unkind thing about Charles since you arrived.”

“Well, of late, he seems to have found some intelligent and rather interesting things to say.” Enid took a thorough survey of Alyna, then pinched her cheeks to give them some color, adjusted her gown one last time, and turned her toward the door. “Be off with you.”

Alyna entered the hall with resolve. Somehow, before the night was over, she would find a way to speak with Royce and tell him of Edward’s comments. She would remain calm and not act like the simpleton she always felt like when he was near.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him. She’d never seen him without his mail–and she had to say he looked even more dangerous without it. Amazingly, his shoulders and chest looked no narrower covered by the burgundy tunic he wore than they had when covered with mail. The deep color set off the steel gray of his eyes and the light streaks in his hair.

The only thing marring his appearance was the hand of Lady Florence, which rested possessively on his arm. Unless Alyna was mistaken, the older woman flirted with Royce. Lord Blackwell sat on Royce’s other side, sipping from a cup as he looked about the hall.

Just as Alyna had feared, Florence had outdone herself with her attire. She favored the color gold this time, though Alyna wasn’t certain why as it didn’t flatter her fair coloring. There was gold in her hair net and matching circlet, her bliaut, and gold trim on her shoes. She tipped her head back and laughed at something Royce said, as though he was the cleverest person she’d ever set eyes upon.

As for Royce, he gave her the barest of nods when she moved past him. Florence spared her a glance, but only to look with disdain at Alyna’s gown. Uncomfortable, Alyna moved toward the opposite side of her grandfather and hoped for a warmer welcome.

He greeted her with a sparkle in his eyes as he rose to take her hand. “You look lovely, my dear. That color suits you.”

“Thank you, Grandfather.” She shared a smile with him. The more time she spent in his company, the more her affection for him grew. Her mother had been very lucky to have a father such as he.

As they exchanged pleasantries, servants made their way into the hall with trenchers of food. They spread the trenchers among the tables, each dish containing enough food for two and some, four, people. There were herbed vegetables, miniature pastries filled with cod liver, broth with bacon and sops, and meat tile. The latter was prepared as Alyna had instructed, consisting of simmered pieces of chicken served in a spiced sauce of almonds, toasted bread, and garnished with more almonds. Wine flowed freely.

Hugh sat at one of the lower tables and sent her a grin and a wink, brightening her mood. Edward wasn’t present, but she caught sight of Matthew and gave him a smile that he returned with a shy one of his own.

Her grandfather spoke with her between his conversations with Royce, but Royce spoke only to him or to Florence, never to Alyna. The rest of his attention was absorbed by the food placed before him. What had changed from earlier when they had spoken? Had she caused him some offense? She told herself it mattered not, but the evening carried a shadow because of his odd behavior.

Still, the meal was different than the ones at home. At Montvue, her time was spent aiding the servants. Her father never discussed anything with her. He merely barked out orders for her to do his bidding. But here, she enjoyed chatting with her grandfather who seemed truly interested in her opinion on a variety of topics.

“Alyna, the taste of the meat tiles is remarkable,” Blackwell commented. “Even these vegetables are...I can’t quite think of the word.”

“Flavorful?” Royce suggested.

“Aye, that might be it,” Blackwell said with a smile. “Do I have you to thank for that?”

Behind him, Florence’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Alyna accusingly.

“I’m sorry you decided not to take my wager, Royce,” Blackwell said.

Royce’s slow smile caused heat to pool deep within Alyna, making her forget Florence sat at the same table.

“I have learned to avoid losing coins to you, my lord, for you only seem willing to bet on a sure thing.”

Blackwell laughed in response. “True enough. Well, he has only delayed his pain, not eliminated it.”

“I look forward to the morrow. Surely, he’ll have thought of a clever response by then.”

Though Alyna made little sense of the conversation, she enjoyed listening to their light-hearted banter. Their mutual respect and affection for each other was obvious.

The highlight of the meal was the stuffed pheasant, displayed on a large platter with the tail feathers back in place. Everyone praised the meal, including Royce. She couldn’t resist going into the kitchen to share the compliments with the cook and her helpers.

Upon her return, she directed some of the servants to gather the remaining food from the table and replace the wine with a spiced one that went well with the dates and almonds drizzled with honey that served to end the meal.

Florence had a strange way of acting as steward. Alyna had yet to see her direct a servant or lift a finger of her own to help. Of course, she had yet to see the woman take her eyes off of Royce despite their age difference.

Thoughts of retiring to her chamber crossed Alyna’s mind, for she was tired. However, she wanted–nay, needed–to speak to Royce of Sir Edward. Heaving a sigh, she resigned herself to wait until Royce took his leave so that she could follow him and speak with him privately.

At last, Royce bid her grandfather good night and left the hall. Alyna made her excuses and followed as quickly as she dared and stepped outside, hoping he hadn’t gotten far.

Cool, crisp air laced with the scent of spring greeted her. Dusk had fallen and, after the brightly lit hall, made it difficult to see the way down the steps of the keep.

She’d only walked a short distance across the bailey when a hand grasped her elbow and pulled her into the shadows. Certain it was Royce, she permitted the odd behavior as what she wanted to tell him required privacy.

“Good evening, my lady,” a voice whispered in her ear.

She gasped in dismay, for she knew instantly the man was not Royce.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“A decoction of beetroot in the nostrils

is effective to stay noise in the ears.”

Lady Catherine’s Herbal Journal

“Sir Edward, release me at once!” Alyna demanded.

“There’s no need for alarm. I hoped to speak with you and here you are.” He pulled her close as he spoke, his hands grasping her waist. “I’m grateful you feel the same way.”

“I assure you I don’t. Now release me.” Fear skittered through her. His hands were impossibly strong and his breath reeked of wine.

“I’ve been thinking about you, Alyna. You please me. Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?”

“Sir Edward,” she said as she tugged again at his hands, “I must be on my way.”

“Stay, my lady. You won’t regret it.”

“Is all well, Lady Alyna?” Royce asked from behind Edward.

Edward spun around, a bit too quickly it seemed, for he staggered with the effort. “Royce? What are you doing here?”

Alyna released the breath she’d been holding, relief and gratitude filling her at Royce’s timely arrival.

“You were missed at the evening meal, Edward,” Royce said.

The drunken knight seemed to ponder the comment before responding. “I fear I was indisposed.”

“So it would seem.” Royce looked again at Alyna. “May I escort you back to the keep, my lady?”

She took his offered hand, grateful to be out of Sir Edward’s reach. “Thank you. Good eve to you, Sir Edward.”

The wobbling knight bowed low. “Until we meet again, my lady.” For a moment, it appeared as though he couldn’t stand upright. At last he rose then turned to fade into the darkness.

“My apologies if I was...interrupting,” Royce said, his tone questioning.

Surely he didn’t think she had welcomed Edward’s advances. “In truth, I followed you outside with the hopes of speaking with you.” She shook her head at the irony of the situation. “Of Sir Edward’s behavior, if you can believe that.”

Royce’s eyes narrowed. “Did he accost you on your journey here? Why didn’t you tell your grandfather?”

“Nay, it was nothing like that.” Alyna couldn’t resist looking back over her shoulder to make sure Edward hadn’t returned. “Could we move farther away? I’d prefer our conversation to remain between us.”

Obviously the lady didn’t realize what thoughts that suggestion put in his mind, Royce reflected as heat stirred deep within him. The anger that had engulfed him when he’d seen Edward’s hands on Alyna left him angry and unsettled. How angry could he be with Edward when he had thoughts of holding her himself?

“This way.” He gestured toward a path that led away from the keep. He took her arm, telling himself he did so only because he wanted to assist her over the uneven ground, not because of the urge to touch her again.