Suzanne Robinson (6 page)

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought she blushed. Then she gave him a look of indecision, as if she weren’t quite so sure of her opinion of him as she let on. That look reminded him of their encounter in the mud, and of her lack of experience in matters of the flesh. He recalled her confusion, which for some reason intrigued and aroused him. He stepped so close to her that their bodies touched.

“No, you don’t understand how a man banters with a woman. I should have remembered, should I not, my little black duck?”

Not the most chivalrous of remarks. She gave a cry of
outrage and at the same time stomped on his foot. He yelped, hopped backward, and clutched his foot.

“You keep away from Yolande, Sir Knave. She’s a friend to me, and please you to know I’ll be watching. There’ll be none of your foxing and debauching or I’ll see you undone.”

She whirled in a cloud of sapphire silk and pushed past him. He stumbled back into the embrasure and caught himself before he fell. Straightening, he watched Juliana Welles glide out into the light to join her sisters and Yolande. She had nearly discerned his true intentions. Her interference could ruin everything.

Drawing his brows together, he contemplated this threat to his plans. He wasn’t baffled for long. He had the means to control Mistress Juliana; she obviously didn’t want her father to know about their encounter in the woods. No doubt she’d been out without permission. Aye, he could muzzle her, if not by threats, then by other means more pleasurable to himself.

It was only after he’d rejoined his host and the guests on the dais that Gray realized that while he was with Juliana Welles he’d completely forgotten Richard and Yolande de Say.

JULIANA RAN THE LAST FEW STEPS THAT brought her to join the group of ladies that included her sisters and Yolande. Only when she’d put Laudine’s plump curves between herself and the Viking did she dare glance in the direction of the embrasure to see if he’d followed her. She was startled to find him where she’d left him, watching her.

Clad in a black damask tunic cinched with a chain of gold and slashed at the sleeves to reveal an undertunic of crimson, he leaned against the embrasure. Looking directly at her across the expanse of the hall, he gave her a slow half-smile. Everything about him, the way he cocked his burnished head to the side, the manner in which he crossed his soft calfskin boots at the ankles, the loose suppleness of his lips, warned of enticing corruption.

Juliana’s mouth went dry, and she tried to swallow as their eyes remained locked. Dragging her gaze from his, she cursed the moment of weakness when she’d allowed Richard to persuade her to dance. He’d wanted an excuse to be near Yolande and eventually dance with her. What a calamity. Dancing had never brought anything but evil to her. Not daring to look at the embrasure and this evening’s particular evil, she tried to join in the conversation going on around her.

“Where have you been?” Laudine asked her. “You missed the great circle.”

The great circle was a Wellesbrooke custom in which
the whole company of dancers joined in one large circle nearly the width of the hall.

“You know I hate dancing.”

“It’s your own fault,” Laudine said. “If you were more pleasant to young men, they wouldn’t be afraid to dance with you.”

Juliana frowned at her sister, who had been blessed with a body of generous proportions that assured her plenty of young men eager to join her in dancing. Laudine was nearly seventeen, plump and full of ribald humor, and had no patience with Juliana’s views on rooster knights and the unworthiness of men. Juliana risked a glance at the embrasure, but de Valence wasn’t there. She jumped when Laudine and the others suddenly burst out with laughter.

“What’s so amusing?”

“Yolande,” Laudine said. “She just told us of the pretty words the Sieur de Valence spoke to her.”

Yolande nodded and bounced on the balls of her feet while clapping her hands. “If I married him, I’d be an even greater lady than I am already.”

Shaking her head, Juliana sighed to herself. Yolande had a simple view of the world due to her rarified upbringing. To Yolande, all knights were brave, all ladies gentle. And when not reminded otherwise, she tended to forget that she wasn’t the most important creature in the kingdom. When Yolande was scolded for this fault, however, tragic remorse always ensued. Juliana despaired for her. What would happen to such a girl at the hands of a corrupt barbarian?

Laudine was still talking. “Mmmm, mmm, mmm, you’re a lucky one, Yolande. Two cocks crowing at your chamber window, one dark and one light, but both with right pretty combs, I vow—”

“Laudine!” Bertrade put a gentle hand on her sister’s arm. “Don’t be so ungentle.”

Her admonishment went unheard by everyone except Juliana. Laudine and several other girls shrieked and tossed jests back and forth while Juliana felt a crimson heat flood her face. Quickly she glanced around the hall, hoping that Gray de Valence hadn’t been near enough to hear Laudine’s comment.

There he was, by the fireplace, talking to his cousin Arthur, another of those cursed Stranges. De Valence lowered his head to hear what the younger man was saying, and a spray of moonlight hair swung across his cheek. Suddenly he straightened, his expression grave. It was then that Juliana noticed that Arthur held out a black cloak. De Valence took the garment, slung it over one shoulder, and strode for the doors. Along the way he stopped to have a word with her father; then he was gone.

Good. She was glad he was gone. Perhaps he’d quit Wellesbrooke altogether. When Richard had wheedled her into dancing, she had never thought to be coupled with Gray de Valence. Now she was glad, for she’d been there to interfere with his evil wooing of Yolande. She still couldn’t forget the witless expression on her friend’s face when de Valence started spewing vapid compliments at her. Thunder of God! How could women believe such muck?

And how could she herself have believed de Valence’s protestations of innocence? The man was evil. Had been since he corrupted his lord’s wife when he was but a youth. Juliana wet her lips as she remembered the way he’d backed her against the embrasure. He’d been so close she had felt the warmth of his body on her skin. Without touching her, he’d made her quiver inwardly with awareness—of the suppressed strength of his body,
of his readiness and heat. Juliana gave her head a little shake. What was wrong with her? She was breathing rapidly, and she was hot.

Parts of her tingled that shouldn’t be tingling at the thought of Gray de Valence. Not after she’d witnessed the way he preyed upon any maid who came within his reach. She glanced at Yolande, who was blushing at more frank remarks about her encounter with de Valence. Dear, credulous Yolande, who had remained her friend despite Juliana’s choleric temperament.

How fortunate that she’d promised Father she would attend this tournament. It was clear poor Yolande needed a guardian. Oh, she had Mother, but Mother was busy being hostess, and her sisters were no help.

De Valence thought he’d thwarted her with his threats to tell Father of their encounter. He’d soon see that Juliana Welles wasn’t cowed by mere threats. The cursed arrogant rooster knight.

“Come, Juliana, it’s time for another dance.” Laudine was tugging on her arm.

Juliana shrugged her off. “Not again. I’m weary of all this foolish prancing. I’ve got herbs to put by early tomorrow before the jousting begins.”

“Oh, Juliana, you’re such an old woman.”

“Someone has to provide medicines for this castle, and it’s certainly not going to be you, my fine mistress.”

“Healing is a great virtue,” Bertrade said. “The Scriptures tell us to honor the physician.”

Laudine laughed. “Juliana the leech.”

Juliana lifted a brow. “I’ve cured many a headache for you, Mistress Love-ale.”

Turning on her heel, she left her sisters to form another dancing chain. As she threaded a path between the clusters of guests, Yolande touched her sleeve. Before Juliana
could speak, the younger girl pulled her behind a column and began to chatter.

“What do you think of the Sieur de Valence? Is he not the most chivalrous of knights? And his eyes, so green, like spring leaves reflected in a fountain. When he smiles my bones tremble—”

“Merciful saints!”

Yolande flushed and dropped her gaze to the floor.

“Oh, forgive me,” Juliana said, “but you’re such a contradictory creature, Yolande. I know you’re a sensible girl, but you become pigeon-witted in the presence of a comely man.”

Yolande said quietly, “I know, but you forget all the time I spent in locked towers, a prisoner to my inheritance. I used to dream of having a companion. I—I prayed to God for one, and then Edmund came to deceive me as he did you, but now perhaps I’ve found …”

Yolande gave her a curious, sideways glance that reminded Juliana of one of the flat-headed cats that prowled the granaries at night. Then the girl’s chin lifted in defiance.

“He’s a suitor worthy of me.”

Watching her friend march off to join the dancers, Juliana shook her head. Yolande had always been troublesome and changeable. She knew the complexities of her vast property and yet delighted in simple entertainments that bored Juliana. And her temper, seldom seen, could be far more frightening than Juliana’s, reaching greater violence and sustaining itself when Juliana’s had long ebbed. But since Juliana had cured her of a dangerous fever, they had shared a bond. Yolande gave to the older girl a respect she reserved for few others. However, Juliana was beginning to suspect she wouldn’t listen to her opinions about the Sieur de Valence.

Muttering curses against arrogant Viking knights, Juliana found her maid and quit the new hall. She was on her way to the keep when Richard called her name and came running across the bailey after her. Sending Alice on ahead, she waited on the sparse grass that grew in front of the wooden keep stair.

“Juliana,” Richard said as he came up to her. “I wanted to thank you for persuading Yolande to dance. Your father wants me to make better friends with her. I think he’s scheming to arrange a match between us.”

Richard lived at his father’s barony several days’ ride from Wellesbrooke and his duties rarely allowed for long visits to the family.

“It was naught.”

“No, it was much. I know how you hate to dance, especially since Edmund Strange …” He cleared his throat and scuffed the grass with his boot. His finger stroked the eyebrow that was bisected by a thin scar, a habit that always bespoke preoccupation. “Your pardon, cousin. I also wanted to beg a favor for my lance tomorrow.”

Juliana stiffened. “An unnecessary gesture, cousin, but I thank you.”

“But I want to.”

“Richard Welles, do you think I want my
cousin
wearing my sleeve in a tourney? I might as well give it to Tybalt if he were here.”

“Oh. I didn’t think.”

“I know,” Juliana snapped. Then she sighed and broke into a smile. “Poor cousin. I forget sometimes how much you strive to be like your namesake, but I wouldn’t give even Richard Coeur de Lion a favor if he wanted it for pity’s sake.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Good night to you, Richard.”

She watched him walk back to the new hall, making his way through merrymakers and servants along the way. It was true. Richard took his knighthood far more seriously than many. He strove to be the true, perfect gentle knight. She had seen him punish vassals for lapses in behavior that other men would have ignored. The precepts of chivalry—truth, honor, valor, liberality, and courtesy—guided his every action.

Unfortunately, Richard’s chivalry also made him somewhat pompous and wearisome, but his heart was good. Shaking her head, Juliana mounted the keep stairs. Richard’s chivalrous standards had nearly beggared him more than once. Hugo had been forced to provide funds to his nephew when Richard’s ideas about knightly generosity caused him to distribute too much largesse among his retainers.

Alice was waiting for her in her room near the top of the Maiden’s Tower. Laudine and Bertrade shared a room on the floor below, while Yolande was housed along with her gentlewoman companion on the floor below them. Juliana sat quietly while Alice unwrapped her head. As she helped the maid remove her cap, she reflected on how thoroughly her disguise had failed. He’d recognized her by her eyes. She never would have thought he’d remember her damned eyes. Now, if they’d been that glittering emerald color of his own, she could have understood. But hers were plain pale gray, like half-full rain clouds.

Feeling unsettled by how he’d teased and taunted her, Juliana crawled beneath the covers of her bed. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as Alice put away her clothing. The room was lit only by a few tallow candles, but its white plaster walls were painted with murals of her own choosing.