The High Sheriff of Huntingdon (12 page)

She c
ould
i
m
a
g
i
n
e
what
kind of debauchery
was
going
on
in the
great
hall,
and for a
moment
s
h
e
contemplated
running
away,
back
to
the
dubious
s
a
f
et
y of
her
tower
room.
And
then
it was too
late.
A
crowd of people spilled
into
the
corridor, and
in
the
light of
the
t
o
r
c
h
e
s
high on
the
walls she could
see
the raven
dark figure
of the sheriff
himself.

Two women
clung
to
him
this
time,
n
e
i
t
h
e
r
of
them
the
b
u
x
o
m
redhead.
One of
t
h
e
m
was scarcely
dressed;
the o
t
h
e
r
looked both dazed
and slatternly. Darcourt
s
ee
m
ed
totally engrossed
in the fairly
obvious
charms of both
women,
and
Elspeth considered
whether
she
might
be
a
b
l
e
to
fade
into the darkness, letting
them
pass
by without
seeing
her.

In
the
e
n
d
the choice
was
t
a
k
e
n
out
of her
h
a
n
d.
Gilles
De
Lancey
stood
behind Alistair, and his sharp
eyes
had
s
e
e
n her
hidden
in the
shadows.
He
touched
the
sheriff’s
shoulder, whispering something
against
the
long black
h
a
ir
,
and a
moment later
h
e
r
husband had shrugged
the
w
o
m
e
n
away with
complete
disdain
and
was
advancing
on
her,
mo
v
i
n
g
like a huge black
cat, sleek and
graceful and
i
mpo
s
s
i
bl
y
dangerous.

His
golden
eyes
impaled
her,
and she was
only vaguely
a
w
ar
e
that
t
h
e
crowd behind
him
had
disappeared at
some
u
n
se
e
n order,
leaving
them
alone
in
the
cavernous
pas
sageway.
Her
eyes
dropped to
the
knife
at
h
i
s
waist,
and
she wondered
whether
she’d
made
a
very great
mistake. And
whether
s
he’
d
live
to
regret it.

He stopped
within inches
of her, so
close
t
h
a
t
she
could
smel
l
the
spirits
on
his breath, the heat of the fire, and
a
faint,
into
x
icating
scent
that
was so
foreign
to
her
that
she
could only
vaguely
d
e
fin
e
it as
male.

“Who the hell
are you?” he demanded, his voice
deep
and arrogant
and
totally
d
e
v
o
i
d
of dissembling.

For a
moment
s
h
e
was speechless
with shock.
She’
d
expected
rape,
murder, or
a
n
y
milder
form of abuse
from the man. She hadn’t
expected
him
to
simply
forget
her.

“Your wife,”
she blurted
out,
then
could
have bitten her tongue
.

His eyes
narrowed
as he
considered the
notion.
“I’d forgotten,”
he
said simply. “As it is, you’ll
have
to
wait
your
turn. I
have other
plans
for
tonight.” And
he
pres
ented
his back
to
her, preparing to
desert
her.

Elspeth
had learned
to
control her temper early on.
Rage
in a world ruled
by
m
e
n
was
usually
a waste of
time,
and
she
chose to be
diplomatic
whenever
possible.
She
looked
at
her
husband’s
elegant, retreating back,
and hissed,
“So do
I.”

It
was
a
m
i
s
t
ak
e
.
She’d
spoken
softly
enough, but the
man
had
hearing
like a
cat.
He whirled
around,
catching her shoulders
in
those
hard,
beautiful
hands
of and
she knew her first
moments
of
real
panic. “I don’t believe I
heard you correctly, my
l
a
d
y wife,” he said
in
a silken,
menacing
voice.
His
long fi
n
g
e
r
s
flexed
into
her
soft
flesh,
a
l
mo
s
t
,
but not
quite
,
painfully. “Clearly
everyone has failed
to warn
you
about me.
You would be
wise
not to cross
me.
I
have a temper that
is
not a
pretty sight, and
I
can be most lamentably
r
a
sh
.
If
you wish
to
enjoy
your married
life,
you’d
best
learn
to
watch
your
tongue.”