The High Sheriff of Huntingdon (38 page)

“There’s
no
need
for
a
potion.”

She
might
as
well
have hit
him.
His
indrawn b
re
at
h
was
sharp
and
pained, and
t
h
e
n
silence
filled
the
room.
She
drained
t
h
e
tea, set the
bowl back
down on
the rough wooden table, and met
his golden
eyes.
Fearlessly,
she
told
herself.

And
then
he
was
prepared to
fight
back. “You’re
too
e
a
s
y
,
Elspeth
of Gaveland.
One
n
i
g
h
t
with me bet
w
e
e
n
your
l
eg
s
and you’re
re
a
d
y
to
believe
you’ve
found
true
love.
You’re
in
for
a
rude
awakening.”

She
pushed her
long
hair from
her face.
“You
mean
you’re
not always
so
tender
and romantic?” she
t
ea
s
e
d
gently. “I’m
doo
m
e
d
to
be
disillusioned?”

“Don’t!” he said,
a
n
d
there
was
real
pain
in
his voice.

Elspeth’s
teasing
faded.
“Don’t
what?”

“Don’t
make
me
care
for
you.
It will
come
to
a
bad end.”
And
without
an
o
t
h
e
r word he
strode
from
the
cottage,
l
e
a
v
i
n
g
her
to
follow after him as
best
she could.

She sat
behind
him on the
gelding, her arms
around
his waist,
feel
i
n
g
the
warm
skin
beneath
the thin
black
shirt.
She
rested her head a
g
a
i
n
s
t
his b
ro
a
d
back,
closing
her
eyes
a
n
d
listening
to
the
sound
of his
breathing,
the
steady beat
of his
heart
as
they
rode
through the woods.

It
was further
into
the
day
than
she
would
have
thought
when
they
finally emerged from the
darkness
of the
virgin
forest. The
sun
was
already past
noon,
and the
sky was
b
right blue,
marred only
by
thick white
clouds that
p
r
e
s
a
ge
d
a
harsh storm
to follow on
the
blessing
o
f
hot
summer air.

She
could
feel
the
eyes
watching
as
they rode
back into the
castle
yard,
but
no
one
s
a
i
d
a
w
o
r
d.
The
air was
almost
unnaturally
s
i
l
e
n
t
,
broken
only by
the
sound of
the
animals,
the chickens
running
loose, the
whinny
of
a
horse, the
squeal
of
a
pig.

Elspeth wanted
to
keep her
face
buried
against
Alistair’s
back,
but
h
e
r
pride
had
always been
a
source of difficulty
for her,
and
for
the
time
being,
s
h
e
was the
lady of
the
castle. She lifted
her head, look
ing
about
her, hoping to convey a
mixture of
friendliness and
self-assurance,
neither
of which
she
was
feeling.

It
happened so
quickly
,
it
was
over
almost before
it began.
The people
of Huntingdon
were
still
and
silent in
the
presence
of
their
lord,
but
the
children were not
quite
so
wise.
A
filthy, towheaded
child streaked
out of an
outbuilding,
shrieking
with laughter,
unaware of the
tension
in
the courtyard.
He
raced directly
in
front
of
A
l
i
s
tair’s gray gelding, and Elspeth tightened
her grip,
turni
n
g
her
face
ag
a
i
n
st
his
back,
horrified
at t
h
e
collision
of
b
e
a
s
t
and
child.