Vixen Hunted (20 page)
fine fabric cut the wind despite its light weight. Kit flowed beside him with
her arm in his. She wore a matching green dress of silk. Silk! The fabric clung
to every slight curve of her figure, and the neckline dipped low enough trip
Timothy's eyes. The dress almost dragged the ground. Her hair fell in small,
tight curls accented by a green hat. Cat strutted beside her, combed and
gleaming, a red satin ribbon hugging her neck in a large bow. It extended up to
form a leash. Cat gazed with large, liquid curiosity.
"Number
three!" Kit said.
"What?"
"That is the third
time I've seen you looking. The dress must suit me!"
Timothy forced his eyes
to sweep the hall. The white marble gleamed in the light of the chandeliers
overhead. Servants carried trays of wines, odd shaped food, and boxes of some
sort of white powder. They danced around the knots of party goers, a golden
scale adorning the breast of each. Merchants, dressed like spring birds, down
to plumes in their hats, mingled with what could only be nobility. In any other
context, Kit's dress would be garish. To Timothy's eyes it was an oasis. The
street crowd had nothing on these people.
"It isn't a bad
thing." She pressed his arm close. "You look surprisingly good for a
shepherd. Although the smell of sheep ruins it."
"Baa." Cat
made a face.
"No, not you. You
can clean up, unlike Timmy."
"Ah! Master
Clarke!" Shefar gleamed in a white silk robe, a bright crimson sash
wrapping his wide waist. A gold amulet in the shape of scissors hung from his
neck, and a gold clip adorned his unusual hat.
"My lady."
Shefar bowed and kissed Kit's hand. "I am glad you decided to come."
Shefar looked at Cat. His smile slipped a little, and puzzlement creased his
thick eyebrows. More than a few guests regarded Cat with similar expressions.
"Thank you for the
invitation." Kit looked around the hall. "There is certainly
potential here."
"Yes. Merchant
guild gatherings always present opportunities." Shefar caught Timothy
looking at his hat. "Oh, my clip? It is just something from my hometown in
the east."
"You didn't
mention you were from the east," Kit said.
"It is just a
dusty town. Many of us are from the lands of dust and sand. Speaking of that, I
want you to meet a business partner of mine." He waved at a man standing
off to the side. The man wore rings on every finger and a heavy necklace
covered with more of more rings, although these were simple gold. His deep
purple coat and leggings hugged too close.
"Trent Mohmed."
The man grabbed Timothy's hand. "So you are the one who came up with the
river-stone gem idea. I must say, it was an excellent one! Shefar had to do
some convincing, but I am glad he did."
"It wasn't—"
Timothy said. The man had a grip! Kit ground her foot into Timothy's.
"Thank you. People will pay for gems that all look the same. Why not pay
for stones that are truly unique?"
"Yes! As a jeweler
I often thought it was funny how people will pay so much to wear a diamond that
looks like any other. Now each piece can be truly unique! Pardon me. Who is
this lovely lady?"
"My name is Kit,
his humble wife."
Timothy snorted. Kit
buried an elbow into his ribs.
"Baa."
"And this is
Cat," Kit said.
"Yes, well. I've
seen ladies with dogs before. A lamb is certainly…unique." Trent
replastered his smile.
"I daresay you
cannot be the one these filthy rumors speak of." Trent eyed Shefar and the
dark man shrugged.
"I was to be sold
in my husband's place to pay off his father's debts," Kit said.
"A beauty such as
you? No! That cannot be," Trent said.
"I…managed to pay
off my father's debt with the money we made." Timothy watched Kit from the
corner of his eye. She nodded once.
"Oh! Most
excellent! Rags to riches with a happy ending. And to think I was a part of it!
If only an indirect part." Trent grabbed Timothy's hand and pumped it
hard. The man's gaze slid down Kit's exposed neckline.
Shefar cleared his
throat.
"I haven't
forgotten you, Shefar. I must put this story to song! I am an aspiring bard in
addition to being a jeweler," Trent said. "I had nothing when I came
to this town from the east. It was my songs and dealings that made me what I am
today! I am sure you have heard the song 'Jewel of the Desert.'"
"Not really,"
Timothy blurted. Kit kicked his ankle and he winced. She wore an innocent,
bored expression.
Trent deflated.
"No? It is a pity they do not perform it anymore. In any case, they will
be singing your tale of triumph! But I have a few questions for you. For the
song, of course. How did your father acquire the debt? Where did you find those
wonderful stones?"
"Some other time,
Trent. I am sure our guests want to enjoy themselves." Shefar took a wine
glass offered by a passing server.
Kit took a glass of the
amber liquid, and Timothy shot her a warning look. She rolled her eyes at him.
Timothy waved away the server's offer.
Kit took a sip. "I
do have a question for you, Master Mohmed."
Trent bowed. "I
may have an answer for you, my lovely lady."
"I am interested
in a certain town you may have heard of—"
Applause drowned out
Kit's words. Across the hall, musicians mounted the riser. Their fine dark
clothing looked out of place against the garish people who welcomed them.
"I think I've seen
those guys before. Up on that odd wooden castle," Timothy said.
Fine instruments
replaced the drums and crude instruments of the other night, and stringed music
filled the air. People bowed and paired off to the large open area in the
center of the room. Trent bowed to Kit with a hand extended. "May I have
this dance, my lady?"
"Certainly."
She handed Timothy Cat's leash and her wine glass. He fumbled to take them
both. She glanced over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at Timothy, her
hips swaying. Timothy could almost see her tail wagging beneath the long dress.
"You have to watch
Trent." Shefar leaned in. "He has a reputation."
"She will be
okay."
"A pet lamb?"
Shefar scratched his mustache with a finger. "Are you trying to start
another fashion trend? Will I have to hire shepherds next?"
Timothy noticed several
men and women smiling at him and talking behind their hands. He sighed. Leave
it to Kit to find a way to embarrass him.
"Have you heard of
Belafonte?" Timothy asked.
Shefar straightened.
His face closed. "I have. " He straightened his strange hat.
"You know, I didn't believe her story." Shefar gulped a mouthful of
wine. "It was just too fantastic. But…" He waved at the dancing
crowd. Kit and Trent flashed passed. Kit's eyebrows knitted, and Trent looked
uncomfortable at whatever she was saying. "They loved it. The story is
what sold the stones."
"So why did you
help us?" Timothy asked. A server walked by. Cat pulled at the leash.
"I am a merchant.
I saw an opportunity with the festival going on. That, and she reminds me of my
granddaughter. She loved to make up stories like your wife's. That is why my
granddaughter is more successful as a merchant than I am!" Shefar puffed
out his chest.
"And what do you
know of Belafonte?"
He deflated just as
quickly. "Stay away from Belafonte. It is a wretched, cursed place. I had
to pass through that forest in my travels." He fell silent, favoring his
wine.
Timothy frowned. Cat
pulled at her leash again as a wine server passed. "No, Cat. Nothing for
you tonight."
"Baa." Cat
looked up with enormous eyes. Timothy sighed. Better the lamb than Kit. Timothy
set Kit's wine glass on the floor, and Cat buried her nose into it, tail
wagging. Shefar's eyebrows climbed.
"Cursed?"
Timothy asked.
"Forbidden by your
church. Spirits, I was told. I did not stay to find out. My people do not go
near papal soldiers. I'm sure you understand."
Timothy did not, but
that was not important. "Where is it?"
Shefar shook his head.
"Best stay away. If you will excuse me, I have some business I need to
attend to."
Timothy watched the
people watch him. Cat's gleeful slurping drew more than a few fingers and
laughs. The town was cursed? Papal soldiers? Why would soldiers still be there
after destroying it?
Kit and Trent whirled
by. Trent wore a sickly smile and held Kit's hand and waist as if she were a
hot coal. Kit wore a toothy grin.
Timothy's eyes wandered
the crowd. Thankfully, no one approached. More than a few eyed him as if they
would. His eyes locked on a familiar face set against black.
"Sister
Tera?"
The young nun looked up
as if she heard his whisper, her eyes finding his. She nodded before turning
toward the large Jesuit beside her. What was she doing here?
"Oh! The lamb is
cute! You look rather lonely over here." Melanie wore a high-necked purple
dress that clung to her ample chest and hips. "I heard from the stableman
that you had a lamb. She is cute."
Cat belched.
"I am surprised
you are not out there dancing your success. You are the night's talk,"
Melanie said.
"It is hard not to
be the night's talk when you are dressed ridiculously and have a lamb on a
leash."
"Oh, I don't know.
You look rather handsome. I am sure tomorrow many ladies will be parading their
own leashed lambs. As long as they don't bring them into my inn. I am surprised
you let your wife dance with Trent. He has a reputation for womanizing."
Timothy chuckled.
"By the looks of things, I think he will want to forego his current
partner's charms."
"He does look
uncomfortable." Melanie patted Cat on the head. The lamb offered another
belching bleat of happiness. "People are unsure of you, you know. That
story of yours has people interested and uncertain."
"Has everyone
heard the story and about the river stones?"
"This is a small
town," Melanie said. "Gossip and festivals go like honey and
pancakes. Don't worry. There are some juicy stories on the vine that will leave
you two forgotten."
Small? Fairhaven could
fit in this town's walls three times over.
"Can't be soon
enough."
The music flowed to a
stop. Trent mopped his brow with a purple satin handkerchief. Kit looked dower.
"Thank you, Master
Mohmed. You are quite an excellent dancer."
Trent bowed without his
previous grace. "The pleasure was mine."
Kit grasped Timothy's
hand as the next movement strummed the air. "I hope you can dance."
Timothy had just enough
time to hand Cat's leash to Melanie before Kit dragged him to the dance floor.
Her waist felt warm and soft beneath the silk.
"Don't walk on my
feet or dress, book bug. I would rather not have my tail exposed because of
your clumsiness." She rested her other hand on his shoulder. A smile lit
her eyes. "Trent said Belafonte is not too far from here. In a forest. But
he did not say where." Timothy just missed stomping her foot. "Shefar
knows of it too."
She leaned her head
against his shoulder. "He kept trying to whisper nonsense and business in
my ear. You know I wouldn't have to deal with that if you would have done your
part in this. You surprise me, Timmy. You can dance!"
"I thought you
knew shepherds. Actually, a lady friend of Kyle's taught me a long time ago.
Shefar mentioned papal soldiers."
Kit's back turned to
stone under his hand. "That nun is here?" Her head snapped from his
shoulder. "I need to wrestle her in front of everyone when she is taking a
bath."
"Sister Tera? I
saw her too. I don't know—wait, while taking bath? What do I not want to
know?"
"It is a woman
thing."
"She saw your
tail!" Timothy said.
"She is stronger
than she looks," Kit mumbled into his shoulder.
"Why is she
here?"
Kit pinched his back.
"Why do you think? She is after me!"
"Could she be
working with Tahd?"
"Maybe," Kit
said. "Likely."
They moved with the
music for a time. Timothy focused on not stepping on Kit's dress or feet while
keeping his eyes on the nun. The feel of Kit pressed against him battled with
his concentration. Sister Tera and the Jesuit disappeared into the onlookers.
"I am happy."
Kit looked up into his eyes. "I wish we could stay like this. They are
nice, these warm feelings. I don't feel alone anymore."
"You feel nice. I
mean. I…I am happy too."
Kit's laugh chimed.
"You feel nice too, Timmy."
The music ended.
Timothy let Kit's hand drop out of his. He felt a cold draft as she stepped
away. But she stayed close and held his other hand against her waist.
