considered
that possibility, but it could easily happen. Then what would she do? Whatever
could she tell the poor babe about its father? Her stomach clenched and she was
certain she would be sick right here and now, but then the moment passed.
Her
eye fell on the tapestry again, and now she knew the hind would never make the
leap. It was doomed, fated to be dragged down by the hounds, struggling vainly
as they tore it limb from limb.
"My
lady?"
Her
heart leaped in terror at the sound of Jemmy's voice. It was deep and rich with
just the slightest suggestion of an accent, more a matter of cadence than
pronunciation. She composed herself and turned to him.
"You
should try to eat something," he suggested.
She
flicked a glance at the trencher before her, then back to his face. It was one
of Maude's favorite tricks to dismiss something—an offered gift, a dish not
prepared precisely to her liking—as beneath contempt. From the way Jemmy's
polite half-smile vanished, Alyson knew that she had done it well.
"There
is nothing here I care for."
"I
could send for something else," he offered, coolly courteous, a host doing
his duty to a difficult and unwelcome guest.
"No."
The
single word hung in the air between them. Alyson clenched her jaw against the
almost irresistible desire to add an expression of gratitude. But in the month
she had spent in Maude's company, she had never once heard her half sister
thank anyone for anything.
Jemmy
shrugged and turned back to his father. Alyson sat, spine rigid, face set in a
mask of indifference, as the interminable meal dragged on. At last the cloth
was drawn, the trestles taken down, and the wild sweet music of the pipes
began. Several men stood up to dance, their arms linked as they moved with such
speed and grace that Alyson could scarcely follow their steps. For a moment she
forgot everything but the beauty of their movements. She caught her breath as
they executed one particularly fine leap and twirl, ending with a flourishing
bow to her. She wanted to clap her hands and laugh. Instead she yawned
delicately.
"I'm
weary," she said to no one in particular. "I shall retire now."
When
she stood the music screeched to a dissonant halt. Everyone in the hall was
staring, and she felt the hot blood rush to her cheeks. What would Maude do
now? she wondered frantically, then turned and started for the door.
Jemmy's
voice halted her. "So eager for our marriage bed?" he drawled.
"I'm afraid you'll have to wait." Wine splashed into his goblet as he
refilled it.
Alyson's
overstrung nerves gave way with a snap. Rounding on him, she sent the goblet
spinning from his hand.
"How
dare you speak to me like that?" she demanded. He rose slowly to his feet
and looked down at her. His lips curved in a smile that did not reach his eyes.
"Take
care," he said softly. "If I were you, wife, I'd take great
care, indeed. This isn't your father's hall, you know. It's mine. And these are
my men all around you."
She
held his gaze while she counted ten, a trick she'd learned at her mother's knee
to control her hasty temper. Then she nodded. "I understand," she
said carefully. "I still wish to retire. If—if that's acceptable to
you."
And
because she was very tired and very frightened there was a quaver in her voice
on the last words. She hoped he wouldn't hear it, but he must have, for his
voice was not quite so hard as he answered, "It is."
Two
women hurried forward at his signal. As Alyson followed them from the hall the
music broke out again and there was a sudden gust of laughter.
"For
pity's sake, will no one dance with the bridegroom?"
Alyson
turned to see Jemmy on his feet. A girl stepped forward, crying, "I will,
my lord!" and he gave her a flashing smile, his teeth very white against
his sun-bronzed skin.
Alyson
started up the dim stairway, stumbling a little on the long hem of her gown.
"Ah,
that's the worst of luck," the younger of the women breathed, staring with
round eyes. "To fall up
that possibility, but it could easily happen. Then what would she do? Whatever
could she tell the poor babe about its father? Her stomach clenched and she was
certain she would be sick right here and now, but then the moment passed.
Her
eye fell on the tapestry again, and now she knew the hind would never make the
leap. It was doomed, fated to be dragged down by the hounds, struggling vainly
as they tore it limb from limb.
"My
lady?"
Her
heart leaped in terror at the sound of Jemmy's voice. It was deep and rich with
just the slightest suggestion of an accent, more a matter of cadence than
pronunciation. She composed herself and turned to him.
"You
should try to eat something," he suggested.
She
flicked a glance at the trencher before her, then back to his face. It was one
of Maude's favorite tricks to dismiss something—an offered gift, a dish not
prepared precisely to her liking—as beneath contempt. From the way Jemmy's
polite half-smile vanished, Alyson knew that she had done it well.
"There
is nothing here I care for."
"I
could send for something else," he offered, coolly courteous, a host doing
his duty to a difficult and unwelcome guest.
"No."
The
single word hung in the air between them. Alyson clenched her jaw against the
almost irresistible desire to add an expression of gratitude. But in the month
she had spent in Maude's company, she had never once heard her half sister
thank anyone for anything.
Jemmy
shrugged and turned back to his father. Alyson sat, spine rigid, face set in a
mask of indifference, as the interminable meal dragged on. At last the cloth
was drawn, the trestles taken down, and the wild sweet music of the pipes
began. Several men stood up to dance, their arms linked as they moved with such
speed and grace that Alyson could scarcely follow their steps. For a moment she
forgot everything but the beauty of their movements. She caught her breath as
they executed one particularly fine leap and twirl, ending with a flourishing
bow to her. She wanted to clap her hands and laugh. Instead she yawned
delicately.
"I'm
weary," she said to no one in particular. "I shall retire now."
When
she stood the music screeched to a dissonant halt. Everyone in the hall was
staring, and she felt the hot blood rush to her cheeks. What would Maude do
now? she wondered frantically, then turned and started for the door.
Jemmy's
voice halted her. "So eager for our marriage bed?" he drawled.
"I'm afraid you'll have to wait." Wine splashed into his goblet as he
refilled it.
Alyson's
overstrung nerves gave way with a snap. Rounding on him, she sent the goblet
spinning from his hand.
"How
dare you speak to me like that?" she demanded. He rose slowly to his feet
and looked down at her. His lips curved in a smile that did not reach his eyes.
"Take
care," he said softly. "If I were you, wife, I'd take great
care, indeed. This isn't your father's hall, you know. It's mine. And these are
my men all around you."
She
held his gaze while she counted ten, a trick she'd learned at her mother's knee
to control her hasty temper. Then she nodded. "I understand," she
said carefully. "I still wish to retire. If—if that's acceptable to
you."
And
because she was very tired and very frightened there was a quaver in her voice
on the last words. She hoped he wouldn't hear it, but he must have, for his
voice was not quite so hard as he answered, "It is."
Two
women hurried forward at his signal. As Alyson followed them from the hall the
music broke out again and there was a sudden gust of laughter.
"For
pity's sake, will no one dance with the bridegroom?"
Alyson
turned to see Jemmy on his feet. A girl stepped forward, crying, "I will,
my lord!" and he gave her a flashing smile, his teeth very white against
his sun-bronzed skin.
Alyson
started up the dim stairway, stumbling a little on the long hem of her gown.
"Ah,
that's the worst of luck," the younger of the women breathed, staring with
round eyes. "To fall up
Similar Books
