The Troubadour's Romance by Robyn Carr Page A

was finished, she fled the chapel quickly. Her place near the rear made her flight easier, and she managed the whole mass without being spoken to by anyone.
    The lady Vespera had been accurate when describing the gardens. They were well pruned, and the promise of beauty come spring was evident, despite the barren and brown landscape that Felise found. There were paths and benches, all leading to a central courtyard where people would gather for community. Felise walked lazily about the area, hardly looking at the planters, trees, or statues, but concentrating on her foolhardy dismissal of adult concerns. Finally, unresolved, she began her way back to her rooms.
    The halls were cold and dank, giving promise to the thought of a blazing hearth. There was no merriment for her now, and she wished to be in the inn with her parents and brothers, or better still, home in the Twyford keep where the servants were her friends and the villeins her playmates. She swept her hood off her head and let it fall around her shoulders. As she walked down the long, dark corridor toward the back stairs to her rooms, she considered her good fortune in knowing the way, for this great palace was a maze of halls and galleries and rooms. She paused suddenly, listening.
    “ Aye, demoiselle, you are followed. ”
    She turned abruptly and saw Sir Royce poised just a few paces behind her, leaning casually against the wall. He was free of his warring accoutrements now, wearing chausses and tunic in his colors of red and gold. On his left breast he wore his family blazon and on his finger a rich ruby in the crest.
    Her eyes flashed in anger, though perhaps fear would have been more appropriate. “ Why do you follow me, sir? ”
    He moved toward her at a leisurely pace and seemed unperturbed by her discomfort. “ More out of curiosity than anything, maid Felise. I wondered at your roamings through the grounds and halls. Do you court danger, or has some lover failed to keep his appointment? ”
    “ I would bid no man keep an appointment alone with me, ” she quickly replied, aghast at his blatant accusation.
    “ Ah, the danger, then, ” he replied with a smile. He reached a finger toward her collar where her hair, shimmer ing golden in the torch - lit hall, had collected and bunched, the bulk of it buried beneath her mantle. A deft finger pulled a long lock of it forward, and he tested its smoothness between his thumb and forefinger. Felise stood numbed by his f amiliarity, experiencing his action as if she were an observer rather than a participant. Finally realizing he did this freely without her protest, she snatched her hair away from him.
    “ I was told I was safe in Henry ’ s house, ” she flung at him. “ I trust I would not have been bidden to walk these halls freely had anyone known you were about. ”
    His laughter, deep and low, sent a chill up her back, and the hairs at the base of her neck stood up. “ Demoiselle, you have been crudely misinformed. Did Sir Wharton perhaps bid you roam? ”
    “ Nay, ” she answered, growing more uncomfortable with his presence every moment.
    “ Good, ” Royce replied. “ He would likely hide himself in some dark corner and pounce upon you. His treatment of women is not gentle, it is said. ”
    Felise tried to summon courage and stood as erect as possible, but in her hands her beads trembled. “ Tis you, sir knight, lurking in the dark hall . .. and Sir Wharton warned me of your treatment of women. ”
    Again the tall knight laughed, a soft and rather seductive rumbling. His teeth were bright in this dim space, and his hair seemed to be threaded with gold. The cool and distant brown eyes had warmed and darkened. He studied her face, his smile fading even as his eyes smouldered, and Felise could not decide whether it was fear she felt or a surge of desire.
    Wharton was handsome, a thing she could not lay to Royce. His roughened looks were further marred by a scar across one brow and a nose bent twice