Tori Phillips by Midsummer's Knight Page A

all. The devil take King Henry and his damnable matchmaking! The winsome face of Katherine’s fair cousin broke through the dark clouds of his musings. Ah, Miranda! Now there was a woman to cheer a man’s soul, and body. The Lady Katherine was watered-down ale compared to the zest of the strong brew he spied beneath Miranda’s plain garb. He had caught her secret appraisals behind her thick, lowered lashes. Thick enough to fan a man’s desires into a bonfire. ’Twas a shame Miranda was not his promised bride. He would not grow bored with her to warm him.
    Getting up, Brandon stretched to his fullest height. “Tomorrow, you will still be Sir Brandon, and I shall attempt to do my best at aping the manners of his good friend, Jack Stafford.”
    “But...what of the ladies?” Jack gabbled.
    “’Tis the ladies I think upon every waking moment. Aye, they shall probably haunt me in my sleep, as well.” Especially the one who wears my poor cloak pin upon her creamy breast. Brandon shook himself. “Cheer up, Jack. I do not pronounce a sentence of execution, but one of merriment. You delight in talking. gibberish to the Lady Katherine, who—God only knows why—takes pleasure in your ramblings. And I...” Brandon grinned widely. “I shall pursue good Mistress Miranda.”
    Jack punched his friend in the arm. “Oh, aye? And play a double false face upon your wife before you’ve even married her?”
    Brandon massaged his arm. “Nay, not that. But to seek out what truth lies behind Kat’s smile. Do not look so strange at me, Jackanapes. While at supper, I heard her serving wenches call her that name under their breath.”
    “Mind how you call the fair lady to her face, or you’ll have me to answer for her,” Jack rumbled.
    Brandon took pleasure in returning his friend’s hamfisted punch in his sword arm. “I shall record that warning in my book of memory, Jack-of-all-trades. And I shall study that page every day for sweet friendship’s sake. My word upon it.”
    Jack tottered toward the bed. “How long do you plan to continue this mummery?”
    “No more than three weeks,” Brandon answered in a soft undertone. “I mean to enjoy my last moments of freedom until my wedding day. After that, my fate will be sealed, come rack or ruin.”
    “And a sweet good-night to you, too,” Jack replied, just before he fell face first amid the bedclothes.

Chapter Five
     
     
    T he arrow flew across the green velvety lawn and embedded its shaft in the red heart of the straw-filled target. Its fletching of gold and red feathers vibrated with the shock of impact.
    “Bull’s-eye, Sir John! I win yet again!” Kat regarded her missile with supreme satisfaction. “I am most amazed that Sir Brandon boasted of your skill at archery, my lord, for you have yet to come within an inch of me.”
    A devilish look of some secret amusement stole into the depths of Sir John’s brilliant blue eyes. Kat’s heart turned over in response.
    “I fear my prowess has been much overrated, Mistress Miranda,” he murmured, a sly smile curving his lips. “Methinks I have forgotten the wager. What do I owe you this time?”
    “The golden ribbon from your left sleeve, Sir John, to match the others I have already won.” Kat smiled, though her lips trembled as he drew nearer to her.
    “Faith, mistress, if we continue to shoot at yon target, I shall not have a lacing left to hold my apparel together. By the rood, all my clothes will fall to your feet.” Untying the satin ribbon, he held it out to her. “You would not wish to see me so...at one with nature, would you?” he murmured as he drew closer still.
    His steady gaze bore into her, daring her to answer his scandalous suggestion. The idea of him standing stark naked before her both startled and fascinated Kat. She blinked her eyes, to banish the wanton thought, then she tugged the ribbon from his hold. As their fingers touched, a dizzying current raced through her as if her blood had suddenly