Lord Of Danger by Stuart, Anne (free ebook reader for android txt) 📗

have been furious. And she was. But she was enchanted as well, and she wondered at the foolishness of his pretty wife, who unimaginably had found someone more desirable.

“Shall I wear a veil, Sir Thomas? To cover my distracting face from the sight of clamorous men?”

“You’ll need sackcloth and ashes as well,” he said gloomily. “And a wimple for your hair.”

“Are these compliments?”

“No, my lady. Statements of fact.”

If he hadn’t sounded so doomed she would have laughed out loud. “I doubt my brother would agree to it,” she said, and an unconscious shiver ran across her body at the memory of the unholy look in Richard’s pale eyes. Imagination. Alys had always told her she allowed her fancies too much free rein, but this particular illusion had to have sprung from some dark, poisonous part of her brain, something she’d never realized existed. Either that, or it hadn’t been her imagination.

“Lord Richard wants you kept safe,” Thomas said.

“Yes, but for what reason? To make me a more valuable possession?”

“Surely for love of a sister?”

Alys was the one who excelled at keeping her emotions hidden. Claire always let her stormy responses out for all to see, and the very notion of Richard’s brotherly love sent a shiver down her spine.

This time she did her absolute best to keep her expression serene, and felt proud of her abilities. Until Sir Thomas spoke.

“Why does that distress you?”

She slid down from the deep stone window. “You asked if I wished to take the air. I would, though I’d rather do it in the company of my women or my sister.”

“Certainly they may accompany you, my lady. You’ll simply have to bear with me as well.”

At least she’d managed to distract him. For some reason the thought of Sir Thomas’ keeping her company was not nearly so loathsome. He was overbearing, annoying, and humorless. He was very handsome, and very married, and he disapproved of her most profoundly. Which was utterly fine with her. Sparring with him kept her mind off her worries. About Alys and her accursed marriage. About Arabia. About her half-brother who was, more likely, Richard the Foul.

She shook her head, letting her long mantle of hair flow free. She knew from old what it would look like - a curtain of gold, shimmering down her slender back. She allowed herself a sly glance at Sir Thomas, to see his reaction to her flaunting gesture.

He didn’t even blink. Immune to her.

Claire sighed. “Let us go for an evening walk, Sir Thomas, and you can further instruct me on my maidenly duties.” She held out her delicate arm, and after a moment’s hesitation he placed his beneath it. His forearm was strong, well-muscled beneath the woolen sleeve of his tunic. Warm, living flesh.

She had seldom touched men in her life. They were different from women, harder, warmer, more disturbing. Or perhaps it was simply Sir Thomas who disturbed her.

She wasn’t about to let him know it. She was strong as well, from schooling horses. Her half-brother was right, Arabia was no lady’s mount, but Claire had the strength to handle her. If she could control a mare of that weight and strength, surely a puny human knight would be child’s play.

Except that Sir Thomas was far from puny. He was tall, and solid, honed by years of fighting to an iron-tempered strength. And besides, Arabia loved her and wanted to do her bidding. The man beside her was a different case indeed.

“Are your thoughts disturbing, Lady Claire?” Sir Thomas asked, and it took Claire a moment to realize she’d been standing there, her arm in his, staring up at him in an abstracted manner.

Quickly she gathered her wandering wits. “I was thinking of horses, Sir Thomas,” she said with complete truth.

For a moment he didn’t look nearly so severe. “The air by the stables is not the freshest, my lady. But we could still walk in that direction if it pleases you.”

It took her a moment to realize what he was saying. At least she would be able to see Arabia, to touch her, to croon soft, comforting words in her pale ear. It was a far cry from riding, but more comfort than she had imagined.

“I thought your job was to keep me away from my horse.”

“My job is to protect you and your sister, to accompany you if you step outside the keep. If your path takes you by way of the stables it will be no fault of mine. I’m simply keeping you safe.”

Her hand trembled, but his arm was strong beneath hers, and she found she could manage a very small, very real smile for the tall, disapproving knight. “You have a kinder heart than I would have suspected, Sir Thomas,” she said softly.

He looked as if he were about to argue the point with her. But instead he simply nodded, leading her from the solar, his handsome, somber face averted.

She was a witch, Simon decided. Quite simply a witch. In his infinitely varied life he’d seen and heard many things, learned tricks and seeming powers, enchantments and healings, magic that was nothing more than clever manipulation of the gullible. He’d learned the power to draw men and women, to make them believe the impossible. But he’d yet to run across a creature such as Lady Alys de Lancie.

He’d known witches, both men and women, and in truth, they weren’t that different from the monks he’d lived with in Switzerland. They all had their own form of magic, their own incantations, their own herbal powers that transcended most human understanding.

Alys was possessed of none of that. Her knowledge of herbal healing was laughably rudimentary, and knowledge of Greek and Latin, which she was purported to possess, had never been known to have any particular arcane effect on mankind. She was no great beauty, though he found her oddly pleasing. And yet she seemed to have exerted more influence on his waking and dreaming hours than anyone in his