Lady Of Lyonsbridge

“It’s true I prefer to take my time with my pleasures. Battle should be swift. Lovemaking should be lingering.”

“So how long do you intend to linger at Sherborne while our king rots in the emperor’s chains?”

Thomas shot his friend a reproving glance, but his tone was good-natured. “A day or two longer will not harm anything. We’ve most of the money raised.”

“Did you tell your little Rose your real name?”

Thomas frowned. “Nay, I’ve given her the Havilland alias. I don’t think it’s safe for it to be known that I’m back in England, even in this backwater castle.”

“Which is why the sooner we finish gathering King Richard’s ransom and head back to the Continent, the better. If Prince John discovers our mission, he’d try to kill us all.”

“I know. I don’t intend for anyone to find out.”

“Yet you’ll risk tarrying for the sake of a pretty face.” Kenton’s normally sunny expression was gloomy.

“Have some of this venison, Kent. It’ll improve your humor.” The two of them were seated alone at the long master’s table in the great hall. The rest of Thomas’s men had already broken their fast and gone out to the yard, taking advantage of the unexpected day’s rest to clean their weapons and their equipment.

“I told you,” Kenton answered with a frown, “I’d prefer no more meals from Sherborne’s larder.”

“That’s why you’re so grumpy—you’re hungry. ’Tis not like you to begrudge a friend a day’s dalliance. Or is it that you wanted the girl for yourself?”

Kenton lifted his knife and stabbed a piece of meat off the board that sat on the table in front of Thomas. “Nay, she had eyes for none but you. Anyone could see that. And she’s too scrawny for my taste.”

Thomas choked on the bite he’d just put in his mouth. “Scrawny? The sickness must’ve damaged your eyesight, my friend. She has curves aplenty in that long, sleek body. I’ve seldom seen such beauty of face or form.”

“She’s pretty enough,” Kenton said, a little too casually.

Thomas stopped chewing and peered at his friend. “You did want her, then.”

Kenton cut off another hunk of meat. “’Swounds, Thomas, I’m breathing, aren’t I?”

Both men were silent for a long moment, chewing the stringy meat. Finally Thomas sighed and said, “Aye, she’s that kind—a woman to make the fire burn in any man on two legs. The devil of it is, she doesn’t seem to know it.”

“Nor does she seem much taken by the subject. She turned up her pretty little nose at your love ballads.”

Thomas pushed the trencher away. “I suspect she’s more interested than she’s willing to admit.”

Kenton leaned toward him. “And just how did you come to this conclusion?”

Thomas grinned. “That, my friend, is none of your business.”

“We’ve all been sorely deprived these past months,” Kenton said with a sulky expression. “If you win the maid, the least you can do is to let us feast on the details.”

Thomas stood up. “Go groom your horse, Kenton, or oil your armor or douse yourself in the cold water of the castle reservoir. I’ve a lady to meet.”

“Does your mistress also ride?” Thomas asked as he pulled his big gray stallion to a stop beside Alyce’s mare.

“Aye,” Alyce answered, withholding a smile. “She’s noted for it hereabouts.”

His eyes sparkled in the rare November sun. “I daresay she’s not as good as her companion Rose.”

“I thank you for the compliment, sir, but everyone says that Lady Alyce is the best horsewoman in all the shire.”

He shook his head. “People will say anything to curry favor with a noble. She’s probably one of those fine ladies who perches on the edge of her saddle and shrieks if the animal goes faster than a walk.”

Alyce let her laughter spill out. She was enjoying herself too much to restrain it. The fine day and the company of a charming knight were proving an intoxicating mixture, and her deception only added to the diversion. For this one blessed day, she decided, she would put aside all thoughts of marriage taxes and brutish bridegrooms and enjoy being pretty and sought after by an eligible young man.

Thomas had not tried to kiss her again. He’d greeted her that morning with a courtly bow, and when she’d suggested a ride, he had been the one to ask if she would be more comfortable in the company of others from the castle. When she’d declared recklessly that she preferred to have him to herself, there had been a brief flare of eagerness in his eyes, but in seconds the expression was carefully banked.

“I don’t think the lady Alyce is prone to shrieking,” she answered him. “And you can believe me when I tell you that she rides every bit as well as I do.”

“Then I’m maligning her, and I must make amends when I finally meet her. Will she join us for supper this evening?”

“Oh, I’m afraid not. This morning she was still quite ill.”

Thomas looked around the meadow they’d just crossed. The hardiest of the late fall wildflowers still dotted it with purple and yellow splotches. “What a shame to lie abed on such a day. Shall we gather some flowers to take to her? It seems the least I can do, since the stew that poisoned her was prepared for our benefit.”

Alyce shifted uneasily in her saddle. “She’d not want you to fret over it, Sir Thomas. My lady has such a…” she paused a moment to swallow hard “…such a sweet nature that she would be unhappy to think you worried.”

“Ah, she sounds like an angel. All the more reason to try to brighten her sickroom.” Thomas swung off his horse and held his arms up toward Alyce. “Come, we’ll pick some together.”

Alyce slid down into them, her sudden, renewed wave of guilt banishing all embarrassment. It had been exhilarating to play the lady’s maid, and the disguise had given her a delicious sense of freedom, but she knew it was wicked of her to continue deceiving Thomas.

His hands lingered at her waist for a few moments before he released her and stepped back, saying, “We really should have a basket. Then we could fill your mistress’s sickroom with color.”

Alyce gave a rueful shake of her head and watched as the big knight began carefully plucking the delicate blossoms. “I thought knights spent their time thrashing each other and slaying dragons,” she said. “Your hands are strong and battle scarred, yet last night I watched them playing the lute, and now they pick flowers. You surprise me.”

He looked up at her, smiling as he continued his chore. “A true knight must be a man of many talents, Rose. He’ll relish a good battle, but should have equal love of art and music. As well as a keen eye for a beautiful maid,” he added with a wink.

“And you consider yourself a true knight, Sir Thomas?”

He grinned. “One of the truest.”

“I gather modesty is not one of the knightly virtues.”

“Aye, but ’tis a minor one. The part about the ladies is much more important.”

Alyce laughed. She had never before enjoyed banter such as this with a man. It was fun and oddly stimulating. It made her want to go up on tiptoe and break into a little dance.

Thomas straightened and walked over to her, holding out a number of blossoms. “If you’ll not pick, you can at least hold these while I gather more.”

“I’m sure you already have enough, Sir Thomas. Lady Alyce’s bedchamber is not very big.”

Thomas looked at the bunch in his hands for a long moment. Then he said, “You’ll still have to hold these.”

“Why?” she asked, but took the flowers from him.

“Because I need my hands free to hold you,” he said. Then he encircled her with his arms and pulled her close up against him. The blossoms crumpled between them. They both laughed as he looked down at them ruefully and observed, “Oh, bother. This won’t work, either.”