Fool's Paradise. Tori Phillips

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СКАЧАТЬ merely grinned in reply, then he went back to tending a small fire of dry sticks. Elizabeth admired his fluid movements and the easy grace of an acrobat. In profile, his face was pleasant and well-defined, his lips sensual with an infectious smile only a breath away. His flashing dark eyes promised pure mischief. Elizabeth snorted to herself. No doubt Tarleton would find his “special maiden” soon enough. In certain classes of society, some women might even call the jester handsome. As she tied the ends together, Elizabeth felt a certain smug satisfaction. At least, no one else was going to get Tarleton’s prized red ribbonnot while she wore it tight around her waist. What on earth am I thinking? she thought, catching herself. He’s but a commoner, and I have enough troubles with a man as it is!

      “Come, warm your toes and dry your hair, my lady. Breakfast is served!”

      “Breakfast?”

      “Sweet apples, compliments of God’s fair wind in an orchard, and the cheese…” He regarded the golden wedge ruefully. “Well, ‘tis not moldy yet.” As she sat down opposite him, he quickly averted his eyes.

      “In truth, my lady, that shirt looks far better on you than it ever did on me, but I suggest that you tie up the band strings tightly before you display any more of your unmanly bosom.”

      Glancing down at her open neck, Elizabeth flushed. She snatched the collar shut and pulled the laces until they puckered.

      Without looking at her directly, Tarleton offered her an apple slice on the tip of his knife. Plucking off the fruit, Elizabeth bit into it.

      The apple’s hidden sweetness burst generously in her mouth; its juice overflowed, escaping from a corner of her lips. Until this moment, Elizabeth had forgotten how really hungry she was. Tarleton’s simple windfall was the most delicious thing she could recall ever eating.

      “Another,” Elizabeth commanded, her mouth still full. Nodding solemnly, he offered her a second slice, as well as a large wedge of cheese.

      They ate in silence for a bit, then Tarleton spoke. “I did not expect to find myself playing host to so noble a lady in the greenwood.”

      Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably under his thoughtful gaze. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell him.

      Tarleton continued, “I can’t help but ask myself why such a fine lady is roaming about the forest, and falling into rivers? Is it because she is bored with life in a great manor house? Is she lost?” Pausing, he raised one eyebrow slowly. “Or, perhaps, she is running away?”

      Elizabeth choked, then stared at the fire to avoid his compelling eyes.

      “Ah,” he murmured. “Methinks I have hit the nut and core of the matter. Lady Elizabeth, may I ask why are you running away from so great a fortune and so noble a betrothed lord?”

      Elizabeth tried to ignore Tarleton’s honeyed probing.

      The jester spoke softly. “I believe there is some water in your eye, Lady Elizabeth. Use your sleeve, that’s what the good Lord created them for.” He drew closer to her side. “Tell me your story, sweet lady. I am a patient listener as well as a chattering monkey. You can trust Tarleton. Her Most Gracious Majesty often does. What happened since I left Esmond Manor?”

      “All my happiness died,” Elizabeth answered quietly, afraid to give freedom to the words that, until now, she had kept confined in her heart. “The morning after the feast, my father took suddenly ill, and… died.”

      “May God have mercy upon his soul.” Tarleton’s voice held an infinitely compassionate tone. “Sir Thomas Hayward was a good man, and a generous one, too. What happened?”

      Elizabeth took a deep breath to steady her voice. “We don’t know. Father was well when I greeted him early in the day, but toward the forenoon he doubled over in pain and turned a dreadful color. We put him to bed straightaway, and sent for a doctor. But, by the time he arrived in the afternoon, my father had… had died.”

      Tarleton’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Had your father eaten anything unusual? Did he complain of the taste of the food?”

      “No-o.” Elizabeth racked her brains to remember the details of that dreadful day. It had been a delightful breakfast. She and her father repeated to each other some of Tarleton’s jests from the night before. Then Sir Robert joined them. “Wait! My father had a dish of mushrooms that the rest of us did not. My betrothed gathered some plump ones that morning, which he gave to my father.”

      “An interesting gift.” Tarleton compressed his lips into a tight line. “And what did the good Sir Robert do after your father died?”

      Elizabeth shuddered as she recalled what followed. “He changed as suddenly as a weathercock in a high wind. Though Sir Robert was all smiles, I did not like him much. I told my father of my dislike after the betrothal feast. My father, who was kind and loving, said he would break off the match. But, before he could do so, he…he was gone.” Elizabeth blinked rapidly several times in an effort to keep her tears at bay.

      “Even as my father’s body grew cold, Sir Robert suggested… nay, he insisted that we should be married at once. He said it would protect my interests.”

      “And his,” Tarleton muttered knowingly under his breath.

      “I told him it was too hasty. How could I think of marriage when my father had just died?” Elizabeth looked away, fighting back her grief. It must wait for a more private time.

      Slipping his arm around her shoulder, Tarleton drew her closer to him. He smeiled of wood smoke, leather and mint, a combination Elizabeth found oddly comforting.

      “Surely Sir Robert meant kindly,” Tarleton prompted.

      “No!” Elizabeth gritted her teeth. “When I put him off, he grew violently angry. He was loathsome to look at, and he swore such oaths at me! Sir Robert called me a ninny, saying I did not know what was good for me. He said I was stubborn, and, when I told him he was acting as no gentleman should, he… he struck me across the face!”

      Tarleton’s grip tightened around her. “He deliberately hit you?” he whispered in a low, dangerous voice.

      “Aye!” Elizabeth shivered. “Then he dragged me to my chamber and locked me in, saying I would neither eat nor drink until I agreed to be married immediately after my father’s burial. If not, he threatened he would… force himself upon me!”

      “Forgive my boldness, Lady Elizabeth, but methinks Sir Robert La Faye is in desperate need of a sound horsewhipping. How did you manage to escape?” Tarleton lightly stroked her hair. Elizabeth found his touch soothing. She laid her head against his shoulder.

      “‘Twas my maid, Charlotte. Last night, she brought me some food after Sir Robert had drunk himself into a stupor. She told me that he had taken over the hall as if he were already the master. After I ate, I made up a small packet of clothing, provisions and money, then I escaped on my father’s favorite horse.”

      “Where are you going, my lady?” Tarleton questioned gently.

      “To my godmother, the Queen. They say she is at Hampton Court.”

      Tarleton abruptly stopped playing with Elizabeth’s fine, soft hair, and regarded her with surprise. “Her Grace is your godmother? But I’ve never seen you at court.”

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