Knight's Ransom. Suzanne Barclay

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СКАЧАТЬ your family. Of course. They must come first.”

      “Always,” she replied, not certain what had doused the fire in his eyes and hardened his jaw.

      “We will all meet in the garden in five minutes.” Gervase took grim satisfaction from her grudging nod, then worked his way to the side door where Perrin waited for him.

      “I have learned your uncle was right. There was a scandal involving Lady Cat and a man named Henry,” his cousin whispered.

      “What kind of scandal?” Gervase’s jaw tightened as he watched the lady in question take the arm of a stout man in shocking green velvet with pear appliqués and join the dancing.

      “Sim was a little sketchy on details. Either because he didn’t know them or because the ale I’d plied him with had finally dulled his brain,” Perrin added. “Apparently she ran off with a man…Henry Norville, a young groom.”

      Gervase stiffened. So she not only played the whore, she was one in fact. “Did she wed him?”

      “Nay. Sim says his lordship was too quick on their trail. I gather the family doesn’t speak of it and the man in question is no longer alive to do so.”

      Gervase looked away from the dancers. “Ruarke killed him?”

      “That is one of the details I didn’t get. Only that Lord Ruarke was mightily upset and hired those two hulking brutes.” He inclined his head toward the twin towers of bone and muscle hovering at the edge of the dancing. “The smaller, scar-faced man we’ve seen her with is Oscar. The others are Gamel and Garret…experts with the dirk and cudgel respectively.”

      “Not to mention their fists. They look more like bears than men.” Gervase sighed and closed his eyes briefly, tired of the intrigues of court, sick of worrying about how he’d get Cat Sommerville off by herself and away from here.

      “And then there are the forty men,” Perrin said. “The ones who will be guarding the lady during the tourney.”

      “Forty,” Gervase said faintly. “Damn. I stayed in hopes we’d be able to steal her away during the excitement and confusion.”

      “I’d forget that, if I were you. Nor does the lady seem overly interested in a dalliance with you.”

      She was interested. His practiced eye had caught the flare of desire in hers. “I’m not rich enough. She won’t sully her precious family name by associating with the likes of me.”

      Perrin grunted. “What will you do, then?”

      “I’m not certain. I’ve managed to rouse her ire, at least. I’m to meet her in the gardens in a few moments, along with her guards,” Gervase added. “I wonder if she plans to set them on me?” His gaze narrowed as he picked Catherine out from the swirl of dancers. Her eyes outshone the amethysts shimmering in her elaborate headdress. She was the very image of everything he detested—pampered, polished, spoiled, English. Her gowns and jewels bought with the blood of his conquered countrymen.

      Her lips curved provocatively as she laughed into the adoring face of the man who partnered her. Feral heat bloomed in Gervase’s chest. He hated that unknown man for the possessive hold he kept on Catherine’s slender waist. And he hated her, too, for so thoroughly besotting every man who crossed her path. Himself included. No matter who or what she was, if he wasn’t careful he could easily slip under her spell.

      “I thank you for learning about that young fool she ran off with,” Gervase said, clasping Perrin on the shoulder. “I may have need of the information to force her into doing what I want.”

      

      Lady Clarice’s lips pursed thoughtfully as she spied Sir Gervase and Sir Perrin with their heads bent together in whispered conversation. Their faces fairly shouted guilty secrets. As she watched, Gervase left his friend and slipped out the door leading to the gardens. Should she pursue him and see if he’d changed his mind about dallying with her?

      A scant moment later Catherine Sommerville abruptly left the dancing and quit the hall for the gardens with only her guards for company. Interesting. Especially given the way the two had been eyeing each other. Clarice had undertaken enough clandestine meetings in her time to recognize the signs in others. Seeing an opportunity to cause trouble for the pair who’d slighted her, Clarice excused herself to her next dancing partner on the pretext of visiting the garderobes.

      Once out the side door, she hiked up her velvet skirts and made for the back gate into the gardens. Careful to keep clear of the faint circles of torchlight, she scurried along the wall and ducked in behind the trellis. From within the shadowy alcove came the sounds of two voices rasping and gasping in the throes of passion. But when Clarice peered in through the lacy grapevines, she realized this was not the pair she sought and moved on. Nor was the couple trysting in the maze Gervase and Catherine.

      Clarice had nearly decided her instincts had failed her when a familiar voice sailed out from the clump of birch at the far end of the garden.

      “Why have you been watching me?” Cat Sommerville demanded.

      Gervase replied, “You know the answer to that.”

      Fascinated, Clarice bent down and crept along the path till she’d reached the hedge of hazelnut. Parting the branches slightly, she saw her quarry facing each other. Cat’s two guards stood a distance away, their backs to the confrontation.

      “I have told you I am not interested in any…any alliance with you,” Cat said stiffly.

      “So your lips say. But your eyes…they tell a different tale. You’ve been watching me as I do you.”

      “Nay.” Catherine’s hand came up to her throat. She backed up a step. “You…you are mistaken.”

      He stalked closer, but he didn’t touch her. “I think not. If I were not a penniless French knight, you’d gladly spend time with me. You, Lady Catherine, are a snob.”

      “I am not.” She clenched her fists and glowered at him.

      “Your protests are as false as your pose of innocence.”

      “Wh-what do you mean?”

      “I know all about your elopement with Henry Norville.”

      “Sweet Mary.” Catherine sagged against the tree behind her, her face ashen in the filtered torchlight.

      Shock nearly caused Clarice to fall through the bushes. Oh, this was too good to be true. Imagine…

      “You are afraid I will talk of what happened two years ago and ruin your reputation. But that is not my aim. All I want is to be treated as you would a man of wealth and position. A few dances…a few walks in the garden…alone. Mayhap your favor to wear in the jousts.”

      “ ’Tis…’tis blackmail,” Catherine replied.

      “It seems the only way I can persuade you to spend time in my company,” Gervase replied just as harshly.

      “You…you wretch.” She looked toward the solid backs of her guards. “I’ve a mind to call Gamel and Garret and let them pound some manners into you.”

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