Knight's Ransom. Suzanne Barclay

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ doubtless be happy to help you find…accommodations.”

      “I’d have to be blind drunk to bed an Englishwoman,” ” Gervase snarled. “Think of all the English have cost me.”

      “I know, I know.” Perrin clasped Gervase’s shoulder and squeezed. “But you have endured and will yet triumph. Shall I leave Armand with you?”

      “Nay, take him.” The castle was no place for his young, impressionable squire. “That way I’ll have only myself to see to.” For a time after Perrin left him, Gervase wandered aimlessly in the garden. The sweet scent of rosemary took him back to his mother’s garden and home. Set high on the side of a lush valley, Alleuze had not the grandeur of larger keeps, but its sun-washed rooms had been filled with love and laughter. Now it was a hollow shell, a place of blackened walls and shattered dreams. With his family dead, had he the will to restore it? And for whom?

      The crunch of footfalls and the murmur of voices warned his privacy was about to be breached. Having no wish for company, he ducked behind a towering yew and watched to see who came.

      “We think you should return home,” said an unfamiliar male voice. “Come morn, I’ll assemble thirty men and escort—”

      “Nay, I’d not cheat them of their chance to ride in a tourney they’ve been preparing for these two months,” replied one he had no trouble recognizing. Lady Catherine Sommerville.

      Gervase withdrew farther into the shadows as they came abreast of him and stopped.

      “But…but this is intolerable.” The speaker was Oscar. Behind him, their broad faces echoing the smaller man’s concern, hovered Gamel and Garret. “At least let me send for milord.”

      Catherine’s back was to Gervase, but he saw her shoulders move, heard her sigh. “Nay. What could Papa do save fret? And he has enough on his mind with the prince so gravely ill.”

      “He could run the lot of them through,” Gamel growled.

      Her laugh was low, tinged with sadness. “No doubt he’d want to…Papa has ever tried to vanquish whatever foes beset me, but I fear his sword would not restore my tarnished honor.”

      “Do not speak so,” Garret cried. “Ye are the most virtuous of ladies. ‘Tis these…these bastards who have no honor. To shun ye and besmirch yer name so with their whispers and lies.”

      “But we know they are not lies.” Her voice was so soft Gervase barely heard the words over the rustle of wind through the trees, yet he felt her pain.

      “‘Tis not right ye should still continue to suffer for a single mistake in judgment,” Oscar said gruffly.

      “Aye, Henry was surely that, but I fear my error will haunt me all my life.” She turned and lifted her face to the breeze, exposing the pure lines of her profile to the torchlight, high cheekbones, straight nose and a pointed chin that wobbled a bit before she firmed it. “The air smells good after the stuffiness of the hall. What I wouldn’t give for a good gallop.”

      “Don’t even suggest it,” Oscar muttered. “I’d give ye anything else ye ask for, milady, but Lord Ruarke was most specific about not allowing ye to tear around the countryside.”

      “Even with an escort.” She smiled sadly. “I know. And he is right, the woods are full of brigands, still…”

      Gervase felt her sigh all the way to his soul, and damned himself for it. Why her? Of all the women he’d met—including his poor dead wife—why did this one woman stir him so?

      “Ah, there you are, Lady Catherine. I saw you leave the hall and thought you might like some company,” Sir Archie drawled as he slid into the light. Like the snake he was, Gervase thought, his hackles rising as the man kissed Catherine’s hand.

      “Sir Archie,” Catherine said coolly.

      The knight smiled, then flicked a dismissive glance at her escort. “Kindly remain here. I’d walk a pace with your mistress.”

      Oscar bristled. “She goes nowhere without us.”

      “A wise precaution, but I mean her no harm. I but thought she might like to sit a few moments on yon bench, away from the prying eyes of friends and foes alike.”

      A kindly offer, given all Catherine had been through these past two days, yet it struck Gervase wrong. So while her three guards remained on the path, he crept through the brush and came around behind the trellis shielding the bench from view. A strong sense of déjà vu struck him as he knelt in the grass. ‘Twas here he’d listened while Archie had proposed and was rejected.

      “I am sorry to see you so vilely treated,” Archie began as soon as they were seated.

      “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “But if you are truly my friend, you’ll understand why I’d rather speak of other things.”

      “Of course I’m your friend.” His voice dropped to a purr. “But I’d like to be more.”

      “What? Oh, I’m sorry, Archie, but I meant what I said a few days ago. I cannot wed with you.”

      “Wed?” Archie’s laugh was harsh, grating. “Nay, I had a more satisfying but less permanent arrangement in mind.”

      Through the trellis, Gervase saw her head jerk around in surprise. “What…what do you mean?”

      “Why, to make you my mistress, of course.”

      Shock held Cat immobile while Archie filled in the lurid details of the relationship he had in mind. How could I have considered kissing that mouth? she wondered as the filth spewed forth. How could I have thought him gentle and kind? she added as he trampled her character and honor into the mud with his assumptions and insinuations.

      She wanted to scream for Oscar, but feared she’d be sick if she opened her mouth. She wanted to run, but her body was weighted down by the crushing burden of all she’d endured these past few days, the humiliation, the rejection, the…

      “Well, what say you?” Archie demanded.

      “Nay,” Cat whispered. “Nay, I…” She swayed, dizzy and very much afraid she’d either faint or vomit.

      “How dare you malign the lady with your filth?” growled a deep, horribly familiar voice. A dark figure detached itself from the shadows to the right of the trellis and walked into the light cast by a nearby torch.

      “St. Juste!” Archie leapt up. “This is a private conversation. I must ask you to leave.”

      “Begone before I run you through.” Gervase took her hand, drew her to her feet and tucked her arm through his with a proprietary gesture. “It grows late, Lady Catherine, and we have yet to discuss what colors we will wear for the processional.”

      “Colors? Processional?” Cat said weakly. The only thing keeping her upright was his hold on her arm.

      An indulgent smile lifted the corners of his mouth; his eyes fastened on hers, hooded, intimate. “ ’Tis customary for a knight and his fair lady to be garbed in matching colors when she leads him into the tourney ring.”

      “His СКАЧАТЬ