Knight's Ransom. Suzanne Barclay

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СКАЧАТЬ headdresses ‘twas difficult to tell which were blond.

      “There are two men in the Sommerville red-and-black livery.” Perrin pointed to a pair of hulking brutes who stood a few feet away, their backs to the window, facing a small circle of smiling, laughing nobles. “How odd. They look more like men-at-arms than knights. How do you suppose they came to be invited to the duke’s grand fete?”

      “Because their lord is a personal friend of both the duke and his brother, the king.” Ruarke Sommerville, English hero of Poitiers, scourge of all France. “Pity he was called back to England ere the tourney began,” Gervase said tightly. He’d have enjoyed crossing blades with Lord Ruarke and to hell with the scheme that had brought him hither.

      “Look, there’s a woman with them.” Indeed, one of the Sommerville retainers had moved aside to reveal a lady. ‘Twas she, not the men-at-arms, who was the focal point of the posturing lords and knights. “It could be Ruarke Sommerville’s daughter,” Perrin added in a whisper.

      Gervase nodded, noting the wisps of blond hair peeping out at her nape where it was caught in a jeweled caul. “‘Tis likely.” His first impression was of a slender woman in formfitting blue velvet. How fragile she looked, he thought, and his determination to see this through faltered. Then he caught sight of the gems in the trim banding her surcoat and his jaw clenched tighter. Such wealth would have kept his people in food for a month.

      “She must be as lovely as your uncle Bernard claimed, for these men gaze at her like fatuous fools.”

      “With a dowry as large as hers, she could be an ugly cow and prospective suitors would still sing odes to her beauty.”

      A short, dumpy girl edged her way into the circle of admirers. Catherine turned to greet the newcomer, baring her profile to the torchlight—delicate bones, a slim nose, smiling lips and a surprisingly firm jaw. Willful, Gervase thought. Willful, spoiled and so certain of her allure she dismissed her courtiers with a wave of her pale, beringed hand. Linking her arm with the homely girl’s, Catherine started toward the window.

      Gervase stiffened and backed away, but for an instant, his gaze locked on Catherine’s. The incredible eyes his uncle had likened to violets widened with shock, mirroring the awareness that arrowed down Gervase’s spine. It exploded in his belly with the impact of a mailed fist. Shuddering against the wash of desire, he turned and melted into the shadows.

      

       He’d been watching her.

      Catherine stopped and blinked. When she reopened her eyes, the man was gone, but she knew he’d been there, standing in the courtyard just outside the window. Watching her.

      “Cat? What is it?” Margery tugged on her arm.

      “Naught, I…” Cat shook her head to clear it, then walked the few steps and sank down onto the bench beneath the window.

      “‘Tis likely the heat,” Margery said, plopping down beside her. “Or the excitement.”

      Cat Sommerville swept the crowd with a jaundiced eye. Despite the anticipation spicing the heavy air, there was an undercurrent of animosity. The English and French walked about stiff-legged as rival dogs spoiling for a fight. Her own nerves jangled with rising irritation and something she’d come here in hopes of curing…boredom. She might as well have returned to England with her parents ten days ago. At least at Wilton she enjoyed a small measure of freedom, and she wouldn’t have had to put up with the cattiness of the shallow women who’d come here.

      “You look lovely this evening,” said her friend.

      Cat forced a smile. “As do you, Margery.”

      The girl laughed, a pudgy hand plucking at the skirt of her silken cotehardie. “I look like a short, puce cow in this,” she said merrily. “But Mama insisted I wear it instead of the black, which at least doesn’t cling to these horrid hips of mine.”

      “The color is most becoming on you,” Cat replied, unable to truthfully say the close-cut style of the gown complemented Margery’s full figure.

      “What a diplomat you are, Cat.” Margery laughed again, transforming her plain-as-pudding features to something approaching pretty. “May I say your gown fits you to perfection and the blue deepens the violet of your eyes. Or has Sir Archie already said so?”

      Cat rolled the eyes in question. “Thus far I’ve not seen him this eve. ‘Tis probably too much to expect he’s drunken himself into a stupor and won’t attend.”

      “How you speak about the most ardent of your many admirers,” Margery teased without the slightest hint of jealousy or envy. “And you know Sir Archie doesn’t overimbibe.” Planting a hand on her ample bosom, she crossed her eyes in fair imitation of the love-struck knight and intoned, “Moderation in all things, that’s my byword…except in my adoration of you, my fair Catherine.”

      Cat laughed and shook her head. “You’ve a wicked sense of humor, Margery.”

      “No more so than your own. ‘Tis why we’ve become such fast friends, you and I.”

      “Aye. Your friendship is all that’s made Bordeaux bearable.”

      “Never say you’re lonely. Why, you’ve a string of men trailing after you that’s made you the envy of every woman here.” Every woman save Margery. Which was but one of the reasons she was Cat’s friend, her only friend. “Especially Lady Clarice. When I went looking for you, I had only to follow that woman’s malevolent stare to find you,” Margery added.

      “I don’t understand why she hates me so.”

      “She’s jealous of your beauty and wealth.”

      “But she has both in abundance, and I’ve made it plain to everyone here that I do not desire any of the men at court.”

      “The men, contrary creatures as they are, desire you all the more for your aloofness. And who wouldn’t choose you over her? True, she is pretty and she inherited a rich estate from her poor dead husband, but she’s shallow and vicious, without a care for anyone save herself. While you are good and kind and patient.”

      “Patient.” Cat laughed. “I wish my family could hear you say that last. Even I admit I’m impetuous and headstrong. Because you are my friend, you see only my good points.” As she turned to smile at Margery, she spied Clarice.

      The woman wrinkled her nose as though she’d scented something bad, then leaned to whisper in the ear of one of the silly women who trailed after her. What were they saying about her? Apprehension trickled down Cat’s spine, making her shiver.

      “Don’t give them a thought.” Margery seized Cat’s hand and squeezed. “There is naught bad they can say about you.”

      If you only knew. Cat repressed another shiver. Each time a new person arrived from England she braced herself, wondering if they’d be the one to reveal her ugly secret. Though two years had passed since the sordid incident, ‘twas the sort of thing that lingered on people’s minds and leaked out their lips. So deep was her shame she hadn’t even mentioned Henry to Margery, to whom she’d bared all her other foibles and dreams. And if Lady Ela, Margery’s proper mother, learned of the aborted elopement, she’d forbid her daughter to speak with someone as tainted as Cat.

      “They’re СКАЧАТЬ