At the Queen's Summons by Susan Wiggs Page B

care.
    Still laughing, she turned to him, then slowly sobered to that piercing earnestness against which he had no defense.
    â€œI don’t know,” she said.
    â€œHow can you not know?”
    She ducked her head. Laughter and applause masked their conversation so that he had to put his head very close to hers in order to hear. “You forget, my lord,” she said. “I was not born, I was found . Who can say what my age was then? Two? Three? Four?”
    He guessed that she was born out of wedlock and abandoned by a mother who couldn’t afford to keep her, or perhaps she was orphaned when the mother died. The golden brooch and the expensive frock in which she had been found were intriguing clues. Yet even if she didcome from noble stock, that did not change her circumstances now. She was utterly alone in the world. All Aidan knew for certain was that she had been wounded by a horrible force—the wound of abandonment.
    The pain in her eyes made him want to flinch. “My lord, I can never keep from wondering. Was I meant to be found, or to lie there and die?”
    He cupped his hands around her shoulders. “Pippa—”
    â€œIt was sheer, blind luck that Mab happened upon me, so I can only think I was not meant to live.” She stared down at the tumbling clowns on the stage but did not seem to see them. “Imagine that. I had lived only a short time, and then someone decided it should be over for me.”
    â€œYou cannot know that,” he said, covering his pity with gruffness.
    She blinked, and a winsome smile erased her melancholy. “I stayed with Mab for twelve years. One year for each pearl she traded.”
    â€œYou said she always sold one at Michaelmas.” He relaxed his grip on her shoulders and turned to feign interest in the stage.
    â€œAnd then I came to London. I’ve been here eleven years.”
    â€œThat narrows it some. You’re between twenty-five and twenty-seven years of age.”
    She bit her lip. “Old enough to be a spinster.”
    He brushed a bright lock of hair off her brow. “You don’t look like any spinster I’ve ever seen.”
    With a soft cry of joy, she clung to his arm and pressed her cheek against him. “Ah, you are kind, my lord. Mort used to say all Irish were savages, but you belie that.” She gazed up at him with shining eyes. “No one has ever troubled himself to speak kindly to me.”
    Aidan felt Donal Og’s glare like a brand, and he looked over her head at his cousin. Donal Og had managed to find the second most beautiful woman in the place, and the two of them were sharing spiced wine.
    â€œI worry about you, coz. I really do,” Donal Og said in Gaelic. “If you were to simply toss up her skirts and play hide the sausage, I’d understand. That’s certainly what I intend to do with my lovely friend here.”
    The “lovely friend” affected a pout. “What secrets do you tell in your savage tongue?”
    â€œThat thing he does with lamp oil,” Pippa said helpfully, “and a wine bot—”
    Aidan placed his fingers over her mouth.
    â€œPay no mind to this mistress of the gutter,” Donal Og said to his lady friend. “She has a twisted sense of the absurd.”
    Aidan was burningly aware of Pippa’s hand slipping down his arm slowly, caressingly. “Please yourself and I’ll do the same,” he said in Irish to Donal Og.
    The crowd roared with laughter at the antics of the acting troupe.
    â€œFaith, Aidan, you’re the O Donoghue Mór. Think what you’re doing,” Donal Og said with a note of warning in his voice. “Whether you like it or not, your destiny was sealed long ago by forces beyond the control of any one man. Even the Earl of Desmond has taken to the hills like a common reiver. You’re charged with keeping the peace for an entire district. Not acting nursemaid to Sassenach street