murmured in a cold voice. “If Gilbert puts a hand where it doesn’t belong, I’ll cut it off.”
“I wouldn’t be too cocky if I were you, master.”
“I wouldn’t be too uncertain of my master if I were you, Bogo,” he replied. “I have talents and secrets you can’t even begin to imagine.”
Bogo’s swarthy face creased in a sour smile. “I doubt that you do, master, after all these years.” He squinted up at the keep. “You’ll be wanted in the Great Hall. I’m thinking Lord Hugh wants the lady properly wedded and bedded. Word has it he’s been like a cat walking on hot coals since she got here.”
“Then why the delay? A betrothal’s as good as a marriage, everyone knows that.”
Bogo shrugged. “Maybe he thought he’d take it easy on her. Give her time to get used to him.”
“A sensitive soul in the guise of a warrior. Interesting, Bogo. That might prove useful later on.”
“There’s no doubt about it, Lady Isabeau is his weakness.”
“Then we’ll work through Lady Isabeau.”
“You want Gilbert to kill her?”
Nicholas hesitated. “I don’t like to think of myself as a sentimental man, but I do have a strong dislike of violence. Besides, she would be almost as great a waste as her pretty daughter. Once Henry gets the sacred relic, Lord Hugh will need something to distract him, and a pretty woman will do wonders to keep his mind off his losses. While a vengeful man can be dangerous indeed.” He shook back his long hair. “Speaking of which, where is Father Paulus?”
“In the Great Hall. Where we should be right now.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Nicholas said gently.
And he was. Looking forward to looking Father Paulus in the eye as he turned a somersault in front of him. The priest had earned himself a dangerous enemy, and there was a good chance he’d have no idea just how wicked Nicholas could be when his temper was roused. There were better ways to destroy a man than to cut his throat— he’d learned that long ago. Mockery and gentle ridicule would do the trick far more effectively.
He was even more interested in facing the bride’s daughter, with her huge brown eyes and her elegant body that moved so bewitchingly beneath her drab clothes. It was a good thing she fit well with his plans, or she’d become a dangerous distraction. He hadn’t dreamed of a woman in years, and yet last night Julianna of Moncrieff had danced through his thoughts, dressed in much less than those layers of fine wool. He was quite desperate to know whether the reality would come anywhere near the luscious dream world of scent and skin.
“You there! Fool!” Sir Richard was rushing toward him across the courtyard, and Bogo faded into the morning mist. He had the good sense to keep his distance from his master—a fool with a servant such as Bogo was a man with unexpected depths, and Sir Richard already had too many suspicions. “You’re wanted in the Great Hall!”
Nicholas bowed with an exaggerated flourish, strolling toward the huge portal with deliberate laziness. “I live to serve,” he murmured.
“You’d best do so,” Sir Richard snapped. “All hell’s broken loose—Lord Hugh’s storming around in a temper, Lady Isabeau is crying, and that damned priest is acting like he’s the cat who’s just eaten the canary. Get in there and distract people till we find out if there’ll even be a wedding.”
Nicholas glanced at him sideways as he preceded him into the Great Hall. Sir Richard wasn’t a bad man. He lacked imagination, of course, but he’d been surprisingly gentle with Lady Julianna and he disliked the abbot, two strong points in his favor.
Nicholas paused in the doorway, surveying the situation. The place was packed. Most of the servants and knights were in attendance for their master’s wedding, but the happy couple was nowhere in sight. From a distance he could hear Lord Hugh bellowing in rage, and after a moment he spied Lady Isabeau seated near the
“I wouldn’t be too cocky if I were you, master.”
“I wouldn’t be too uncertain of my master if I were you, Bogo,” he replied. “I have talents and secrets you can’t even begin to imagine.”
Bogo’s swarthy face creased in a sour smile. “I doubt that you do, master, after all these years.” He squinted up at the keep. “You’ll be wanted in the Great Hall. I’m thinking Lord Hugh wants the lady properly wedded and bedded. Word has it he’s been like a cat walking on hot coals since she got here.”
“Then why the delay? A betrothal’s as good as a marriage, everyone knows that.”
Bogo shrugged. “Maybe he thought he’d take it easy on her. Give her time to get used to him.”
“A sensitive soul in the guise of a warrior. Interesting, Bogo. That might prove useful later on.”
“There’s no doubt about it, Lady Isabeau is his weakness.”
“Then we’ll work through Lady Isabeau.”
“You want Gilbert to kill her?”
Nicholas hesitated. “I don’t like to think of myself as a sentimental man, but I do have a strong dislike of violence. Besides, she would be almost as great a waste as her pretty daughter. Once Henry gets the sacred relic, Lord Hugh will need something to distract him, and a pretty woman will do wonders to keep his mind off his losses. While a vengeful man can be dangerous indeed.” He shook back his long hair. “Speaking of which, where is Father Paulus?”
“In the Great Hall. Where we should be right now.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Nicholas said gently.
And he was. Looking forward to looking Father Paulus in the eye as he turned a somersault in front of him. The priest had earned himself a dangerous enemy, and there was a good chance he’d have no idea just how wicked Nicholas could be when his temper was roused. There were better ways to destroy a man than to cut his throat— he’d learned that long ago. Mockery and gentle ridicule would do the trick far more effectively.
He was even more interested in facing the bride’s daughter, with her huge brown eyes and her elegant body that moved so bewitchingly beneath her drab clothes. It was a good thing she fit well with his plans, or she’d become a dangerous distraction. He hadn’t dreamed of a woman in years, and yet last night Julianna of Moncrieff had danced through his thoughts, dressed in much less than those layers of fine wool. He was quite desperate to know whether the reality would come anywhere near the luscious dream world of scent and skin.
“You there! Fool!” Sir Richard was rushing toward him across the courtyard, and Bogo faded into the morning mist. He had the good sense to keep his distance from his master—a fool with a servant such as Bogo was a man with unexpected depths, and Sir Richard already had too many suspicions. “You’re wanted in the Great Hall!”
Nicholas bowed with an exaggerated flourish, strolling toward the huge portal with deliberate laziness. “I live to serve,” he murmured.
“You’d best do so,” Sir Richard snapped. “All hell’s broken loose—Lord Hugh’s storming around in a temper, Lady Isabeau is crying, and that damned priest is acting like he’s the cat who’s just eaten the canary. Get in there and distract people till we find out if there’ll even be a wedding.”
Nicholas glanced at him sideways as he preceded him into the Great Hall. Sir Richard wasn’t a bad man. He lacked imagination, of course, but he’d been surprisingly gentle with Lady Julianna and he disliked the abbot, two strong points in his favor.
Nicholas paused in the doorway, surveying the situation. The place was packed. Most of the servants and knights were in attendance for their master’s wedding, but the happy couple was nowhere in sight. From a distance he could hear Lord Hugh bellowing in rage, and after a moment he spied Lady Isabeau seated near the
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