passageway to the hall. She hoped he couldn’t hear her teeth chattering.
He waited in the shadows, mighty arms folded across massive chest, frowning darkly into nothingness. At some sound she made, he straightened, instantly lethal. A squeak of panic escaped and Claire stepped back.
He relaxed and his eyes traveled over her once quickly, then again a great deal more slowly. “I was right. You do improve with cleaning.”
All the tastier for my big., white teeth
. She decided silence was safer, especially since she wasn’t sure she could be coherent.
With a slight jerk of his head, he said, “The office,” clearly ordering her to lead the way.
Claire was glad to obey. If she could keep her back straight, he might not know about her fear. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her tremble.
She hadn’t counted, however, on how her father’s special room would affect her. She and he had spent so much time here.
Someone had lit the tall standard candle. Despite the fact that this man had used the room, claimed it as his own, in the warm glow it looked as if her father had just stepped out.
His rabbit fur still lay draped across a bench, waiting for his hand. Claire remembered snuggling under that fur with him on winter days as he taught her to read.
Most of his books were out of sight, locked in the chests which were themselves works of art. One book, however, lay open on his lectern. He’d risen from reading it and ridden off to rebellion, and she’d left it that way, waiting for his return.
The rich hangings stirred under a breeze from the open shutters as if the room sighed. Claire covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hold back the pain that swelled from her chest, burned around her eyes… She didn’t want… She couldn’t…
It burst free.
There was something big and strong to cry into, to beat against, to fight as she spilled out her agony of loss. She raged against fate, against heaven, and against the usurping King of England who’d proved to be such a false friend.
When she realized it was Renald de Lisle she cried into, she pushed away, backed away, scrubbing her face free of the betraying tears. Ah, Jesu, he was the last man she wanted to see her like this!
Turning away, she squeezed her hands together, sucking in deep breaths, fighting the battle for control. When she thought she could speak, she faced him. “So…” It came out hoarsely and she cleared her throat. “So, what are you going to do with me?”
He studied her thoughtfully, all burnished angles and dark shadows. “It seems that I’m going to marry you, Lady Claire.”
She shook her head. “Not that. How are you going to punish me?”
The silence stretched. Her teeth started chattering again and she couldn’t stop them.
He suddenly shook his head. “I don’t care for minor thrashings, Lady Claire. I’ll keep a tally of your crimes until I think you deserve a really good one.” He looked around the room. “Your father had many books. Do you, too, enjoy reading?”
Bewildered, but beginning to think she’d keep a whole skin, she said, “Yes.”
“I’ll have them moved to the solar for your use when we are wed.”
“But you—”
“I am scarce able to pick out words, my lady. They are no use to me. But if you’ve read them,” he added, a sudden edge to his voice, “I’d expect a little more wisdom. What, by the cross, did you think you were doing?”
She scrabbled for a story, but in the end could only tell the truth. “I wanted to speak to Felice.”
His brows rose. “And for that you crawled through the ditch?”
“I was desperate.”
“Why?”
Nerves jumping again, she gabbled, “I hoped to persuade my aunt to marry you, Lord Renald. She’s desperate enough…”
She dried up, hearing how insulting she sounded.
She should have known not to be concerned about sensitive feelings. It bounced right off him. In fact, she thought she saw a flicker of light in his eyes. “An
He waited in the shadows, mighty arms folded across massive chest, frowning darkly into nothingness. At some sound she made, he straightened, instantly lethal. A squeak of panic escaped and Claire stepped back.
He relaxed and his eyes traveled over her once quickly, then again a great deal more slowly. “I was right. You do improve with cleaning.”
All the tastier for my big., white teeth
. She decided silence was safer, especially since she wasn’t sure she could be coherent.
With a slight jerk of his head, he said, “The office,” clearly ordering her to lead the way.
Claire was glad to obey. If she could keep her back straight, he might not know about her fear. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her tremble.
She hadn’t counted, however, on how her father’s special room would affect her. She and he had spent so much time here.
Someone had lit the tall standard candle. Despite the fact that this man had used the room, claimed it as his own, in the warm glow it looked as if her father had just stepped out.
His rabbit fur still lay draped across a bench, waiting for his hand. Claire remembered snuggling under that fur with him on winter days as he taught her to read.
Most of his books were out of sight, locked in the chests which were themselves works of art. One book, however, lay open on his lectern. He’d risen from reading it and ridden off to rebellion, and she’d left it that way, waiting for his return.
The rich hangings stirred under a breeze from the open shutters as if the room sighed. Claire covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hold back the pain that swelled from her chest, burned around her eyes… She didn’t want… She couldn’t…
It burst free.
There was something big and strong to cry into, to beat against, to fight as she spilled out her agony of loss. She raged against fate, against heaven, and against the usurping King of England who’d proved to be such a false friend.
When she realized it was Renald de Lisle she cried into, she pushed away, backed away, scrubbing her face free of the betraying tears. Ah, Jesu, he was the last man she wanted to see her like this!
Turning away, she squeezed her hands together, sucking in deep breaths, fighting the battle for control. When she thought she could speak, she faced him. “So…” It came out hoarsely and she cleared her throat. “So, what are you going to do with me?”
He studied her thoughtfully, all burnished angles and dark shadows. “It seems that I’m going to marry you, Lady Claire.”
She shook her head. “Not that. How are you going to punish me?”
The silence stretched. Her teeth started chattering again and she couldn’t stop them.
He suddenly shook his head. “I don’t care for minor thrashings, Lady Claire. I’ll keep a tally of your crimes until I think you deserve a really good one.” He looked around the room. “Your father had many books. Do you, too, enjoy reading?”
Bewildered, but beginning to think she’d keep a whole skin, she said, “Yes.”
“I’ll have them moved to the solar for your use when we are wed.”
“But you—”
“I am scarce able to pick out words, my lady. They are no use to me. But if you’ve read them,” he added, a sudden edge to his voice, “I’d expect a little more wisdom. What, by the cross, did you think you were doing?”
She scrabbled for a story, but in the end could only tell the truth. “I wanted to speak to Felice.”
His brows rose. “And for that you crawled through the ditch?”
“I was desperate.”
“Why?”
Nerves jumping again, she gabbled, “I hoped to persuade my aunt to marry you, Lord Renald. She’s desperate enough…”
She dried up, hearing how insulting she sounded.
She should have known not to be concerned about sensitive feelings. It bounced right off him. In fact, she thought she saw a flicker of light in his eyes. “An
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