The More I See You by Lynn Kurland Page B

back as near to the womb as he could and be mothered until he smothered—was almost enough to send him fleeing the other way.
    He cast a baleful eye heavenward and wondered what saint was toying with him in such a manner.
    “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way,” Jessica said, removing the reins from his unresisting fingers. “I’m off to your brother’s castle. Will your horse find his way home, or will you need to send someone after him?”
    “Wait,” Richard said, snagging his reins before Jessica absconded with not only his horse, but his wits as well, “you are
not
going to Hugh’s.”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “Nay, lady, I will not permit it.” He took a firm grip on himself and mustered up what he hoped was a stern frown. “You’ll return back to the keep with me and await King Henry’s arrival.”
    She shook her head. “Haven’t got the time.”
    “I daresay you’ve all the time you need,” he said, “and I am certain the king will be interested in seeing you. Unless,” he said, remembering his deliberations with himself as to just who Jessica might truly be, “unless you are not overanxious to see him for some reason.”
    She remained silent but her eyes gave everything away. He decided at that moment that whatever else she was, Jessica Blakely was not a good liar. He had no trouble now looking at her sternly.
    “If you have misled me about your kinship to him . . .”
    She stuck out her chin. “I never claimed to be anything to him. Warren assumed it.”
    “And you allowed him to assume as much,” he said flatly. “’Tis nothing short of lying and for that you should be . . . well, you should be—”
    “Drawn and quartered?” she asked tartly.
    He could not fathom whence she mustered up her irritation.By the saints, she was the one caught in transgression, not he!
    “The priest should decide your penance,” he said, deciding not to tell her that he had no priest and likely wouldn’t unless one desperate enough to endure his foul moods could be found. He took a firmer grip on both sets of reins and folded his arms over his chest. “If you are not kin of Henry’s, then to whom do you belong? Where is your sire?”
    “Dead,” she said calmly. “Gone two years now.”
    “And your dam?”
    Jessica swallowed hard and began to blink very rapidly. Richard watched as she folded her arms over her chest.
    “My mother is so far away, she might as well be dead,” she said quietly.
    Richard watched in horror as her eyes began to fill with tears. Ah, not tears! By the saints, how he hated tears!
    He suppressed the urge to wring his hands. He watched Jessica weep and felt completely helpless. He shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to another, praying for some sort of inspiration.
    And then, as if his hand had taken on a life of its own, it reached out and thumped her awkwardly on the shoulder.
    “There now,” he said, hoping with all his might that she would stiffen her spine before he was called upon to render further aid. “No need to weep.”
    “You don’t know the half of it,” she said, her eyes beginning to leak even more enthusiastically. “I am beginning to wonder if I’ll ever get home.”
    “Ah,” Richard said helplessly, “ah, surely there is no need for such lack of hope—”
    “For all I know, it
is
hopeless!”
    His feet began to twitch. Richard heartily agreed with them and wished he’d never taken any knightly vows, for if he hadn’t, he would have turned and fled, and thought himself well escaped.
    But ’twas as if her eyes knew what his feet were about, for they began to pour forth a torrent of tears. Richardpatted himself frantically but felt no spare cloth there to use to dry her off. He groped about in his head for something to say that would stem the tide. He latched onto the first thing that came to mind.
    “I’ll see you home myself,” he blurted out.
    Oh, by the saints, he was a babbling fool!
    “No matter the time it would