Twilight Magic by Shari Anton

tolerate your company.”
    The three mercenaries moved as one toward the ale keg at the back of the hall, enjoying a chuckle—likely at his expense. He didn’t want to think about what ribald remarks his fellow mercenaries bandied about over Darian’s ill-fated, sexless marriage.
    Naturally, Maura seated everyone according to rank, with the earl at the head of the table, Emma at his left hand, and Gar on his right. Only because Darian was married to Emma was he allowed to sit at the high table, when he truly should be seated with the other mercenaries. Where he belonged. Where he would be seated on his next visit to Hadone because by then, ’twas to be hoped, he would no longer be a noblewoman’s husband.
    He eased onto the bench beside Emma, too aware of her rank for comfort, too drawn by her scent to excuse himself from what was sure to be an unsettling next hour.
    Wine was poured, and as was the custom at Hadone, supper consisted of a bowl of stew, chunks of brown bread, and slices of mellow cheese. Through most of the meal, William spoke with Gar and the master craftsmen about the building project’s progress.
    Darian held his peace, unable to contribute anything of import to the conversation, fighting the urge to lean closer to Emma and ask her to confirm that she’d fully recovered.
    He’d almost given in to the impulse when the earl turned his attention to Emma.
    “Have you been treated well?” William asked.
    “I have no cause for complaint, my lord. Your hospitality is excellent.”
    William grinned. “What think you of my new castle?” Darian rolled his eyes; Emma merely smiled at the bid for compliments.
    “I am impressed at how much has been accomplished in so short a time. I spent part of the morn in your kitchen and in the undercroft, and I most admire your modern thinking. Having sinks so close at hand must make Cook’s tasks much more bearable.”
    Sinks. They were talking about
sinks
! And because of those silly sinks, William so puffed up with pride he strained his tunic’s seams. Ye gods.
    Darian stopped listening, concentrating on the delicious little apple pastries, doing his best to ignore the tantalizing scent of the woman next to him, determined to take little notice of how her creamy white hands delicately tore chunks of near-white bread from the loaf, or the grace with which she scooped up chunks of stew and spooned them past her lush lips.
    Then the earl asked Emma a question about the great hall at Camelen, her birthplace.
    She answered, “My father chose to decorate Camelen’s hall with weapons, but my sister has removed several. In her last message to me, Gwendolyn said one of the tapestries she had commissioned from a weaver in Shrewsbury was almost finished. By now, it should occupy the space where a group of lances once hung.” She glanced around. “I see several places where a tapestry might be placed to warm your hall.”
    William gave Emma an apologetic smile. “Your mention of your sister reminds me of a task I should have taken care of earlier. Forgive me, my lady, for not immediately handing over your letters—one from Lady Julia, and another received at court from your sister. They are in my packs upstairs. I shall send a servant to fetch them.”
    Smiling hugely, Emma put her hand on the arm William had raised to summon a servant. “No need, my lord. I would not be so discourteous as to read them during supper. They can wait. Do you know from which sister?”
    “Gwendolyn, I believe. Your other sister, Nicole, is the one you wish to speak to the king about, is she not?”
    Emma nodded. “Nicole resides at Bledloe Abbey by king’s order. I had hoped to have her freed of the place and back home at Camelen by now.”
    Darian heard how much she loved and missed her sisters. Did she also still mourn her dead father and brother? No mention had been made of her mother, so he assumed the woman no longer lived. Did she miss all of her family as much as he missed