gasped as Adele dug her fingernails into her
wrist and drew closer, her blue eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Ah, no, Rose, I'll allow no Irish chit to become
my dear brother's bride. Never. It was bad enough that a common Scots bitch
falsely claimed herself a second wife to our father and bore a son he loved
above three others. Duncan FitzWilliam will have a Norman wife to thin his
tainted blood and give him heirs of which his family in England can be
proud."
"But I . . . I don't want to be Lord FitzWilliam's
wife," Maire began, only to be sharply cut off.
"As if he would have you, flawed as you are."
Adele's gaze fell to Maire's legs, her eyes grown as vexed as her expression as
she then lifted them to Maire's face and spoke almost to herself. "Yet
Duncan has always been one to let compassion sway him, not so wise a trait in a
man who lives by the sword. If he has kissed you, who can say how your crippled
state will further move him?"
Adele's clenched fist came down upon the table at the
same moment a half dozen jugglers and acrobats began to whoop and tumble at the
center of the hall, Maire not sure which had startled her more. Yet she was already
so alarmed by everything the woman had told her, her heart pounding, her lips
burning as if Duncan had only just kissed her . . . Jesu, Mary, and Joseph!
That her impossible imagining hadn't been a dream was
not half as disturbing as that she found herself wishing she'd been awake to
feel his mouth touch hers. Maire felt more anxious than ever before to leave
Longford Castle. But without Flanna, how . . . ?
Maire glanced at Adele to find the woman still glaring
at her, as if by sheer will she could make Maire disappear. Suddenly Maire
realized she sat beside the one person who would gladly aid her. Desperately
shoving away all thoughts of her slaughtered clansmen and the fact that she
couldn't possibly trust Adele or her men, Maire had no choice but to speak.
"Please, the meadow . . . the meadow where my
clansmen—" She faltered, grisly memories assailing her no matter her
resolve, but already Adele was leaning toward her, the woman's eyes narrowing.
Maire swallowed and rushed on. "If there was a way for you, your
men—someone to get me there. I could wait, like you said. I'm sure it would
only be a matter of time before my family—"
"FitzHugh!"
Adele had risen from her chair, her knight tossing back
the last of his wine and rising, too. As the two conferred in low voices, Maire
was grateful for the commotion in the hall as none seemed to pay much
attention. Even Reginald Montfort, who appeared well occupied by the comely
servingwoman refilling his goblet. The next thing she knew Adele had gripped
her shoulder and bent low to whisper in her ear.
"Look as if you're ill, damn you. It's the only
way."
Look as if she were ill? In truth, Maire felt nearly
sick from nervousness and she shoved away her plate, the smell of the various
foods nauseating her indeed. Adele looked pleased as Maire then rose shakily, the woman looping an arm around her waist as
if she were truly concerned while she raised her voice so at least those on the
dais would hear.
"You don't look well at all, dear girl! FitzHugh,
help me support Rose on the other side."
As the swarthy knight hastened to oblige, the clamor in
the great hall seemed to dim, many turning to watch as Maire was assisted down
the steps. And this time Adele gave Rufus a sharp look that made the dwarf
merely shrug and go back to prancing around the minstrels who had begun to play
a lively tune, Adele's voice once more rising above the din.
"Don't mind us, please, enjoy your meal. Lord
FitzWilliam's lovely guest merely wishes to retire—not feeling well, I
fear."
A few glances of concern were thrown their way, but
Maire exhaled with relief as Duncan's retainers fell back to eating and
drinking while Adele's knights on the dais caroused with even greater abandon,
Adele's maidservants shrieking with laughter as they were caught and
wrist and drew closer, her blue eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Ah, no, Rose, I'll allow no Irish chit to become
my dear brother's bride. Never. It was bad enough that a common Scots bitch
falsely claimed herself a second wife to our father and bore a son he loved
above three others. Duncan FitzWilliam will have a Norman wife to thin his
tainted blood and give him heirs of which his family in England can be
proud."
"But I . . . I don't want to be Lord FitzWilliam's
wife," Maire began, only to be sharply cut off.
"As if he would have you, flawed as you are."
Adele's gaze fell to Maire's legs, her eyes grown as vexed as her expression as
she then lifted them to Maire's face and spoke almost to herself. "Yet
Duncan has always been one to let compassion sway him, not so wise a trait in a
man who lives by the sword. If he has kissed you, who can say how your crippled
state will further move him?"
Adele's clenched fist came down upon the table at the
same moment a half dozen jugglers and acrobats began to whoop and tumble at the
center of the hall, Maire not sure which had startled her more. Yet she was already
so alarmed by everything the woman had told her, her heart pounding, her lips
burning as if Duncan had only just kissed her . . . Jesu, Mary, and Joseph!
That her impossible imagining hadn't been a dream was
not half as disturbing as that she found herself wishing she'd been awake to
feel his mouth touch hers. Maire felt more anxious than ever before to leave
Longford Castle. But without Flanna, how . . . ?
Maire glanced at Adele to find the woman still glaring
at her, as if by sheer will she could make Maire disappear. Suddenly Maire
realized she sat beside the one person who would gladly aid her. Desperately
shoving away all thoughts of her slaughtered clansmen and the fact that she
couldn't possibly trust Adele or her men, Maire had no choice but to speak.
"Please, the meadow . . . the meadow where my
clansmen—" She faltered, grisly memories assailing her no matter her
resolve, but already Adele was leaning toward her, the woman's eyes narrowing.
Maire swallowed and rushed on. "If there was a way for you, your
men—someone to get me there. I could wait, like you said. I'm sure it would
only be a matter of time before my family—"
"FitzHugh!"
Adele had risen from her chair, her knight tossing back
the last of his wine and rising, too. As the two conferred in low voices, Maire
was grateful for the commotion in the hall as none seemed to pay much
attention. Even Reginald Montfort, who appeared well occupied by the comely
servingwoman refilling his goblet. The next thing she knew Adele had gripped
her shoulder and bent low to whisper in her ear.
"Look as if you're ill, damn you. It's the only
way."
Look as if she were ill? In truth, Maire felt nearly
sick from nervousness and she shoved away her plate, the smell of the various
foods nauseating her indeed. Adele looked pleased as Maire then rose shakily, the woman looping an arm around her waist as
if she were truly concerned while she raised her voice so at least those on the
dais would hear.
"You don't look well at all, dear girl! FitzHugh,
help me support Rose on the other side."
As the swarthy knight hastened to oblige, the clamor in
the great hall seemed to dim, many turning to watch as Maire was assisted down
the steps. And this time Adele gave Rufus a sharp look that made the dwarf
merely shrug and go back to prancing around the minstrels who had begun to play
a lively tune, Adele's voice once more rising above the din.
"Don't mind us, please, enjoy your meal. Lord
FitzWilliam's lovely guest merely wishes to retire—not feeling well, I
fear."
A few glances of concern were thrown their way, but
Maire exhaled with relief as Duncan's retainers fell back to eating and
drinking while Adele's knights on the dais caroused with even greater abandon,
Adele's maidservants shrieking with laughter as they were caught and
Similar Books
