Claire Delacroix (58 page)

Alys worked as she had never worked before. She scrubbed and she swept and she hauled water until she ached clear to her bones. And then she scrubbed some more. She cleaned ashes from the kitchen hearth and hauled bucket after bucket of soot out of the keep.

She avoided the hall with a vengeance, being certain she did not even glance toward the dais when she crept through the shadows to the stairs. Fortunately the torches were lit only near the dais, and she doubted that any noted her passing. Once in the solar above, she could hear a familiar rumble of masculine laughter carry from below, interspersed with Malvina’s giggles.

It did not sound as if the man were
not
courting her cousin.

Alys gritted her teeth and cleaned both solar and smaller chambers with a savage thoroughness. Sweat trickled down her back and ashes stained her skin, the shadows of the night fell within the hall, but still she labored.

And still she strained her ears, unable to deny the temptation of listening for a certain knight’s voice. Each time she heard Burke chuckle, she scrubbed harder.

He was clearly enjoying Malvina’s company this night, she thought waspishly, and showing no disappointment in her absence. Not courting Malvina, indeed. The man bent the truth to his own advantage, that much was clear. Alys swore softly and cleaned.

But no matter how hard she toiled, Alys could not drive Burke de Montvieux from her thoughts. Not his touch, not his voice, not his charm, not the gleam in his silver-blue eyes when he so readily granted her his word.

Even though ’twas a lie.

Alys knew ’twas her own weakness for this knight at root. After all, she
knew
that a man’s touch could lead only to downfall, she
knew
more than enough about the legacy of being a whore’s bastard daughter,
she knew that
Burke himself had sorely disappointed her once before and undoubtedly tried to do so again.

Yet when Burke fixed his intent gaze upon her—or worse, touched her—she simply forgot. ’Twas madness to let a man so muddle her thoughts, but even the awareness of that did naught to diminish the power of Burke’s allure.

Nor did it temper her burgeoning curiosity.

For Alys could not keep herself from wondering what tale this man would tell, if given the chance. Was it possible that there was another explanation for Burke’s long-ago departure?

Would he tell a lie, designed to ease between her thighs and no more? Or could there be some angle of the truth that Alys did not know? The possibility that Burke might be innocent of the crimes she laid at his door tormented Alys throughout that night.

And ’twas not only because she prided herself on being fair.

Then the good chance that she was an idealistic fool tormented her yet more. Truly, she had listened too intently to Heloise’s tales all these years!

And she had promised Aunt, after all. Alys returned to the kitchen with her army of buckets, her chin held high when a silence descended on the dais as she passed.

“It seems that Alys makes a marked recovery from her catarrh,” Burke commented dryly. Alys noted that Malvina nearly draped herself across the man’s lap and he did naught to challenge this familiarity.

Did his pride demand that every woman fall at his feet?

Aunt laughed and made up some lie even as Alys gritted
her teeth. A catarrh? ’Twas typical of that woman to tell some tall tale to excuse her behavior. Alys set to cleaning the kitchen, half hoping that a certain knight would seek her out before he retired.

But gradually the keep fell silent, and footsteps echoed on the stairs. Alys caught herself listening for a solid male tread, her vigor deserting her when she heard Burke leave the hall for the stairs, not the kitchen.

Oh, she was an addlepated fool!

’Twas only once they were all gone that Alys dragged her buckets into the great hall itself. The room seemed vast and cold now that ’twas deserted and the fire burned down to glowing coals. The floor stretched on for eternity, but Alys dutifully scrubbed as snores and the scampering of mice filled the keep.

She cursed her aunt a few times for good measure, then cursed Burke for tangling her thoughts. She cursed her mother for being so foolish as to submit to a man’s seductive ploys.

If her mother had not succumbed to temptation, then Alys would not have been bastard-born, her mother would not have died of a broken heart, and Alys would not be on her knees, cleaning Kiltorren’s floors.

Then she cursed herself for being so very tempted to repeat that same woeful mistake. The truth was all too clear, with no winsome dreams, or romantic tales, or charming men to cloud Alys’s view.

But what
would
Burke say if she granted him the chance? Even knowing she should not, Alys was itching to know.

When the dawn’s first fingers crept into the hall, Alys was done with her cleaning. She stood and stretched her back, surveying what she had achieved with no pride of accomplishment. Alys ran a tired hand over her brow.

Heloise oft said that curiosity could lead to the downfall of innocents, and Alys reluctantly acknowledged the truth of
that. However wrong ’twas, whatever manner of lies he might offer, she sorely wanted to know what Burke would say in his own defense.

And there was only one way to satisfy her burning curiosity. Alys was going to have to grant the man the hearing he requested. ’Twas a risky proposition, given the pledge she had made to her aunt, but perhaps the deed could be concealed.

First, Alys would cut the strewing herbs and finish this cursed task. If Dame Fortune smiled upon her, Aunt would not rise soon and would be so busy checking Alys’s labor once she did arise—seeking fault, as always—that she would not immediately note Alys’s absence.

Or her defiance.

For this would be the last time Alys would speak with Burke, without doubt. The man was right in this, at least. He had listened to Alys, and ’twas only fair she listen to him.

At least that was the excuse she granted herself to seek him out. Alone in the garden with knife in hand, Alys fervently hoped she could keep her wits about her and hold fast against Burke’s allure.

’Twas not heartening to know that ’twas a slender chance, at best.

y the time Alys had strewn the herbs across every freshly cleaned floor, ’twas nearly midmorning. She had heard Burke’s whistle earlier and knew he was awake. Ensuring that both Aunt and Malvina were yet abed, she embarked on her furtive mission.

But Burke was not in the hall or the kitchen. He was neither in the armory nor the bailey. Alys thought he might have gone riding but found his destrier still in the stables. The great steed nosed in his feed bin as Kerwyn murmured to him, brushing his flank. Neither glanced up at her.

Alys paused in the dappled sunlight that filled the corridor running alongside the stalls and glanced down the length of the stables. She seldom came here, her labor keeping her within the hall, and the smell of the place made her thoughts turn to a long-ago afternoon. Her footsteps were drawn to the far end, almost of their own accord.

There the stalls were no longer in use. Each step put the noise of steeds and stablehands farther behind her, but memory echoed in Alys’s mind. Nigh feeling the weight of the slops pail in her hand, she smiled in recollection of Burke’s appearance.

Aye, he thought he had fooled her that afternoon, that she did not guess from the flash of his eyes that he had been deliberately seeking her.

In those days, Burke had been so easily read.

Or so she had thought. Alys’s smile faded.

She paused outside the very last stall and debated the whimsey of what she wanted to do. She glanced back over her shoulder to assure herself that her folly would not be witnessed, then stepped into the stall.

’Twas just the same. Motes of dust danced in an errant sunbeam, the smell of hay and dung, leather and horseflesh filled her nostrils. Alys heard the distant sound of stomping hooves—granted, farther and fewer than once they had been—and took another step into the stall’s shadows.

It had been exactly here. Alys closed her eyes, leaned back, and let herself recall the sweet ardor of Burke’s kiss. Indeed, she could fairly taste the urgency she had felt in him, the way her blood had leapt at his touch.

Oh, how she had loved him!

Or how she had
believed
she loved him. But the man Alys loved was Aucassin from Heloise’s tale, the bold and handsome knight who cared naught for his lady love’s lowly status and stopped at naught to win her hand. Aucassin was faithful beyond all, chivalrous and prepared to sacrifice all for the cause of love.

But Aucassin was not real. Alys had simply confused her favored tale with the truth. She shook her head and spun to leave.

’Twas then Alys realized she was not alone.

She caught her breath to find Burke leaning against the far wall. The shadows had nearly swallowed him, though his gaze shone even in the darkness. And he was more still than Alys would have believed possible.

And he was very real. Burke was watching her, there could be no doubt of that, his arms folded across the broadness of his chest. His slow smile made Alys tremble to her toes.

’Twas clear he had spent time in the stables already this day, for his fine boots were mired. Burke had discarded his tabard, his white linen chemise emphasizing the strength of his shoulders and the golden hue of his tan. His hair was tousled and he looked almost as he had so long ago.

Alys’s heart skipped a beat as she acknowledged, if only to herself, that Burke was far more breathtaking than he had been even three years past.

“Dare I hope,” he asked softly, “that you seek me?”

Alys felt herself flush, but she did not drop her gaze. “Aye,” she admitted, though her mouth had gone dry. “It seemed only courteous to hear you out.”

Burke seemed to find this claim amusing. He pushed one hand through his hair, leaving those dark waves in even greater disarray. “Then it seems I owe much to courtesy,” he commented, a thread of humor in his tone.

Alys’s heart took a traitorous leap when he straightened. She took a hasty step back, finding the stable wall too close behind her for comfort.

She shook a warning finger at Burke, fear of her own response to him rising quickly. “You remain there. I came to listen, and naught more than my attention will you have of me.”

Burke leaned back against the opposing wall. “You have no bucket of water on this day to force your edict,” he noted mildly.

Alys lifted her chin in challenge. “You say you are a man of honor. I but grant you the chance to prove it.”

He considered her in a silence so charged she could not catch her breath. “Touche,” Burke said finally, then his gaze flicked over the stall. “It has changed little here.”

Alys felt defensiveness of her family’s failing fortunes ease into her tone. “There is little to change in a horse stall, and, indeed, this end of the stables is seldom used these days.”

“Mmm.” Burke frowned. “We parted here and ’tis from here that I would begin to tell you what transpired.” His gaze swivelled to hers. “I trust you recall that day?”

Alys felt a lump rise in her throat as she remembered the humiliation of their parting. “ ’Twas the last I saw of you. ’Tis all I need to recall.”

“You fled.”

“And you did not pursue me,” Alys charged, hearing the heat of an old wound in her words.

Burke shook his head, a vestige of frustration crossing his brow. “Your family would not permit it! They cornered me here, like a ferret doomed to die, much as they cornered me at the gates yesterday. ’Twas chaos, all accusations and demands, and irritating beyond all.” His glance flicked to her again. “I wanted only to speak with you.”

“I was in my chamber.”

“Aye, so I was told.” Burke looked grim. “In those days, your family at least feigned concern for your honor, though I did not see through their pretense then. When I offered for your hand …”

Alys raised her hand to challenge this falsehood. “Burke, you could not have offered for my hand!”

Burke’s eyes flashed. “I
did
! That very day. I said I would wed you, and I made clear my honorable intent. Indeed, ’twas only once they heard my offer that they let me pass,” he continued, no small measure of anger underlying his words. “But your family insisted upon presenting my petition. They returned to me almost immediately and said you would not hear of my offer. I was told that you refused even my presence.”

Alys felt her lips part in astonishment. Not only had Burke offered for her hand, but he thought she
spurned
his suit?

“I waited a day,” Burke continued bitterly. “I repeated my petition, but your family brought your dismissal to me once more.”

There was heat in his words, heat and hurt, the intensity of it making Alys wonder. Surely this passion could be no lie?

Though still it made no sense.

Burke stared at his feet. “I confess that I was uncertain what to think. I did not know much of love and marriage, I certainly knew naught of such happiness as I had known in your presence. An old knight told me I should be pleased not to have to bear the burden of young foolishness. I did not know whether he spoke the truth.”