Claire Delacroix (65 page)

“Not I! I merely heard you courted her,” Alys said tightly. She strode with a vigor that belied her stated indifference, and Burke was vastly cheered by this. “Indeed, she insists your offer for her hand will come shortly.”

“And she is sorely mistaken,” Burke clarified. Alys looked to him in surprise, and he smiled. “Alys, why are you walking all this distance on this day? I had intended for you to remain abed.”

“
In your
bed!” Alys corrected. “Aye, there is little import to be missed in that. Did you expect me to welcome you between my thighs for your aid?”

“Nay! I am a man of honor …”

Alys pivoted smartly to face Burke, her eyes snapping. “Yet ’tis your deeds that continually make trouble between us. What am I to think when a knight deposits me in his bed, nude but for his chemise, and does not abandon those quarters?”

Burke folded his arms across his chest in annoyance. “I slept in the stables. Did Edana not tell you as much?”

“Aye. But the presence of your saddlebags indicates your intent to return.”

“They indicate naught beyond the fact that I forgot them.” Burke leaned closer and let his voice drop low. “Alys, I was concerned for you. Did you not think to seek me out this day? To thank me? To set my fears to rest?”

Alys studied him for a moment, as if wanting to believe him but not daring to do so. Then she shook her head and continued on her route. “I understand that you are anxious that I heal, that you might have your pleasure.”

Burke strode after her, infuriated by this tale. “Who told you such nonsense?”

Alys lifted her chin. “Malvina claims you two are confidants.”

“Malvina.” Burke swore softly. “The truth is as likely to fall from that one’s lips as a volley of pearls.”

“I saw you and I heard you, making merry at the board with her,” Alys retorted. “And there is no lie in that.”

“And what am I to do?” Burke flung out his hands in frustration. “Your aunt and uncle insist I must have come to court your cousins.”

“Fair enough. ’Twas what you said when you arrived.”

Burke chose not to argue that. “They already have threatened to cast me out over doubts of my intent. I must make a show of courting Malvina, at least until you grant me a fair hearing.”

Alys slanted a glance his way. “Consider yourself to have had it.”

“I have
not,
for still you think poorly of me and I have done naught to earn that,” Burke said with a growl. “Alys, it seems I can do naught aright in this. I granted you solitude this morn, because you declared that I did not give enough care to your reputation within the hall. So, out of deference to your concerns, I did
not
sit in that chamber all the night long and ensure you were undisturbed.”

She glanced up, but Burke did not cease. “And my reward for this is that your family have the opportunity to pour poison into your ears, which you believe at my expense!”

“Fairly spoken, but your deeds do little to reassure me that I have misinterpreted you in truth.” Alys pivoted to walk ahead of him, obviously untroubled by his frustration.

And Burke’s annoyance faded to naught when he noted a thin trickle of fresh blood staining her kirtle.

He lent chase, concern making his voice low. “Alys, you have opened your wounds again.” When she did not halt,
Burke caught at her arm and turned her to face him. “You have done too much this day, as I feared you would.”

Alys shook her head. “It matters naught. Indeed, I had no choice.”

“Surely this Heloise could have waited another day.”

But Alys shook her head firmly. “Nay. Edana told her some tale and she was fretful for my welfare. I had to come.” She took a deep breath and summoned a smile. “I shall be back at the hall soon enough, if you permit me to continue, and, with some fortune, will not have too much labor to do.”

“You jeopardized your welfare to see her fears laid to rest,” Burke murmured, awed by her selflessness. “Alys, you must show yourself more mercy.”

His lady shrugged, her cheeks pinkening slightly. “I would not see her have another fit.”

Burke cupped Alys’s chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “And I would see you healed in truth. ’Tis the same concern for a loved one that drives us both, Alys.”

Her expression turned assessing. “What of Malvina?”

Burke grimaced. “I have told you the truth, as always I have done. I would ride from the gates with you at this very moment, Alys, and never glance back to Kiltorren again.” Uncertainty lit her golden eyes and Burke leaned closer, intent on securing his victory. “Alys, ’tis you alone who holds my heart, you alone who haunts my dreams.”

“Oh!” Alys rolled her eyes, pulled herself away from his touch, and marched ahead of him once more.

Burke flung out his hands and bellowed, feeling cheated of his prize in the last moment. “What did I say?”

“Oh, Burke, whenever I come close to believing what you pledge, you make some preposterous compliment that cannot be believed,” the lady complained, her irritation clear. “Do you make the same sweet promises to all the women whose affections you court?”

“Alys, there is only you!”

She cast him a skeptical smile. “Indeed. It sounds as if you have practiced that claim as well.”

Burke growled and matched steps with his lady once more. He forced himself to pursue matters on another front. “ ’Tis a sorry state of affairs when a man finds himself jealous of the time his lady spends with an old woman.” He took a deep breath. “And truly, this place vexes me beyond all.”

“Not just me?” Alys teased unexpectedly.

Burke chuckled despite himself, enjoying her quick wits. Aye, she saw right to the meat of the matter, and he liked that well. “You have had a role in my frustration, Alys, no doubt. All the same, I would apologize for my poor temper.”

They walked in silence for a few moments.

“Tell me of this old maid,” Burke invited finally.

“Heloise is not that old,” Alys said, her tone carefully neutral.

“Who is she?”

“She was my mother’s maid.”

“And how did she come to be an anchorite?”

“ ’Tis not pertinent, Burke.”

“On the contrary, you speak her name with affection,” he insisted. “ ’Tis of great import to me to know of those you love.”

Alys considered Burke as if this thought had never occurred to her before. “Heloise raised me as her own when my mother died,” she admitted. “ ’Twas she who defended me from Aunt, at least until they two did match wills several years past.”

Burke frowned. “Was she here when I came?”

“Three years past, she was yet in the hall. You may recall her, though she tended to stay in the shadows.”

And those few words alone did prompt Burke’s recollection. “The older woman, with silver in her chestnut hair,” he said with a snap of his fingers. “She was sparsely built. She said very little but gave an impression of great strength.”

“That was Heloise.”

Burke grinned. “And I recall that she oft looked daggers at your aunt.”

Alys obviously tried to fight her answering smile, but her eyes sparkled. “That was she.”

“She did not look to be a woman of God.”

“Nay, she was a handmaid then, albeit one who grew older. Until the day I vexed Aunt overmuch—”

“Doubtless you did naught wrong,” Burke interjected.

Alys sighed and frowned. “Nay, I broke a favored trinket of hers and she was not inclined to let the matter be. ’Twas the first time she whipped me.”

“The first time?” Burke heard anger ripple in his voice. “This then is typical? How often has she raised a hand against you?”

“There has only been that time and this.”

“Once is too much,” he muttered. “What stayed her hand?”

“ ’Twas Heloise. She leapt to defend me and Aunt, in her fury, turned upon her. She struck her and Heloise fell to the floor in a fit.” A shadow drew across Alys’s features, and Burke guessed the memory was both vivid and painful. “ ’Twas horrible to watch, for she was in great pain, but none knew what to do.” Alys shivered but did not pull away when Burke caught her hand in his. “ ’Twas dreadful to stand by and do naught, but I could not help her.”

“No one could have.” He squeezed her fingers reassuringly, guessing how her thoughts would turn. “Though no doubt you felt responsible for this.”

Alys swallowed and then nodded with reluctance. “Aye, in a part of my heart, I do blame myself, for if I had not defied Aunt …”

“If you had not been the daughter of the woman Heloise served with such dedication,” Burke interrupted with vigor, “she would not have felt compelled to defend you from such injustice.”

Alys met Burke’s insistent gaze.

“Heloise loved you, so she defended you,” he continued with conviction. “ ’Tis your aunt who was wrong, and your aunt alone, for no one should be struck as you have been.”

Alys frowned. “I only wish Heloise had not suffered.”

Burke ran a thumb across the back of Alys’s hand and urged her to walk closer to him, encouraged by her trust.

“And what did she suffer?”

Alys sighed. “When her fit subsided, one side of her body was without sensation. She could not move her arm, nor her leg, and her face was slack upon that same side.”

Burke nodded. “I have seen this once, and that time it did ease away.”

“So did Heloise’s affliction fade, though still a vestige of it lingers. She cannot use that hand with any dexterity, and she limps. Her smile does not travel fully across her lips.” Alys frowned. “And her thinking is not so clear as once it was.”

“Why then is she out here, left alone to the elements? ’Tis unfitting for a woman in such a state. She should be sheltered within the hall, where others could aid her.”

“Aye, she should!” Alys straightened in indignation. “But Uncle declared ’twas the hand of God that struck down Heloise, that He used Heloise as a tool to intervene in Aunt’s dark deeds. Uncle insisted Aunt never strike me again, lest she attract God’s wrath once more, and so she did not.”

“Until yesterday.”

“Aye.” Alys swallowed. “Aunt did not take well to Uncle’s dictate. She insisted that if God worked through Heloise, then Heloise must be fully pledged to His will. At her command, Heloise was cast from the hall and moved here”—Alys raised her voice to a mimicry of her aunt—”that she might live in solitude and contemplate God’s mysteries in peace.”

Burke snorted. “That she might fall ill and die, or at least not interfere with Deirdre’s plans again.”

Alys met his gaze solemnly. “You have called that aright, but Heloise is stronger than might have been expected.”

Burke studied his lady, thinking the same might be said of her. “It seems your concern for Heloise grows greater.”

Alys winced. “She is forgetting to tend the fire,” she admitted in a low voice. “I fear ’tis a bad portent. And she is more confused than before. I fear she will forget to eat or to ensure her own welfare. And none come this way but me.”

“You would have her return to the hall.”

Alys nodded. “I wish I could persuade Aunt to welcome Heloise.”

Fear shot through Burke at the very possibility. He grasped Alys’s shoulders, pulled her to a halt, and turned her to face him. He had no doubt that she would do battle for this elderly maid and disregard any cost to herself.

“Alys, you cannot challenge your aunt, not after what she has just done!”

“Aunt cannot do worse to me and Heloise needs my aid.” Alys turned an appealing look upon the knight that melted his heart. “Burke, understand that I owe her much for all the years she cared for me. I cannot let her perish out here alone! ’Tis wrong by any accounting!”

“Heloise may need aid,” he said firmly, “but it does not have to be from you.”

“But there is no one else who cares for her.”

“But I care for you,” Burke insisted. “I shall raise the issue with your family.” He looked Alys steadily in the eye, willing her to believe him. “Not you.”

“You would do this? Aunt will be most vexed.”

“All the more reason for me to take this cause.” Burke smiled slowly and squeezed her shoulders. “Do you not understand, Alys? I would do far more to win the sweet treasure of your smile, and even more again to win your hand within mine.”

But Alys bit at an unwilling smile. “Burke, you must cease with these overwrought compliments.”

“What did I say?”

“Sweet treasure of my smile?” Alys made a face. “ ’Tis too rich for even a minstrel’s taste!”

“ ’Tis praise fairly won!”

Alys laughed at his indignation. “ ’Tis a compliment too fulsome to be believed!”

But Burke did not smile. “And your belief in me is the issue that lies squarely between us, is it not?” he asked softly.

Alys sobered and looked away, the truth needing no confirmation.

He studied her for a long moment and had to ask. “Did your Heloise remember me?”

Alys caught her breath. “Her memory is addled.”

Heloise did not recall him. Burke felt disappointment as keenly as a blow. ’Twas clear enough that the woman’s endorsement of his suit would have gone far to win favor in his lady’s sight.

“A week, Alys,” he insisted. “Grant me a week to win Heloise’s return to Kiltorren’s keep.”

Alys eyed him and Burke saw a flicker of hope dawn in those amber depths. Then she nodded abruptly. “One week.”

Burke noted suddenly how his lady sagged beneath his hands. ’Twas as if relief stole the last of the fight within her. He recalled that trickle of blood and knew he could not permit her to do yet more. “Alys, you must ride back to the keep.”

She glanced to him, then to Moonshadow, her alarm at the prospect more than clear. “There is no need …”

“There is every need. You have done far too much this day. You know that your wound is open again.” He turned her and frowned at the mark of the fresh blood, relieved to see that there was no more. He saw no reason to tell Alys as much.

She should be back in bed, his or any other.

“I will not ride that beast,” the lady insisted with a flick of her braid.

“You will ride that beast or I shall toss you over my shoulder,” Burke retorted, letting her see his resolve. Alys’s eyes widened slightly and he was pleased that she believed something of what he said. “ ’Tis your choice—one of us shall carry you.”