Lady Gallant (8 page)

Roger whistled. "I didn't think she'd do it."

"What?" Christian asked.

"Come here. Last night at the palace Jane Dormer taunted her that she was a mouse and hadn't the stomach to join in true sport like bear baiting. She called Mistress Becket a mouse to her face, and so Nora wagered that she would come today."

Grasping the rail in front of him, Christian watched the girl. When the dogs were released, her hands jerked in her lap, then went still. She was still staring into the distance. One of the ladies whispered something to her, and Nora slowly lowered her gaze to the pit.

Five mastiffs were snapping at the bear. One charged and ripped into a leg. Blood spurted from torn flesh as the bear swatted the dog from its thigh. Two more dogs charged, and the bear caught one in its jaws. The mastiff screamed. Yellow fangs bit into the dog's back while the rest of the mongrels fell upon the bear.

Christian glanced from the spectacle to Nora. She grasped her silk mask and tore it from her head, then dropped it as she lurched to her feet. One hand clutched at her throat while the other groped for and found the scented pomander ball hanging from her girdle. She held it to her nose. Above her hand, her eyes were wide and fixed. Christian was up and running for the stairs before she fled.

He waited for her on the second landing. Hearing light, uneven footsteps, he moved closer to the stairs. She didn't see him. She dropped the pomander and almost fell down the last three steps in front of him. He caught her by the arms.

Eyes wide and unfocused, she stared at him.

"Lord Montfort."

Her face had lost all color and her skin was damp. When her throat convulsed and she tried to pull free, he swept her up in his arms.

"Try to hold it until I set you down," he said.

Running downstairs, he accosted an attendant and asked for a place of privacy. He was shown to an uninhabited office. Placing Nora on a bench, he slipped one arm around her waist and cupped the back of her neck with his other hand. He shoved her head between her knees while she muttered a protest.

The attendant brought a basin, damp cloths, and beer. After dismissing the man with the reward of a few coins, Christian placed the basin on the floor and applied a cloth to Nora's face and neck. She was still white, but her breathing was no longer so rapid. He wiped a bead of sweat from her cheek, but another followed. They were tears. Pulling away from him, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Christian sat beside her, cloth suspended in the air, and waited. The sobs grew until he thought she would choke on them. Her body shook with the force of her grief, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach as though she were in pain. The violence of her grief stunned Christian. Then he remembered the puppies.

He pounced on her. Lifting her onto his lap, he shoved her face into his shoulder and squeezed his arms tight around her. He felt her tip-tilted nose burrow into his neck. The muscles in his chest contracted.

"You little fool," he said into her veil. "Goose. Idiot. Your heart is tied to your sleeve, and you can't go about letting others use it for a shuttlecock."

He felt her nod. Smiling, he buried his hand in her velvety black hair. His fingers found her neck. It was moist and hot; he kneaded the muscles. As he held her, a roar came from the bear. It was muffled, but Nora jumped and began to tremble again.

"Don't think about it," Christian said. He swore when she started to sob again. His hands bracketed her face, and he fastened his mouth on hers. Her sobs vibrated in his mouth for brief seconds before she drew back. He let her go, setting her beside him on the bench. Rising, he offered his hand.

"I'm taking you back across the river, sweet mouse. We'll go in my barge."

"I came with—"

"Let them wallow in blood," he snapped, then groaned silently when she flinched. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh.

He took her arm and conducted her out of the arena. His pleasure barge waited on the bank of the Thames. Pennanted and gilded, stuffed with cushions and covers, it was a gift from his father. Christian had Nora safely tucked into the cushions before she'd decided she shouldn't be going anywhere with him. She started to protest, but he hushed her.

"We're casting off," he said, "so there's nothing to do but wait."

A light, pattering sound drew his attention. Along the bank a small angel in Becket livery raced toward them. The page Arthur hurled his body across the increasing distance between the barge and the shore. Christian sighed and braced himself. As the boy arced toward him, he reached out and yanked at his flying cloak. Arthur landed on his bottom on the floor of the boat. Nora laughed at him and helped him up. Arthur plopped himself down on the floor again so that he was between Christian and Nora. The child lifted a rounded chin and scowled at his adversary.

"I accompany my lady at all times." Arthur pounded his fist on the deck to emphasize this announcement.

"Not if I drown you in the river," Christian said.

Arthur folded his arms over his chest and kept scowling. Nora admonished the boy, and Christian smiled at him nastily.

His men oared quickly, and Christian distracted Nora from the silent and resentful Arthur by telling her a story about a black witch who turned a goldsmith's apprentice into an eel.

"Witches," Nora said. "Fie."

"Fie!" Christian put his fists on his hips and frowned. Suddenly he pointed into the water. "See. There it is now. The very one."

Nora leaned over the side of the barge. Christian dipped his hand into the river and flicked a spray of water at her face. She squealed, then jumped back and gawked at him. He leaned against his cushions and chuckled. His mirth ended abruptly when a pillow hit him square in the face. He caught it and held it up as a shield, but Nora's barrage was over. She was eyeing him warily, as if she regretted her rash familiarity and expected him to hit her. He lowered the pillow and grinned at her.

She gave him a tiny smile in return. "Thank you, my lord, for rescuing me again."

"I shall apply to the Queen for a license and monopoly. Snatching you from disaster is beginning to take a lot of my time."

"I regret it, my lord."

"Christian."

She shook her head.

"I'm going to call you Nora, so you might as well call me Christian."

She didn't answer. Turning her head, she gazed out at the houses along the river. Around them sculls and barges swarmed over the water. The sound of waves hitting the barge mixed with hailing calls from oarsmen. Arthur was still frowning at him, watching him as if he expected Christian to leap upon his mistress at any moment.

Christian let Nora be, however. He was content to study her profile. She had the blush of a Dutch tulip in her lips and cheeks. Her forehead was a gentle curve that sank into the bridge of her nose. Wispy black curls at her temples danced in the breeze. He avoided looking below her neck.

He should take her back to the palace, but he wasn't going to. Where could he take this gentle yet lush young woman, though? He let his hand trail in the water while he thought of the stews, taverns, and gardens that were his favorite haunts.

"We'll pass the rest of the afternoon in pleasance, my lady." he said, smiling lazily. He ignored her shake of the head and started singing an old French song.

Down the broad way do I go

Young and unregretting,

Wrap me in my vices up,

Virtue all forgetting.

Greedier for all delight

Than heaven to enter in

Since the soul in me is dead,

Better save the skin.

The boat hit the northern bank as he finished. He pulled Nora up and helped her onto the dock. Giving her no opportunity to protest, he clasped her by the arm and hustled her into the streets of London.

"Come along, my night-black mouse, and I'll wrap you up in my vices."

Christian sat on a bench in the back courtyard of the Golden Unicorn, leaning his weight on one hand and smiling at the chortles coming from Nora's little shrike of a guardian. It hadn't taken Christian long to conjure up a troop of players to distract his guests, and Bogo Littlefoot made an absurd spectacle as the sheriff of Nottingham. Using a pot for a helmet, a serving tray for a shield, and a roasting spit for a sword, Bogo waddled about the makeshift stage like a metal-clad lump of pudding with feet.

Judging that Nora had forgotten the bear baiting and was cheered by the combination of merrymaking, food, and the sight of Arthur's pleasure, Christian took her hand and gestured for her to follow him. Arthur and two of Christians's men-at-arms were cheering Robin Hood. Nora glanced over her shoulder at them, but Christian pulled her into the inn. Crossing through the kitchen, parlors, and the main hall, he got as far as the entry way before Nora dug in her heels.

"Where are you taking me, my lord?"

"Christian. I remembered just now that my lord father asked me to pick up something for him. He's had a cup made to present to the Queen when she attends our banquet."

Nora shook her head. "I can't go alone with you."

"Do you think I'd trip about London with a gold cup and a maid by myself? We'll have escort."

"But Arthur…"

Holding up a finger, Christian silenced her. Over the talk of the inn's patrons they could still hear laughter from the courtyard. "Arthur is well settled. You wouldn't want to deny him his pleasure, would you?" To forestall more objections, he caught her hand and whisked her into the stabling yard. "It's not far, anyway. We can walk."

Followed by several men-at-arms, he walked quickly so that she had to trot to keep up with him and had no chance to make excuses. She was too busy dodging loose cobblestones and ruts. He pulled her down a crowded street, around a corner, and across an intersection in front of a lumbering coach. The vehicle creaked and groaned as it sank into a mud hole, and Christian lifted Nora by the waist to swing her over the muck. When he reached for her hand again, she slapped his away.

"Ouch! Marry, lady, you are too cruel."