The High Sheriff of Huntingdon (8 page)

“I’ve
been
a
holy sister for
eight
years.”

De Lancey’s smile
was
charming.
“You’re in for a rude awakening
.”

Elspeth
stood very still
as
she heard the door close behind him. She heard
the key
turn in the lock.
She could
feel the woman’
s
eyes
on
her,
but
not
for anything
would she allow
her sudden
panic
to show. She moved
to a chair and
sank
gracefully into it.

“Your
husband’s
a
madman,” the wo
man
said.

Elspeth lifted her eyes.
“Is
he?” she said
coolly.

The
woman nodded,
her mouth pursed grimly. “He’s the spawn of a witch
and
t
h
e
devil
himself,
and
he’s
without
m
e
rc
y entirely.
You’d be
better off
throwing yourself
from
yon
window than
enduring
even
a night
of
him.”

Elspeth
leaned
back.
“That would
be
convenient,
wouldn’t
it?”
she
murmured. “He’s got
whatever dowry
he wanted from my
father,
and he wouldn’t have
me
interfering with
his
pleasures.”

“You
won’t be
interfering with the sheriff. No one dares
to. He’d
h
ave
your throat
cut as soon as
look at you,”
the
woman said, her eyes small
and dark and
mean.

“Charming.
I
get
the impression
I’m
not due for a long
and
happy
marriage.”

Her mild
irony was lost
on the woman. “Don’t you
care? Doesn’t it b
other you
that you’ve
been
married
to
a
monster?”

“Since
there’s
nothing
I
can
do about it, I don’t
propose to
waste
my
time
beating
my breast about it.
If he’s not
interested
in
having a wife, perhaps
he’ll
allow me
to live
a
separate
life.”

The
woman
shook her head.
“You
h
a
v
e
no
i
d
e
a,
do
y
o
u
?”

She could
hear
the
noise
of
his
approach
already,
the
ri
n
g
of nailed
boots
on
the
stone steps, the raucous sound
of
laughter, both
male and
f
e
m
a
l
e
. She
didn’t
move, and
she kept her hands
folded
in
her lap to
hi
d
e
their
trembling.

She knew
hi
s
v
o
i
ce
when
s
h
e
heard it. C
l
e
a
r
and strong
and
arrogant, bordering on
malicious. “Open
the door,
De Lancey. We
want
to
view
the lady
of
th
e
keep.”

It
took
all
Elspeth’
s self-control
not to move
when the heavy
wooden
door
was
thrust
open. All
h
e
r
self-control not to
flinch,
as
the
woman
did, when
t
h
e
small
group of
people
crowded
into
t
h
e
room,
staring
a
t
her.

He
stood
in the middle
with a
buxom
redhead
firmly
attached
to
his
si
d
e
.
Elspeth paid
the woman
scant
h
ee
d
,
concentrating
on
her husband.

Black, she
thought. Black from the
top
of
his
long
hair
to his
deep
velvet clothes. Like a raven,
or a b
i
rd of
prey.
Or
a sleek black wolf.

His
mouth
was
w
i
d
e
and cynical,
set in
a
face
of narrow,
suspicious elegance, and
his bright
eyes
w
e
r
e
a
curious
g
o
l
d
e
n
color.
He
wasn’t
n
e
a
r
l
y
as
handsome
as
his
h
e
n
c
hm
a
n
,
nor
as
broadly
built. He
was
l
i
t
h
e
,
lean,
wickedly graceful,
whereas
De
Lancey was
stalwart
and beautiful. But next to the
sheriff,
De
Lancey’s
blond
good
lo
ok
s
faded into
insignificance.

She
rose
with
all
the
dignity
bred
into
her.
Her w
h
i
t
e
robes
trailed
on
the
filthy floor
a
s
she
crossed to
the mocking,
cynical
man
who
h
a
d married
her.
She took
his
hand and sank gracefully
to
her knees
in front
of him.
H
is
was
a
disturbingly
beautiful
h
a
n
d
,
with lo
n
g
,
deft
fingers,
a
tensile
strength.
He wore
no
wedding
ring,
of course. In its
pla
c
e
was a
strange golden ring,
one
that looked like
a
bird, with black
stones
for
eyes.
She
pressed
h
e
r lips against
the
back of his hand,
then
looked
up
at
him.