Read The Troubadour's Romance Online

Authors: Robyn Carr

Tags: #Romance, #Fiction, #Historical, #General

The Troubadour's Romance (8 page)

BOOK: The Troubadour's Romance
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You hurt me,

she attempted softly, but in his eyes she could see he did not hear. He looked at her in a strange, besotted way, perhaps not seeing her at all. She was frozen by the hypnotic stare, her legs growing weak and her heart beginning to beat frantically. Above their heads a torch
flickered in a draft common to the dark passageways, but neither noticed. Nor did any sudden breeze lessen the unusual heat that
Felise
felt flood through her. His head slowly bent as his eyes gradually closed and she felt his breath trespass warmly upon her startled mouth, and then the touch of his flesh, soft and delicate, brushed her lips.

The hold on her arms slackened and all sense of time and space was gone. Her beads dropped from her hand, and she found herself held firmly against his hard, muscular chest, with no memory of how or when she had moved. And as though entranced, her own arms rose to embrace his shoul
ders. His mouth demanded more than a mere caress and moved over her lips in search of a greater passion. She felt the power of his kiss part her lips, and a surging warmth roamed deep in the softness of her mouth.

Felise was lost. She searched her memory for some experience of a lover

s kiss and found none. She tried in vain to recall a dream in which she could summon no will to resist. There was nothing in all her life to prepare her for this man

s touch or the feelings that possessed her when his lips commanded hers. A river of emotion
--
weakness, fear, elation, response
--
assailed her from every facet of her being. She was warm to flushing, then chilled through her bones. She began to tremble and a small whimper of despair left her, for she was in no measure in control of her own mind or body.

He released her mouth and a hungry feeling enveloped her, though she could in no way say what she craved. While he looked into her eyes with glowing desire, she had only a startled expression for him, failing to understand any of what had just passed between them.

He suddenly stiffened, and though he held her possessive
ly, he turned and looked behind him, around the dark gallery. His eyes narrowed and he frowned. As she looked up at him she was reminded of a cat that, sensing trouble, sharpens all its senses.

What is it?

she whispered.

He looked back at her.

I felt someone watch, but there is no one.

The spell was broken. His embrace slackened and his voice was low and mocking when he spoke, his expres
sion changed and completely unreadable.

No matter what
you were told, maiden, you would be safer alone in the wood than in these halls. Bolt your door and venture beyond with only the greatest of care.

He took her arm and, turning her, led her through the hall toward the back stairs and her rooms. He required no direction to lead her, making it clear he had known where she was housed. When she was before her bower door, he turned abruptly, presenting his back almost angrily, and left her to stare at his departure in confusion. She had the vaguest feeling she had been violated quite beyond all propriety, yet the hunger persisted and she fought herself from calling him back.

Within moments he had vanished, and she simply sought the solace of her chamber, entering and throwing the bolt behind her. Daria rose from her chair beside the fire where she sat mending and stopped short w
hen she saw the expression on Fe
lise

s face.

Sir Royce had left no mark
and she was not in any way disheveled. But for a stray lock of hair that fell over her breast and curled beneath her waist, she looked as she had when she left her rooms for mass. Yet in her moist eyes there was a startled knowledge, and on her parted lips, brightened from the power of his kiss, there was the shock of awareness of something wonderfully fearful. She was as speechless as she was breathless and could barely recognize Daria, though she looked fully at her.


Holy Mother of God,

Felise whispered, her voice inaudible as her lips moved over the words that were both exclamation and prayer. Daria took two steps toward her and her world suddenly seemed to come crashing down around her. Her breath caught in her throat in a jagged sob. Tears wet her eyes and flowed down her cheeks, and her hands began to tremble.

Daria,

she sobbed, alarmingly overrun by emotion.

I... I... lost my prayer beads ...

 

***

 

A squire delivered Felise again to the dining hall, but this time she was greeted affectionately by Lady Edrea. Lord Scelfton likewise kissed his daughter

s cheeks, but his mood was no lighter than it had been the evening before she left his care.


I

m so very glad you

re with me,

she told her mother more than once, clinging possessively to Lady Edrea

s hand. She was still aware of the looks that were cast her way, but during her meal she conversed only with her parents and those who shared their table. The others were thankfully either women well beyond her in years or already married. No potential suitors shared their table.

Lord Scelfton greeted one dinner companion with special fondness. An aging baron, a man of perhaps sixty years and deformed from some old warring injury, approached them and bowed, giving his name as Aswin, Lord Orrick. Harlan came forward of his wife and daughter and took his hand in friendship, startling the man with recognition. They then embraced each other in reunion.

Aswin dragged one leg when he walked, and when seated it remained straight and stiff. In addition, one of his arms was held tightly at his side, the fingers bent and gnarled and appearing useless. It seemed his entire left side was crip
pled.

Edrea made his acquaintance warmly, for she was never a woman to be put off by an affliction.
Felise
was somewhat withdrawn at first, but as the evening progressed and she listened to her father and Aswin laughingly exchange tales of old knights long since retired from battle, she found Aswin amusing, warm, and delightful company.


Aye, Harlan, so long ago we rode upon the Welsh. I fail to remember it as clearly as you do. In my memory, we were sadly overtaken by barbarous lords and fled spears and arrows lest we have our faces shaved without our request.

Aswin laughed good-naturedly.

In your recollection,

twas quite the other way
--
we were heroes of the day. Forsooth, I drink to your memory.

Through the laughter, Harlan exclaimed,


Twas your head that took a rock hurled by one of those bastards, and you could not count your fingers for a fortnight.

They drank and toasted each remembered tale, laughing at both victory and folly. It was a long time before their attentions included the ladies.

Edrea,

Aswin confided,

I would have you know he spoke of you when we were on the campaign together, for long before your wedding he labored
poorly when you were apart
.
I wearied with this besotted groom

s musings, but now that we

ve finally met, I see the reason for his trials.


He said you had a smooth tongue, my lord,

Edrea laughed lightly.

And it is a practiced verse you sing.


Ah, you do me wrong. I have long since given up singing of love and the verse is gone from my heart. I am widowed,

he said, slamming his fist on the table.

Would Harlan approve me as a husband for your young goddess?

Felise
knew they spoke in jest, and she found herself laughing, enjoying her father

s outrageous behavior. It was not often that Harlan acted in so frivolous and jolly a manner.


You old bull,

Harlan scoffed at Aswin.

I know your surly ways and wouldn

t let you near any woman of my household.


Let us hear from the lady,

Aswin demanded.

Felise
inclined her head.

You make me swoon with your quicksilver voice, my lord, but I am a poor lass without my father

s blessing.

Aswin leaned his face closer to
Felise
.

Then let us flee him, damsel, and take ourselves away from his brutish wit
.

He made a play as if he would rise, but the leg was stiff and uncooperative and he dropped himself back to his bench, much to the amusement of his dinner companions.


Tis useless, maid. I am too late to chase the wenches and must ever endure my loneliness with the company of my horses.

He clicked his tongue, raised one eyebrow, and, smiling, lowered his voice as if he were imparting a secret.

I have taught them to come when I whistle.


Oh-ho,

Harlan shouted.

Twould take you a year of new moons to have this maid answer your whistle. She is disinclined to answer any command.


How did you gain your injury, my lord?

E
drea politely inquired.

I think I did not hear my lord mention the circumstances.



Twas for the most part a foolish accident, lady, a result of foolery amongst the men I rode with years ago. We were bored on our campaign in the south and, on the excuse of practicing arms, began a jesting tournament. There was much of jesting,

he said as he shrugged.

For myself, I was
commonly the one responsible for pranks and tricks, but this once the trick was on me. Someone loosed the saddle straps and I might have only fallen and bruised my pride, but my horse was frightened and ran out of control, dump
ing me on sharp rocks. The clumsy mule took his rest atop me. My hip, knee, shoulder, and head were smashed.


I

m so grieved to hear it, my lord. And there is no improvement?


Nay, but that my disposition is improved. Lady Dulcine was responsible for that. My fellows left me on her stoop, and she a recent widow. They returned to the king, while the good woman nursed me for over a year. When I finally gained enough health to r
ide
--
and it took months to relearn
that once well-honed skill
--
I returned to King Henry, only to find that my troop had not imparted my injury, but spun a tale of my courtship of the widow.

He laughed lightly.

There seemed naught to do but return and in truth court Dulcine. She proved a tolerable woman ... and there was naught to keep me from her.

Edrea smiled at the romantic tale.

Then I would say you gained from your woes ... in good measure.

The baron

s eyes grew somewhat wistful and he seemed focused for a moment on Felise, contemplating her rare beauty.

I gained in some measure,

he murmured.

But I lost treasures untold.

He shook himself and forced a lighter mood.

I will not make my injury greater in my mind. Yea, I have gained through my trials. When I hear some ungrateful young whelp moan at his light purse or rugged campaign, I set his attitude right with a simple story to show him his good fortune. I find I have more joy in my life even with my lameness than many a cocky young swain finds in perfect health.


I know nothing of your lameness,

Harlan professed.

It happens your wit was not bruised. You lay me low even now with your tongue.


I but remind you of true events,

Aswin argued happily.

Someone must, when you are wont to spin tales of glory.

He nodded once.

Tell me of this young woman

s plight. Why is she yet unmarried?

BOOK: The Troubadour's Romance
7.23Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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