To Kiss in the Shadows (5 page)

Odd how it had never occurred to her that Kendrick's brother might be even more handsome than he.

But nay, she couldn't say that, for she was just certain she couldn't remember Jason's visage, or the deep whisper of his voice, or the way chills went through her just standing next to him.

She sighed and rested her chin on her fist. Perhaps she was more interested than she cared to admit. And since the hall was smokey enough that he would never see her gaping at him, why shouldn't she? She decided to allow herself that luxury as she peered at him and thought back on what Kendrick had told her.

Jason had been a pleasant, cheerful lad at one time: Kendrick had assured her of such as he'd told her stories of his family. And according to Kendrick, Jason was still cheerful, though Lianna could scarce believe it. Shadows hung about him like shrouds. The current grimness of his visage—what she could see of it from where she sat—warned any and all he would not be amenable to light-hearted conversation. She certainly had no intention of daring the like. Besides, she had just learned to speak freely and comfortably to his brother—and Kendrick was as open as a flower that begged you to come pluck it and savour its fragrance.

Jason of Artane was nightshade, deadly to those who dared partake.

And so beautiful she could scarce convince herself she shouldn't.

She stared at him thoughtfully and began to suspect that perhaps they might have more in common than she wanted to believe. He seemed to have no more stomach for the pleasantries of court than she. She squinted and marked Kendrick laughing with, flattering, and charming the king and his courtiers. She knew that he spoke several languages, for she had heard for herself as he imitated each of the king's foreigners in their own tongues in turn as they walked through the orchard. Those same souls might not have hung on his every word so fully had they but known what amusement Kendrick had had at their expense not a handful of hours before. Even so, there was not a man there at that high table who didn't laugh with Kendrick or find himself being drawn into the talk.

Except Jason, who put his head down and plowed through his supper with the concentration of a body that hadn't had a decent meal in a fortnight.

And when he did lift his head, he looked bored to tears.

She couldn't help but feel a certain kinship with him in that regard.

“Lady Lianna?”

The voice startled her so badly she almost fell from her chair. She turned around to find Linet of Byford standing beside her, shifting uncomfortably.

“The lady of H-Harrow asks if you w-w-would not be more comfortable in our ... c-c-circle,” Linet said, stumbling badly over her words, “when the entertainments begin.” She looked behind her to where Maud had already begun to set up her own little court. As if Maud had arranged it, the king stood and the tables began to be set aside to clear spaces for whatever amusements had been arranged.

Lianna was surprised by the invitation, and she couldn't help but wonder if Kendrick's arrival hadn't heralded more than just an afternoon's freedom from the prison of her visage. If these ladies were deigning to include her as well, who knew what might happen in the ensuing days?

The thought was truly staggering.

“Well,” Lianna said, rising, “aye, I daresay I would. Thank you.”

Linet looked as miserable as if she'd been banished to the kitchens, and that made Lianna pause. Did that bode ill for her? Was Linet dreading having to spend any more time than necessary in Lianna's company? Then why invite her for the remainder of the eve?

When she reached the circle, the others who waited only wore friendly expressions. A chair was placed on Maud's right, and Lianna was welcomed into it. When she was seated, she was handed a goblet of wine and offered a plate of sweets.

“You must forgive us,” Maud said. “We have been less than friendly to you, and for that we are truly sorry. Aren't we, ladies?”

The others bobbed their heads obediently.

Maud looked back at Lianna. “Come, eat,” she said, indicating the plate. “Drink. Take your ease with us. There will be fine minstrels to sing to us of heroic deeds. Will that please you?”

Maud smiled and Lianna tried to smile back. But something about Maud's smile disturbed her greatly, for it seemed to fashion itself about her mouth only. No vestige of warmth reached the woman's eyes.

Lianna wished quite suddenly that she'd refused the invitation, but 'twas far too late to leave at present. She looked about her desperately for a place to hide, but found only a wooden plate in one of her hands and a goblet of drink in the other.

So she buried her face in her cup to escape. When she found the brew to be quite nasty, she occupied her hands and her mouth with the sweets until they tasted just as noxious as the other, forcing her to drink more to get them down her throat.

Just as she thought she could bear no more, she looked up to find Kendrick of Artane standing there, frowning down at her thoughtfully.

And behind him, looking as harmless as a clutch of nettles, scowled his younger brother. He glanced at her, then suddenly and quite violently sneezed all over his brother's back.

Kendrick's curse was formidable.

“I need to speak with you,” Jason said pointedly. “Turn yourself about.”

“Why, so you can drench the front of me? I'll speak with you later. I've more important things to do at present.” He made Maud and her companions a bow. “Ladies. My lady,” he said, bowing to Lianna as well.

“The dancing begins,” Maud said, jumping to her feet as if she'd been launched there. “My lord, if you will allow me to be so bold?”

Kendrick inclined his head and led Maud off without so much as a murmur of protest, though he exchanged a brief, unpleasant look with his brother on the way by. Jason cursed, swept the women before him with a disgruntled glance, then sat down in Maud's vacated chair. He dragged his sleeve across his watering eyes, then looked with faint interest at Lianna's cup and plate.

“Finished?” he asked.

She had scarce managed an aye before he took the cup and tasted the last drop.

Then he suddenly went very still.

“I'll take that, my lord,” said Adela, reaching forward.

Jason did not move. “Will you? I think not. Indeed, I might want some of this myself. Have you any more of this brew?”

“The king's finest,” squeaked Linet. “Lady Harrow obtained it for us.”

Lianna could not fathom why Jason looked suddenly so angry or why the women about her looked suddenly quite so pale.

Then she realized who sat with them, and his reputation gave her all the answer she needed. He was the Dragon's man, likely something of a dragon himself, and a fit of foul temper had overcome him. No wonder the women about her were so terrified. Indeed, Lianna suspected that she as well should be just as terrified, but somehow she wasn't. She put the plate on the floor and gave Jason her most dazzling smile, only realizing as she looked him full in the face that she shouldn't be doing the like, not with her visage.

But somehow she couldn't find the energy to hide. So she spoke boldly and wondered at her boldness, for it was certainly newfound.

“ 'Tis but wine, my lord,” she said, then she stopped, for she found that her tongue wasn't working properly. Indeed, all of the sudden, she felt heartily and thoroughly sick.

“Too much wine,” offered Linet.

“I daresay,” Jason said darkly.

Lianna pushed herself to her feet, wondering desperately if she might make either the outside or a garderobe before she was violently ill.

“She's going to sick up her supper on my feet,” Adela said with distaste. “Go elsewhere, Lianna. These are new slippers I'm wearing.”

Lianna felt Jason's hands suddenly on her arms, but she pushed him away. She turned and stumbled toward the stairs, praying she could make the passageway. She could be sick there. But please, just not here in front of the king's company. Not here where she would be fodder for mockery.

She stumbled up the stairs, gained the garderobe by sheer willpower, then hung her head over the hole and wretched until she could scarce stand.

It took a lifetime to retreat to the passageway and several more to walk a handful of paces.

Her head felt as if someone had taken an axe to it, and her poor form no better. And then, quite suddenly, a blessed darkness began to descend.

“Lianna!” a deep voice called urgently from behind her.

But she could not turn, nor could she answer. She closed her eyes and slid happily down the slope toward blackness. The last thing she heard was a mighty sneeze, followed by a equally mighty curse.

She did not feel the arms that broke her fall.

 

 

 

 

Jason knelt in the passageway with the lady Lianna of
somewhere-yet-to-be-discovered in his arms and wondered why in the bloody hell she found herself at court with women who had likely poisoned her.

Perhaps she had no choice, and for that he pitied her. He'd been at Henry's court less than a day, and already he couldn't wait to escape. He couldn't stomach the thought of much more conversation that revolved around the perfect cut of a man's tunic, the proper color for hose, or how one might dress to best grace the latest of the king's building projects. What he wanted was a simple conversation about the feeding of swine, or whether the barley and hops might grow well in the north fields, or a discussion of the virtues of the keep's blacksmith.

Aye, he could scarce wait to take his leave. He would have, and that night, too, had it not been for the woman in his arms.

He'd seen her at supper, hiding in the shadows. He'd watched her be drawn into the ladies' circle after supper and felt alarm sweep through him. Surely they would have no kindness for such a one as she. He'd followed Kendrick willingly, not only to hound his brother, but also to see what mischief the women were combining.

After his brother had made his nimble escape, Jason had decided to wait him out and keep watch over Lianna whilst he was doing it. Besides, it gave him somewhere to sit where the conversation might revolve around something besides men's garments.

He'd noticed almost immediately that Lianna had looked flushed, and he'd wondered what she'd been drinking. Tasting her wine had assured him 'twas more than simply the brew that had worked such a foul business on her.

And now, as he stared down into her poor, ravaged face, he could only hope she didn't pay the ultimate price for having trusted those who had given it to her.

Women Jason would see repaid for their misdeed, in time.

He dragged his arm across his running nose then swung Lianna up into his arms. He kicked at the first door he saw. It was opened none too quickly by a sleepy servant.

“Let me in,” Jason growled.

“But, my lord,” the woman squeaked, “this is the ladies' chamber. You cannot—”

“I can and I will,” Jason said. He pushed past her, strode across the chamber, and jerked back the bedcurtains. He laid Lianna down and wondered if he shouldn't undress her as well. Her gown was soiled and would likely be better off in some pile of rags destined for the beggars.

He looked at the servants huddled behind him and chose the one who looked the least likely to harm Lianna further.

“Strip her,” he commanded, “and dress her in clothing she can wear abed comfortably. I will wait without.” He looked at the other two servants. “Leave.”

“But, my lord,” protested one.

He merely gestured curtly toward the door, and the women quit the chamber without further comment. Jason followed them out, then pulled the door shut behind him. He leaned back against it and stared grimly at the wall facing him. Now that he had peace for thinking, he would have to decide on a course of action. He could only hope that Lianna had managed to vomit up all but the quickest of the poison.

He had just begun to consider what he might give her to aid her when he noticed a commotion to his left. There coming toward him were the women responsible for Lianna's distress, trailed by the servants he had tossed from the chamber. Jason simply could not believe they had innocently given her drink laced with death. Worse still was how they walked about so freely, as if they thought no one would think to question their actions.

“Move yourself,” one woman said briskly. “And take that foolish girl inside with you. I'm certain her illness is but a ruse.”

“What was in her wine?” Jason asked.

One of the other women made a sound of misery and slumped back against the wall. That was telling enough, he supposed.

“Something in her wine, my lord?” the first woman said evenly. “How could you think such a thing of us?”

Jason looked at the woman who faced him with such apparent lack of fear, and suddenly a name attached itself to the face. Maud of Harrow, who possessed a tongue more poisonous than an adder's. He should have known she would have been behind this.

“I have eyes,” he said, “and I recognize the signs.”

“Having brewed several unwholesome things yourself,” the lady of Harrow said with a cold smile. “Along with casting spells and other such activities particular to your kind.”

“Or so it is rumored,” one of the other women agreed.

“Silence, Adela,” Maud commanded. She turned back to Jason and smiled unpleasantly at him.

“I have many skills,” he said with a shrug, silently marveling that she would so boldly accuse him of sorcery. “I daresay you wouldn't want to acquaint yourself with too many of them.”