Lord Of Danger Stuart, Anne (classic fiction .TXT) 📖

She wouldn’t have left him if Godfrey hadn’t appeared. In the end, she had no choice, but at least she’d left him shocked and bemused. He’d struck her a painful blow, one that stunned her with its cruelty, but it wasn’t a killing one.

It was odd that she, who considered herself totally without vanity, would be wounded by his words. Perhaps because he’d insisted that he did see beauty in her, and she’d wanted to believe that a man could.

Beauty faded. It was no gift to Claire—it brought her pain and unwanted attentions, even the possibility of incestuous rape. Surely they would all be better off without it.

But Simon of Navarre had looked at her with a gleam in his golden eyes; he’d touched her with his two strong hands, stroked her skin, kissed her, and she knew he wanted her. No matter what cruel words he flung at her.

Godfrey was hurrying her along, and she struggled to keep up with his longer legs. Trust Simon to have a mute servant, one incapable of spilling his master’s secrets. Alys had no need of Simon’s secrets. She only wanted the truth about who and what he was.

She drew back at the foot of the tower stairs. There was no one around; they’d made their way through the night-darkened castle without witness, and she was breathless and feeling stubborn.

“Did he cut out your tongue?” she demanded abruptly.

Godfrey stopped, looking down at her out of his sad, aging eyes.

“They tell me he did. That he cut out your tongue so you couldn’t spread the truth about him to anyone. But I don’t believe it of him, even if he’d want me to. He didn’t, did he?”

A faint smile lit Godfrey’s thin mouth, and he shook his head.

“And he’s not the bad man he wants me to believe he is?” she persisted.

Godfrey’s response was not as encouraging this time. He shook his head again, but less emphatically. He pointed to the stairs, but she refused to move.

“He’s really a good man, isn’t he, Godfrey?” she asked, hearing the note of pleading in her voice and hating it. “He’s capable of love and decency, isn’t he?”

And slowly, slowly, Godfrey shook his head, his eyes full of sadness.

She turned and ran then, holding her skirts up. Madlen slept on the floor by the door, snoring lightly, oblivious to her mistress as Alys skirted her sleeping form and slipped into the bedroom she shared with Claire.

She half expected Claire to sit up and demand to know where she’d been. But Claire had suffered too cruelly that day, and she lay in exhausted sleep, sprawled in the middle of the bed.

Alys didn’t have the heart to move her. She’d slept well in Simon’s bed, in Simon’s arms. And she wasn’t about to believe his words, or his servant’s sorrowful assurances, or gossip, or common sense. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but a change had come over her, a shift in her life. She belonged to Simon of Navarre, and he would belong to her. And nothing would get in her way.

She sat down on a pile of pillows, wrapped her arms around her knees, and began to cry in utter silence.

Chapter Sixteen

“I am not pleased with you, Grendel,” Richard growled. His pale blue eyes were red-rimmed as he sat at the small table in his solar, picking apart a piece of honey bread. There were no servants about, which could only be on purpose. Richard must have been expecting him.

“Neither am I pleased with you, sire,” Simon said in his cool, emotionless voice. “I thought you trusted me to see to your best interests.”

“It was taking too damned long!” Richard said in something very close to a whine. “And it cost me one of my best men. Aidan of Montrose was a very talented young man, most happily unburdened by a conscience. I had great hopes for him.”

“It is indeed a tragedy to see a promising life snuffed out too early,” Simon said with only a trace of irony. “I gather he fell from the battlements.”

“You can gather all you like. You and I both know you tossed him out your window when you caught him in your rooms,” Richard said with a disapproving sniff. “I didn’t expect you to behave in such a manner. You didn’t have to be quite so brutal, you know.”

“I beg your pardon, my lord. I suppose I should have allowed the young creature to cut out my liver.”

Richard’s eyes lit up. “Did he try to stab you? I knew the boy had the makings of greatness in him. There are very few people in Summersedge Keep who would go anywhere near you.”

“Aidan of Montrose was brave to the point of foolhardiness,” Simon said.

“And now I’ve got to make excuses to his mother, who’s some kind of kin to me.” Richard’s whine was back. “And what’s this I hear about you being unmanned? You never said anything about that.”

“You never inquired.”

“My sister will want children.”

“And you are very concerned with your sisters’ desires, are you not?” Simon said smoothly.

Richard laughed. “Still, I don’t trust a man with nothing between his legs. It’s not natural.”

“Neither is attempting to fornicate with your sister.”

Richard slammed his fist down on the table, and the dishes jumped. “She led me on,” he said. “Besides, I’m not convinced she’s my sister after all.”

“If you persist you’ll lose another of your best men. Thomas du Rhaymer might be burdened with a conscience, but he has few peers when it comes to fighting. I doubt you’d want to dispense with him, and the only way you’ll get your hands on Lady Claire is to kill him.”

Richard glared at him. “You’re annoying, Grendel. Did you know that?”

“It’s a rare talent,” Simon purred.

Richard leaned back in his chair, wiping the crumbs from his tunic. “I can’t afford to lose any more of my most trusted men,” he said slowly. “Neither my fighting men nor my advisors. But