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

I’m not a man possessed of patience. When I decide on a course of action I see to it.”

“Some tilings are out of your control, my lord.”

Richard stared at him blankly. “No.”

Simon shrugged. “I wish my concentration were as perfect as yours, my lord. I find myself distracted far too often. By strangers sneaking into my rooms, looking to disturb my work. By weeping women needing protection.”

“I doubt Lady Claire came to you for protection, Grendel. You have a less than comforting demeanor.”

“Her sister trusts me.”

“Does she indeed?” Richard sat upright. “Do not tell me you’ve won the creature’s heart? She’ll be much distressed when she finds you don’t come fully equipped.”

“Perhaps she’ll be relieved,” Simon murmured.

Richard looked at him for a long, thoughtful moment. “Send Brother Jerome to me,” he said abruptly.

“Do you plan to make your confession?”

“Ha! I have nothing to confess. Send Brother Jerome, and then send someone in search of those two supposed sisters of mine. A thought has come to me.”

Simon looked at him warily. He’d learned never to underestimate his liege lord, and Richard’s ideas usually boded ill for everyone but Richard himself. “As you wish,” he murmured. “I’ll spend the day working on the sleeping remedy you requested.”

“Certainly,” Richard said, waving a blunt hand. “I’ll summon you when I require your presence.”

Simon hid his reaction with the ease of long practice. “I would have thought you’d prefer me to work on your commission.”

“There’s time for everything,” Richard said, ignoring the fact that he had just sent a man to steal the item in question from his trusted advisor. “I think I’ll go visit Hedwiga.”

“I’m certain your wife will be honored,” Simon replied politely.

“I’m certain she won’t, but she knows she’s to do my bidding, whether she likes it or not” Richard rose, rubbing his thick hands together with anticipation.

An anticipation that filled Simon with grave misgivings.

“I won’t go,” Claire said flatly. “I don’t ever want to see his face again.”

“I don’t think we have much choice in the matter, my love.” Alys struggled for the calm she seemed to have lost over the last few days. “If Brother Jerome is to be there as well we truly have nothing to fear. It is always possible Lady Hedwiga has finally chosen to grace us with her presence. And I expect Sir Thomas to be hovering nearby as well. He takes his responsibility to you very seriously.”

There was no reading Claire’s odd expression. “He takes life too seriously,” she muttered.

“You don’t think it’s a serious matter?”

Claire made a face. “To be sure, it’s a serious, sad, painful business where everyone dies at the end, most of them sooner than they should. But that doesn’t mean we have to spend our days in mourning for what might never happen. It doesn’t mean we cannot let a smile cross our lips. It doesn’t mean that joy can’t be found, stolen, snatched away from a jealous fate.”

“What has Sir Thomas got to do with joy?” Alys asked.

“Absolutely nothing,” Claire said gloomily. “You won’t let Richard touch me?”

“Not on my life. Nor on Sir Thomas’s life, for all his gloom. I expect Richard simply wants to apologize for his behavior.” Alys didn’t truly believe any such thing - Richard was not a man who recognized his own faults - but she wasn’t about to share her doubts with Claire. At least they would have protection. Madlen, in bringing the summons, had come directly from Brother Jerome, who’d been ordered to appear as well.

There was no word as to whether Simon of Navarre would be present at the audience, and Alys wasn’t sure whether she was ready to see him again. He’d managed to confuse her totally, she who prided herself on her sharp brain and steady nature. He was a sham, a trickster, a man who killed quite easily and without compunction. Alys had seen men die before, but never so swiftly. At one moment the man stood there, Simon’s supposedly crippled hand wrapped tightly around his throat, and in the next he was gone, smashed onto the paving stones below.

“You have a far more hopeful outlook than I do,” Claire said with a frown. A moment later Madlen reappeared, carrying a swathe of deep rose-colored material trimmed in yellow gold. “Lord Richard said you were to wear this, my lady,” she announced, draping the gown across the bed.

It was a glorious thing, Alys thought with a faint longing. The prettiest shade of rose she’d ever seen. Long, bell-like sleeves lined in rich golden yellow. A beautiful dress for a beautiful woman.

“I’m not wearing it!” Claire announced sharply. “I won’t let him dress me up for his pleasure…”

“It’s not for you, my lady,” Madlen announced flatly. “It’s for Lady Alys.”

Claire’s astonished expression would have been comical if Alys hadn’t been shocked as well. “You must be mistaken, Madlen,” she said after a moment. “This dress is clearly suited to Lady Claire, not to me. I couldn’t…”

“Lord Richard said you were to wear it, and I don’t fancy dealing with his anger if he’s disobeyed, do you?” Madlen said with great good sense. “It’ll look a rare treat on you.”

Claire struggled for words. “It’s too fine a dress,” she said flatly, touching it with a faintly covetous stroke. “What need would my sister have for such a thing?”

“I have no idea, my lady,” Madlen replied. “Perhaps he wants to please his sister.”

“I don’t think our happiness is of any particular interest to my brother,” Alys said, edging nearer the dress. What would Simon of Navarre think when he saw her in it? Would he still call her plain? Or would he stare at her with that deep, unsettling look in his eyes? Would he kiss her again? And again?

“I’m to take you to Lady Hedwiga as soon as you’re ready,” Madlen continued. “And I don’t think either the lord or his lady are in the mood to be kept waiting.”

Alys did her best to hide her dismay. “You see,