Колин Глисон - Sanctuary of Roses

Tricky entered the hall, and found that serfs had finished clearing the food and platters of the midday meal from the rows of table. She tried to blend into the activity by picking up a tray, and following one of the other serfs, but her attention was caught by the two men who sat at the high table.

She paused, holding a wooden platter that oozed with grease, and looked at them. Tricky knew who they must be…Lord Fantin de Belgrume, the handsome man with the pale blond hair that rose from a widow’s peak just off the center of his forehead, and his cohort: a slender, younger man with dark hair and soulful eyes who looked harmless. As she watched, de Belgrume laughed at some jest from his companion, and the beauty of his face, and the warmth of his laugh startled her. How could someone so beautiful be the monster that Madelyne feared so?

Suddenly, the other man—Tavis, Gavin had said was his name—looked at her and their eyes locked. Panic rose into her throat and she turned abruptly to take the platter she still held, but a peremptory voice made her halt in her tracks.

“You, there! You, with the red hair!”

Tricky froze, her heart pounding so hard it threatened to choke her. She turned slowly, waiting to hear a call for the guards to come down upon her…but instead the man called again, “Bring my master that wine!”

Thank the good Lord the man pointed to a table nearby that held several bottles of wine, else Tricky would have surely given herself away. With a quick bob of her head, she dropped the platter back onto the table where she’d picked it up, and hurried over to get the wine.

Her hands were slick with sweat and she nearly tripped over her skirts when she approached the high table, but de Belgrume didn’t appear to notice. He pored over a curling piece of parchment while Tavis rested his elbows on the table.

“M-my lord,” Tricky gave a brief curtsey and sloshed wine into de Belgrume’s goblet. She was about to set the bottle down on the table when Tavis straightened up in his chair.

“I don’t recall seeing you before,” he said, his dark gaze sweeping over her. He was a handsome man, with slender fingers and a sharp tone in his voice.

She gulped, curtseyed, and stammered, “Me brother and I—we just become here this day.”

A gleam that made Tricky’s belly twist leaked into his eyes and he crooked a finger at her. “A shy one, are you?” He looked at her again, more slowly and with greater weight than a moment before. Tricky felt his attention pause at her generous breasts and then sweep over her hips and back up to her face. “You needn’t be shy here at Tricourten. We treat our guests quite well…” he glanced at de Belgrume, who appeared to be in some other world, his lips moving as if in silent prayer, “unless they are family members.” Tavis smirked at Tricky and his hand snaked out to snag her sleeve.

She allowed him to tug her toward him—what other choice did she have?—and this might be an opportunity to learn more about where Madelyne was. The next she knew, Tricky found herself settled on his lap. Mayhap she was foolish not to be afraid…but she did not believe anything Tavis might have in store for her would be worse than what Madelyne faced. Her resolve strengthened, Tricky managed a coy smile—subtle, for she did not want to appear too eager—and managed to squirm her generous bottom invitingly into his thigh.

“Family members? Aye, my lord, they can be trying ones can they not?” She purposely reached forward, brushing her breast near—but not quite touching—his arm as she grabbed the wine from where she’d placed it on the table. “Me brother is more bother than ’e’s worth all the time.” She straightened up, “Wine, my lord?”

He glanced at his master, and Tricky saw that the other man had begun to slump in his seat. “He’ll rest for a time—he is weary from praying and fasting these last days. Now, soon, all will be aright, as he has found the answer to that which he seeks…aye, wine I’ll have. And that’ll not be all I’ll be having,” he added, his eyes fastened to her breasts.

Tricky felt a roil of nervousness pump her stomach. Mayhap this was moving too quickly and she would find herself in a position in which she could not handle…best pull on a shy face for a time. “Of course, my lord,” she told him. Rising from his lap—ostensibly to pour his drink—she shifted away and managed to remain standing and looking directly into his face.

When Tavis would have reached for her, she stepped lightly back. “My lord, I must find my brother… ”

“Nay, not so quickly. He is likely chasing some other wench,” Tavis told her with a sly smile, “and will not even notice that you do not attend him. You may attend me for some time…it has been long since I’ve seen such a comely wench here at Tricourten.”

“Of course, my lord.” She curtseyed again and watched as he drained his goblet. Mayhap if she plied him with enough wine… She refilled his goblet as Tavis tugged her back onto his lap. Nervously, she glanced at de Belgrume. He had collapsed forward onto the table, his face planted in the center of the parchment that curled up around his ears.

Tavis slipped his hand, quick as a wink, down the front of her chemise and Tricky nearly leaped off his lap. His fingers sought her flesh and gave a firm squeeze before he extracted his hand and tweaked her chin with the same pinch. “Very nice. ’Tis glad I am that you travel with your brother and not a husband…else it would be rather uncomfortable for him.” He smiled, and she was reminded of a wolf when she saw the way his eye-teeth gleamed.

“’Tis said that he,” she tilted her head toward de Belgrume, “studies the great physicks…do you assist him in his experiments?”

Tavis drank more wine, slopping it over the side of the goblet when he set it down. With a quick glance at his sleeping master, he used a rag to wipe up the mess as he replied, “Aye, that I do. He is the master, chosen by God, to find the secrets of the ancients.” He chuckled a soft, eager laugh and slogged his hand across his mouth. “He has worked for many years to find the answers, and now he has put the last peg into place. We shall soon be more powerful than even the king…even the pope. And I shall be at my master’s side.”

She filled his goblet, noticing that the bottle was nearly empty…and knowing that she would need more. “You are?” she prompted, fluttering her eyelashes even as he spewed wine-laden breath in her face. “You must be so very smart to do such things!”

“Aye, that I am…but my master…he is the gifted one. He is the one to whom God speaks.” He stood so quickly that he nearly knocked her backward. “Come…I will show you our laboratory. He sleeps and will not mind.” Tavis staggered over a dog lying beneath their feet, and cast another glance at de Belgrume. Gently, he raised the snoring man’s head and settled him back in his chair, slipping a rolled-up cloak beneath his neck. “He must have his rest if we are to work this night,” he explained, rolling up the parchment and slipping it under his arm. “I shall awaken him later, after you and I have had our…tour of the laboratory.”

Tricky’s chest tightened as fear and apprehension rose within her as Tavis closed his strong, thin fingers around her wrist and pulled her after him.

Clem finished his exploration of the bailey and outbuildings in short order, and decided to enter the hall to reconnoiter with Tricky if she’d completed her own search. He’d found something that might work for an unobtrusive entrance—a gate that was guarded, but with only one guard…and one guard could easily be disposed of from the inside once they determined the routine and schedule.