Ana Seymour - Lady Of Lyonsbridge

“Nor does she seem much taken by the subject. She turned up her pretty little nose at your love ballads.”

Thomas pushed the trencher away. “I suspect she’s more interested than she’s willing to admit.”

Kenton leaned toward him. “And just how did you come to this conclusion?”

Thomas grinned. “That, my friend, is none of your business.”

“We’ve all been sorely deprived these past months,” Kenton said with a sulky expression. “If you win the maid, the least you can do is to let us feast on the details.”

Thomas stood up. “Go groom your horse, Kenton, or oil your armor or douse yourself in the cold water of the castle reservoir. I’ve a lady to meet.”

“Does your mistress also ride?” Thomas asked as he pulled his big gray stallion to a stop beside Alyce’s mare.

“Aye,” Alyce answered, withholding a smile. “She’s noted for it hereabouts.”

His eyes sparkled in the rare November sun. “I daresay she’s not as good as her companion Rose.”

“I thank you for the compliment, sir, but everyone says that Lady Alyce is the best horsewoman in all the shire.”

He shook his head. “People will say anything to curry favor with a noble. She’s probably one of those fine ladies who perches on the edge of her saddle and shrieks if the animal goes faster than a walk.”

Alyce let her laughter spill out. She was enjoying herself too much to restrain it. The fine day and the company of a charming knight were proving an intoxicating mixture, and her deception only added to the diversion. For this one blessed day, she decided, she would put aside all thoughts of marriage taxes and brutish bridegrooms and enjoy being pretty and sought after by an eligible young man.

Thomas had not tried to kiss her again. He’d greeted her that morning with a courtly bow, and when she’d suggested a ride, he had been the one to ask if she would be more comfortable in the company of others from the castle. When she’d declared recklessly that she preferred to have him to herself, there had been a brief flare of eagerness in his eyes, but in seconds the expression was carefully banked.

“I don’t think the lady Alyce is prone to shrieking,” she answered him. “And you can believe me when I tell you that she rides every bit as well as I do.”

“Then I’m maligning her, and I must make amends when I finally meet her. Will she join us for supper this evening?”

“Oh, I’m afraid not. This morning she was still quite ill.”

Thomas looked around the meadow they’d just crossed. The hardiest of the late fall wildflowers still dotted it with purple and yellow splotches. “What a shame to lie abed on such a day. Shall we gather some flowers to take to her? It seems the least I can do, since the stew that poisoned her was prepared for our benefit.”

Alyce shifted uneasily in her saddle. “She’d not want you to fret over it, Sir Thomas. My lady has such a…” she paused a moment to swallow hard “…such a sweet nature that she would be unhappy to think you worried.”

“Ah, she sounds like an angel. All the more reason to try to brighten her sickroom.” Thomas swung off his horse and held his arms up toward Alyce. “Come, we’ll pick some together.”

Alyce slid down into them, her sudden, renewed wave of guilt banishing all embarrassment. It had been exhilarating to play the lady’s maid, and the disguise had given her a delicious sense of freedom, but she knew it was wicked of her to continue deceiving Thomas.

His hands lingered at her waist for a few moments before he released her and stepped back, saying, “We really should have a basket. Then we could fill your mistress’s sickroom with color.”

Alyce gave a rueful shake of her head and watched as the big knight began carefully plucking the delicate blossoms. “I thought knights spent their time thrashing each other and slaying dragons,” she said. “Your hands are strong and battle scarred, yet last night I watched them playing the lute, and now they pick flowers. You surprise me.”

He looked up at her, smiling as he continued his chore. “A true knight must be a man of many talents, Rose. He’ll relish a good battle, but should have equal love of art and music. As well as a keen eye for a beautiful maid,” he added with a wink.

“And you consider yourself a true knight, Sir Thomas?”

He grinned. “One of the truest.”

“I gather modesty is not one of the knightly virtues.”

“Aye, but ’tis a minor one. The part about the ladies is much more important.”

Alyce laughed. She had never before enjoyed banter such as this with a man. It was fun and oddly stimulating. It made her want to go up on tiptoe and break into a little dance.

Thomas straightened and walked over to her, holding out a number of blossoms. “If you’ll not pick, you can at least hold these while I gather more.”

“I’m sure you already have enough, Sir Thomas. Lady Alyce’s bedchamber is not very big.”

Thomas looked at the bunch in his hands for a long moment. Then he said, “You’ll still have to hold these.”

“Why?” she asked, but took the flowers from him.

“Because I need my hands free to hold you,” he said. Then he encircled her with his arms and pulled her close up against him. The blossoms crumpled between them. They both laughed as he looked down at them ruefully and observed, “Oh, bother. This won’t work, either.”

Alyce was embarrassed to admit to herself that she’d been waiting for this moment all day. She’d been unable to get Thomas’s brief kiss out of her mind, and, though she knew it was a scandalous desire for a well-bred maiden, she wanted another sample. And she wasn’t about to let some fast-wilting flowers stand in her way. “Never mind,” she said, bending down to deposit the bouquet on the ground. “They’ll be fine right here until we’re ready to leave.”

Thomas’s smile of satisfaction was confirmation that she was acting like a village hussy, but she didn’t care as he put his arms around her again and lowered his lips to hers. Unlike the brief kiss of the previous evening, this one was slow and deep. His mouth gently melded with hers, warm and moist, then opened to urge a more ardent joining. For several moments, Alyce lost track of everything that surrounded them. She could no longer smell the dry grass of the meadow or hear the horses’ impatient huffing. Her entire world was centered in Thomas’s kiss.

He gave a little groan of pleasure as he drew away. Closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers, he murmured, “By the rood, Rose, I’ve never in my life tasted anything so sweet.”

Her arms had crept around his neck and they tightened at his words. He sounded utterly sincere. Thomas Havilland was obviously a practiced gallant, but there was a note in his declaration that rang true. Of course, the notion was absurd. He had kissed many women. In his eyes, she was just a servant on whom he could practice his skill at flirtation. And he was obviously hungry for a woman after a dreary campaign.

She put the thought into words. “You say that you’ve been away from home for a long time, Sir Thomas. No doubt the slightest attention from an English maid would seem wondrous to you.”

He loosened his hold on her and answered slowly, “Nay. I’ll admit I’ve had few kisses over these past months, but this is something…” His voice trailed off.

His expression was genuinely puzzled, and Alyce was tempted to believe that he had indeed found the kisses as compelling as she had. Unconsciously, she tilted her face, and he accepted the mute offer by kissing her again. This time she didn’t know how many minutes transpired before he pulled away with a deep, ragged breath.

“You’ve bewitched me, Rose. Or have you fed me one of old Maeve’s love potions?” When she flushed, he laughed and added, “No matter. I’m not objecting. But you must know ’tis dangerous to incite a man’s passions.”