Lady Of Lyonsbridge

His smile faded. “Our kisses were not one-sided, Rose. I won’t believe that you did not feel the same pull as I.”

She gave a stubborn shake of her head. “Nay, I felt nothing.”

She’d never been more beautiful. Up to now he’d seen her with a wimple or with her hair plaited. Tonight it streamed loose to the middle of her back like a river of spun gold. Almost unconsciously, he reached out a hand to stroke it. “You lie, little minx,” he said gently. “There is something between us, and you feel it as much as I.”

She pulled away from his touch and his hand brushed the cold metal circlet that held the tresses back from her face. His eyes focused on it. “’Tis gold,” he said, surprised.

Rose plucked the band off her head and threw it on the bed. “Aye, ’tis my lady’s. I shouldn’t be wearing it.”

A slight tremor in her voice betrayed her. Something was not right, Thomas realized. Was she worried that her mistress would arrive to discover that she was trying on her jewels? The explanation did not satisfy him.

He crossed the room and picked up the abandoned circlet. “Do you think she would be angry with you?”

Her eyes grew wide. “Aye. I’m not to touch her things. She might even have me beaten.”

He cocked his head. “I thought you said that the lady Alyce was sweet?”

Her words tumbled out. “I—I did. She’s sweet…sometimes. And sometimes she has a terrible temper. The temper is more common when she’s sick, and, as you know, Sir Thomas, she’s been dreadfully…”

“Sick,” he supplied.

“Aye,” she ended with a little sigh.

He passed the circlet from one hand to another as if weighing the bauble. “Then I definitely shall stay until she returns, to be sure that you don’t get into trouble.”

“There’s no need. I believe she’s ready to retire for the evening—”

“I’m staying,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “I’d not miss the chance to meet this mysterious lady who is at the same time both angel and termagant.”

She looked up at him, her eyes pleading silently.

“You look distressed,” he said gently. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, my fair Rose?” He walked over to her and lifted her chin with his finger so that her gaze could not avoid meeting his. “Or should I say, my fair Alyce,?”

Chapter Four

Alyce drew in a breath. Thomas’s hand held steady at her chin, forcing their gazes to lock.

“It is Alyce, is it not?” he asked again.

She let out the breath with a sigh. “Aye.”

He dropped his hold on her chin and stepped back. “And ’twas you I saw that first evening, swaddled in bedclothes?”

She gave a guilty nod.

“Why the masquerade?” He sounded more confused than angry, and Alyce realized that he hadn’t yet realized that she’d deceived him about the rotten meat as well.

“I thought you’d come from Prince John, remember? I wasn’t anxious to give myself up to my jailers.”

“But why didn’t you tell me who you were when I explained that I hadn’t come from the prince?”

“Well, I—I was unsure. I wanted to find out something about you.”

He looked as if he was trying to recollect that first conversation in the buttery. “You were not sick, then?” he asked.

“Only that first evening. I recovered quickly. I’ve always been one to recover quickly. My father used to say that I had the stomach of a goat. I could eat any old thing…” Her voice trailed off. She knew she’d been speaking too fast, and Thomas’s expression was becoming more skeptical.

“No doubt you, like your lovely maid Rose, decided you’d eat day-old capon while you kindly left the stew to us.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “Aye, that was it.”

“Which was especially generous when you believed we had come to haul you off to a marriage you dreaded.” Finally the anger she’d been waiting for flashed in his eyes.

Alyce averted her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You might have killed someone with your childish tricks.” His cold tone masked a deeper fury. She sensed that Thomas Havilland could be a forgiving man if the injury was to himself alone, but not when his men were harmed. And suddenly it was important to her that he not think her mean-spirited.

She turned to face him. “You’re right. ’Twas foolish and wrong of me, and if your men hadn’t recovered I would never have forgiven myself.”

He seemed surprised at her forthright admission. “What possessed you to do such a thing?”

“I was trying to make the point that I’d be a terrible wife. If Dunstan had been among the delegation, I was hoping he’d decide to look for a better housekeeper.” There was a forlorn note to her final words.

Thomas gave a reluctant smile, and his voice was more gentle as he observed, “If he’d caught a glimpse of you, Alyce Rose, I venture to say that all the rotten meat in the kingdom would not have altered his course.”

His kindness was almost harder to bear than the anger. Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “Your men were kind to me. I wish I could see the act undone.”

He shook his head. “I daresay they’ve eaten worse on the battlefield and lived to tell the tale. But just the same, I think we’ll keep this as our secret, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Oh, thank you, Sir Thomas. I’m in your debt.”

One dark eyebrow went up suggestively. “Ah, milady, that may not be the wisest thing to say to a battle-weary knight when he’s alone with you in your bedchamber.”

His teasing tone told her that she had no cause for alarm at his words. He made no move to touch her, and she realized with a pang of regret that he had no intention of doing so. She was not Rose any longer. She was the lady Alyce. And things could never be as relaxed between them as they had been that morning in the meadow.

“I’m never alone for very long,” she said, allowing the regret to creep into her tone. “Lettie will be here shortly to help me prepare for bed.”

“Of course,” he said, and nodded, his eyes flickering over her briefly. She wondered if he was having the same thought as she. If she were only the servant Rose instead of a nobly born lady, she might be anticipating a very different kind of bedding ritual.

“So it would be best if you left now,” she said softly.

“Aye, ’twould be best.”

Their eyes met for a long moment, mirroring regret. Then he said, “Sleep well, milady,” and turned to leave.

If any of Thomas’s men were suspicious about the tainted meat, they didn’t show it. By the time Alyce descended to the great hall for breakfast the following morning, they all seemed to know the truth about her identity. In fact, Kenton took a private moment to apologize for any of his comments that, while fine for a serving maid, might not have been appropriate for the lady of the castle.

Their graciousness only deepened Alyce’s guilt, but since Thomas appeared to have forgiven her, she vowed to put the matter out of her mind. She was determined, however, to make up for the poor hospitality the knights had received on their arrival. Though she knew that the men had tarried at Sherborne longer than intended, she insisted that they remain for an evening of festivities, now that they all had recovered from their illnesses.