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Father Gregory took one look at Je
"Why did you attempt to leave the castle?" Royce demanded, not bothering to pretend he didn't understand what she meant.
"Because I wanted to talk privately with Friar Gregory without having every serf in the bailey watching us and overhearing," Je
"Your home," he interrupted, and to her complete confusion, he gri
Je
His white teeth flashed in a devastating grin. "No? What should I have said?"
His smile was irresistible, and Je
"Ah, but sapphires are cold, and your eyes are warm and expressive. Am I doing better?" he chuckled when she voiced no further argument to wet velvet.
"Much," she agreed readily. "Would you care to go on?"
"Fetching for compliments?"
"Certainly."
His lips twitched with laughter. "Very well. Your eyelashes remind me of a sooty broom."
Je
"Exactly. And your skin is white and soft and smooth. It reminds me of…"
"Yes?" she prompted, chuckling.
"An egg. Shall I go on?"
"Oh, please no," she muttered, laughing.
"I didn't do very well, I take it?" he asked, gri
"I would have thought," she admonished breathlessly, "that even the English court required a certain level of courtly behavior. Did you never spend any time at court?"
"As little as possible," he said softly, but his attention had shifted to her generous smiling lips, and without warning he gathered her into his arms, his mouth hungry and urgent on hers.
Je
"You didn't tell me why," she whispered shakily, "I'm forbidden to leave the castle."
Royce's hands shifted slowly up and down her arms as he bent his head to hers again. "It's only for a few days…" he answered, kissing her between each sentence, "until I'm certain there'll be no trouble…" he pulled her tightly to him "… from the outside."
Satisfied, Je
The sun was already starting its descent as they crossed the bailey toward the great hall. "I wonder what Aunt Elinor has in mind for supper," she said, smiling up at him.
"At the moment," Royce replied with a meaningful look, "I find my appetite whetted for something other than food. However, while we're on the subject, is your aunt as skilled in kitchen matters as she sounded?"
Je
Royce wrinkled his nose. "Medicine with meals? 'Twas not at all what I had in mind." He cast her an appraising glance, as if something had suddenly occurred to him: "Are you skilled in kitchen matters?"
"Not a bit," she replied cheerfully. "Scissors are my specialty."
Royce let out a sharp bark of laughter, but the sight of Sir Albert marching toward them across the bailey, his face even sterner than usual, put an end to Je
"No!" Je
With a thinly veiled look of dislike the steward turned from Je
"I've no experience with civil disciplinary measures or procedures," Royce told Je
Royce turned to the steward. "Handle the formalities in the customary way, and my wife will decide on the punishment."
Sir Albert clenched his teeth so hard his cheek bones protruded further beneath his flesh, but he bowed in acceptance. "As you wish, your grace."
The crowd parted to let them through, and Je
When they reached the center of the wide circle, Sir Albert lost no time in preparing to mete out justice. With his icy gaze riveted on the stricken lad, whose outstretched arms were being held by two burly guards, Sir Albert said, "You are guilty of maliciously attacking the mistress of Claymore, a crime of the most serious nature under the laws of England-and one for which you should have received your just punishment yesterday. 'Twould have been easier on you than waiting until today to face it again," the steward finished harshly, leaving Je
Tears streamed down the boy's face, and at the edge of the circle a woman, who Je
"Do you deny it, boy?" Sir Albert snapped.
His thin shoulders shaking with silent weeping, the lad dropped his head and shook it.
"Speak up!"
"N-" he lifted his shoulder to rub away the humiliating wetness from his face on his dirty tunic. "No."
" 'Tis best you don't," the steward said almost kindly, "for to die with a lie on your soul would damn you for all time."
At the word die, the boy's sobbing mother tore loose from her husband's restraining arm and hurtled herself at her son, wrapping her arms around him, cradling his head against her bosom. "Do it then and be done with it!" she cried brokenly, glaring at the sword-wielding guards. "Don't make him be scared," she sobbed, rocking the boy in her arms. "Can't you see he's scared-" she wept brokenly, her voice dropping to a shattered whisper. "Please… I don't want him to be… scared."
"Get the priest," Sir Albert snapped.
"I fail to see," Royce interrupted in an icy voice that made the boy's mother clutch her son tighter and sob harder, "why we need to have a mass said at this unlikely hour."