Lady Of Lyonsbridge. Ana Seymour

wiped the grease from his mouth as he threw the leg bone of a rabbit down on the table. “I’ve no warm feelings toward the lady of Sherborne after our treatment at her hands. She near killed us. I say let Dunstan have her.”

      “Aye,” Martin agreed. “Our duty is to Richard and none other.”

      Kenton was watching Thomas with a puzzled expression. “’Tis not like you to be so reckless over a pretty face, Thomas. Let’s be about our business. When Richard is free, you can come back for this servant wench if you fancy her so.”

      Thomas looked around the table at his men. He sympathized with their confusion. In fact, he shared it. He could not explain even to himself why the lady of Sherborne’s maid had so captured him. He only knew that when she had not come to join them for supper, the stab of disappointment had been every bit as sharp as the Saracen knife that had nearly taken his life in battle.

      Damn Richard for getting himself into yet another muddle, he thought with uncharacteristic churlishness. Thomas knew that his loyalty was to his king, but he simply could not ride away without seeing Rose again.

      He stood. “I can’t believe that one more day in this place will jeopardize our mission. The men can use the time to rest and repair their equipment. I feel an obligation to seek an audience with this Lady Alyce, to see that she is not being forced into a match that is abhorrent to her.”

      “And if she is?” Kenton asked.

      Thomas shrugged. “As you say, our mission is clear, but since Dunstan is Richard’s enemy, we may be of some service to the lady in the performing of it.”

      “So ’tis the lady you wish to see, not her servant?” Kenton asked without hiding his skepticism.

      “I’ll see them both,” Thomas answered. He looked at each of his men in turn, but none of them spoke. Thomas Brand was normally a mild-mannered fellow and a warm friend, but they’d learned from experience not to oppose him when his expression tightened and his tone turned to steel.

      Kenton was brave enough to shake his head in disapproval, but even he remained silent as Thomas strode away toward the stairs to the upper floor.

      He had been joking when he’d accused Rose of using one of old Maeve’s love potions, but by the time Thomas reached the door of Lady Alyce’s bedchamber, he’d begun to wonder if there might be some truth to his charge. The need to see her again was like a fire in his gut.

      Light shone around the door, encouragement enough for him to knock. If the lady Alyce was still in her sickbed, perhaps Rose was attending her and would open the door to him. Then he would insist on a few moments of her time to apologize for having upset her out in the meadow that morning.

      Unlike the other night, when his anger and worry over his sick men had made him pound until the rafters shook, he tapped lightly. With luck, the mistress would be asleep and Rose would be free to leave with him.

      His heart leaped when Rose opened the door. “Oh!” she said, and her hand flew to her mouth. “I thought it was Lettie.”

      He gave her his most charming smile. “I hope ’tis not a disappointment. I missed you at the dinner table.” When she continued to look upset, he grew more serious. “I need to talk with you, Rose. Please hear me out.”

      “I…’tis late,” she said weakly.

      “Aye, but I’ve little time. My men are anxious to be about their duties, and I’d not leave Sherborne without settling this thing between us.”

      She was holding the door halfway shut, but he angled himself to look into the room over her shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the reclusive lady Alyce. To his surprise, the room seemed to be empty. “Where’s your mistress?” he asked with a frown.

      She relaxed her hold on the door and stepped back to reveal the empty room. “She went to the garderobe, if you must know. But she’ll return any minute, and she won’t be at all happy to find you here.”

      He moved toward her, forcing her to take a step backward into the room. “I’ll explain that her maid has put a spell on me and drawn me here against my will.”

      Rose smiled, but still seemed ill at ease. “Please leave, Thomas. I’m sorry, but there can be nothing more between us.”

      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,?”