“I hope you do,” he said levelly. “Here is one who does not.”
“Goodness gracious me!” Pringle said, emerging from her room like an overwound jack-in-the-box. “Never say she’s taken ill, too?”
“There’s no ‘too’ about it, Pringle" Clarice said, raising her head from its comfortable position. “Morgain is not ill; he has had an accident. I am not ill; my knees have failed. Mr. Knight is merely being kind.”
“Kind?” Pringle spread her arms wide across the door. “He’ll not enter here! It isn’t decent!”
“She is right,” Clarice admitted. “Put me down.”
Dominic’s eyebrows drew together. For a moment he stood looking between lady and nurse. “Very well.”
Clarice smiled. “Thank you; I’m certain that.. .”
The smile fell from her lips the instant her feel touched the ground. Her knees buckled and Pringle cried out in shrill alarm. Once again, Dominic swept her up into his arms.
“How perfectly absurd,” Clarice exclaimed. “Such a thing has never happened to me before.”
Dominic said, “There is no impropriety when someone is ill. Stand aside; I’ll put Lady Stavely on her bed.”
Pringle let him enter, then chased around the man and his burden like a yapping pug dog. Her voice had a particularly sharp pitch when excited or nervous and she was both now. With flustered hands, she sought among Clarice’s bureau drawers for her smelling-salt bottle and her eau de cologne. “Dear me, dear me ...”
“Never mind, Pringle,” Clarice said.
Dominic carried her to the bed and placed her gently down atop the counterpane, sliding his hands away. He found a shawl over the arm of a chair and tucked it in from throat to waist. For a moment, he leaned over her, blocking Pringle’s view. She looked up into his face, so near, and saw—or fancied she saw—a tender light in his eyes. “You must think me a perfect fool,” she said huskily.
“No. It often happens that a person’s knees give way after a time of strain. I, too ...”
“When?”
“I’ll save that tale for another day. Are you comfortable now?”
“Entirely. Thank you, Mr. Knight.” Though his words had been accompanied by a warm smile, she recognized a set-down when she heard it.
Pringle stood by, cut-crystal bottles at the ready. “She needs rest,” Dominic said.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Pringle said stoutly. “I’ve cared for her since her childhood. I know her character through and through and I’ll never desert her. Why, even during those three years when she was out of—
“Pringle!” Clarice snapped. “If you please, Pringle. Mr. Camber is alone with Morgain. Please go and help him.”
“And leave a man in your room with you? Never fear, my lady, I stand on my duty!”
Dominic’s quiet yet dominating voice broke in. “You’ll do as your mistress commands. Send up her maid if you are afraid I shall ravish her the moment your back is turned.”
Pringle gasped, flushing red. It seemed as though he would find himself carrying another fainting woman. Instead, he took her by the shoulder and turned her toward the door. “My lady?” she squeaked.
“Go on, Pringle. Morgain needs you more than I do.”
Dominic ushered the nurse into the hall, closing the door in her face, while her mouth opened and closed as soundlessly as a fish’s. “Do you need any of the things she took with her?”
Clarice sat up, supporting herself on her elbows, letting the shawl slide down. “I should say no in any case, lest you bully them out of her.”
“Bully? I?”
“Perhaps that is too strong a word.”
“She would have stood there ‘til the end of time if I hadn’t encouraged her to leave. Why do you keep such a foolish woman about you?”
“She has been, as you heard, my nurse since my childhood. I cannot very well turn her off merely because she is what she has always been. When I was a child, before Felicia came to five here, Pringle was the best friend I had and truly the only one who gave me the sort of unconditional love a child needs. If she is sometimes overwrought and silly, well, so be it.”
“You’re the one who suffers because of it.”
“Suffer? How? By being kind to her in my turn?”
Rather to her alarm, Dominic did not seem in any hurry to leave her room. He strolled about, looking at her collection of her half sister’s watercolors, running an absent finger along the spines of the books on her shelves, and glancing out the windows. He should have looked ridiculously out of place in her feminine boudoir; instead his masculine aura had the effect of making all her refined decor look flossy and overdone.
“By sometimes feeling more than a little bored and irritated? I have no doubt she is a very good sort of woman, but not the kind you should have about you.”
“What kind should that be?” She did not think she spoke coyly. She could not imagine him trying to flirt with her.
“I’m not certain,” He came over to her and without asking a by-your-leave, he sat down on the edge of her bed. The mattress creaked under him. “You should have clever, honest people around you. Not fools who flatter, and fault-finding neighbors who can’t see past their ends of their prejudices.”
Now was the moment to depress his pretensions. Clarice knew that, yet she said, “You don’t flatter me.”
“No. I never will.”
“How ungallant.”
“Not at all. I simply do you the credit of believing you are too intelligent to be swayed by flattery.”
“No woman is that intelligent.”
“What of men? Can we be swayed by flattery?”
“I suppose you can. For instance, I might say to you ‘You are very attractive, Mr. Knight, and you have unrivaled prowess with the sword.’ I was most impressed this morning.”
“It seems I am not as intelligent as I thought. Thank you, Lady Stavely.” He bowed his head in a most regal fashion. Then she caught sight of his glinting eyes. “I might say, however, that I am too intelligent to believe that your knees failed to support you because of an excess of nerves.”
“But you yourself said .. . ?”
“That was to rid us of the nurse. Now tell me why you were so overcome by Morgain’s words.”
Clarice wished she were not lying on the bed. There was nowhere to escape to. His eyes had the brown mistiness of peat smoke as they gazed down on her. “I—
“‘The devil on horseback.’ What did Morgain mean? I feel certain you know.”
“I do not.” Clarice lay back, straight as an effigy on a medieval tomb. “I wish you would see how Morgain is.”
“He’s asleep again.”
“Well, I have the headache.”
He went on sitting there, impervious to hints. “You were very interested in my horse until Morgain told you it had two white stockings. That first day, you came home in a hurry from a riding and Camber tells me your horse threw you, a thing that had never happened before.”
“I was not thrown!” she said, struggling up again. “If you must know, I took a gate badly on my way back from an errand to a tenant.”
“This tenant lives off the main road?”
“Yes. What is your point?”
“The only gates I saw between Hamdry Manor and the main road were to Jet farmers through fields. Why did you jump a gate into a field?”
“Because I was in the mood to do so! What is wrong with that?”
He shook his head slowly. “You are not so impulsive or heedless.”
“You presume to know me very well on such short acquaintance! Pray be good enough to touch the bell and summon my maid.”
“In a moment. I am still puzzling out your character.”
“A gentleman would do as I asked.”
He grinned, a peculiarly youthful and engaging smile which sat oddly but attractively on his chiseled features. “But I’m no gentleman, my lady. I’m an author.”
“Whatever you may be, kindly t
ouch the bell! If Morgain was attacked, we must summon the constable.” She swung her legs to the side of the bed, nearly kicking him. As soon as she attempted to stand, his arm came around her waist to steady her on her feet. She was both grateful and exasperated. “There. I am perfectly well and able to take up my duties. It has been a pleasure to listen to you, Mr. Knight. You may be mad but you are an entertaining guest.”
“Where did you see the Rider, Lady Stavely?”
How unfair of him to ask that question while his arm was still steadying her! He must have been able to feel the agitated rhythm of her heart. Nonetheless, she attempted a blank stare even as she schooled her body to icy rigidity. “What rider, sir?”
“The cloaked Rider. Need I describe him? Very well. No one has ever seen his face—or if someone has, they had no chance to describe what they saw. His horse is about the size of a cart horse but swifter than you can believe possible. It’s either black or a deep bay the color of dried blood. When you are before it, you feel as though you cannot breathe for the very air seems to be swallowed by the speed of his coming.”
Though his description filled her with remembered dread, Clarice laughed coolly. “Do you take me for a gullible child, frightened by a ghost story? There are many such tales told in this region, Mr. Knight. Perhaps while you are here you would enjoy making a study of them.”
“You have a facile tongue. Lady Stavely, yet your heartbeat betrays you.”
As though she were peeling a wet cloth from her skin, she lifted his hand from her waist. “You take liberties, sir.”
“Tell me—
“Don’t think you can bully me, Mr. Knight! I find it very suspicious that you should know so much about this person who struck down my innocent nephew! Nothing like this has ever happened at Hamdry until you came among us!”
He stood up and Clarice was aware anew of his height, his breadth, and the strength that powered the muscles she’d seen that morning. He could break her with one hand, smash her to the earth and never known he’d done it. Yet she faced him, head high, and if she was afraid, only she knew it.
“Do you truthfully believe I am in league with the Rider?” he asked, his voice hard as stone.
His voice was hard, yes, but Clarice saw some other emotion in his eyes. The exact meaning eluded her, as fugitive as the exact composition of the aroma that clung to his clothing. She felt as though he were willing her to say that she believed him. It was as if he were pushing al her with his thoughts, urging her toward some agreement that he could then use against her. Stubborn as she was, she could feel all too strongly the urge to give in.
Clarice looked away from his compelling gaze. “I do not know you well enough to answer. I hope that you are not.”
His mouth and brows turned down as though he were disappointed in her. “I am so little his ally that if I see him, I will dispatch him for you.”
That made her look at him again with doubting eyes. “I am afraid, Mr. Knight. You make this ‘Rider' sound like something no mortal force can stop. Where does he come from? Surely he is only a man like any other?”
“The world is wide, Lady Stavely. Not all your ‘ghost stories’ are lies.”
“Then what can you do against such a one?”
“I can do more than your constable can. You did see him?”
She nodded- “Yes. I saw him. He chased me. I leapt the gate to escape. But if he is as powerful as you say, why would that be enough?”
“What was the gate made of?”
She had seen Daly’s three-bar gate a hundred times in her life, yet she had to think before she could answer. “Wood, of course. Painted red, though it’s mostly faded now.”
“Just wood? No nails?”
“Naturally it has nails.”
“Creatures like the Rider can’t abide any form of iron. It burns them. I have heard they can learn to bear to be in its vicinity, given enough time and a strong enough reason, but they do not love it and are never comfortable near it.”
“Creatures?” Clarice gazed at him in suspicion and wonder. “How do you know so much about such things?”
Now it was he who could not sustain her gaze. “I have studied much. The tales of the simple people have much to tell us if we only study them.”
He walked across the room to look out of her window. As though the words were forced from him, Dominic said, “If the Rider is hunting you, then you are not safe here.”
“Not safe at Hamdry?” The thought was utterly alien to her. She wanted to scoff at the very idea of a mysterious Rider with mystical powers, hut her frantic ride and the loss of breath she felt while being chased were too recent to be easily dismissed. After all, her own dear brother-in-law had come from another Realm; darker things might dwell in that world as well. If he could come here, so, perhaps, could they.
“Go nowhere alone, not even into your own garden. Carry iron on your person at all times. There are some small Elizabethan ladies’ knives in your grandfather’s collection with handsomely wrought sheaths. You may not be able to stab the Rider but you can burn him with the cold steel.”
“And if I touch him,” Clarice said wonderingly, “will he do my bidding?”
His grin flashed out again and Clarice found herself responding to it with a smile of her own. “So that is why you touched me at our first meeting,” he said in a tone of enlightenment. “I wondered at it, for such a bold gesture seemed most unlike the prim and polite young lady I saw before me. You need not worry, my lady. I am human enough.”
Clarice couldn’t help the flush that heated her face. “I thought that you were the one who chased me. You see, I had seen something else most strange a few days before .. . something so uncanny that I... I...”
“What was it?”
“Nothing.. .”
“You must tell me everything,” Dominic said. He came to her side and took her hand. His clasp was warm and strong, making her feel that her own far-from-petite hand was small and helpless. She could almost wish that she were not Lady Stavely, a viscountess in her own right, but a meek and fragile creature who required a man’s strength in order to face a brutal world.
She slipped her hand out of his grasp. “You are the oddest creature.” she said lightly. “I know nothing of you, yet I am to trust you with all my secrets?”
“If I am to protect you, I must know everything.”
“I have not asked for your protection, sir.”
“Not for yourself, no. But what of Morgain?”
Thinking of her defenseless nephew, Clarice sighed and nodded. “You are right. Very well.”
She collected her thoughts. “The evening my dear friend was married, I found myself upon the hill we call Barren Tor. There is an old stone fort there—or at least the tumbled stones that may have once been a fort.”
“I have seen such things.” He did not look as though the memory of them was happy.
“While I was there, a rider appeared, cloaked even as the one I saw yesterday. He said, ‘Let us be about it’ and rode away. The curious thing—or rather one of the curious things—is that I did not see him arrive, only his departure. It was as if he came from the stones themselves.”
“Most curious. Is that all?” Dominic turned once more to look down into the garden border below. Yet in the instant before he turned away, Clarice could have sworn she saw a tinge of burning color rise in his smooth cheeks.
“Nearly all. I believe that I saw the same figure in the garden every night for a week after. But perhaps that was my imagination at work?”
“Perhaps.” He raised his hand when she would have spoken again. “Someone is coming.”
A scratch at the door an instant later verified his warning. “My lady?” Rose said, peeking in. “Master Morgain do be callin’ for thee.”
“Tell him I’m coming. Rose.”
The maid glanced between mistress and man with a glint of pleasure in her dark eyes. “He’ll niver take no manner o’ haarm if you be a bit behind-Iike. He�
�m be lyin’ with a cool cloth on his brow that Pringle done put there, and Cook be squeezing lemons for all she’s worth iffen he takes a fancy for some coolin’ drink. A prime favorite with her now that he’s poorly.”
“Thank you, Rose.”
Dominic said, “Just a moment,” when Rose spread her white apron in a curtsy prior to dismissal. He came quite close to Clarice and said in a low tone, calculating to reach her ears only, “Your stable boys are likely looking lads. They’d make excellent guards against unwanted visitors.”
“Rose,” Clarice said immediately, “pass the word that I would like to see Mr. Drake as soon as may be convenient to him.”
“Yes, my lady,” the maid replied, dipping another country curtsy. Out in the hall, her giggles came clearly even to Clarice’s ordinary hearing.
Dominic said in a much lighter tone than he’d used throughout this interview, “Does she believe she has interrupted some tender scene?”
“No. She hopes that she had.”
“Why so?”
‘These people were born on Hamdry land. They and their families are my tenants as their ancestors were tenants and servants to my ancestors. They would like to believe that I am irresistible to men. After all, if I die unwed and without children, what is to become of them?”
“Whoever inherits your property would care for them, no doubt?”
“It would not be the same. At present, my heir is a distant cousin in Lancaster. The people here do not know him well and he would always be a ‘foreigner.’ “
“Would the man you marry be in any better position?”
“Of course. They’d accept my choice, though I’m sure prayers are offered nightly that I chose well.” She bent rather cautiously to pick up the shawl that had slid to the floor when she’d stood up. To her relief, her head did not spin and her knees stayed true. She wrapped it about her shoulders, for her earlier weakness had left her feeling a trifle cold. “I must go to my nephew.”
He went ahead of her to open the door, “May I be present when you speak to your groom?” he asked.
“Certainly. Though do not expect my men to know anything about sword-play.” She smiled automatic thanks to him as he stood aside to let her pass.
Magic by Daylight Page 9
