Audette of Brookraven (The Eldentimber Series Book 4)

by Shari L. Tapscott

  He holds her hand a moment longer and then sets her free. When he turns his attention on Keven, Milly presses her lips together, her face filled with glee.

  I glance at the ceiling, not impressed, and frankly a little unsettled. Something in me doesn’t like the way he looked at Milly, all gallant and debonair. Living deep inside, normally dormant, a nasty green beast reared its ugly head the moment he smiled at her.

  Which is a bad sign if Queen Clara is right about gut instincts.

  “Hello,” Irving says to Keven, friendly.

  Keven doesn’t say a word. The knight stares Irving down and eventually, after several moments go by, gives him a curt nod.

  Irving raises his eyebrows, brushing the knight’s cold reception off, and his gaze finally falls on me. “Hello, Audette.”

  “Irving.”

  He shifts his knees toward mine, turning his full attention on me, looking at me as if I were the center of his world. His fingers drift over my hand. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

  “I think if you fail to remove your hand from mine, I’ll cut off your foot.”

  Instantly, an amused smile flashes over his face. He makes a show of pulling his hand away. “Do you think we could go somewhere…” he glances at Keven and Milly before he turns back to me, “…a little more private?”

  “You are welcome to go wherever you like. I am quite content right here.”

  After accidentally letting a glimmer of irritation sneak past this nonchalant, friendly veneer he’s donned, Irving takes a long breath through his nose. He glances again at my friends and smiles. “Of course.”

  “You’re welcome to stay,” Milly says, smiling brightly. “We’d love more company, wouldn’t we, Audette?”

  The moment Irving turns to see what I’ll think of this idea, my friend flashes me a wicked look of triumph, which she then turns on Keven.

  The knight doesn’t seem amused with her matchmaking schemes, but he doesn’t object. He does, however, look like he’s itching to have a go at Irving. If the prince insists on interfering, he better hope he’s skilled with a sword.

  The barmaid returns with our drinks, and her eyes glide over Irving, assessing him. She must like what she sees because her smile turns feline. She rests her hip against the table, practically sitting on the aged wood as she asks Irving what he’d like to drink.

  “Cider,” he says, cheerfully dismissing her.

  Disappointed for the second time, her eyes linger over him before she leaves.

  “So,” Irving says, “What brings you to Ptarma?”

  “We have family here.” I cross my hands in my lap. “My Great-Aunt Camilla is my late grandmother’s dear sister. She’s getting up in years, and we wanted to visit her.”

  “I met your aunt, actually.” He smiles, challenging me. “She’s invited me to stay in her hall of the castle.”

  I grit my teeth, smiling. “Did she?”

  “I’m afraid she’s taking pity on me.” He leans close. “Did you hear? My bride deserted me on the day of our wedding.”

  “How tragic for you.”

  He nods. “I’m quite devastated.”

  Never breaking eye contact with him, I nod in the direction of the bar. “I’m sure the barmaid would be happy to comfort you.”

  A smile—a real smile—steals across his lips, but he quickly hides it. “Tell me what I have to do, Audette. How can I fix this?”

  Uncomfortable, I glance at Keven and Milly.

  Milly, misunderstanding my look, grabs Keven by the arm. “It’s so dreadfully hot in here, isn’t it?” She practically swoons in the knight’s arms. “Take me outside for fresh air? I’d go myself, but who knows what villainous sorts may be loitering in the dark shadows.”

  From the front, just beyond the doors, a child squeals with joy as her father swings her up on his shoulders. Around them, the crowd laughs and smiles at the happy girl.

  Keven gives Milly an incredulous look.

  “Please?” She yanks on his arm and gives him a radiant smile the moment he reluctantly gives in.

  Flashing me a smug look, she pulls Keven from the tavern.

  “I rather like your friend,” Irving says, somehow closer than he was a moment ago.

  Another wave of hot, irrational jealousy courses through my veins.

  I meet his eyes. “Disappointed she’s not your betrothed? I can assure you, she wouldn’t give you nearly as much trouble as I am.”

  He turns, and a knowing look lights his eyes. “You should have told me.”

  “Why? Wouldn’t it have ruined the moment for you if you’d known you were about to kiss your intended and not a random noble from her court?”

  Crossing his arms, he sits back, shaking his head, hiding that smile. “You are something.”

  Several heartbeats pass before I look at him again. My anger fades, and it’s replaced with the sadness that haunted me the day he and I were supposed to wed.

  “I didn’t want to marry you, either,” I blurt out, feeling bad as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I lay my hands on the table, palm up. “It was too fast. We didn’t even have a promising ceremony.”

  At my honest declaration, Irving’s face softens. “I didn’t remember you.”

  I shake my head. “Or I you.”

  We sit in silence for a few moments.

  “I’m not that bad, I don’t think,” he says softly.

  I glance at him.

  “I can even be charming.” He offers a small smile that makes my world tilt. “Perhaps we—”

  When I begin to shake my head, he claims my hand again. “Give me a chance, Princess. If you still hate me after a few days, send me on my way…but not yet.”

  Slowly, I pull my hand away. “It’s not me you have to convince—It’s Barowalt.”

  Irving flashes me a relieved grin, knowing he’s bought himself time. “I’m likable. I’m sure your brother and I will have a nice chat, and after that, we’ll get on fine.”

  Should I warn him that Barowalt “chats” with his sword?

  No, let him find out on his own.

  “Let’s go now.” He’s already standing.

  “Now?”

  He tosses enough coins on the table to pay for not only his drink but ours as well. “There’s no time like the present, right?”

  I rise, feeling like this is a bad idea. I came into town to listen for gossip of the dragon. I can’t leave yet.

  But how am I going to hear anything here, hiding away at the table with Keven and Milly? Perhaps it would be best to try for another night.

  Irving weaves through the crowd in front of me, looking over his shoulder every two seconds to make sure I’m still following. For a moment, I’m stabbed with a pang of guilt that I’ve given him reason to trust me so little.

  Outside, the sky is purple, and the last of the sun’s rays glow like a torch to the west. Soon, stars will appear. I glance around for Keven and Milly, but they seem to have wandered off.

  There are even more peddlers out than there were before. Many of the carts offer goods, but it seems like most are selling food. Children and adults wander the street with pocket-pies, grouse legs, and crystallized sticks of sugar candy. The smell makes my stomach growl. Why didn’t I order something from the tavern?

  Oh, yes. Irving showed up and distracted me.

  I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He’s smiling, greeting people as we pass them. Sometime in the warmth of the day, he rolled the sleeves of his tunic up to his elbows. Everything about him is casual, but there’s no mistaking that he’s a man of noble blood. He wears it easily.

  As I’m studying him, a girl of eight or nine accidentally darts in front of us, stumbling right into Irving. He grasps her arms, keeping her from toppling over. She blinks at him, embarrassed and besotted.

  With a flash of a smile, he steps back and bows to her. He extends his arm, allowing her to pass. “After you, fair lady.”

  She giggles, gives him a y
outhful attempt at a curtsy, and runs off to join her friends.

  A warm and fuzzy feeling settles in my stomach, but I choose to ignore it and continue on.

  He turns and catches me watching him. I look away, ready for him to say something obnoxious. Instead, he steps up to me and takes my arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

  Like there’s no place for me but on his arm.

  Slowly, I look up and meet his eyes. He doesn’t seem to realize my heart’s in my throat.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks, nodding toward one of the merchants.

  I’m about to say I’m not, but then I stop myself. “A little.”

  “Good.” He flashes me a smile. “I’m starving.”

  I let him lead me to a woman manning the cart. He buys two meat pies and a small brown-cloth package of candied fruits. We wander through the streets, eating and watching the performers.

  Near the center of the square, at the heart of the market, a stage has been constructed. Three girls spin about, twirling at a dizzying speed as they do a country dance. Their brightly colored skirts swirl about them, and the crowd cheers and laughs.

  As we watch, Irving’s expression becomes pensive.

  “Did you truly fall in love with a gypsy?” I ask.

  Instantly he schools the expression and turns to me. “Love’s such a strong word.”

  “You said she married at the beginning of the summer?”

  He studies me for a moment, his expressive brown eyes dark in the dim light of the street. “Yes.”

  “Did you know him?” My voice is soft, but even with the din around us, I know he hears me.

  Slowly, he nods. “He’s a friend.”

  My heart twists, but my brain tells me I shouldn’t let myself feel something for him.

  “Is he still?” I ask.

  After a long, slow breath, a small smile creeps up, tilting one corner of Irving’s mouth. “Yes.”

  “Who is he?”

  Irving looks at the cobblestones under our feet, avoiding my gaze. “Dristan of Triblue.”

  I know the prince, have met him briefly a few times at social gatherings.

  “What happened?”

  With a self-deprecating smile, Irving meets my eyes again. “When she told me to leave, I left.” He shakes his head. “She stayed in Triblue and fell in love with one of my closest friends.”

  “Did you go to the wedding?”

  He laughs, a quiet, sorrowful sound. “No.”

  “I’m sorry.” And I mean it.

  Studying me, he steps forward. “I learned an important lesson from the experience.”

  “What’s that?” His nearness makes my breath hitch.

  He looks me right in the eyes, his gaze so intimate I almost step back. “When you meet the love of your life, don’t tell her you’re a stable boy and then ask her to marry you.”

  Unable to help myself, a giggle slips out. He grins, obviously pleased to have made me laugh.

  “Tell me the truth,” I say, still smiling. “Are the rumors about you true?”

  “No,” he says immediately and then winces. “Well…not all of them.”

  We’ve left the main streets and are nearing the cliffs. Beyond us, the sea glistens in the moonlight, and the landscape has taken on various shades of sapphire.

  “Who was the woman who met us in the hall?” I don’t tell him I’m speaking of the day of our wedding. He knows.

  He smiles, his eyes lighting with that maddening affection again. “Lady Anwen and her very sweet daughter, Galia.”

  “You’re fond of her.”

  Knowing where this is going, he smiles. “I am fond of Anwen. She is one of my very favorite people.”

  I nod and stare out at the sea.

  “She’s also the wife of my good friend.”

  Immediately, I look back at him. “The little girl…she’s not yours?”

  He laughs quite suddenly. “What would make you think that? The girl’s dark brown curls? Her bright blue eyes?”

  Feeling foolish, I refuse to answer.

  Gently, he takes me by the shoulders and turns me toward him. “I’ve made mistakes—probably more than I can count, but I promise you, I have no illegitimate children wandering about.”

  “That you know of.”

  His forehead wrinkles, and then he gives me a genuine smile. “I’m about ninety-eight percent certain.”

  I shake my head, a smile creeping on my lips despite my best efforts to hide it. “And the two percent?”

  He grins. “There’s a hazy night involving a fairy, a crown of wildflowers, and a grass tunic—but I’m fairly positive I’d remember if something tawdry had occurred.”

  I shake my head, wondering if he’s joking. Surely he is…

  Far below, the waves lap at the cliffs. The chaos of the market fades into the background, and the moon shines down on us. Irving’s hands are still on my shoulders, and it’s as if we both realize it at the same time. His eyes flutter from my eyes to my lips, and my breath catches.

  “Normally, I would kiss you now,” he says, his voice quiet in the night. “But that wouldn’t do much to improve your current opinion of me, would it?”

  Slowly, mesmerized, I shake my head. “Not likely.”

  He shifts closer, and I set a tentative hand on his tunic. Under the cloth, his chest is strong, solid.

  “You could kiss me,” he whispers. “Then it wouldn’t reflect badly on me.”

  “That day we met in the hall,” I say abruptly. “Were you leaving? Your friend seemed to think you were.”

  Sighing, he rubs his thumb against my shoulder. “I don’t know.”

  Our eyes meet, and I search his. “Is that a yes?”

  Irving shakes his head. “I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

  “But you thought about it?”

  “Yes.” His lips tilt in a ghost of a crooked smile. “But I hadn’t met you yet. Remember? You had a decoy…what was that, anyway?”

  I smile and step back, glad for his honest answer and for the space I’m putting between us. “Milly wouldn’t let me run through the halls in my wedding gown, and I had to find my mother’s ring.”

  Still wearing the ring, I glance at it now. The stone is a pale aquamarine—worth little in monetary value but priceless to me.

  He takes my hand and examines it. “Something blue?”

  I nod.

  After a moment, he says, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  The stone shines in the moonlight. “I am too.”

  Without a word, he slides his palm over mine and turns toward the cliffs.

  Side by side in the moonlight, with my hand in his, we watch the sea.

  Soon, Milly and Keven find us. From the not-so-distant street, Milly calls to me, and Irving and I pull apart. My fingers tingle where his skin brushed mine, and I try not to dwell on the light tingling feeling in my chest.

  “I wondered where you two got off to,” Milly says once she joins us. Reading my thoughts—and knowing me far too well—she smiles at me in a maddening way that’s all her own. She turns toward the sea. “Just look at that view.”

  “It’s growing late,” Keven says after several moments. “It’s time to ride back, Princess.”

  “I’ll escort you,” Irving says, eager to meet with Barowalt.

  “That won’t be necessary.” Keven’s expression doesn’t waver, but his words are cold.

  Irving’s about to argue, but I shake my head, telling him to be patient. If he wants to prove himself, he’s going to have to do it our way.

  After a few moments, he relents. Nodding, he steps aside.

  “Good evening,” I say to him as I step past.

  As I walk by, he catches my hand and brushes his lips over my knuckles. “Until tomorrow?”

  I nod a silent agreement, and he sets me free.

  Until tomorrow.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “There’s a visitor for you, Your Highness,” a maid say
s from the doorway of my family’s small library.

  Expecting Irving, I turn to her, a book in my hand. “You may take him to the courtyard. I’ll be with him momentarily.”

  “It’s not a ‘him,’ Princess.”

  I cock my head to the side. “Who is it then?”

  “The young Duchess of Marfell.”

  “Javid’s wife?”

  The maid looks uncomfortable at the informal use of my cousin’s given name, but she nods.

  “In that case,” I say. “Show her in here and call for tea.”

  She murmurs an acknowledgment, and I scan the room, debating which window would be the most pleasant for entertaining.

  After only a few moments, the maid comes back, leading the tall, poised young woman behind her. The duchess smiles brightly when she spots me and hurries in front of the maid, not bothering with formal introductions.

  “We didn’t have a chance to meet the other evening,” she says. “I’m Grace.”

  We didn’t meet because I was so shaken after the encounter with Irving, I refused to return to the gathering. Instead, I hid in the gardens, taking comfort in the quiet hum of a bubbling fountain.

  “Audette.” I needlessly motion to myself.

  Grace takes in the well-lit library, and her eyes practically sparkle as they slide over the huge picture windows, potted orchids, and walls of books. Though it’s not as large as many estates, my grandmother’s library is lovelier than most.

  Several servants carry in a small table and chairs, and two maids trail behind—one with linens and a vase of flowers and the other carrying a tea set. With practiced efficiency, they place the table near the open balcony doors and make quick work of the settings.

  I thank them, complimenting them on their attention to details, and they slip out of the room.

  Grace has wandered to the wall of books, and she browses them, a smitten look on her face as she caresses the leather covers. She turns back. “Your family’s library is lovely. I have a feeling we’re going to get on just fine.”

  I laugh, liking the duchess immediately. “I’m happy to have your company. When I told Milly I was spending the morning in the library, she procured one of my knights and deserted me to go shopping.” I pour the tea. “Is this purely a social call?”

  “Would it be rude of me to say I was hoping to escape from Giselle for a few hours?” Grace joins me at the table and hands me a note sealed with my great-aunt’s insignia. Grace laughs when I cringe. “Camilla was hoping you and your brother would join us for the evening meal, and I jumped at the chance to deliver the invitation.”