by Julia Latham
“And since it is Christmas Eve,” Cicely said at last, “I plan to try something different and accompany you on the hunt, Lord Bannaster.”
Diana froze, her spoonful of pottage halfway to her mouth. A drop fell back into the bowl.
Bannaster smiled. “And here I thought I would spend the day pining for the company of the Winslow sisters.”
Cicely didn’t look at Diana, but Diana saw the stiffening of her back.
Cicely said, “Diana is much too busy today, are you not, sister?” She glanced over her shoulder at Diana, eyes narrowed in warning.
“Aye, the preparations for the feasting will take much of my time,” Diana said. Let them try to use a hunt as an excuse for courtship. Cicely would soon discover that baying dogs, galloping horses, and dying animals left little time for romance.
Cicely grinned at her, then went off to look for her maid to make preparations.
Bannaster slid over to the chair beside Diana. She stiffened, trying to ignore the traitorous way her heartbeat sped up. Was that the heat of his thigh that seemed to burn along the length of hers? And they weren’t even touching!
“My thanks for the opportunity to be with your sister.” His deep voice was casual and polite.
“You are welcome,” she said pleasantly, breaking off a piece of bread and reaching for the crock of butter.
“I am sure she will find the perfect way to be alone with me,” he continued thoughtfully. “She’s been attempting that more and more.”
It seemed that Diana’s fears about Cicely’s desperation were coming true. Her stomach began to churn with the slowly growing realization that her plans for the day were about to change.
“And I am only a man, after all,” he continued with a sigh. “It will be difficult to resist her—especially because of a recent rejection,” he added in a whisper. “She and I could practically be betrothed by the time we return.”
She glared at him, and he laughed.
“Do you need my protection?” she asked, her quiet tone laced with sarcasm.
He leaned closer, and she stopped breathing as his thigh pressed even harder to hers.
“And you’re so very capable of protecting me.” His gaze roamed her face and settled on her mouth.
She found herself breathing too quickly, and then the inside of her mouth dried right up, and it took everything in her not to moisten her lips with her tongue.
They were too close together. Anyone could suspect what he was after, what he was trying to do to her. Cicely could return. But Diana didn’t move away—couldn’t. He slid his thigh gently against hers, back and forth. She felt trapped in the dark daring of his gaze. Beneath the table, his hand smoothed over her knee, and she jerked, breaking the spell. She turned away just in time, for Cicely came sauntering down the staircase, her beautiful green skirt rippling behind her.
“Good news!” Bannaster said when Cicely approached. “I have convinced Mistress Diana to join us. Why should she work hard all day while we enjoy ourselves?”
The trap so neatly ensnared Cicely that she could not refuse without seeming churlish. But when Diana later returned to her chambers to fetch her cloak, Cicely followed and slammed the door behind her. Diana whirled, hand already reaching for her dagger when she saw who it was.
“Cicely, that was unnecessary,” she said, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.
“And you intruding on my morning with Lord Bannaster was unnecessary, too!”
“You know I did not want to accompany you. But Bannaster felt too guilty leaving me here—unlike you, who always looks for an opportunity to saddle me with work.”
“You know you are better at it than I!”
“And that’s a good enough excuse for your behavior?” Diana demanded.
“You will not change your mind?”
“Do you not think he’d suspect my reasons?”
“I care not!”
To Diana’s surprise, Cicely seemed even more overwrought than normal. Her blond curls were falling haphazardly around her splotched face. It was obvious that Bannaster’s presence was her most cherished dream, so near she could almost touch it. And Diana felt sorry for all that she had to do to keep Cicely from what she wanted.
“Cicely,” she began softly, “you must understand that Bannaster—”
“Do not tell me again that he will not suit me as a husband. You have seen how kind he is, how much he wants me.”
Diana felt suddenly cold. “Has he tried—”
“Of course not. He is a gentleman. Just stay out of my way!”
Cicely slammed the door behind her, leaving Diana shocked and saddened.
Chapter 13
Christmas Eve proved colder than the day before. Tom pulled his cloak tighter, looking up at the swiftly moving clouds that mostly hid the sun. Near the castle, they passed goose girls driving geese across the field with cracking whips. Two dozen men—and two women—followed the course of the huntsman leading the way with his pack of hounds into the woodland that skirted the River Swale. Fox and hare were ignored as they searched for deer, though another party concentrated on those smaller animals. A third party had headed north, away from the river, searching for wild boar.
The dirt pathway was narrow, and Tom maneuvered so that the Winslow sisters rode together before him, leaving his man Talbot at his side. Cicely rode sidesaddle, a soft cloak over the gown that was too fine and lovely for a bloody hunt. Diana had changed into her breeches, with a sword in its scabbard hanging from her waist and a crossbow attached to the saddle. Something about this alerted and intrigued Tom, but he couldn’t quite place why.
Talbot finally broke the quiet, speaking softly. “I do not envy you, my lord, courting two women in the same household.” He gave a visible shudder.
Tom only smiled at him. “But such beauty is worth the effort.”
“But only one maiden seems to want your attentions,” he said awkwardly.
Tom’s smile faded. “And which would that be?”
“Mistress Cicely, of course. Mistress Diana seems…cool toward you.”
“And you are worried for me, Talbot?” Tom said, grinning.
Talbot’s face reddened, but he good-naturedly said, “I know there is no need, my lord. But she is a curious woman. To think she thought to challenge me on the tiltyard.”
“She did not defeat you?”
“Of course not!” He shrugged, his expression sheepish. “I simply know not what to make of her. Does she not wish to marry, to have the normal life of a woman?”
Tom looked ahead to Diana, riding so comfortably, with such grace and competence. “I know not what she wants, Talbot. But I find her…intriguing, even if she does not find me so.” But that was only said for the benefit of Talbot. For Tom knew that Diana was drawn to him, and was fighting it as much as any wild horse resisting the control of a rider.
Suddenly, the baying of the hounds alerted the hunting party. And with a cry, horses were urged into a gallop. Tom watched Cicely look around her in confusion, even guide her horse to the rear, out of the way. But Diana took off, and he followed the party. She rode masterfully between the trees, ducking and swerving, racing wide of the field to herd the deer into the center, where men would be waiting with crossbows.
Two hours later, the party had slaughtered and gutted six deer, and Diana was beginning to let go of her fears that they would be unable to feed all of the expected guests. Surely the other hunting parties had been successful as well.
Hunters were busy lashing the carcasses to several horses brought along for this purpose. One of her men had started a fire so they could warm themselves, and she stood rubbing her gloved hands together near the crackling flames.
If she hadn’t chanced to glance downhill, she would never have seen Bannaster and Cicely slip off alone between the trees.
Damn them, Diana thought. She wanted to leave them be, but knew she couldn’t. She needed to know if Tom had lied to her about his intentions toward her si
ster—and needed to protect Cicely from her own folly. She began to work her way to the edges of the men, who’d gathered about to proclaim about the size of the deer antlers and debate the performance of the hounds.
At last she, too, was able to leave the clearing. It wasn’t difficult to follow the trail through the snow, and she caught up easily. They had stopped near a small stream, and although they were only talking in low voices, Bannaster was rubbing Cicely’s gloved hands between his own. Diana moved quietly through the trees, circling them to get closer, using every technique the League had taught her for avoiding snapping twigs and disappearing between the shadows of the trunks.
At last, Bannaster’s voice came to her faintly, as he continued to rub Cicely’s hands. “Mistress Cicely, you really should have dressed more warmly.”
Between chattering teeth, Cicely said, “The sun was shining when we left. But I forgot how cool the woods can be when the wind blows.”
Diana knew it wasn’t that cold, but Cicely gave a masterful performance of shivering. Bannaster finally put an arm around her shoulders, and Cicely turned into him, lifting her face as if for a kiss.
Here was his chance, Diana thought in that frozen moment. Surely he would prove that he’d lied to Diana, that he would take whatever a willing woman would give.
But he stepped back, and Cicely opened her eyes in surprise.
“Mistress, I cannot take advantage of our time alone,” he said in a gentle voice. “I am honor bound to your brother to respect your virtue.”
“But surely a kiss—”
“If I allow myself even that, I will want more. You are far too beautiful for a weak man such as myself to resist.”
His words seemed to mollify Cicely, and at last they started back to rejoin the party.
He’d kept his word, Diana realized, leaning against the trunk of a tree to hide herself. He could have taken anything he wanted from a desperate Cicely, but he hadn’t. Or was Diana praising him too swiftly? Mayhap all he wanted to do was convince Cicely that he would make an honorable husband.
Honorable? Diana thought, leaning her head against the bark and closing her eyes. He’d decided to devote himself to seducing Diana. And she’d welcomed his attentions. Who was honorable here?
But she always knew that although the League’s goal was justice for the weak, they’d had to do questionable things to achieve it. She herself had had to kill a man to protect the women of Castle Bannaster.
Her behavior made Bannaster, a man who wanted to satisfy his own pleasures, seem almost harmless.
Tom was shocked when on the way back to the clearing, he realized that someone had been following them. He hadn’t even known, hadn’t heard a sound, and only found one slim boot print in the snow that was not either his or Cicely’s. It could only be Diana’s.
When they reached the clearing, she was already there, innocently warming herself near the fire, but he wasn’t fooled. There were traces of snow caught in her woolen cloak, which wouldn’t be there if she’d remained near the fire.
He ignored Diana, fetching a goblet of warmed wine for Cicely.
How had Diana done it just now and even last night, when he hadn’t heard her until she’d stood over his bed? She could have easily killed him! He had always prided himself on his sense of hearing, honed from years of listening for his tutor priest’s arrival. Someone had taught Diana rare skills, and they weren’t something she could learn on the tiltyard with only her father’s permission.
Could Diana be the real connection to the League of the Blade? Tom felt a chill of recognition move through him.
Perhaps she herself was some sort of auxiliary member—or could she be an actual Bladesman?
A Bladeswoman?
Had there ever been one before? After his brush with the League at Castle Alderley earlier in the year, he’d done some investigating of his own, had spoken to men among the king’s councillors who considered themselves knowledgeable about the League. None had ever mentioned stories of a woman member.
But had there ever been a woman like Diana Winslow? Had his cousin King Henry known about her when he’d sent Tom to Kirkby Keep?
Nay, but he was getting ahead of himself. No one had ever come up with proof that Tom had murdered his brother. He had thought himself untouchable as the viscount, but perhaps it wasn’t so.
He had to discover if Diana really was the first Bladeswoman.
When all the hunting parties returned to the Keep by early afternoon, Diana began to oversee the distribution of the meat to the kitchens. She noticed that Cicely remained beside Bannaster, who was watching the organization solemnly. Diana tried to ignore them both, but at last the servants before her hesitated, looking past her. She turned to find Bannaster right behind her.
“Aye, my lord?” Why was he distracting her?
“Your sister wishes to show me the village, and since it is Christmas Eve, and you have servants to prepare the meal—”
“My lord, I simply cannot,” she answered, interrupting him. “As you pointed out, it is Christmas Eve. Most of the villagers will be arriving soon for supper.”
“But not for several hours yet,” he said. “We still have daylight left.”
Cicely approached and slid her arm into his. “Lord Bannaster, I told you that my sister is much too busy for such leisurely pursuits. You know she doesn’t even believe in enjoying oneself,” she added in a low voice that carried well past Diana.
“She is correct,” Diana said with a perfunctory smile. “Even on Christmas, food must be prepared.” And he’d already said he would not tell her secrets, so she was safe refusing him. It was a good feeling.
“Then we should remain here,” Bannaster said to Cicely.
Cicely’s leg twitched as if she wanted to stomp it in frustration.
“Mistress Cicely,” he assured her, “I would understand if you need to assist your sister.”
Diana could not miss the horrified looks of several of the servants. When Cicely was around, the work pace always slowed.
The cook hurried forward. “Mistress Diana, it is Christmas Eve! I have more than enough help. Go and enjoy your young man.”
Cicely whirled around and started for the gatehouse, and Diana knew that her sister was trying to suppress her fury. Though Diana did not feel like starting a new argument, she also had pity on the servants.
“Then let us go, Lord Bannaster,” she said wearily.
The walk down the sloping, snow-covered lane was filled with an awkward silence. Bannaster asked questions about the countryside and the village, and although Cicely’s answers were vague, at least she was speaking. They passed many families who were on their way to the keep, and there was much wishing of good cheer. Diana thought more than one man had already begun to settle into a drunken relaxation.
Just as they reached the outskirts of the village, they heard laughter only a moment before a large clump of snow hit Bannaster in the face. For a long moment, both Diana and Cicely gaped, hearing nothing but the eerie sound of the wind.
From behind the snow-covered well on the village green, they heard laughter quickly muffled. Then calmly, Bannaster began to wipe his face off with his gloved hands.
What would he do? Diana wondered with apprehension. Surely he realized that it was only little children at play. They meant no harm.
But Bannaster had had no childhood to speak of. Did he even know what “play” meant—and how to respond to it?
Cicely picked up her skirts as if to walk forward alone. “How dare those children strike a peer of the realm!”
Before Diana could even move, Bannaster caught Cicely’s arm and put a finger to his lips. After glancing at the well, from behind which no one had yet emerged, he bent over and gathered up a large amount of snow. Wearing a grin, he tiptoed forward—which was surprisingly graceful for such a big man—and with a loud “Aha!” jumped behind the well and dumped snow on his assailants.
Two little boys shrieked and ran from him, shak
ing clumps of snow from their hair as they went. While Cicely seemed stunned, Bannaster only laughed. His face was still damp and red from the snow, but his eyes were so merry that Diana felt a tug of envy—and then admiration. After how he’d grown up, he could still understand—and participate—in the merriment of children.
“You must be freezing, my lord,” Cicely said awkwardly. “If you need to return…”
But he was ignoring her, gathering up more snow.
Cicely sighed with frustration. “Really, you cannot possibly catch those children.”
And then he dumped his snow on Cicely’s head. Diana could only gasp—and then begin to laugh helplessly as snow soaked her sister’s hair, and a large drop plopped on her nose. Diana didn’t remember the last time she’d indulged her amusement. She really had nothing to laugh about—her life was yet full of the danger of Bannaster, her strange feelings about him, and her future with the League.
With a shriek, Cicely shook her head before her, almost like a dog, then began to take long, angry strides back toward the keep.
“Mistress Cicely—” Bannaster began, but then he only glanced at Diana and shrugged.
“I had best see to my sister,” Diana said, before he could get any ideas about her own participation. She was not going to play with him—not anymore.
Diana busied herself in the kitchens and out in the kitchen courtyard, where a large boar was already roasting in a pit for the Christmas Day feast. Several other outside fires were being used to cook meat for the anticipated crowd. The Yule log had been dragged in while the hunting parties were gone, ready to be lit in celebration that night. Villagers had been streaming in all day, bringing their offerings of bread and ale and hens for the feast, and many women gathered in the kitchens to prepare mince pies, fruit tarts, and custards.
More trestle tables had to be set up for so many extra guests who had wisely brought their own wooden trenchers and spoons. The Yule log was lit with great fanfare and the sounds of Christmas carols rose to the high ceiling beams overhead, along with shouts of, “Wassail!” Between each course of food, the singing continued. A beautiful carved Yule candle was placed at the head table, and Diana stared mesmerized into its flame, letting the good cheer wash over and cleanse her troubled soul.
