by Julia Latham
This was her favorite time of the year, when everyone was in good spirits. Throughout the evening, the minstrels continued to sing and mummers performed their silent skits for the children. She could almost forget about her troubles, pretend that these were happier times.
Until she caught sight of Bannaster, playing Tables with her steward. She turned her back when he caught her looking, determined to ignore him for the rest of the evening.
But soon she heard a hush spread through the great hall, and she could pick out the strumming of a lute by a solitary musician. And then she heard a man’s pure voice, low, flowing like warm honey. She closed her eyes, pretending she didn’t know who it was. But at last she had to turn around, and although she stood closer to the kitchens than to the group gathered at the hearth, she could see Bannaster strolling through the crowd, playing a lute and singing a Christmas carol.
“God rest ye merry gentlemen, Let nothing you dismay.”
He stood before Cicely and sang to her, causing her cheeks to redden with excitement. She had been rather dour through the afternoon after Bannaster’s rejection of her kiss and his teasing her with a snow fight, but his romantic singing was obviously resurrecting her joy.
“O tidings of comfort and joy,” he sang, so suggestively that the crowd roared with laughter as Cicely pinkened.
And then he caught sight of Diana, and though she tried to press backward into the crowd, hands on her back pushed her forward, so that she was forced to meet Bannaster face-to-face as he sang to her. She kept her expression politely pleasant, but inside, his voice reverberated, setting off little explosions of pleasure that she worried might betray her.
Tom let his eyes become languorous as he stood before Diana and sang, enjoying her discomfiture. He could tell that she did not like being the focus of a man’s attention before all her people—before Cicely. Diana’s cheeks were red as an autumn apple, but her stormy gray eyes met his with no false demureness. She showed no challenge, but he sensed it was there, banked like a fire at night, just waiting for a breeze to fan it back to life. What else did she hide behind those eyes? Was she part of a plot to trip him up, to prove him a murderer? She’d had him in her dungeon already, but he’d outwitted that plan. Yet she couldn’t have gotten what she wanted with him in solitary captivity. Nay, there was more going on here.
When the last chords of his song faded away, the hall shook with applause and cheers, and he felt the good wishes of these people who were still strangers to him. He wondered if they cared which Winslow sister he married, as long as he made one of them happy.
Next, Tom saw the caps and scarves and mittens given by the Winslow sisters to all of their servants and tenants. He had already discovered the organized piles of food and firewood to be taken home on the morrow when they all departed. Though Kirkby Keep had little, the Winslows made sure their people had a happy Christmas.
Tom did not need to wonder who was behind such generosity, who had probably sewn with her maidservants all year in preparation for this day. Perhaps he did Cicely an injustice, but since she seemed bored with the proceedings, and Diana’s eyes shown with excitement, he imagined his assumptions were accurate.
But Cicely’s own eyes lit when she unwrapped the long blue silk fabric he’d brought for her. The deep green silk he’d given to Diana, and although she was more reserved, she had offered her thanks as well.
When Diana went off to the kitchens, Tom was easily able to have Cicely alone before the hearth, their words private though a hundred people filled the hall.
“My lord, you did not need to give me a gift,” Cicely said coyly.
“I wanted to. I have something else for you on New Year’s Day, but I wanted you to have the cloth early in the holiday.”
“That is so generous of you. Mayhap we should start a new tradition of giving gifts on Christmas Eve as well.”
“We had other Christmas Eve traditions in my home,” he said. “Do your people tell stories on this night?”
“Nay, music and dancing have always been our favorites. I’ll admit, Kirkby Keep had few traditions when I arrived, but I made certain to hire the best minstrels each year, and the holidays have become merrier.”
“’Tis a good thing you do for your people.”
“What kind of stories do you tell?” she asked, falling right into his plan.
“One of our favorites is any new tales of the League of the Blade.”
“Oh, I have heard of them,” Cicely said with confidence. “But some say they are but a legend.”
“So they’ve never helped anyone you know?”
She shook her head. “Diana mentioned them once or twice in our girlhood, but she always did like unladylike fantasies.”
Tom grew tense with anticipation. Had Diana deliberately searched out the League after growing up with the legends? “I have met a Bladesman,” he confided softly, looking around to make sure Diana wasn’t near. “Earlier this year, they helped the daughter of the earl of Alderley reunite with her childhood betrothed.”
Cicely studied him. “Diana told me you tried to force a woman to marry you. Was that her?”
He straightened uncomfortably, deciding honesty would work best. “Aye, it was. I had hoped to marry her, but her betrothed arrived at last, and King Henry agreed to enforce the old marriage contract.”
Cicely grinned and leaned toward him. “I am glad, for I would not have met you.”
Surprised, he said, “You are unusual sisters, that is for certain. You are the clear beauty of the family, yet Mistress Diana has her own unusual skills.”
Though Cicely had stiffened at the mention of her sister, Tom decided to plunge ahead.
“Has she ever competed in a tournament?” he asked, thinking that this would have been the best way for someone from the League to know of her. “I am certain people would come from far and wide to see a woman challenge men.”
Cicely hesitated, obviously weighing how she would be affected by revelations about her sister.
“Once, when she was seventeen,” she said at last with obvious distaste.
Satisfaction eased through him. His guess had been correct.
“Our parents had already died, and Archie did not care what she did, as long as she did not shame him by appearing as a girl.”
“She disguised herself?”
Cicely nodded with eagerness, as if she thought this made him think less of Diana. “As you must have noticed, her figure is rather boyish. She competed in the dagger and the sword against squires, for she could not obviously compete against armored knights.”
“I have seen her train. I imagine she won the dagger.”
A furrow appeared on her brow. “Aye, she did, but not the sword fighting. When I saw a stranger speaking to her, I almost thought we were ruined, that her deception was about to be discovered. But she told me later that he was only congratulating her on her talent, and that her disguise had not been penetrated.”
Had that been her first contact with the League? Tom wondered.
“And then Diana angered Archie by going off to stay with a friend for several months without his permission. When she returned, he sent her here in punishment.”
“Did she not visit friends again?” he asked, wondering if these “visits” were when she’d been with the League. “After all, that was several years ago.”
Cicely shook her head. “Archie forbid it, and I am certain someone within the household kept him apprised.”
Although Tom wanted to talk about Diana’s disappearance, he sensed that he’d reached the end of Cicely’s usefulness—and patience—on the subject. He made himself say, “You remained with your brother?”
“Aye, until he married the next year. After that, his wife wanted to be the only beauty in the household, and I was forced to join Diana in this remote place.”
“But the rumors of your beauty continue, mistress,” he said, smiling. “Why else would I have come?
Cicely’s answering smile was
truly stunning, and for a moment he let himself be caught in it. But Diana had reentered the great hall, and he looked at her cool competence with the servants, the graceful way she moved among her guests, treating them all as equals, from the poorest farm laborer to the landed gentry of a neighboring manor. He felt the satisfaction of knowing that she would not remain a mystery for long, that he might have guessed correctly about her.
If Cicely was to be believed, Diana had never again left Kirkby Keep. It was the one thing that made him suspicious of the truth, for had he not heard that the League used its members at least once a year?
Once, he had heard his royal cousin mention a medallion that identified members of the League to each other. He had seen no unusual necklace about Diana’s throat, but she would not display such an item. It might be hidden somewhere in her bedchamber.
“Lord Bannaster?” Cicely said in a teasing voice.
When his focus returned to her, she was pointing upward at the mistletoe that hung above the hearth. Before he could even move, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, then ducked as if feigning shyness. People around them smiled, and he added his own chuckle, although inside, he thought he should feel more when a beautiful woman kissed him.
He glanced across the hall and saw Diana swiftly turning away, busy with another chore. Or trying to prove that she hadn’t glimpsed him kissing Cicely.
He felt a momentary pang, knowing he’d told her he would not seduce her sister. And he wasn’t, he insisted to himself.
And besides, she was the one doing the lying. And he would have to prove it.
Chapter 14
Late that evening, overly full of rich foods and exhausted from a productive day, Diana retired to her bedchamber, still carrying her gift from Bannaster. The green silk cascaded from her hands to ripple across her bed coverlet. It was a beautiful color, and seldom had she seen fabric so delicate and fine. There was enough material for an entire gown. Had Bannaster purchased it for Cicely, and then decided to share his generosity with Diana? Or had he thought of it as bribe for her affections?
Regardless, it had been a handsome gift, and she had had nothing for him. Cicely had given him several handkerchiefs, which were her specialty. Of course, Diana had not known that she was to share his attentions with her sister.
And then she spotted a dark object on the cushion at the head of the bed. She lifted it into the circle of candlelight and saw that it was the book of poetry that Bannaster had had in his saddlebag.
He had spent his life longing to read books such as these, he’d told her. She knew he had originally meant it for Cicely. But he had given it to her, all part of his seduction, of course.
Opening the book, she ran her fingers over its smooth pages. “And I looked like a fool for having nothing for him.”
She felt a sudden prickling up her back, a wariness, then a certainty that she wasn’t alone. All of her training swept through her, and she had the dagger out of her girdle as she stared into the dark corners of her bedchamber. From behind, a man grabbed her wrist.
“Shall I twist and make you drop the dagger?” Bannaster spoke into her ear. “It seems we are forever disarming each other. It makes for an interesting courtship.”
With a deep sigh of relief, she let the tension drain from her muscles. “Oh, ’tis you, Bannaster.”
“And you’re not even concerned,” he said as if hurt. “’Tis a shame when my very presence in a deserted bedchamber doesn’t inspire worry.”
Her lips twitched in a smile at his foolery, but she didn’t let him see her amusement. Sliding the dagger away, she turned to face him. In the dark room, the single candle only illuminated half of his face, highlighting his broad jaw and the curve of his lips. His smile faded. His eyes were deep and dark, and he looked at her far too closely. The inevitable thrill of his regard shot through her, curling her toes.
“’Tis a shame I have no mistletoe,” he said, taking a step nearer.
She didn’t retreat, only lifted her chin. “I will leave that to you and Cicely.”
“Ah, if you were watching, then you saw who instigated that kiss. Believe me, I do not betray you with your sister.”
“There is nothing between us to betray,” she said, trying for indifference.
He grinned. “Then why did you just wish you had a gift to give me?”
“That is not what I said.” Her mouth was dry, her voice betrayed her with huskiness. They stood barely a breath apart, and she thought if she could somehow remember to inhale deeply enough, her breasts would touch his chest. “I simply said I looked a fool for having nothing to give you after you have offered not one, but two gifts.”
His gaze focused on her mouth. “I can think of a simple way to show your gratitude.”
She was looking at his mouth, too. Her awareness had been reduced to only the circle of candlelight, where he stood half in shadow, his big body a warmth she’d already experienced—and wanted to again. She blinked, trying to remember how to speak. “You promised not to force me into anything.”
“I am not. Did I not prove my good intentions to you last night?”
His voice rumbled in his throat, making her stomach flutter with heat. She had to move away, to resist the sinfully wonderful way he made her feel.
“But what am I supposed to think about your intentions,” he continued, “when I discover you’ve been spying on me?”
Her stomach seemed to sink to her feet, weighted down with dread. Fearful that she’d finally been discovered, she could only whisper hopefully, “When I saw you and Cicely under the mistletoe?”
“Nay, in the woods this morn.”
She could have staggered with her feeling of relief. Staring up at him, she tried to force her foggy brain to remember. “You left the hunt to be alone with Cicely.”
“And as you saw, it was harmless.”
By rote, she said, “I have to protect my sister.”
“Are you certain of that? It would seem to me that the two of you would be happier living apart.”
“And do you want to take her away with you?”
He lifted his hand, letting the back of his fingers caress her cheek. She felt the shock of it burn through her, igniting a dark need she’d never imagined she could feel. Each time he brought it forth in her was a fresh shock.
“I don’t usually think about your sister,” he murmured, letting his thumb brush along her lower lip. “Diana, give me a Christmas gift.”
He took a step nearer, and the brush of his chest against her breasts made her moan. She went weak with need, and almost reached to hold him, as if he were the last solid thing in her world. But somehow she held back. He bent his head down to her, his lips just above hers. Their breaths mingled, and it was the most erotic sensation. She waited eagerly for his kiss, but he did not grant her one.
“If it’s to be a gift,” he whispered, “it must be freely offered.”
Her only kiss with him had been fierce and hungry, wildly exciting—and had begun with him taking her mouth. Now she hesitated on the verge of a new experience, wanting more, forgetting everything she thought mattered.
“Call me Tom,” he said, when she hadn’t moved.
“Tom.” The word was just a breath of sound as she lifted onto her tiptoes to press her lips to his. The kiss was achingly gentle, a moist promise of tenderness. She felt…lost, needy, out of balance, and at last she put a hand on his chest as if she’d fall without him. His heart pounded rapidly beneath her palm as his lips gently explored hers. She parted her lips, the better to taste him, and the kiss began to deepen.
She was leaning into him now, her head tilting back against his shoulder. His arms came around her, holding her to him, and it was she who first entered his mouth, licked her way across his tongue to explore. His groan filled her with both need and satisfaction. He was the first man to ever treat her like a woman, wanted her for the femininity she hadn’t known she had. His reaction to her made her confused about everything she�
��d ever wanted in life.
But for so many years she’d had one goal: to be a useful member of the League of the Blade. And now she was kissing the man she was assigned to investigate! She was questioning her entire life.
She broke the kiss in confusion, turning her head away. Tom did not release her immediately. His hands were low on her back, holding her to him, their hips pressed together. She could feel the long, hard length of his arousal beneath his tunic, knew with heady certainty that he wanted her.
“Might I have another Christmas gift?” he said against the hair at her temple.
She shook her head and stepped away to turn her back, almost disappointed when he allowed it. Was she supposed to lead him on, use his passion for her own benefit as she discovered all she could about him for the League? But wasn’t that what a real courtship was about, learning to understand each other?
Watching him court Cicely wasn’t working. She told herself that allowing him these intimacies would certainly keep him away from her sister.
Diana was so confused. “I am tired, Tom. And there is so much to do tomorrow.”
He put his hands on her arms from behind. “I like the way you say my name. That is also a gift.”
He left her then, and she sank onto the bed, staring at the book of poetry.
In his bedchamber, Tom found himself pacing, wishing he could send for a cold bath instead. But it was late Christmas Eve—and Diana had freely kissed him.
It had taken everything in him to leave her. If he’d stayed, he would have wanted more, and he didn’t want to scare her, as he had the last time he’d let his passion control him. Now at least she knew he respected her wishes.
But was she lying to him about her identity, about her purpose in his life? Could she be a Bladeswoman, yet have no mission that involved him? Perhaps her connections only told her to doubt him, to keep him away from her sister.
