by Alexa Aston
This proved to be impossible.
Lord Montayne commanded any room he sat in, whether he spoke or not. She continually found herself out of breath, the rhythm of her heart beating erratically, though she’d done nothing strenuous. She couldn’t understand why she had trouble breathing when he was nearby, much less why she became clumsy in his presence.
She concluded their lesson for the day, ready to spend a little time alone before she returned to the faire.
“Here, Lyssa, let me clean those brushes.” She took them from the girl’s hands before she made a mess. “Why don’t you and your papa go find Luke?”
Lyssa giggled. “Cook got mad at Luke again. He licked all the cream off a pie.”
Madeleine laughed. “Then you’d better go rescue him before he finds more mischief.” She gave Lyssa a push toward the door and began to tidy up. She waited for Lord Montayne to follow his daughter, but he remained seated.
“My lord, mayhap you should think of hiring a tutor for Lyssa. Someone skilled in the fine arts. One day, Lyssa will be designing tapestries for the walls in the great hall and weaving them herself. She may even paint portraits of the family and important visitors.”
“And sing for their entertainment in the evenings,” he added.
“Yes, she will. I’m sure your guests would enjoy her music.”
Garrett scowled. “We rarely have guests at Stanbury.”
Madeleine was taken aback. He hadn’t been abrupt with her since she’d come to Stanbury. She knew his fierce reputation, though, having overheard talk of the Earl of Montayne’s black moods. He was curt and demanding toward servants, drank far too much, was a hard man in business, and rode out after highwaymen spotted in the area. Some had disappeared, while some lived to tell tales of horror before they escaped.
She had not witnessed that side of him since the mummers had arrived at his estate. He had been polite and, in the company of his daughter, even lighthearted.
“I did not realize, my lord,” she said.
“My apologies, Madeleine. I shouldn’t have been gruff with you. We . . . have a bit of an odd situation here at Stanbury.”
Madeleine knew it had to do with his wife. She remembered Ashby mentioning how the marriage had changed him. She knew not if Lynnette was dead or merely away on a long visit since she’d seen nothing of the countess and no mention was made of her. Not even Lyssa spoke of her mother.
“Odd, my lord?” she asked.
He sighed and Madeleine ached for the hurt that sprang to his eyes. “My wife left me for her lover four years ago. I searched every farm and manor between here and London but I never found a trace of her. She abandoned her husband, her home, and her daughter,” he continued, “disappearing completely. Lyssa was barely a year old, just starting to walk.”
His eyes glittered with a fierce bitterness like she’d never seen. “Even if Lynnette turned up this day, I could never, ever forgive her for leaving Lyssa.”
Shocked by his story, Madeleine suddenly wondered what Henri had told his friends about her disappearance.
Despite Lord Montayne’s notorious reputation, she doubted strongly that he had beaten his wife. He simply wasn’t that kind of man. No one could look so pained over his wife’s departure and be responsible for causing her to flee.
Without thinking, Madeleine touched his cheek gently, her palm resting along his stubbled face. He held his hand over hers for a moment, then slowly entwined his fingers with hers. Her heart skipped a beat and then began dancing wildly.
He drew her hand away from his face and studied it before bringing it, palm up, to his lips. The heat from his lips scorched her flesh. Time stilled. Only they existed in this moment.
He finally eased her hand away from his lips but he didn’t release it. He transfixed her with his warm, brown eyes and, for the first time, she noticed the flecks of gold in them.
“Can we go back to the faire, Papa?”
Lyssa’s question broke the spell of the moment. As the young girl entered with the kitten in her arms, Madeleine quickly turned, slipping her hand from the earl’s grasp. She crossed to Lyssa and stopped to rub Luke’s ears, his noisy purring filling the small room.
“I must return, Lyssa, you are right. I’d quite lost track of the time.” Madeleine smiled nervously. “Bring me my lute and you may come with me. We’ll find Evan, and you might be allowed to help him hand props to the mummers this time.”
“Did you hear, Papa? I get to help Evan.” She skipped over and retrieved the lute, handing the delicate instrument to Madeleine carefully.
She refused to look his way. Taking Lyssa’s hand, she said, “Let’s see if Annie wants to go with us.” They exited hurriedly from the chamber, but Madeleine still heard the nobleman’s low curse.
*
After that charged encounter, Madeleine had avoided being alone with him. Garrett saw she maneuvered situations so that someone was always present. Annie was invited to watch her lessons with Lyssa and Madeleine often brought Evan along for good measure. Madeleine had also been introduced to Edith and Lyssa’s grandmother was thrilled when she could sit in and hear her granddaughter sing or watch her paint.
That afternoon, Madeleine cut the lesson short. “There’s an added performance tonight, thanks to it being the summer solstice. Farley wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to squeeze in an extra show for the longest day of the year.”
“Will you be singing in the play, Madeleine?” Edith asked. “I’ve enjoyed visiting the mummer’s stage with Garrett and Lyssa. Your voice is quite charming.”
“Yes, my lady, and it’s a special show. Both York and I have a role. Afterward, there’s to be singing and dancing and a large bonfire will be lit. Would you like to attend, my lady?”
“No, but I’m sure Lyssa will want to be there.”
“I don’t know, Mother,” Garrett said. “She’s awfully young. It will be late before those festivities begin.”
“I suppose you’re right, Garrett. Mayhap we’ll watch it from my tower room. That way, if Lyssa falls asleep, I can easily put her to bed. But you go, Son, and enjoy yourself. Ashby, too. He told me he wasn’t leaving for London until after the solstice bonfire.”
*
Garrett and Ashby watched the mummers in their final performance of the day. As soon as the play ended, Ashby was all smiles.
“You’re all on your own now, Garrett. I beg my leave of you.”
“The ravishing Hannah?” Garrett asked.
“It’s a possibility. She’s lost none of her sweetness these past few weeks. If only I could look at her and not have to listen.” Ashby sighed. “Why the Good Lord decided to give the girl an angel’s face with a donkey’s bray, I’ll never understand.”
Garrett laughed. “And we all know it’s her face that interests you, Ash.”
“Do you mock me, Garrett? Would you be so cruel?”
“That and more.”
His friend turned thoughtful. “Have you plans now yourself? Will you be spending time in the company of a certain songstress?”
Garrett smiled enigmatically. “Off with you.”
Ashby left and Garrett wandered around the faire for a few minutes. It did look as if romance were in the air. Everywhere he turned, he saw couples strolling arm-in-arm, stealing kisses here and there. Loneliness washed over him, as if he were sitting in the surf on an empty beach. He even spied Royce, arms linked with another woman. The man gave him a wide berth and went in the opposite direction.
He found himself in the tent area where the mummers slept. He had a quick impulse to check on Gwenith.
As he approached the tent, Evan rushed out, running smack into him.
“Oh, sorry, me lord. Are ye looking for Maddie?”
“No, Master Evan. As a matter of fact, I was looking for your mother. Is she here?”
Evan’s eyes grew round. “Yes, me lord, come right on in.” He held his hand out in a gentlemanly fashion and Garrett entered the tent.
Gwenith was propped up on a low pallet with several pillows. Obviously, she had heard their exchange for she said, “Do come in, Lord Montayne.”
Her pallor was stark white against her vivid red hair. She put a hand to her head and smoothed down the wayward curls. “Gets a bit wild sometimes, me lord. Maddie does her best to tame it.”
“It’s very pretty hair you have, Gwenith.”
She eyed him in an appraising manner. “So what brings ye here? Ye wished to see me?”
Garrett found himself slightly nervous as she sized him up. “Well, yes, Gwenith. Madeleine speaks of you often. And Evan is a sturdy lad. He’s been spending time with my Lyssa. I suppose I simply wanted to meet you.”
“Yer Lyssa is quite a bundle of joy, she is. Such a little lady already with dainty manners. She’s been to see me most every day now, bringing me flowers and little treats from yer cook.”
“She has?” His daughter had undergone a metamorphosis under Madeleine’s tutelage. Visiting a total stranger, bringing her gifts. It amazed him how much Lyssa had changed in a fortnight.
“Yes, me lord, she’s a good girl.” She fell silent.
Since he hadn’t thought about what he’d say to her, he, too, remained quiet.
Finally, she spoke. Once again, she had that air about her, as if she were evaluating him. “I trust ye would not hurt Maddie, me lord.”
“God’s blood! Of course not! Why would you ask such a thing?”
“The dying have some liberties, I think.” She paused a moment. “Of course, I did not mean physically strike her, me lord. I meant hurt her heart. Maddie was in a sad state when I met her. Something awful happened to her. Can’t say for sure what, and I wouldn’t pry, but alls I know is she’s vulnerable. Don’t give her more cause for pain.”
“I see,” he said, although he wasn’t sure he did. Madeleine struck him as someone with confidence and plenty of common sense, not the wounded bird Gwenith painted. Yes, she had secrets she had yet to reveal, but he saw Madeleine as a very capable, talented woman.
He stared at Gwenith for a minute but could think of nothing else to say, so he rose. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Gwenith.”
She studied him a long moment before replying. “’Twas interesting meeting ye, me lord.”
Garrett removed himself quickly from the tent. He walked along the lane, buying a few trifles for Lyssa from the sellers. They were hasty in their actions, ready to pack their wares and head toward the bonfire now that dusk approached. Garrett could hear the music and shouts from that direction and proceeded that way.
Many had gathered around the woodpile that would soon be lit. A few impromptu speeches were made, while several toasts were offered up. The crowd, agreeable to the toasts, shouted its approval.
Then he heard more shouts rise from those gathered.
“Play us a tune, Madeleine!”
“Yes, tell us a story, dear!”
“Come on, Madeleine. Won’t be solstice without a tale!”
Garrett saw her reluctantly make her way to the center of those gathered. “I don’t have my lute, I’m afraid,” she apologized.
“Then we’ll just look at ye a bit,” yelled a happy drunk. The crowd hooted at his comment. Madeleine blushed prettily.
Edgar yelled, “’Tis just a story we need, Madeleine. You need not sing.”
“All right,” she said, pausing and tapping a finger on her lips. “This is a tale of what England was like long ago.” She launched into a story of life before the Romans came and how the Druids had danced at celebrations such as the one tonight, their chants of “Eye-Ay-Oh,” buzzing as bees would.
She painted a picture of the Romans as they came, conquering the simple folk and chasing the Druids far away. Garrett found he couldn’t take his eyes from her, spellbound as much by her beauty as the tale she wove.
He was startled when he heard her say, “And to this day, the Druids will dance beneath the pale moonlight . . . so beware!”
The crowd, enraptured by her story, erupted into thunderous applause at its conclusion. Someone passed her a mug and she took a hearty swallow from it, wiping the foam from her lips with her sleeve. The people cheered again, and she moved from the center of their attention to the edges.
Garrett slowly made his way through those gathered and followed her on a parallel path. She finally removed herself totally from the group and began crossing the meadow. He knew where she was headed, a boulder at the far end of the pasture that edged the forest and overlooked the entire open meadow. He’d seen her sitting on it once before.
Sure enough, she went straight to the massive rock, climbing awkwardly up to its large, flat surface. He watched her lie down upon it and slip her hands beneath her head. He approached quietly, propping his elbow on the stone ledge.
“Stargazing?” he whispered.
Madeleine sat up hastily, surprise written across her face. “You startled me! I didn’t hear you come up.”
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, not waiting for her response, but easily hoisting himself up next to her. She moved away from the center. With a grin, he stretched out his legs as she had, cushioning his head with his hands, making sure to keep some space between them. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said easily. “The stars are bright tonight.”
“Yes, they are,” she murmured stiffly, giving him a suspicious look.
“Madeleine?”
“Yes, my lord?”
“You may lie back down again. There’s plenty of room here for both of us. I promise I won’t push you off,” he said playfully. To try to reassure her, he shut his eyes and waited.
Garrett sensed her hesitation. With his eyes closed, he seemed more aware of her than before, her lavender scent invading his senses.
She waited, obviously undecided about what to do. Then he heard the rustling and she eased back down on the rock. Not close to him, but he still felt the heat of her body.
He did his best not to move, though he could feel his heart ready to leap from his chest. He didn’t want her to feel threatened but he so wanted to touch her. He longed to know everything about this wondrous woman who’d turned his world upside down.
His mind raced through the many women he’d seen over the years. None of them held a candle to Madeleine. She had an inner spirit that shone through, enhancing the beauty on her surface. How could he find out who she really was—and what secrets she still kept from him?
*
Madeleine’s heart pounded fiercely as she stared at the night sky. She felt very awkward and self-conscious being so near him. She realized she held her breath and expelled it quietly. Lord Montayne said nothing. His eyes remained closed. She tried to relax, putting her hands under her head for support.
Why was he here?
And yet she knew. She’d known it was but a matter of time before they found themselves alone. She just hadn’t pictured it in this way.
She stole a glance at him, starting from the feet up. His muscular legs vanished under his rich, black tunic. He wore black often but the dark color suited him. His chest was broad, and both it and his arms were muscular. His profile was, for lack of a better word, simply beautiful. She had never thought a man beautiful before she’d met Lord Montayne.
He suddenly rolled over to one side and faced her, one arm propping his head up, the other resting in front of him. He seemed very large and strong compared to her. She was afraid to move. His very nearness made her feel so small.
“Who are you, Madeleine?”
Her mouth went dry. “Madeleine Bouchard, member of Farley’s mummers.”
“Bouchard?” he echoed. She thought quickly. “Yes, it’s a French name, my lord. My relatives came to England during the Norman invasion.”
He eyed her speculatively. “Then you’ve noble blood in you. I thought so.”
“Nay, my lord, you are mistaken. One of my ancestors simply served the nobility. Somewhere along the way he was granted a patch of land to farm. My father farms it
to this day.”
“Why did you leave your home, Madeleine?”
A cuckolded husband would never understand why she’d left her own husband. She knew she could never admit the truth to him. Yet she couldn’t bear for him to think ill of her.
“I was to marry a neighbor but he caught the fever and died. I then was promised to his brother, but he, too, became ill and died. The third brother wanted little to do with me but we still became betrothed at the wish of our fathers. He was killed when a mule kicked him in the head.”
She sighed. “People began to say I was cursed. Some called me a witch. Some thought evil would befall any man who came around me. My parents, though they loved me dearly, felt it best that I should leave.”
“And so you chose to go with Farley’s troupe?”
“Yes. They were gathering in London, which is where I was headed when you and I first met. I knew I must reach them before they took off.”
“Your parents actually approved of this plan? Sending you alone on the road to London?”
“Of course not! They wanted me to go and work at the neighboring lord’s estate.” She snorted. “Can you see me milking cows and threshing wheat? I think not. I had my eye set on far better things. I knew I could sing and act as well as those who came through at our local faire each year, so I took off on my own.”
“How did you know of Farley’s troupe? That he was organizing in London at the time?”
Madeleine didn’t miss a beat. “They’d come our way every spring for several years. I’d become friendly with several members, including Gwenith. I knew where they’d be gathering and decided to take my chances with Farley and Elspeth.”
Garrett looked her directly in the eyes. “I don’t believe a word you’ve just told me, Madeleine.”
She bolted upright. “You are no gentleman, sir. How could you doubt a lady?”
“I thought you were a farm girl, Madeleine.”
She blushed, the color rising from her neck to the tip of her head.
“Lie back down,” he said, “and tell me some more about yourself. I always did enjoy a good tale.”
Madeleine didn’t move. She was furious with him for not believing her and angry with herself that she was such a poor liar. Oh, if only they’d met under different circumstances. If only she weren’t destined to leave Stanbury and seek sanctuary in a convent.
