“I am no falconer! I cannot name the reason, but to blame the absence of a religious relic makes little sense. I say there is an earthly reason.”
“And I say you are wrong. As I now possess the Titulus again, your opinion is of little merit.”
I was reluctant to comment upon that assertion. Indeed, I thought a distraction would be timely, lest she ponder the matter overmuch.
I caught the end of one tie of her chemise and pulled her closer, liking how her eyes widened in awareness of me. “And what would you pledge to me if I should prove you wrong?” I kissed the side of her neck lingeringly.
“Why should I pledge any thing to you?” She caught her breath and, encouraged, I urged her closer to the bed.
“You could grant me the Titulus as my reward for discovering the true reason for your misfortunes,” I suggested.
Evangeline pushed me away. “You have no shame, do you? You have had your desire of me and of Inverfyre.” She lifted her chin. “Perhaps it would be prudent for you to leave.”
I was stunned. I had never been told to leave, certainly not without a threat at the portal or without a parting kiss. “You have had your desire of me, as well!”
“Perhaps so.”
“But you cannot spurn me so easily as this!”
“I just have.”
“Because you are irked with my invitation to Sicily,” I guessed. She lifted her chin, her pose telling more than any words could, and my frustration with both her and my unruly desire redoubled. “And what would you have of me instead? Would you have me wed you? Would that make it sweeter to part ways? How is it more admirable that those wedded remain together for all their days, even if their nights are spent apart? It is honest, at least, to cleave one’s path to another’s for solely so long as the destination of both is the same.”
“Honest?” She shook her head as if she could not believe my audacity. “It is remarkable indeed to have you tout the merits of honesty!”
“And what is that to mean?”
Evangeline turned upon me, her eyes gleaming, and I saw that I had goaded her into telling me a truth of some kind. To be sure, I heeded her every word. “It means that I know who you are and what you have done, Gawain Lammergeier. I know that you are a thief, perhaps an uncommonly talented thief, but a thief nonetheless. You are a man with no scruples and no concern for others. I know this, for I have witnessed it with my own eyes, and I dare not believe otherwise, especially not if the only evidence for another claim is your own sweet words.”
“But I had the Titulus when you sought me out. Who is the thief here? I who witnessed your theft of that relic from me, without a care for me!”
“I reclaimed what was mine own,” she said with vigor.
“But what did you witness with your own eyes? Never a theft of mine. You have witnessed no deed of mine, save those abed.”
“Have I not?” Evangeline’s eyes snapped with a new fire. “Fifteen years ago, you came to Inverfyre. I remember your golden hair and gilded tongue. I remember how fine and foreign you and your father seemed. I remember being enthralled that such men had come to our gates.”
I desperately tried to place Evangeline in my memories of this place. “But there were only men in the hall. There were no women—indeed, my father remarked upon it.”
Evangeline must have been a child, perhaps of eight or ten summers. Her beauty would have been evident, even then, and I knew I would have recalled her.
If I had seen her.
“My mother forbade me to come to the hall. Perhaps she knew my curiosity to be unhealthy. Perhaps she simply knew more of men than I.”
“But…”
Evangeline almost smiled. “In those days, I was not one to do as I was bidden. I watched from the top of the stairs as my father entertained his guests. I listened and I learned and I became enamored with a certain young man who spoke with unholy charm.”
Her gaze held mine as she watched me understand her inference.
“Me. You were watching me.” It did my pride no harm to know that the lady had found me fetching then, and indeed, if I had guessed that she lurked within these walls, perhaps I would have stolen more than an ancient piece of wood.
She smiled, if coldly. “I was smitten. You were as unlike the young men that I had met afore as any soul could be. You had grace and good looks and wealth and so many tales of distant lands! It was not fair that my mother forbade me to meet you.”
A determined gleam lit her eyes. “I could not let the moment pass. When all retired, I crept down to the chapel, the better to entreat God to grant me one chance to speak with you. One chance was all I desired, a single moment to impress upon you that I was here, that I could be the maiden of your dreams, that we were undoubtedly destined to be together.”
Her lips twisted wryly and I saw that she believed this childish whimsy no longer.
But wait—she had come to the chapel all those years ago. I understood suddenly what she had seen. “You saw us in the midst of acquisition,” I guessed.
“Acquisition? Is that what theft is called in these sorry times? Or in that lawless land of Sicily that you so favor?” Her gaze was cold now, her expression so grim that she might have been the woman I had seen in the chapel, not the one I had met abed. “But yes, I saw you steal my father’s pride and joy. I saw you take the Titulus. I saw you laugh when it was in your grasp.”
Bitterness tinged her words. “I saw you revel in the fact that you had deceived the host who had treated you with honor. It was only later that I realized your cleverness in charming every detail of our relic from my father’s lips without seeming to do so.” She took a step toward me and I retreated, uncertain what she would do.
“It is only a piece of wood, Evangeline,” I reminded her. “It might not even be a genuine relic.”
“That does not matter!” she said with unexpected ferocity. “My father believed it to be genuine and that was sufficient.”
“Evangeline…”
“You stole more, far more, than a mere piece of wood. You stole the fortune that had blessed Inverfyre, you stole the unity that secured the rule of my family, you stole my father’s pride and confidence, you stole my mother’s faith.”
“You know that this cannot be responsible for the impotence of the wild birds…”
She jabbed a finger into my chest, driving her argument home, but I dared not retreat further. “Worse, your theft sowed dissent in Inverfyre, and launched the slow rot that has brought us to our current sorry state.”
“Evangeline, I…”
“To sustain his suzerainty, my father was compelled to lie about his possession of the Titulus. He had always been a man of honor, a man upon whose word one could rely. After he lied, my mother never looked at him the same way again. Indeed, he never viewed himself the same way. And the people smelled that there was rot at the core, even if they knew not what it was.”
“But…”
“You can spew no pretty words to heal this wound. Be gone. Be gone afore I say too much.”
And the lady turned her back upon me. I raised my finger, intending to argue the matter further, but a bird cried at close proximity.
A white gyrfalcon landed on the window sill, the bell upon her ankles tinkling with her movements.
“Aphrodite!” Evangeline cried with delight. Both I and our argument were dismissed.
I was not disappointed, you may be assured, that she was one to give vent to her temper and then be shed of its burden. My brother is like this, as was my father, and I suspect it is far more healthy than those who fester a slow burn for years and years.
Evangeline eased toward the bird and I assumed she would capture it anew for her father. She began to sing to it, to my surprise, even as she donned a leather glove and coaxed it to take her wrist. The bird was disinclined to do her bidding, but the song seemed to be an allure that could not be denied. It reluctantly stepped to her gloved fist as Evangeline continued to sing.
It w
as a stunning creature, its large-pupiled gaze alien and wild. It was so large that it could only be the one loosed from Fergus’ fist in the hall. I was all too aware of the sharpness of its talons and beak, the prowess with which it could stalk and kill. Indeed, some deity had designed this bird to be a perfect creature for hunting.
Yet Evangeline was unafraid of it. I edged closer, intrigued.
“Why do you sing?” I dared to ask.
She granted me a hot glance, as if annoyed to find me still present, then deigned to explain. “It is her feeding song.”
“I do not understand.”
Evangeline sang another verse before replying. “Each falcon has a song which she is taught to associate with fresh meat offered from the hand. It is the sole way to tame them. Aphrodite remembers her song.”
“You sing the same song each time it is fed?”
“She,” Evangeline corrected even as she nodded. “All hunting birds of merit are female.” I chose not to explore this particular detail. “She associates the song with food, thus will always allow herself to be captured when she hears the song.”
I was impressed that a wild bird could be as astute as this. I had known hounds less readily trained. As she sang again, Evangeline untied the bird’s jesses and removed the bell.
“But you have no meat for her,” I observed belatedly. “Will she not be dismayed to have no treat with the song?”
Evangeline’s smile flashed. “I have a better gift.” To my astonishment, she cast the bell and jesses to the ground, then leaned out the window and jerked her fist upward so that the bird would take flight.
Unfettered.
Aphrodite needed no second invitation. Her great wings unfurled and flapped with a vigor that lifted her away from Inverfyre’s tower with a trio of beats. She never looked back. Indeed, her cry was one of triumph and pleasure, if a bird could be imagined to feel such sentiments.
“What are you doing?” I sprang to the window, but Evangeline laughed with delight.
“I am setting Aphrodite free.” She pointed skyward, her features alight. “Look at her flight! She is so powerful, so graceful. Look at her! She knows her destination.” Indeed, the bird wheeled and turned like an arrow, flying north with uncommon speed.
I was woefully confused. “But I thought you traded in falcons here.”
“Indeed we do.”
“Then why…”
Evangeline turned to confront me, folding her arms across her chest even as she smiled at my confusion. “No falconer of sense takes a bird after its first moult. Aphrodite was sent as a gift, a poor gift, for she was captured after at least two moults. She knows her wild ways too well to be trained to hunt at a falconer’s command.”
“Where is her destination, then?”
Evangeline looked out the window and I imagined that she could yet discern the bird. “I do not know. She has mated already, it is clear, for she has been anxious to meet her partner.”
I did not understand and my expression must have revealed as much.
Evangeline smiled. “Falcons are noble birds, possessed of admirable traits. They take but one mate for their entire life. Each year, peregrine and tiercel meet at the same nest to breed. And each year, they part after their young are raised, to hunt alone until spring comes again.” Evangeline met my gaze steadily. “Aphrodite has bred at least once—she has found her partner. It would be beyond cruel to deny her urge to mate by keeping her captive.”
“But she was captive, upon Fergus’ fist. Surely Fergus understood this?”
Her lips thinned. “Fergus knows nothing of falcons.”
“And listens to no counsel,” I guessed, though Evangeline did not reply.
She turned away and crossed the room, keeping her back to me. “I do not know how she came to be unfettered, but it was good fortune that she came to my window. None other would have defied Fergus.” It was curious that she called her father by his Christian name, but I assumed he was indulgent of his daughter, as men with beautiful children oft are. She glanced quickly at me, her expression unreadable. “Have you not departed yet?”
I was not prepared to leave without a parting token from the lady. I coughed delicately. “I must confess that I had a part in Aphrodite’s timely escape.”
Evangeline turned to study me, the chill melting from her gaze. “Why?”
“I needed a distraction to ascend to your chamber.” I bowed with studied elegance. “I can only be gratified that my unwitting release of the bird pleased you.”
Evangeline’s lips parted but before I could decide whether she meant to curse me or kiss me—perhaps she too was undecided—there was a shout from the corridor outside the door.
“Aphrodite was here!” Fergus cried. “Find her!”
We both froze at the echo of approaching footsteps.
“Quick!” Evangeline seized my sleeve with brutal force. She shoved me toward a door I had not glimpsed earlier, one hidden beyond the pool of light cast by the candles. She pushed me unceremoniously from behind, urging me to greater speed. “You must leave and you must leave this way. No one can find you here.”
Her fervor amused me, especially given her earlier tirade. I halted and smiled, pausing to catch her chin in my hand. “So you would protect me, despite your supposed animosity. Your barbed words do not come from the heart, after all.” I bent to kiss her but she pushed me away.
“Fool!” She shook off my grip, though flushed prettily. “You see nothing beyond your own pleasure.”
I winked. “I would see to yours, as well. Hide me, Evangeline, for the night is yet young.”
“I thought you were one to protect your own hide first.”
“Of what import is that?”
She smiled coolly. “My husband will not be gladdened to find you in his place in my bed.”
I gaped at her. “Your husband?”
“Do not imagine that I save you, Gawain Lammergeier.” She sternly shook her finger at me. “I protect myself. We all know it is the woman who pays the price for adultery.”
I still could not accept her claim. “But you have no spouse! If you had a husband, he would have sat with you at the board, beside you or your father…”
“My father is dead. Do you not recall what he looked like, the man you betrayed and deceived?”
I did not, but I dared not admit as much before her quelling gaze. It seemed I had erred yet again.
The lady’s dark brows arched high in feigned surprise. “Perhaps you noticed Fergus, my father’s chosen heir? He was the one who lifted the Titulus high in the chapel.”
I recoiled from the implication of her words. “But he is old! You cannot be his bride!”
Her eyes narrowed. “I am his bride.”
“But this is a travesty!” The very idea revolted me and I guessed from her expression that she too found her marriage less than pleasing.
A shred of chivalry awakened in me, for I knew that I could save this lovely lady from her fate. “You cannot be condemned to bed that old man. This cannot be your desire.”
“My desire is of no import.” Her words were cool but already I understood that she hid behind a mask of measured calm when she was most agitated.
“Evangeline, do not be a fool! Do not discard what rises between us! Can you not see how circumstance favors us? Come away with me…”
“You must go!”
“You cannot wish to be wed to this man. Leave him! Come away with me. I know what you truly desire and I will ensure that you are happy.”
“You know nothing about me,” she said savagely.
I planted my feet against the floor. “I know that I will not leave without you.”
A knock came at her door and Evangeline glanced back, fear in her magnificent eyes. I was tempted then, sorely tempted to stay and have a reckoning from this aged husband who had taught such a lady to fear him, tempted to fight for her with my fists.
I had never felt such an urge before. The lady kindled some madness in m
y veins, of that there could be no doubt.
Evangeline caught at my sleeve. “Go now, or have my blood upon your hands!”
“For a kiss I will depart.”
She made a vexed sound beneath her breath and would have pressed her lips chastely against mine, but I kissed her soundly. I loved how she made a frustrated sound, then leaned against me, as if reluctant to succumb. But succumb she did, only the pounding of fists upon her portal forcing us breathlessly to part.
The sight of her reddened lips and sparkling eyes made my heart clench tightly. “Remember me,” I bade her, for some foolish reason.
Sadness clouded her lovely features before her expression set to stone again. “I have already forgotten you.”
Because she had to. I understood now the burden that she bore, but still was frustrated by her insistence upon clinging to it. I offered a hand, she shook her head with resolve. I held her gaze for a moment longer, until the men pounded their fists upon her door. Only when she left me, crossing the floor with purpose, did I do as she had bidden me and duck through the low portal.
I had a moment to be heartily discontent, to be sorely disgruntled at Fergus’ lusty greeting in the chamber behind me and Evangeline’s demure reply. It was no more than a moment, before I perceived that once again, I had been tricked.
I was not alone.
They were waiting for me in the darkness. Too late I realized where the second door upon the left of the corridor led—it led to this dark chamber, no greater than the height of a man in any direction.
It was occupied by three men who encircled me like hungry predators.
“What manner of guest troubles the Lady of Inverfyre in her chambers?” growled one. I recognized Tarsuinn’s voice, though it was now filled with menace.
I knew a relief that weakened my knees.
“Well met, my comrades!” I whispered gaily. “Shall we seek out another cup of ale?”
“We do not know you,” Niall said grimly.
“What madness is this? It is me, your old comrade, Connor MacDoughall. Perhaps you do not recognize me in this light.”
Tarsuinn chuckled. “You are not Connor.”
All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances Page 41
