Page 81 of Bold Angel
“No one pays attention to one such as me. Our bonesare old and brittle. ’Tis our way to move slowly, to be unobtrusive, to make our way among the shadows.”
“Get to the point,” he snapped.
“I know of the unnatural bond between Lord Stephen and his sister. I saw him go into her room.”
Lord Ral eyed her coldly. On the surface he appeared calm, but a muscle jumped in his cheek. “What Stephen does means nothing to me.”
“Not now, mayhap. But there was a time when it meant a great deal.”
The Dark Knight said nothing.
“’Twas the reason you broke your betrothal.” She took a brittle step forward. “You discovered their secret, just as I have. It sickened you… and frightened you. You could not imagine a man as strong as Stephen, a man of so much power, being brought to his knees by a woman.”
“He has lost his soul.”
“At least a dozen times over.” Marta assessed him shrewdly, noting the lines of fatigue in the hard planes of his face. “It can happen, as you have seen, but your Caryn is not Eliana. She is not evil, nor does she seek to drain your will. She only means to lend you some of her strength, as any good wife would do.”
The Norman pushed back his chair, the sound grating in the emptiness of the room. He strode over to the narrow slit of window. “Bedding my leman is my right. I have done nothing any other man would not do.”
“You are not any other man. And she is not any other woman.”
Lord Ral shifted uneasily, raking a hand through his thick black hair, driving it back from his forehead. “You do not understand.”
“I understand that you have special feelings for her. That you are frightened by those feelings. I also know that there is no need for you to be afraid.”
“There is very little I am afraid of.”
“That is so, my lord. You are strong and brave. That is why you must seek out your destiny, then be unafraid to claim it.”
The tall dark Norman stared a moment out into the bailey. The clash and clank of sword and shield drifted up from the practice yard. He turned away from the sounds and crossed the room to stand before her.
“I will think on what you have said. That is all I can promise. Even then I am not certain that it will matter.”
Marta rasped out a slightly grating sound. “’Tis certain, Lord Ral, that it will matter.” She turned and walked away.
Chapter Sixteen
Caryn left the stable and crossed the bailey to the keep. Along with Leo, she had tended the fawn and the kittens, though the kittens had grown big enough to mouse on their own and the fawn had adopted Leo, following the little boy about whenever he went into the stables.
Caryn spent a good deal of time with them. Combined with her duties as chatelaine, it took her mind off the troubles they faced in the village—and the heartbreak she suffered whenever she thought of Ral.
It gave her a chance to forget her foolish dreams.
She was working to do that now as she walked to a storeroom just inside the keep, intending to check on supplies. She opened the door to one of the rooms, then halted as she stepped inside.
“Ancil—what do you in here?”
The jester whirled in her direction. “Lady Caryn!” His hat was gone, his hair, long and golden, hung unbound past his shoulders. One small ear protruded from the side of his head—but the other one lay neatly in place. It was delicate and shell-like and perfectly fit his oval face.
“Sweet Mary! Ancil—you are a woman!” Startled green eyes met hers. The girl made a sound in her throat and sank down in obeisance.
“I beg of you, lady Caryn, you must keep my secret.”The jester’s voice was no longer male but decidedly feminine and sweetly lilting. “’Tis a matter of life and death.”
“How did you do that to your ears?” Caryn asked, her gaze still fixed on the uncommon sight of one ear sticking out while the other one did not.
“What? Oh, ’tis merely a hunk of clay.” She pulled the clay free, letting the ear fall back in its natural position. “Please, my lady, I beg you not to tell.”
She was lovely, Caryn saw, soft and pleasing to the eye. Older than she, mayhap as much as two and twenty.
