brassy voice shattered her reverie, and she came to herself. What had she done? She had entered unannounced and stalked a young man like a huntress pursuing a deer. For once Oriel cursed her forgetfulness She had to say something.
“I—I …” He looked at her again, and she noticed a smooth cheek, the sharply angled line of his jaw, those startling eyes. All her wits scattered. “What was your name?”
This time both brows arched, and that arresting mouth drew down. “Marry, lady, do you forget the names of all your guests?”
“Oriel.” Livia hurried to them and gripped Oriel’s arm. “I marvel greatly at your lack of courtesy. Look at you. Your gown is besmirched, and you’re flushed. And your hair. Have you never been taught the use of pins or caps? Jesu Maria, come with me.”
Livia nodded to both men. “We will see to the bringing of wine and bread, my lords. Pray rest yourselves here”
Shutting the great chamber doors, Livia rounded on Oriel. “Worthless girl, your head is stuffed with learning and no sense. I’m going to the kitchens. Be off to your chamber and prepare yourself.”
Livia stomped downstairs, leaving Oriel to rush to her chamber and call Nell to aid her in changing her gown. Never had she imagined that her aunts could produce a suitor she would care to meet at all. But this one—the mere sound of his voice and sight of his body had dashed her prejudice asunder. This man she could imagine touching, an act she had so far avoided when confronted with the countless others her aunts had dragged to Richmond Hall.
As Nell laced and buttoned her into a gown and fussed with the small ruff at her neck, Oriel shuffled her feet with impatience. She was afraid the man would vanish, and she had forgotten his name in her obsession with his person.
What was it, that name he’d said? Blade, that was it. At last Nell was finished, except for her hair, and Oriel dashed back down to the great chamber. One of the doors was half open, and she couldn’t stop herself from peeping around it to catch sight of the young lord again.
They had been served wine and bread. The father was sitting before a table laden with a flagon, wine cups, and a tray with a loaf on it. Lord Fitzstephen was still scowling, and his complexion bore a flush. He poured himself a drink and downed the wine, sighing as he finished the whole goblet. His son, however, prowled about the great chamber, his cloak still about his shoulders and swinging with his strides. He stopped abruptly by the fireplace and glanced back at his father. The older man tore a chunk of bread from the loaf and began eating.
“May God damn you to the eternal fires,” Blade said.
Oriel had been about to push the door open, but paused as she heard the young man speak. The father said nothing. His mouth was full and he chewed calmly.
“This is the fourth girl you’ve dragged me to see, and the worst. She’s also the last.”
“Clean her up and she’ll be worth looking over. Jesu Maria, did you see that wild hair? Almost black, but with so much red to it there must be a spirit of fire in her to match.”
“I care not. Did you think to buy my return to your side with a virgin sacrifice?”
“It’s your duty to stay by my side and produce heirs.”
Blade crossed his arms over his chest and purred atthe other man. “It’s my duty not to kill you. That’s why you’re alive, dear Father.”
Lord Fitzstephen slammed his drinking cup on the table, and wine splashed out. He stood, rested his hands on the table, and glared at his son.
“I haven’t raised a hand to you since you took up with that foul thief, Jack Midnight.”
“No, Father, you’re wrong. You haven’t raised a hand to me since I was sixteen and big enough to hit back. I haven’t forgotten those lashings, or how you left me bleeding and locked in a bare stone chamber when I was but fourteen.”
A fist pounded the table so that the flagon and cups clattered. “My heir should
“I—I …” He looked at her again, and she noticed a smooth cheek, the sharply angled line of his jaw, those startling eyes. All her wits scattered. “What was your name?”
This time both brows arched, and that arresting mouth drew down. “Marry, lady, do you forget the names of all your guests?”
“Oriel.” Livia hurried to them and gripped Oriel’s arm. “I marvel greatly at your lack of courtesy. Look at you. Your gown is besmirched, and you’re flushed. And your hair. Have you never been taught the use of pins or caps? Jesu Maria, come with me.”
Livia nodded to both men. “We will see to the bringing of wine and bread, my lords. Pray rest yourselves here”
Shutting the great chamber doors, Livia rounded on Oriel. “Worthless girl, your head is stuffed with learning and no sense. I’m going to the kitchens. Be off to your chamber and prepare yourself.”
Livia stomped downstairs, leaving Oriel to rush to her chamber and call Nell to aid her in changing her gown. Never had she imagined that her aunts could produce a suitor she would care to meet at all. But this one—the mere sound of his voice and sight of his body had dashed her prejudice asunder. This man she could imagine touching, an act she had so far avoided when confronted with the countless others her aunts had dragged to Richmond Hall.
As Nell laced and buttoned her into a gown and fussed with the small ruff at her neck, Oriel shuffled her feet with impatience. She was afraid the man would vanish, and she had forgotten his name in her obsession with his person.
What was it, that name he’d said? Blade, that was it. At last Nell was finished, except for her hair, and Oriel dashed back down to the great chamber. One of the doors was half open, and she couldn’t stop herself from peeping around it to catch sight of the young lord again.
They had been served wine and bread. The father was sitting before a table laden with a flagon, wine cups, and a tray with a loaf on it. Lord Fitzstephen was still scowling, and his complexion bore a flush. He poured himself a drink and downed the wine, sighing as he finished the whole goblet. His son, however, prowled about the great chamber, his cloak still about his shoulders and swinging with his strides. He stopped abruptly by the fireplace and glanced back at his father. The older man tore a chunk of bread from the loaf and began eating.
“May God damn you to the eternal fires,” Blade said.
Oriel had been about to push the door open, but paused as she heard the young man speak. The father said nothing. His mouth was full and he chewed calmly.
“This is the fourth girl you’ve dragged me to see, and the worst. She’s also the last.”
“Clean her up and she’ll be worth looking over. Jesu Maria, did you see that wild hair? Almost black, but with so much red to it there must be a spirit of fire in her to match.”
“I care not. Did you think to buy my return to your side with a virgin sacrifice?”
“It’s your duty to stay by my side and produce heirs.”
Blade crossed his arms over his chest and purred atthe other man. “It’s my duty not to kill you. That’s why you’re alive, dear Father.”
Lord Fitzstephen slammed his drinking cup on the table, and wine splashed out. He stood, rested his hands on the table, and glared at his son.
“I haven’t raised a hand to you since you took up with that foul thief, Jack Midnight.”
“No, Father, you’re wrong. You haven’t raised a hand to me since I was sixteen and big enough to hit back. I haven’t forgotten those lashings, or how you left me bleeding and locked in a bare stone chamber when I was but fourteen.”
A fist pounded the table so that the flagon and cups clattered. “My heir should