Chapter Six #2
thing as well: Talon didn’t like the count or his son one whit.
Which was one of many reasons why he’d sworn his silent oath to
protect Lara from them without any greater understanding of
Sophie’s reasons than Lara apparently had.
Lara remained silent throughout the
meal, pushing more food around on her trencher than she ate.
Ravenna, on the other hand, talked nonstop into Talon’s ear, asking
him about the march into Spain and the horrible, bloodthirsty
Saracens, barely stopping long enough for him to answer before she
was on to some tidbit of local gossip or fashion.
The main course finished, bowls of
fresh fruit were brought out, and Ravenna popped a strawberry into
her mouth and licked her lips.
“How was the king when you
last saw him, Captain?” she asked, smiling prettily, her lips
stained red from the berry’s juice.
“Hot,” Talon said, and his
men chuffed and nodded, each as glad as the other to be gone from
the sunbaked Spanish plains. “Cursed hot.”
“I wonder he does not
return soon, then.” She popped another berry into her mouth. “It is
said the queen is about to make him a father again.”
“Is it?” Talon knew he was
hearing the news long before Charles would. It was a strange thing,
the life of a soldier, always on the move, away from home and
family for months to years at a time. Not a good thing for a
husband or father, which was one of many reasons Talon never
intended to become either. Of course, soldier and king were two
different men, and Talon didn’t envy Charles the politics he had to
play as king, but he could be happy for his friend, who loved his
wife and children. He held up his goblet of finely detailed pewter
and offered a toast. “To Charles and Hildegard. May their lives be
full with children and long in years.”
“To Charles and
Hildegard,” Phillipe seconded.
Tree lifted his goblet. “To the king
and queen.”
Dardinel lifted his. “To a long and
fruitful reign.”
Ravenna sipped her wine and batted her
lashes at Talon, ignoring Dardinel, who was closer to her in age
and sitting directly across from her with his handsome face, brown
curls, and big brown eyes that left most young women swoony. Yet
the more Talon ignored Ravenna, the harder she pushed for his
attention. He leaned back in his seat and caught Ranulf leering at
Lara, which he’d been doing throughout the meal, despite her
refusal to even acknowledge his presence. Perhaps that was the
secret to this family: they only wanted what they couldn’t have,
which wasn’t much by the richness of their dress and manor
house.
Determined to make sure Ranulf got
nothing more of Lara than he’d already had, Talon leaned farther
back in his seat, blocking the whelp’s view of her and scowling at
the thought that kept eating at him. He was fairly certain Ranulf
was the lucky son of a bitch who’d claimed her as his prize at some
point in their history together. Across from him, Dardinel took in
his scowl and crossed arms and sat up straighter, as did Phillipe
and Tree.
“Why so serious, Captain?”
Ravenna asked with a pretty pout.
“I was wondering what it
is that causes your brother to stare so intently at my
lidi.”
“If I know my brother,
’tis the toss of her skirts, a toss he’s partaken of before and no
doubt wishes to partake of again.” She laid a dainty hand on
Talon’s forearm and turned to Ranulf. “Brother,” she said loudly,
drawing the entire tables attention. “Captain Guiscard would know
of your interest in his new lidi.”
“Why, my interests in
his lidi are many
and varied.” Ranulf addressed Talon. “Some old and some new. All
enough for me to inquire of the captain if he would be willing to
sell her to me? At a profit, of course.”
Talon gritted his teeth to
keep from calling the whelp out then and there. He looked to
Dardinel and Phillipe, who sat alert and at the ready. Tree shifted
closer to Lara. Unlocking his jaw, Talon glanced down at Lara’s
hand on her waist knife. “Mihi
crede.” He spoke low and in Latin.
Trust me.
She sucked her breath in and narrowed
fierce, feral eyes at him.
“Why would you want to buy
this lidi from me
for over three hundred gold solidi?” he asked Ranulf. “When you can
see for yourself how troublesome she is?”
“For you perhaps,
Guiscard.” Ranulf offered a self-satisfied smile. “For me she will
be no trouble at all.”
Lara gave a very unladylike snort, and
Talon made a point of looking her up and down. Her face was pale
but for the flushed apples of her cheeks, her body taut and ready
to fly, her hand now gripping the hilt of her knife. He reached
down and pried her fingers from the hilt and raised them to his
chest.
“Three hundred gold solidi
plus.” He made a show of playing with her long, sinuous fingers.
“’Tis a generous sum.” He lifted her hand and touched his lips to
the backs of her fingers, her knuckles white from the tight grip
she had on his. “But then she does have more than generous charms,
on this, at least, you and I agree.”
“Four hundred gold
solidi,” Ranulf offered.
Talon’s hand froze with Lara’s in it.
“God’s blood, woman,” he swore low. “What exactly did you do for
him?” He caught her other hand right before it reached his cheek
and wrestled them both back onto her lap.
“Well, Guiscard,” Ranulf
crowed, sure now that Talon would sell the troublesome wench. And
maybe he should. Better the whelp wake up with her knife in his
back some night than Talon. “What say you, man, do we have a deal
or not?”
Talon stared hard at Lara,
daring her to give him a reason to sell her. She glared right back
at him, the amber in her eyes flaring into smoldering embers, then
she took a deep breath in and flattened her fisted hands beneath
his in her lap. Letting her breath out, she dipped her head to him,
everything in her mien and manner showing her to be the good,
obedient lidi Sophie bade her be but for her heated gaze.
He turned back to Ranulf, whose tongue
was practically hanging out of his mouth. “The thing is, my purse
is full enough for my simple needs. And I have my own ideas on how
she will best serve me and my men.”
Those men choked and sputtered, and
Talon stood, tired of the day’s games. His men stood too, and even
Lara rose from her seat without being asked.
“Thank you for supper,
Count Nithard.” They’d brought supplies enough with them to spend
the night camped out in the manor’s courtyard, but after today
Talon didn’t intend to spend another moment in the Midereds’
company more than was necessary. “We’ll be returning to the keep
tonight as there’s business I must tend to early
tomorrow.”
He took a silent, seething Lara by the
arm and led her out of the manor house. She strode straight into
his tent, kicking first one bedroll and then the other until their
ties came undone and they lay unfurled and rumpled on the floor of
the tent.
“Feel better now?” Talon
asked.
“No,” Lara
snarled.
Talon chuckled. “Would another bedroll
help? Perhaps a tunic of mine? My shin?”
“You think this funny? Do
you truly think kicking anything else will make up for what I’ve
been through? I was attacked by your drunkard of a soldier and kept
prisoner in your chamber. I’ve had to listen to lies being spewed
about me and made lidi to you for defending myself against the drunkard and then
Sophie…” She stopped, the realization that he knew perfectly well
what Sophie had asked her to do clear on her face. That he’d
understood every word they’d spoken to each other in Latin in front
of him, thinking him ignorant. She jabbed her finger in the air
toward his chest. “And you, you made it known to the world that I’d
be serving you and your men as whore.” She glared daggers at him.
“I am telling you here and now, Captain, I will not.”
“Be at ease, Lara.” He was
insulted she didn’t know him better by now. “I’ve no intention of
forcing my or my men’s attentions on you. If I’d wanted you badly
enough, you’d have been heels up by now. That little show was for
the count and his son.”
She jerked her head back as if he’d
slapped her. “You thought it necessary to humiliate me in front of
the count and his son for entertainment?”
“You’ll survive the
humiliation,” he said. “Better that than Ranulf’s loving hand.” Her
eyes went wide. “Is he who Sophie wanted me to protect you from?
What prize is the whelp so eager to reclaim?” Her eyes grew even
bigger and her mouth opened, but she said nothing. “Why do I even
ask you anything when you and your Sophie the Sixth only speak in
riddles and half-truths?”
“At least I do not lie,”
she hissed.
Talon stood at his full height. “When
have I lied to you?”
“You feigned ignorance,”
she said in Latin. “To spy on me and Sophie.”
“As any soldier would a
prisoner’s dealings,” he answered in kind. “Besides, I didn’t lie.
I never claimed ignorance. You assumed it.”
“Aye, from your foolish
grins and oafish manners.”
“Oafish manners?” he
roared. “Did not my oafish manners save your pretty little neck and
Wolf’s today?”
Her eyes blazed, then cooled. “They
did,” she admitted grudgingly. “You did.” She glanced around the
tent, looking anywhere but at him before finally meeting his gaze
again. “Thank you. For myself and Wolf.”
Talon grinned. “There now. That wasn’t
so hard, was it?”
“No,” she said through
gritted teeth. “Of course not.”