gardens, as if the workings of nature should be the most important thing on her mind. Ariel steadied herself to tell him precisely where he could put each and every thorn of those winter roses, but a gust of masculine laughter farther along the dais lured her eye to where FitzRandwulf and Henry were standing together. Henry was looking her way and nodding with one of his wretchedly indecipherable smiles; the Bastard was deliberately not looking her way, but she could tell he was watching her nonetheless.
Seething, she slipped her hand through the crook of Lord Dafydd’s arm. “A walk among the roses would be just the thing, my lord,” she said loudly. “I thank you for your concern.”
Henry, his mouth still crinkled with amusement, watched the Welshman and his sister beg their leave of the lord and lady of the chateau before making their way toward the rear of the great hall.
“Odd,” he mused. “I would not have wagered she knew the difference between a rose and a thistle.”
Eduard glanced at the departing couple. “Whereas I would wager neither have as many prickles as her tongue.”
Seeing Henry’s slow frown, FitzRandwulf sighed and hastened to add, “I fear your sister did not enjoy my company overmuch this evening. We, ahh, happened to have met earlier in the afternoon when I found her in the castle armoury, and when I attempted to ascertain her reasons for being there, she apparently took umbrage at my manner.”
Henry stared at Eduard for a long moment before allowing the corner of his mouth to relent and turn upward again. “Pay no heed. Ariel tends to take umbrage easily, especially when she is caught doing something she should not be doing. I wondered why she acted as if she had caught a mouthful of hornets when the introductions were made. Raiding your armoury, was she?”
“Inspecting it, more’s the like. With a surprisingly keen eye, I might add.”
“She has a surprisingly keen ability to go along with it,” Henry advised.
“I will bear it in mind.”
“Bear also that she is my sister, and I love her dearly despite her faults.”
Eduard nodded slightly, acknowledging the sentiment and the warning.
Sparrow, who had thankfully been distracted during most of the exchange, received a nod from Lord Randwulf and looked up at both knights. “A finger has wiggled at us, inviting us to a private meeting with the lord marshal. Where is the Welshman gone?”
“To smell the roses,” Eduard said dryly.
“Eh? Just as well, he was not invited anyway. Come, my bold blades. Touch your toes to my heels and bring yon tankards. What I am smelling bodes nothing sweet ahead.”
Eduard spared a last glance at the far stairway, all but obscured behind the haze caused by the smoke and roisterous atmosphere raised by so large a gathering. Ariel and Dafydd had reached the top step and were a moment away from being swallowed into the heavier gloom of the outer landing. At the last possible instant, Ariel turned to look over her shoulder, but her face was nothing more than a pale blur and Eduard could not be absolutely certain she saw him, let alone his mock salute.
♥ Uploaded by Coral ♥
Chapter 6
Eduard declined to take a chair and stood with his back to the wall as his father and the marshal settled around a large oak table with Lord Henry, Alaric, and Sparrow. They had retreated to one of the private chambers partitioned off from the solid block walls of the hall. It was not much bigger than the alcove they had occupied before the meal, save it had a narrower entrance and let fewer sights and sounds escape. A further, casual nod from the marshal’s leonine head was acknowledged by Sir Sedrick of Grantham, who took up a position close to the chamber to discourage any potential eavesdroppers.
“A sad day indeed,” Lord Randwulf remarked, “when a man has to guard his tongue under his own roof.”
“It would be sadder still to give the king a reason to asseise Amboise,” the earl returned bitterly. “It will already require fancy word-work on my part to explain why we journeyed so many leagues out of our way to stop here, but …” He shrugged his big shoulders as if to express an opinion of the king’s wit.
The Wolf held his thoughts until a large flagon of ale had been tipped to fill their tankards and the servant dismissed with a wave of his hand. His leg was aching abominably but he suspected,