The Brat Page 0,94

her heels. "Alone?"

"Nay. He has Baxley with him."

"Baxley?" Murie echoed.

"He is supposed to be Lord Aldous's servant, but is really kept around to protect him in case there is trouble. Malculinus takes him everywhere. Although, perhaps it was not necessary the man stick close at court."

Murie shrugged with disinterest. "Tell him I am too busy to see him."

"Do you think that is wise, my lady?"

She'd started to bend back to her weeds, but paused at the question. Eyebrows rising, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, it occurred to me you might be able to learn something that would give us a better idea if Malculinus is behind these attacks on his lordship," Anselm said slowly. "He may let something slip, or at the very least his behavior toward you may tell us whether he has hopes of marrying you should his lordship die."

Murie hesitated. She really had no desire to even look at the man, let alone speak to him, and she had so much work to do. But if Malculinus were behind the attacks on her husband . . .

"Aye," she agreed, getting stiffly to her feet. "I shall see what I can find out."

Anselm nodded encouragingly. "I shall stay close by, in case there is trouble."

"Thank you," she said, though she doubted Lord Aldous would openly cause trouble at Gaynor. He seemed to prefer sneaky, behind-the-back methods of getting what he wanted.

"Lady Murie!" Malculinus stood and greeted her with a smile when she entered the great hall. "You have done wonders with the castle. It almost appears livable again. It had really gone to ruin since the plague."

"Thank you, my lord," Murie said stiffly as she approached the table, for truly, that was about the most backhanded compliment she'd ever received. It "almost appeared livable"? It looked bloody lovely to her eyes. Irritated, she turned her gaze to the man with Malculinus and felt her eyes narrow. Anselm had said Malculinus took Baxley with him everywhere, but she hadn't recalled him hanging about Malculinus at court. She had assumed he hadn't needed his services there. Still, the man did look familiar. He was tall and more slender than she would have expected in a bodyguard, and his hair was a strawberry blond. She was trying to sort out where she'd seen him when Malculinus took her hand and pressed a kiss to it.

"You are more than welcome," Malculinus assured her, peering up from where he bent over her hand, his lips still touching it and moving against her skin. "And more than welcome at Castle Aldous anytime. In fact, I was just telling Baxley that I should be so lucky as to have a wife as industrious as yourself to grace my castle. Although, of course, you yourself would be preferred." Murie blinked and snatched her hand away, trying to sort out whether he'd just said something terribly bold, or if she'd misunderstood completely. A glance in Anselm's direction suggested she'd not misunderstood. Malculinus had just openly claimed he would gladly take her to wife. The only problem was, she was already married.

As if reading her mind, Malculinus said, "Where is your husband? Not still sick in bed after his head wound, I hope? We did hear at Aldous of his misadventure, and I wished to come by and extend my condolences."

"Condolences are unnecessary. Balan is fine," she assured him grimly. "Is he here then?"

Murie hesitated, unsure if telling the man where her husband was would be smart. If Malculinus were behind these attacks, he might arrange an ambush upon her husband's return. Although, she supposed that would be difficult on such short notice, and she need not say when he was returning.

"My husband is out at the moment," she answered, deciding upon caution.

Malculinus made a moue of disappointment. "I suppose we shall just have to enjoy your company alone then." Murie very much suspected he would be the only one to enjoy the time. Still, she had to try to find out what she could and supposed she would have to be nice to do so.

"Would you care for a drink, my lord?" she asked.

"Or something to eat?"

While the offer sounded polite and even friendly, Murie was aware of its punitive nature even as she spoke. Fish cakes and the rather vile ale they had at Gaynor would hardly be a treat for this man, who probably had a proper alewife with the proper ingredients to make the drink, as well as plenty of foodstuffs to make