In the Shadow of Midnight - By Marsha Canham Page 0,58
eyes searching the midnight shadows until she located a shape that was not a part of the wall.
“Is it always your custom, sirrah, to spy from crevices and darkened hallways?”
Lightning flashed overhead, giving brief substance to the niche where Eduard stood. His shoulder was against the wall, one of his booted feet was raised and propped on a wooden joist that protruded from the mortar. He returned her stare impassively, looking anything but chagrined or embarrassed.
“Is it always your custom to wander where you are not invited?”
Ariel bristled at the wry retort. She was doing nothing wrong, breaching no protocol. Surely she needed no one’s permission to seek a breath of fresh air. “Are the rooftops private, then? If so, the doors should have been barred and a guard placed at the exit.”
“I somehow doubt that would have held you,” he murmured.
Ariel could not see him clearly through the gloom, but she caught the dull glint of the sword he wore at his hip, and of the buckles and studs that ornamented his surcoat. His hair was curled forward over his cheeks and throat like strokes of black ink; he looked dark and dangerous and none too concerned to find her alone on a stormy rooftop.
He shifted forward suddenly, straightening from the wall, and Ariel was startled into taking a step back, a reaction that brought forth a weary sigh from the shadows.
“My lady … is it possible we started out on the wrong footing this afternoon? Can you have imagined me to be more of an enemy than I am?”
It was possible, Ariel conceded. But not probable. He had mocked her and made her the brunt of his amusement. He had grabbed her and laid his lecherous hands on her, begging her pardon only upon learning her identity. He was obviously accustomed to having his attentions returned eagerly by every wench who took his fancy, tumbling them at will or want.
On the other hand …
On the other hand, had they met for the first time in the great hall, would she have been so hasty to read insolence and sarcasm behind each glance or action? Would she have baited him at every turn of phrase? Or deliberately provoked him into returning her every barb and insult in kind?
Had she first met this brooding, dark-haired knight in the bustling atmosphere of the great hall, with his pewter gray eyes and heart-ravaging smile, would she not have taken his solicitousness at the meal table as flattery?
Ariel chewed thoughtfully on her lip. “You are right, Sir Knight. Perhaps I was somewhat rude this evening—with good cause, though, you will admit. ’Tis not often I am groped and fondled by a complete stranger.”
He bowed slightly. “I assure you, Lady Ariel, ’tis not normally my habit to grope or fondle without invitation.”
“Well … I suppose I should apologize for being in the armoury. I … took a wrong turn and simply followed the light.”
“An understandable error.”
“And since I was there, I did not think there would be any harm in looking.”
“None whatsoever,” he agreed. “In truth, those were my very sentiments. I might not have even intruded had you not tried to slice off my leg with a targe.”
“It was an accident.”
“So it was, and no harm done.”
Ariel regarded him narrowly. Was he mocking her again?
He was certainly waiting for whatever gem might fall next from her lips and she looked up at the sky, over the ramparts towards the river, anywhere but up into his face.
“I … could not sleep and thought a walk might tire me. I suppose, with the rain feeling so close, I should return now.”
Without waiting for his reply she started to retrace her steps and was startled again to hear his long strides drawing him abreast.
“I confess I was surprised to see anyone else venturing forth in this weather, and at such a late hour. Is your room not to your liking?”
“The room is fine,” she said quickly. “As to the weather, I enjoy stormy skies. Tonight especially, it … suits my mood.”
“Ahh. Yes. Your uncle did mention you were a little out of sorts with the entire world these days.”
She stopped so suddenly the hem of her mantle creamed around her ankles, and Eduard carried forward several more steps before noticing he walked alone.
“So. He discussed me, did he?”
FitzRandwulf bought an awkward moment of respite by walking back to her side. “He … mentioned why you were here, in Normandy. That you were not pleased with the