Song of the Heart - Alexa Aston Page 0,27

she’d simply been enjoying the pleasures to be found at a country faire. She preferred to keep him in the dark, both to her identity and her traveling companions. When Gwenith became stronger, she still intended to leave and return home to France. The nobleman need never know who she was since, by now, he surely had finished his business with Henri.

Farley shook his head. “Impossible, my dear. That fool York just broke his leg minutes ago.”

Madeleine gasped. “What happened?”

“’Twas a woman.” Farley chuckled. “’Tis always a woman with York.”

Madeleine frowned. “A woman broke his leg?”

“No, no, child. He broke it showing off for a woman.” Farley nodded sagely. “York thought to impress her and got up on Eamon’s stilts. He lost control of the blasted things and fell. Elspeth is fussing over him now, along with the pretty young thing who caused York to behave like an idiot. But York cannot play for an audience today.”

She resigned herself to performing, hoping Lord Montayne wouldn’t attend their show. He probably thought lowly mummers beneath him. She hurried to gather her lute from the tent.

Gwenith awakened when she entered. “Maddie? Ye look a mess. Whatever happened to yer hair?” she asked weakly.

Madeleine reached back to touch her braid. “Oh, it’s nothing, Gwenith. I tried to help catch a cutpurse. No success, though, just a bit of rolling about on the ground, with the cutpurse long gone.”

“I can see that. Ye must change yer tunic. ’Tis muddy on the back.”

Exasperation filled her as she slipped quickly out of her clothes and into new ones, knowing how anxious Farley was to begin the next show. It didn’t leave time to rebraid her abundant hair. She would have to wear it down. She pulled the sections apart until her hair was free and quickly brushed smooth. With a kiss to Gwenith, she hurried from the tent.

Passing Hannah, she noticed the glow of the younger girl’s face. Usually, Hannah was churlish and fussy, never pleased with how the costumes looked on the mummers. Today, though, she radiated goodwill.

“Good luck to you, Madeleine,” Hannah called sweetly.

Madeleine laughed softly to herself. If this was what a bit of time with Sir Ashby did for the girl, she wished Farley could hire the knight for an entire day. Thinking about Hannah’s usual disposition, she thought a week might suffice nicely.

She approached the side of their makeshift stage. Already, the crowd was larger than any she’d seen so far. She scanned the mass nonchalantly, searching for a sign of Lord Montayne. When she saw none, she exhaled, not even realizing she’d held her breath. Part of her was relieved at his absence, while part of her longed to see him again.

He’d taken her by surprise earlier. He’d been in her thoughts off and on for the several months since her escape. His image had appeared before her at the most unexpected moments. So many times, in fact, that it had begun to worry her. Now, he’d emerged when she’d least thought to see him.

And what of his words to her?

She recognized the anger that tinged his tone when he’d first come upon her. He not only missed his favorite cloak, but he was furious about her lies, pretending to be Lady Montayne. What struck her most, though, was his bold admission. He’d dreamed of her, as she did him. Madeleine shivered, though not from fear.

Nervously, she scanned the crowd again, hoping she’d missed him and that he really had come to the performance. She felt a tug on her arm. Looking down, she spotted Evan.

“Whenever are ye going to start the show, Maddie?” he asked in a stage whisper. “Farley’s fit to be tied.”

Madeleine realized she had been daydreaming. She squeezed Evan’s shoulder. “Run along, young master, and get ready. You have a big role today.”

Evan beamed. “Aye. I get to hand the sword to Rolf at the best moment. Mama says all eyes will be on me.”

Madeleine gave him a slight push and settled herself. She strummed a few chords, calming the restless throng.

Soon, she was lost in the story.

*

“It’s about time you showed your face,” Garrett growled as Ashby strode toward him.

“You’re in a pleasant mood, my friend,” Ashby replied. “I have met the most wonderful girl, Garrett. Except for sounding like a creaky wheel needing to be oiled, she’s picture perfect.”

“I’ve no time for your conquests, Ash. She’s here.”

Ashby frowned. “And which lady would you be referring to, Garrett?”

“Lady Montayne.”

Garrett regretted his choice of words as