Song of the Heart - Alexa Aston Page 0,28

soon as he saw the look on his friend’s face. Ashby thought he meant Lynnette.

“The imposter who called herself my wife,” he amended. “The damned chit who made off with my cloak.”

Ashby’s features relaxed. He shrugged with an amused shake of his head. “Are you still bothered by that, Garrett?” A knowing smile lit his face. “You’re smitten, my friend. I cannot believe I didn’t see it before. That would explain why you’ve been so distracted. All because of a woman.”

“Nonsense!” Garrett snarled at him. “I’ve had much on my mind. I simply want what’s mine returned to me.”

“As I think the lady herself would like her lute given over.”

“Will you help me find her again or not?” he demanded.

“It’s a big faire, Garrett,” Ashby pointed out. “Besides, I only came back to find you for the play.”

“Play?”

“Yes, the mummers’ little drama. My newfound friend, Hannah, is the seamstress for this troupe. She says there’s a remarkable woman who narrates and sings.”

“So?”

“So I promised her we’d watch.” He swung an arm around Garrett’s shoulders and began leading him in the direction of the stage. “We’ll look afterwards for the mysterious Lady Montayne.”

Garrett knew better than to try to dissuade Ashby. The man had an eye for ladies, young and old alike. He fell into step with his friend, their long strides covering the distance in a short time. Perhaps he could scan the crowd for the mystery woman.

“Hannah promised to save us a place,” Ashby said. “She’ll be just off the stage.”

As they pushed through the edge of the mass, music could be heard. A sweet, lilting melody that touched Garrett in an indescribable way.

Then a voice entered into the song. He came to a halt, moved by the low, mellow tones.

Ashby tugged on his sleeve. “She’s up there,” he whispered.

Garrett followed as if in a dream. Ashby moved and stood by a pretty brunette and they both motioned him over. He walked toward them and turned to the far side of the stage but he instinctively knew who he would see.

His Lady Montayne.

She wore a tunic of rich plum. Her golden hair hung free past her waist. He longed to run his fingers through the unbound, silken tresses. No, he’d sit at her feet, a slave to her song, the most beautiful music he’d ever heard. Indeed, sung by the loveliest creature on earth.

She sang with her eyes closed and he studied her greedily. Despite her height, her bone structure was delicate. Her wrists were small. Her thin, elegant fingers strummed the lute as if they held magic in them. She wore a wistful smile and she had the most kissable mouth he’d ever laid eyes upon.

As she sang, Garrett wondered at the sadness that seemed to cloak her. She had to have suffered through great sorrows, else she couldn’t bring such richness to the words. A lump gathered in his throat even as he wanted to wash away her pain.

The last note sounded and reverberated for a moment and then the crowd showed its enthusiasm for her talent. She smiled graciously and then began to weave new magic with her words. She told of a young king who sought honor and how he’d lost his heart to a beautiful maiden while on his quest.

Once her song ended, the audience settled back as the play began. His songstress remained perched at the far edge of the stage, her sad eyes watching the mummers. Garrett studied her profile—the high cheekbones, the pert, straight nose, and, again, that generous mouth that he longed to touch with his own.

At that moment, she raised her head. Their eyes locked. Her lush mouth trembled slightly. He smiled casually. Her chin went up as before, defiant as ever.

It didn’t matter. The hunter had his prey within his grasp.

Chapter Eight

Madeleine froze as she caught sight of Lord Montayne’s smile. He seemed so assured, so confident, as he beamed at her from across the crowd. Could he hear her heart pounding through her tunic, so loud it seemed to echo in her ears?

She licked her lips nervously but her eyes never left his. Their gazes remained locked together. She was distantly aware of the mummers taking their bows and the audience’s cheers of approval but she continued to focus on Lord Montayne. All else faded from view.

His dark hair was cut close to his head. Although his skin, too, was dark, his eyes stood out in his handsome face. Even from this distance, Madeleine could see the