long lashes that framed them. He stood with legs planted firmly in place, his muscular arms now crossed in front of his wide chest. Sir Ashby tugged at his sleeve but was ignored. Montayne’s eyes never left hers, holding her captive in a silent battle of wills.
Slowly, the noise from the audience died down and the mass began dispersing toward the stalls. Madeleine knew she couldn’t speak to him. Lord Montayne sent her emotions into chaos. She’d never before experienced this uncertainty and exhilaration. How could she possibly endure anything more? She stood, holding her lute close as she maneuvered into the throng, easing between groups of people as swiftly as she could without drawing attention. She had a plan. She would keep fast to it.
No handsome devil with dark eyes would alter her course.
*
The minute she broke the spell, Garrett began to follow her. His lips longed to call out to her but they held no name he could use.
Despite his swiftness, he lost her before a minute passed. Another cutpurse raced by, overturning a cage of white doves. The birds scattered amidst the crowd, causing shrieks and cries. A cart overturned in the ensuing excitement. By the time he leaped over it, she was gone. He cursed softly under his breath. How could she slip away again?
Ashby caught up to him. “So you misplaced the maiden again, Garrett?” His mouth twisted as he tried to prevent a smile and failed.
Garrett cursed again, this time much louder. “I haven’t misplaced her,” he snapped, causing Ashby to chuckle softly.
“She couldn’t be that hard to find, my friend. She’s bound to be the tallest woman here. With her height and that gorgeous mane of hair flowing behind her, I’d think every man at the faire would follow her.”
Garrett stared hard at Ashby, his eyes narrowing into small slits. “We’ll not leave until she’s found, Ash. Mark my words.”
“Then let’s start with the mummers. Since she’s part of their troupe, she’s bound to turn up there sooner than later.”
The two men headed back toward the makeshift stage. Hannah stood waiting for Ashby and ran to them as they approached.
“Where did you go, my lord?” she chastised Ashby with a flirting glance. “I was afraid I’d displeased you. You hurried away so quickly.” Her full lips turned from a pout into a more inviting smile.
Ashby burst out laughing. “You are a treasure, little Hannah,” he exclaimed. “But come, Lord Montayne and I shall enjoy your company while we find some refreshment. Let us try some of that mulled wine you spoke of.”
Ashby took Hannah’s arm and began leading her away. He glanced back over his shoulder and motioned Garrett to follow. Meeting his companion’s glare with a lecherous grin, he gave Hannah’s bottom a fond pinch. She swatted his hand away playfully and he slipped an arm around her waist.
They purchased their wine and some hot sticky buns and made their way across the crowd. Ashby picked out a soft patch of ground and they sat.
“So, my dear, you were telling me about life with the mummers.” Ashby glanced back to Garrett. “We would love to hear all about your troupe.”
Garrett thought he’d go mad. The chit was comely, but her voice grated on his nerves worse than rusted armor. Still, Ashby was good with the girl, both in listening and complimenting her at the right times. He had always admired his friend’s easy charm when it came to women. Gradually, Ashby led Hannah around to the information they sought.
“You were right about the lute player, Hannah. Rarely have I heard so talented a minstrel—and never one that was a woman,” Ashby proclaimed.
“You could’ve knocked me over with a feather the first time I heard her sing,” said Hannah. “Just like a songbird, she is, and right nice, too.”
“Even one so beautiful?” interjected Garrett. “I find beautiful women to often be tiresome, so enchanted are they with their own looks.”
Ashby groaned. “Sweet Hannah, listen not to my friend. He’s had bad luck with beautiful women.” He paused and then added, “And even worse luck with ugly ones.”
Hannah cackled at his wit while Garrett waved a fist at Ashby. “See, dear Hannah, even now he mocks me, wishing he found you first,” and he gave her a sweet smile. “But tell us more about the lady troubadour,” Ashby continued. “Has she been with your group for long?”
“Nay, my lord. ’Tis been but two months now. She came back with Gwenith.”
“Gwenith?”
“Oh, poor Gwenith didn’t perform