Song of the Heart - Alexa Aston Page 0,37

before, Garrett, don’t you remember?”

“I’ve decided they need to spend their next sojourn at Stanbury instead.” Garrett paused. “Of course, Lord Denton doesn’t know this yet.”

Ashby hooted with pleasure. “Serves the old bastard right. Imagine, him being passed over for Stanbury. What I wouldn’t give to see the look on his face when he’s informed of the change.”

“Stop your gloating, Ash. He’ll be told soon enough, I’m sure. It’s also costing me plenty from my pocket to see that it occurs.” For a moment he felt like the Garrett of old. He quickly sobered and clamped a hand on Ash’s shoulder. “So I ride back to Stanbury tonight. You may come with me now or follow later. It’s up to you.”

Ashby glanced behind him to where Hannah stood a distance away, tapping her foot impatiently. “I might need just one night of rest before I continue on, Garrett. Too much travel at one time has never suited me.”

Garrett shook his head. “You and your women, Ash.”

Ashby shrugged. “What can I say?

*

Madeleine looked up as Elspeth came into the tent. Disappointment washed over her, wishing it would have been Lord Montayne again. Despite her determination to keep away from him, she longed to see the man again.

“How’s the little love?” Elspeth motioned down to Evan, who was curled around Madeleine.

“Good, for once. If we could keep him asleep at all times, some might mistake him for an angel.”

Elspeth chuckled and bent to lift Evan. She placed him on a pallet of straw and then reached a hand down to Madeleine. Madeleine winced as her injured knee reminded her of the viciousness of her husband. Hating that she had to depend on others, she leaned heavily on Elspeth to get to her feet. She bit her lip, trying to ignore her knee’s constant throbbing.

“I’m here to spell ye,” Elspeth told her. “Ye haven’t had a bite to eat nor a chance to rest.” Elspeth waved her hand in front of her. “Don’t push me off, child. Ye know I’m right. Now go and get some food in yer belly. I’ll sit with Gwenith and the tyke.”

Madeleine nodded and exited the tent. A slight breeze greeted her. She brushed her hair away from her face and moved slowly toward the campfire, wobbly on her stiff legs.

This time of day had turned out to be her favorite since she’d joined Farley’s group. The day’s performances were done and the troupe’s spirits were lighthearted. There was food to be had, tales to be told, songs to be sung. The after-show celebrations all made Madeleine feel a part of a family, something she’d sorely missed.

Edgar pushed a plate into her hands. “Go fill it up, Madeleine, and then perhaps you’ll tell us a story?” he asked hopefully, his bushy white eyebrows raised in expectation. Edgar was old enough to be her grandfather but he was very flirtatious with her.

“If I can think of one, Edgar, I shall,” she promised.

“Of course you can, Madeleine. You’ll never run out of tales,” he cackled.

Madeleine caught a whiff of mutton and freshly baked bread at the same time and her mouth watered in response. Soon, her plate was loaded and she inhaled the meal, finding she was much hungrier than she’d thought possible.

The mutton was tender and she cleaned her plate quickly. Edgar took it from her and refilled it despite her protests.

“I know you can do justice to it, Madeleine,” he said and handed her a second helping with a wink.

She patted his hand in thanks and Edgar blushed until his bald pate glowed beet red. Those present laughed loudly. Madeleine realized then how much she had come to love her new life performing for the crowds, being with those who were richly blessed with love and laughter in their lives, feeling a part of a gathering. It brought tears to her eyes and she blinked rapidly several times before they spilled down her cheeks. She quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

“Are you through eating, Madeleine?” Osbert asked, an expectant look on his face. “Edgar says you’ll tell us a tale when you’ve had your fill.”

Edgar poked Osbert in the ribs. “I said she might tell us a tale, you oaf. Only if she wants, of course.”

The cries rose then, as several begged her to entertain them with a story.

“Come on, Madeleine, sing us but one song,” said Osbert.

“Yes, indeed,” added Ruth. “You’ve a much better voice than York,” she proclaimed, casting a sideways glance at the troubadour.

York