Song of the Heart - Alexa Aston Page 0,54
face that interests you, Ash.”
“Do you mock me, Garrett? Would you be so cruel?”
“That and more.”
His friend turned thoughtful. “Have you plans now yourself? Will you be spending time in the company of a certain songstress?”
Garrett smiled enigmatically. “Off with you.”
Ashby left and Garrett wandered around the faire for a few minutes. It did look as if romance were in the air. Everywhere he turned, he saw couples strolling arm-in-arm, stealing kisses here and there. Loneliness washed over him, as if he were sitting in the surf on an empty beach. He even spied Royce, arms linked with another woman. The man gave him a wide berth and went in the opposite direction.
He found himself in the tent area where the mummers slept. He had a quick impulse to check on Gwenith.
As he approached the tent, Evan rushed out, running smack into him.
“Oh, sorry, me lord. Are ye looking for Maddie?”
“No, Master Evan. As a matter of fact, I was looking for your mother. Is she here?”
Evan’s eyes grew round. “Yes, me lord, come right on in.” He held his hand out in a gentlemanly fashion and Garrett entered the tent.
Gwenith was propped up on a low pallet with several pillows. Obviously, she had heard their exchange for she said, “Do come in, Lord Montayne.”
Her pallor was stark white against her vivid red hair. She put a hand to her head and smoothed down the wayward curls. “Gets a bit wild sometimes, me lord. Maddie does her best to tame it.”
“It’s very pretty hair you have, Gwenith.”
She eyed him in an appraising manner. “So what brings ye here? Ye wished to see me?”
Garrett found himself slightly nervous as she sized him up. “Well, yes, Gwenith. Madeleine speaks of you often. And Evan is a sturdy lad. He’s been spending time with my Lyssa. I suppose I simply wanted to meet you.”
“Yer Lyssa is quite a bundle of joy, she is. Such a little lady already with dainty manners. She’s been to see me most every day now, bringing me flowers and little treats from yer cook.”
“She has?” His daughter had undergone a metamorphosis under Madeleine’s tutelage. Visiting a total stranger, bringing her gifts. It amazed him how much Lyssa had changed in a fortnight.
“Yes, me lord, she’s a good girl.” She fell silent.
Since he hadn’t thought about what he’d say to her, he, too, remained quiet.
Finally, she spoke. Once again, she had that air about her, as if she were evaluating him. “I trust ye would not hurt Maddie, me lord.”
“God’s blood! Of course not! Why would you ask such a thing?”
“The dying have some liberties, I think.” She paused a moment. “Of course, I did not mean physically strike her, me lord. I meant hurt her heart. Maddie was in a sad state when I met her. Something awful happened to her. Can’t say for sure what, and I wouldn’t pry, but alls I know is she’s vulnerable. Don’t give her more cause for pain.”
“I see,” he said, although he wasn’t sure he did. Madeleine struck him as someone with confidence and plenty of common sense, not the wounded bird Gwenith painted. Yes, she had secrets she had yet to reveal, but he saw Madeleine as a very capable, talented woman.
He stared at Gwenith for a minute but could think of nothing else to say, so he rose. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Gwenith.”
She studied him a long moment before replying. “’Twas interesting meeting ye, me lord.”
Garrett removed himself quickly from the tent. He walked along the lane, buying a few trifles for Lyssa from the sellers. They were hasty in their actions, ready to pack their wares and head toward the bonfire now that dusk approached. Garrett could hear the music and shouts from that direction and proceeded that way.
Many had gathered around the woodpile that would soon be lit. A few impromptu speeches were made, while several toasts were offered up. The crowd, agreeable to the toasts, shouted its approval.
Then he heard more shouts rise from those gathered.
“Play us a tune, Madeleine!”
“Yes, tell us a story, dear!”
“Come on, Madeleine. Won’t be solstice without a tale!”
Garrett saw her reluctantly make her way to the center of those gathered. “I don’t have my lute, I’m afraid,” she apologized.
“Then we’ll just look at ye a bit,” yelled a happy drunk. The crowd hooted at his comment. Madeleine blushed prettily.
Edgar yelled, “’Tis just a story we need, Madeleine. You need not sing.”
“All right,” she said, pausing and tapping a