Page 3 of The Sword and the Damsel
“I know how you feel,” Carenza said. “I’m not looking forward to this either. But we must do our best not to hold the sins of the countess against the poor child who will probably be terrified. I’m told his name is Victor. Do your best to be welcoming, will you?”
Alais sighed. “I will. You know I’d never be mean to a child.”
“I know. And thank you.”
Carenza gave Alais’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and left her alone with her thoughts. Upon her sister’s departure, Alais indulged in a good, long wallow. She’d never asked to be born a noblewoman. If she weren’t a baron’s daughter, no one would be nearly so concerned with her virtue.
This was all Gilbert’s fault. He’d definitely had no business reaching beneath her skirts. And she truly had been about to stop him, not that anyone believed her. They all believed the worst just because she liked kissing. Her own mother had called her “wanton” the last time she was caught. Not that her mother paid attention to her except when she misbehaved.
Carenza was probably right. Sheshouldmarry. She strongly suspected that the pleasures of the marriage bed would do much to calm her body’s voracious appetites. But she hadn’t met anyone she liked nearly enough to marry, and she was terrified they’d force her into a match she didn’t want. The men she’d met so far were fine for kissing, at least some of them, but she had yet to meet one who truly piqued her interest. They were all so dull and shallow. None of them bothered to get to know the real her. Gilbert was the best of the lot and look what a disappointment he’d turned out to be.
She got into bed and pulled the covers over her head, giving in to the urge to cry now that she was alone. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to find a love match. Her parents promised after Carenza’s disastrous engagement to Raymond de Broase, Earl of Hawkhurst, the previous year. Wasn’t her family supposed to stand by her instead of throwing her to the wolves? Or, more likely, to a sheep? Which would be boring and above all, disappointing. A wolf would at least be interesting.Please, dear Lord, don’t make me marry a sheep.
Chapter Two
The sun waslow in the sky when Alais’s maid, Dora, came in to help her get ready for dinner.
“What happened, my lady?” Dora asked, her green eyes twinkling in her wrinkled face, beneath her crown of white hair. She poured water into the wash basin and dipped a cloth in to bathe Alais’s tear-stained face.
“It’s nothing. I can’t talk about it.”
“Is it because Gilbert left? I only just heard.” She gently washed Alais’s cheeks. The cool water was so soothing.
Alais closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s nothing, Dora. I’ll be fine.”
“As you wish, my lady.” She wrung out the cloth and went to the wardrobe to help Alais pick a dress. “I think you should wear your red dress tonight.”
“Really? I don’t really feel like I’m in a red-dress mood. Do I have anything gray?”
“Trust me, my lady. Wear a red dress. It’s your battle armor. If they see you melancholy, they’ll ask questions. Your red dress always makes you stand taller.”
Alais had to admit to herself that Dora was right and acquiesced. The folds of the gown hugged her curves, and the gold trim around the square neck accentuated the swell of her breasts. A matching gold belt dangled in a V from her waist. The sleeves were fitted from shoulder to elbow and dripped down ingenerous gathers to reveal her pale, delicate forearms. Her thick chestnut hair cascaded down her back in waves with a subtle curl at the ends. She felt confident, regal, aloof. It was perfect.
“Thank you, Dora. You were right, as usual.”
When she went down to dinner, she was determined not to give the family any hint of her inner turmoil. She managed to joke and laugh as if nothing was amiss, despite her feelings. She commented on her mother’s change of tapestries in the great hall, replacing picnicking nobles in a floral field with autumnal hunting scenes. Carenza kept giving her glances across the table, which Alais ignored.
Toward the end of dinner, a servant announced, “Sir Victor of Guestling to see the Earl.”
Alais had almost forgotten about the ward from Lady Helisende.Sir Victor?This ward was old enough to be a knight? That didn’t bode well. She had hoped he would be someone young, innocent, and malleable, who could grow to be part of the family. An older youth might be resentful and make trouble.
“Send him in,” said Daniel with a nod.
She gasped as a full-grown man walked through the door, and she was not the only one. Daniel stood up, his brow furrowed and his jaw tense. Carenza reached for his hand, a warning look on her face. Alais shivered as the man’s glance traveled over each member of the assembled party and settled, last, on her.
He was tall and powerfully built and walked with deadly grace, but the first thing that drew her eye was a diagonal scar across his face. His right eye was covered by an eyepatch, and a line of scar tissue ran from the patch, across his nose, and down to the left corner of his mouth, giving him a permanent half smile. His one visible eye was deep twilight blue, and his sandy blond hair hung to his shoulders. He wore a brown leather tunic with cap sleeves and buckles down the front that conformed tothe shape of his muscular chest, and the sinuous lines of his arms and legs were plain to see beneath the fine, black fabric of his fitted shirt and hose.
He must have once been devastatingly handsome, and Alais couldn’t help whispering to Carenza, “What happened to his face?”
She hadn’t meant to be overheard and immediately regretted saying anything at all.
He turned his piercing blue eye on her. The palpable tension in the room heightened. Daniel’s hand strayed to his sword, and Alais’s father gave subtle hand signals to the servants to summon armed guards.
“Cut myself shaving. Very clumsy,” he said, deadpan, looking her in the eye.
For a long moment, no one reacted. Daniel’s fingers twitched against his sword hilt.
Then Alais couldn’t help herself and burst into loud, awkward laughter. “Oh, I like you! You’re funny!”
