Page 2 of The Sword and the Damsel
“I should, you know.”
“But you won’t?”
Carenza took a deep breath and let it out. “It depends.”
“On what?”
I’ll grovel. I’ll spend a week in silent contemplation in the chapel. I’ll bribe you with honey cakes.
“On him,” Carenza said, looking ahead.
Jesus’ fishes on toast. I am in so much trouble.
*
An hour later,Alais sat on her bed, knees tucked to her chest, staring at the tapestry on her wall. It depicted young ladies on their palfreys, prancing across a flowering field. They seemed to be mocking her with their carefree smiles. She knew she was in for it this time.
The door opened, and she scrambled to sit up straight. Carenza came in, sat beside her, and took her hand.
“He’s gone. He won’t be coming back. I’m sorry it had to be this way.” Carenza gave Alais’s hand a gentle squeeze.
Thank God! Carenza is feeling sympathetic.
“It’s not fair, you know. You got to marry your troubadour. Why couldn’t you let me have a little fun with mine?”
“Daniel turned out to be an earl. I’m afraid Gilbert was only a clever man with a silver tongue and no name or fortune to speak of. You are lucky I was the one who caught you.”
“I know,” Alais admitted, defeated, “but I still wish you hadn’t.”
“Of course,” Carenza said with a weary sigh. “One thing this makes clear to me is that we need to find you a husband. We can’t put it off anymore. I’ll speak to Mother about it.”
“A husband? Now?” Alais sat bolt upright and stared at Carenza. “I want to marry. You know I do, but not until I find the right man.”
“Then you’ll have to find the right man quickly. We can’t risk this happening again.”
“It won’t! I swear to you I’ll be good!”
Carenza narrowed her eyes. “No, you won’t. I know you, Alais. You’ll be kissing someone new by the end of the week, and I might not arrive in time to stop you from ruin next time. You’re eighteen years old, and it’s high time you were married.”
“Oh, don’t act so high and mighty. I remember how you ran away when you were told to wed. Besides, you’re only three years older than me. I don’t know what gives you the right to decide my future.” It really was ridiculous how condescending Carenza acted, as if having a child entitled her to mother Alais.
“You’ve been caught kissing three times in the last six months, and each time it was a different man. And today, it looked like you were planning to go a lot further than kissing.”
Only three times that you know of, sister. I’m sneakier than you give me credit for.
“Lord Peter was not my fault. He cornered me, and I couldn’t escape.”He was handsy as they come, and a sloppy kisser too.
“It certainly didn’t look like you were trying very hard.”
“I was about to stop Gilbert,” Alais said, ignoring Carenza’s snide little comment. “I wouldn’t have let him—”
“That’s not what it looked like to me.” Carenza gave her a hard look. “You’re getting married. We can’t keep doing this.”
Alais closed her eyes. This was what she’d been dreading all along—a forced choice between men who would almost certainly treat her just like her family did. She would become some boring lord’s ornament, relegated to making babies and sewing tapestries, all dreams of a grand romance crushed and all hope of having her intelligence acknowledged lost. Tears prickled behind her eyes, and she took a deep breath to stifle them.
“Take some time,” Carenza said, not unkindly. “Rest and compose yourself, and I’ll see you at dinner. The ward Helisende, Countess of Hastings, is sending to us should arrive today. You should be there with the rest of us to greet him.”
Alais groaned. “I don’t particularly want to meet anyone the countess might send. I still haven’t forgiven her for holding Mother, Iselda, and me prisoner last year. And I bet she’s still angling to get me to marry that nasty nephew she kept mentioning as a match.” The countess had been a relatively gracious captor, but Alais had never been happier to see someone than when her brother-in-law arrived to secure their release.
