Heart of a Knight Read Online Free PDF Page A

laced her fingers primly. "I would pay you handsomely."
    He gave her an unreadable look, and she had the sense she had offended him in some way. "I will stay if you ask it, my lady, but no money will I take for it."
    "But, sir, there is much—"
    He straightened. "I've been a-lyin' in your bed these many months, eating in your hall, and will take none o' your coin."
    There it was again, that strange rough way he spoke. "Your lands must be close to the border, indeed," she said with a smile.
    She would have sworn he blushed—his harshly slanted cheeks seemed to grow dark. "'Tis not always endearing."
    "I mind it not," she said. "Will you stay, Lord Thomas? Lend your sword to the villeins and me until the harvest is brought safely in?"
    He stared at her through the darkness, a harsh look in his eye. "Aye," he said, at last, and bent in a courtly bow.
    Lyssa found her gaze on the glossy crown of his head. His hair flowed forward, liquid as water, to hide his face and the hard, broad brow.
    "I have made ready the chamber in the south tower." She smiled. "The bed there is quite fine."
    "No doubt." With a nod, he moved away. "I'll leave you then."
    "Good night, Lord Thomas." She watched as he moved away, oddly graceful for all his size.
    At the door, he paused. "There is one thing you might do for me, if you will, my lady."
    "What might that be?"
    "As you have seen, my manners are rough."
    "'Tis no shame, my lord. Not all are bred to courtly skills."
    "I would like to be among those who are so skilled," he said gruffly. "Will you teach me?"
    A hard, swooping squeeze closed around her heart, making it hurt. This brawny knight had his pride, and she would do well to remember it. With a gentle dip of her head, she lifted an edge of her skirt. "I am your servant, sir."
    He did not smile. Instead, he gave a curt nod and left her.
    ----
  3

     
    When at last Lyssa made
her way back to her chamber, Tall Mary was waiting. Lyssa's bed had been shaken and plumped, and a rushlight burned in the sconce on the wall. Mary sat on the wide embrasure, her face turned toward the night and the sound of a ballad being sung by some invisible voice:
    'O false and faithless knight' quothe she And canst thou deal so bad with me And I the fair flower of Northumberland
    Mary sang along quietly, smiling as Lyssa came in. Lyssa joined her at the window and listened to the tale of a false lover who betrayed his lady. On the last verse, Lyssa picked up the words and sang along.
    All you faire maidens be warned by me,
    Scots were never true, nor never will be. To lord nor lady nor faire England.
    The notes faded away, and both women stayed silent a moment longer. At last Mary turned and stood. "'Tis good to see you well, my lady."
    "Oh, and you," Lyssa cried, hugging Mary close. There was a scent of smoke in her long red hair, and the faint, deep scent of some herb Lyssa could not name.
    After a moment, Lyssa realized Mary only endured her embrace. Awkwardly, she let the girl go, and sat on the bench against the wall. There was something odd about Mary tonight, as there had been this afternoon. There lay between them an uncomfortable distance, and to heal it, Lyssa asked, "Will you take a cup of wine with me?"
    Tall Mary smiled, and lifted a pitcher. "Nay. I've brought ale from the goodwives, brewed special for Midsummer Night."
    Her blue eyes glittered with a hot, bright light. A whisper of unease moved along the back of Lyssa's neck. "Are you well, Mary?"
    "Aye, never better." She poured a cup of ale and gave it to Lyssa. "You?"
    "Well enough." She held the cup loosely until Mary poured a cup for herself from the same pitcher and drank deeply. Only then did Lyssa drink.
    Shame pricked her. What had she thought—that Mary would poison her? "Tell me, where did my men go? I left a score to protect the village and castle."
    Mary sat on an embroidered stool beneath the embrasure. "They fled, only days after you left." The glitter in her eyes grew, and a tight,