Lady of the Roses Read Online Free PDF Page A

couldn’t understand what was wrong with me. The banquet I’d wept to miss had ended in sorry disappointment, and I found myself wishing the evening over.
    But Sister was not ready to leave. Turning to me, she gave a clap and said as gaily as any child, “The flame throwers are here, Isabelle!” She pointed to two bare-chested young men, with beads around their necks, entering the hall amidst a fanfare of trumpets from the minstrels’ gallery. They juggled the fire with a display of rare skill and ended their performance by devouring the flames. Raising their extinguished torches high in victory, they turned to receive the hearty applause and silver coins that rained down on them. Next came a troubadour with his gittern to sing a lewd tale about a fishmonger’s cheating wife, full of ribaldry, followed by a lament of Elaine’s doomed love for Sir Lancelot, brimming with sad sighs, tears, and desire. All I could think of was the lord with the creases around his smile. Now I was glad of the ruddy knight’s company, and I tried to focus on him so that I would not look at the one who sat high to my left on the dais, so far above me.
    At last the troubadour gave a bow and said, “Thus ends my tale. God save all this fair company—amen!” The minstrels in the gallery broke into loud chords, and the floor cleared for dancing. The passionate Celtic rhythm they played on their harp, rebec, pipes, and lutes spoke of love in every note, but I sat stiffly on my bench, determined not to feel the music. Lords and ladies rose to dance, and the ruddy knight slapped the table.
    “Ho, my dear lady! ’Tis time for some revelry—let us—”
    He broke off in midspeech. I turned in the direction in which he gazed, to find myself staring straight into Sir John Neville’s dark blue eyes. The breath went out of me.
    “Lady Isobel, may I have the honor of this dance?” he said, his voice resonant, touched with the accent of the North.
    He knew my name! My lips parted in search of air. I rose mutely. He bowed to Sœur Madeleine, and she stood to let me out, though reluctantly, weaving slightly. She was clearly displeased, but I ignored her frown and gave him my hand. With a touch that was light yet commanding, he led me to the center of the hall. We took our positions along with other dancers on the rose-petaled floor, and in time to the exotic beat that evoked something of the wild moors, we moved together: a small step to the side, forward three steps, back two, and a hop. I barely knew what I was doing. His eyes scorched mine, and I could not look away. We reversed the sequence, parted from one another with a step, and drew back together again. I felt the movement of his breath, and with it the candles blurred, the walls of the room receded, and the other dancers faded into oblivion. There was only him and me in all the world, and music, and a fiery wind beneath my feet sweeping me forward, sweeping me back. He knelt, and slowly I circled him, feeling as if I moved in a dream, my hand never leaving his, his eyes never leaving mine. He came to his feet, took his turn. Time hung suspended, and I stood helplessly as he passed around me, igniting my burning heart into flame.
    We moved forward a double step, back one, gave a hop, and took another small step to the side. We danced palm to palm, face-to-face, in slow and perfect harmony, first in one direction, then the other, and we were two halves of a circle spinning together in eternity, spinning, spinning…. The melody filled all the air, leaving none for me to breathe, and I could not draw my eyes away from his; I could not move my hand from his. I never, ever wanted to leave, never wanted the dance to end, never wanted to return to the barren world I had known.
    But end it did. Suddenly and with a clash of cymbals, we were paused in place, locked in one another’s gaze, breathing in unison as the notes quivered into silence. The song was over; the world had stopped spinning. All