Wild and Wicked Read Online Free PDF Page A

another smile, one not quite as bright as before, and sent a nervous glance toward the mummers. “I suppose you might call me the lord.”
    “I think not.” He laughed at her joke, for she was clever and witty, a woman who tested and tempted him. Bold and spirited. And mysterious. “So what of the revels at your own keep?”
    Was it his imagination or did she tense a bit? “My brother . . . he attends to them.”
    “You have a brother yet he be not lord?”
    “He’s not of my father’s blood,” she replied, her voice taking on a serious edge.
    “A bastard.”
    She ignored the comment and waved a hand toward the festivities. “And our celebration . . . ’tis not as grand as this . . . not nearly so.”
    The mummers and Father Christmas were soon off and the music began again, the balladeer plucking his lute. Deftly Devlynn drew the Lady of Serennog against him, holding her firmly as they danced together, bodies fitting close, spinning apart, only to press intimately together again.
    When the song ended, the lady tried to release his hand, but Devlynn refused to let go. “Join me at my table,” he offered.
    “Oh, nay, ’tis not my place . . .”
    “It is if I say so,” Devlynn insisted, though he told himself he was being foolish, that he’d drunk too much wine, that this woman, ethereal though she might seem, was flesh and blood, a creature so bold and sassy as to warrant his interest, aye, but not his trust. “Come.”
    “But—”
    “Now.”
    Flush-faced, ribbons streaming from her hair, she followed after him as they wended their way through the crowd of revelers, many of whom were staring pointedly at him. Not since Glynda’s death had the Lord of Black Thorn been in the company of a woman; never had one been asked to sit at his table. Though he didn’t understand why, he linked his fingers through hers and held tight, almost as if he expected her to run off.
    At the raised table, he drew her forward. “Lady Miranda, Sir Collin,” he said, pointing to each in turn. “My sister and brother.” Motioning with one hand, he added, “May I introduced Lady Apryll of Serennog?”
    Collin, resting lazily upon his spine and cradling a mazer of wine, appraised the woman with cool blue eyes and the lift of one eyebrow. Forcing himself to his feet, he said, “We met earlier, though I wasn’t lucky enough to catch your name. Welcome to Black Thorn.” He leaned forward, took her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles while looking up at her. Again Devlynn thought he caught a deeper reaction in her eyes, as if Collin’s familiarity was somehow distasteful.
    “Mayhap you would save me another dance?” Collin asked.
    “Of course,” she said and Devlynn felt the cords at the back of his neck tighten as they did when he readied for battle.
    Miranda, for once gracious, stood slowly and smiled as she appraised the woman. Nearly as tall as her brothers, Miranda was a large, rawboned woman, regal and stately, with wide features and a wicked tongue. Her eyebrows elevated a fraction. “May I echo my brother’s welcome?”
    “I am pleased to meet you,” Apryll said, inclining her head slightly as Devlynn carried on with the introductions.
    “And this is my Aunt Violet.”
    Violet twisted to view the newcomer with curious opaque eyes. “A pleasure, to be sure, but . . . did you say you are the Lady of Serennog?”
    “Aye.” Apryll shifted a bit.
    “But I thought that castle was long abandoned . . . the lord having been disgraced . . . or . . . was it elsewhere . . . are there not ghosts of Serennog . . . or . . .” She let her words drift away and frowned. “Oh, I may be mistaken. These days I remember not well.” She waved off her muddled thoughts. “Welcome, child. My, but aren’t you lovely?”
    “A pleasure to meet all of you,” Apryll said, blushing and bowing her head slightly as the piper started another tune and Devlynn offered her a chair. “You have a lovely family,” she whispered