Velvet Song (Montgomery/Taggert 4) - Page 24

“But you will tell Alyx you know she’s a girl, won’t you?”

“Ha!” Raine grunted. “Let the baggage suffer as I have. She’s flipped that pretty little tail of hers at me at every opportunity, and this morning when I realized how she’d played me for a fool, I could have wrung her neck. No, let her stew awhile. She thinks I don’t remember—” He glanced quickly at Joss. “She thinks I don’t know she’s female, let her stay that way.”

Jocelin stood. “You won’t be too hard on her, will you? Unless I’m mistaken, I think she believes herself to be in love with you.”

Raine’s grin was face splitting. “Good. No, I’ll not harm her, but I will make her taste a bit of her own medicine.”

An hour later, when Alyx returned to the tent, her chin pointed toward the sky, Raine and Jocelin were leisurely playing a game of dice, neither of them seeming to be much interested in the game.

“Alyx,” Raine said, not bothering to look up. “Did you practice on the field today? You’re scrawny enough without losing the little muscle you have.”

“Practice,” she gasped, then calmed herself. “For some reason I don’t understand now, I was concerned about whether you lived or died and gave no thought to embellishing my puny body.”

With an expression of astonishment and hurt, Raine looked up at her. “Alyx, how can you speak to me so? Are you truly angry that I lived? Go away, Joss, I’m too tired to play anymore. Perhaps I’ll fetch myself some wine—as soon as I’m strong enough,” he added, lying back on the cot with a great show of weariness.

Joss gave a choking cough before slipping the dice into his pocket, rolling his eyes at Raine and leaving the tent.

Alyx tried to remain aloof, but when she saw Raine collapsed on the cot, looking so pale, so helpless, she relented. “I will bring you wine,” she sighed, and when she handed it to him his hand was trembling so that she had to put her arm around his shoulders, support him and hold the cup to his lips—those lips that even now made her breath come quick.

“You are tired,” Raine said sympathetically. “And how long has it been since you’ve had a bath? No one in the world can get as dirty as a boy your age. Ah, well,” he said, smiling, leaning back. “Someday when you’ve found the right woman you’ll want to please her. Did I ever tell you of the time I was in a tournament outside Paris? There were three women who—”

“No!” she yelled, making him blink innocently at her. “I do not want to hear your dirty stories.”

“A squire should have more of an education than just weapons. For instance, when you play the lute, the tunes you choose and the words you sing are more suited for a female. A woman likes a man who is strong, sure of himself, she’d never like a wailing youth who sounds more like a female.”

“A wailing—!” she began, thoroughly insulted. She may not be beautiful, but she was sure of her music. “And what do you know of women?” she snarled. “If you know as little of women as music, you are as ignorant as you are—”

“As I am what?” he said with interest, propping himself on one elbow to face her. “As handsome? As strong? As lusty?” he asked, practically leering at her.

“As vain!” she shouted.

“Ah, would that the size of you matched the strength of your voice. Have you ever tried pulling down castle walls by screeching at them? Perhaps you could strike a note and an enemy’s army of horses would follow you off into the wilderness.”

“Stop it! Stop it!” she screamed. “I hate you, you great, stupid, cowering nobleman!” With that she turned toward the tent flap, but Raine, his voice low, commanding, called her back.

“Fetch Rosamund, would you? I don’t feel well at all.”

She turned one step toward him but recalled herself and left the tent. Outside many people stood, obviously having heard the argument inside the tent. Trying her best to ignore the people as they laughed and punched each other, Alyx went to the training ground and spent three hard hours practicing with a bow and arrow.

Finally, exhausted, she went to the river, bathed, washed her hair and ate before returning to the tent.

It was dark in the tent, and since no sound came from Raine she assumed he was asleep. Now, she thought, if she had the courage, she’d walk away from this camp and never return. Why did she think that what was special to her was anything at all to this lord of the realm? No doubt he was used to women slipping in and out of his bed and paid little attention to them. What did one more matter? If she revealed herself as his last conquest, would he laugh or perhaps try to establish her as one of his many women? Would she and Blanche take turns entertaining him?

“Alyx?” Raine asked sleepily. “You were gone a long time. Did you eat something?”

“A bucket full,” she said nastily, “so I can grow to be the size of your horse.”

“Alyx, don’t be angry with me. Come and sit by me and sing me a song.”

“I know no songs like the ones you like.”

“I will manage,” he said, and his voice was so tired she relented, taking up the lute and playing quietly, humming with the tune.

“Judith will like you,” he murmured.

“Judith? Your brother’s beautiful wife? Why should a lady like her bother with a baseborn lawyer’s . . . son?” She’d almost said “daughter.”

“She will like your music,” he said, his voice heavy with sleep, and Alyx resumed her playing.

Tags: Jude Deveraux Montgomery/Taggert Historical
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