up the hill from the village, she recalled her dream of several nights before. She remembered how, in the nightmare turned into erotic fantasy, it had been Daffyd ap Bleddyn who'd kissed and caressed her. She realized the subconscious pleasure she'd been getting from pressing so close to him. Her grip slackened so much that she almost fell into the mud as the horse began plodding toward the outer bailey.
She was going into a convent, she reminded her-self sternly. And Sir Daffyd was a brutish man with a big sword. He gave orders. He probably beat his own wife. She wasn't interested. She repeated the simple phrases several times with her eyes firmly closed so she couldn't look at the man riding the horse.
She kept her eyes closed until they reached the bustling activity of the inner bailey. Then she slid to the ground without any help from Sir Daffyd. Look-ing around the courtyard rather than at the Welsh-man, she couldn't help but notice there was rather more activity than she'd expected. There were cer-tainly more guards than she remembered.
It was Sir Daffyd who explained from his vantage point atop the gray horse. "It seems Sir Stephan's returned."
6
Sir Stephan approached from the stable,his purposeful long strides lacking their usual zest. He was tired,
Jane decided as a group of laughing guards parted to let their young lord pass.
He turned on them, snapping, "Why are you men standing around idle?" They dispersed quickly, their abrupt silence testimony to their shock at the lad's unaccustomed reproof. He continued on toward Jane and Sir Daffyd.
Tired and cranky, she amended as she made out the weary slump of his narrow shoulders. His black eyes, however, were full of angry fire. She hoped it wouldn't get turned on her. Perhaps his mission had gone badly and the heiress was now in Hugh of Lilydrake's hands. She was full of sympathy for the young man by the time he arrived at her side. She bobbed him a quick curtsy and got her shoulders grabbed by him on her way back up.
He held her, giving her bruised face and black eye a critical once-over before turning an angry glare up to Daffyd. "Did you ... ?"
"I thought you did."
"It was the dog."
Stephan's hold loosened at her explanation. "What?"
"I fell down the tower stairs after tripping over Melisande."
"Oh."
Something about his tense manner told her he was spoiling for some reason on which to vent his temper.
He would gladly have taken on Daffyd in order to defend her honor. Stephan was chival-rous, and she was a lady under his protection. And it would have made a wonderful excuse to pick a fight.
Never mind if a few days ago she'd gotten the impression he liked Sir Daffyd.
Daffyd asked, "Is your lady bride well? Safe with-in your walls?" He leaned a forearm on the high saddle horn, voice lowering suggestively. "Is she pretty?"
"She's here," was as much answer as Stephan seemed willing to give. Jane was shocked by the look of sour disdain twisting Stephan's pale features. "As for well ..." He gave a mocking laugh.
"Worse than you expected?" Daffyd questioned sardonically. "Not to your taste? No beauty?" He backed his horse and turned it toward the gate. "If it's a choice between a fortune and a pretty face," he went on, tossing the last words over his shoulder as he reached the gate, "I'll take the pretty face every time."
"I bet," Jane mumbled under her breath. Stephan made a rude gesture at Sir Daffyd's departing back before facing Jane squarely. Alone with her, his expression changed from arrogant annoyance to boyish petulance. He ran a soothing thumb, very gently, under her sore eye. "Poor lamb." He sighed. "Sweet Jehane ..."
"Did you come to the Lady Sibelle's rescue before Hugh could carry her off?" she interjected, hoping to raise his spirits by dwelling on his heroic exploits. He straightened his shoulders and gave his wide grin.
Some teasing devil in her prompted her to add, "Does Sibelle think you're wonderful?"
His face fell back into
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