“Yes,” said Miche, deadpan. “That was my plan all along.”
Remin slanted a look at him.
“I never give you the credit you deserve.”
“No one does,” Miche sighed. He had a taste of the wine himself, decided it wasn’t bad, and had a little more. One bottle wasn’t enough to get either of them drunk, but it was enough to soften the edges, and possibly keep them from freezing to death. “You can’t punish Ophele for what her mother did.”
“I know. I won’t.”
“She would have been young,” Miche offered, more quietly. “Lady Pavot was young when all this happened, thesame age Ophele is now. And you can bet they threatened her family, and her baby.”
“I know.” The lines in Remin’s face hardened. And there was not much more to say, after that.
“You had to go outside tonight,” Miche said loudly as they were leaving, over the howling of the wind. It was actual work to haul the stable door shut.
“It’s not that cold,” Remin scoffed, though he did hurry his steps up the road, and soon they were skidding over the icy mud as they came to the corner of the house. Miche was glad to deposit him at the front door and then hurry back to his own cottage in the cold.
The conversation he had overheard had rocked him as badly as it had Remin.
Alone in the dark, his smile faded. His hands moved through the familiar routine: taking off his snowy boots, lighting candles, building a fire, sunk in gloom. He had been too late, again. Always, it seemed he was one step behind: too little, too late, arriving long after the worst of the damage had been done. One failure after another.
But then, he had accepted long ago that Miche of Harnost was a worthless man.
The cottage was small enough to warm up quickly with a fire in the hearth, and he was just pulling off his cloak when there was a soft rapping on his door.
“Sir knight?” asked a feminine voice.
Miche paused. Perhaps he should not answer that.
“Pardon me for disturbing you…” The voice went on after a moment, soft and breathy, beginning to be cold. But the woman out there would not have chilled yet, no; the other cottages were only steps away and her body would be a marvel of soft warmth, and so hot inside…
And Miche was so cold.
He hesitated, and opened the door.
“You have the advantage of me,” he said with automatic charm, smiling down at a cute little brunette with cute little freckles on her cute little nose. The light of the fire glowed on her face, and he could see the small gap between her front teeth as she smiled. “You are one of the laundresses, aren’t you? You’re not required to work after supper.”
“Oh, I want to,” she said, opening her eyes wide. “I am Masilie. I was just collecting the washing for tomorrow, if you have any. Do you? Have any clothes you would like…removed?”
He had sworn to himself that he wasn’t going to do this. This was Rem’s home, the home he had worked so hard to build, and it took a long time to bring servants to the valley. But the rawness of the night was thick in his throat and when she stepped closer, her cloak parted to reveal the curves of pale breasts and a heat in her eyes that promised the sweetest oblivion. There was nothing like the touch of a woman to wipe everything else away.
“You should not be out so late,” Miche said, wavering.
“I hope you will forgive me for disturbing you.” Her fingers plucked at his shirt, then his belt. “I heard you had been long away, sir knight, and perhaps you would like someone to ease you…”
All by itself, his hand lifted to curve around her neck, his fingers slipping into her curly hair, his thumb gliding along the ridge of her jaw. He could feel her little gasp against his palm, her lips parting. He knew just how it would feel if that mouth was wrapped around him.
“You want to help me?” he whispered, bending his head so his lips tantalized hers without ever touching. It made her yearn after him, even rising on her toes as he lifted his head just out of reach. His mouth curved, cruelly beguiling.
“Yes, sir knight,” she breathed, and he stepped backward to pull her into his cottage, his eyes filled with a hot, hard light. He was angry with her for tempting him, and angry with himself for yielding. But soon enough he wouldn’t have to think of anything at all.
As his door closed, the one in the next cottage cracked open, and in the flickering light was the slender silhouette of Lady Mionet Verr, who had heard those soft sounds of seduction.
***
When Remin opened the door of his bedchamber, Ophele was waiting.
“Remin…” She rose from her chair, but did not approach, her fingers moving through their familiar anxious dance. But for a long moment, he just let her fill his eyes. She looked so beautiful by firelight. Her fine skin, those large, expressive eyes, the gentle curves of her face. She had changed for the night into a pretty chemise and matching robe, red velvet lined in fur and trimmed in lace, and it made her look so…
