Page 34 of A Knight’s Vengeance

When asked to relay the request for a bath, Elena had looked about to faint. “I will ask, milady,” she whispered, and had sped from the room as though chased by a feral boar.

What kind of demon was de Lanceau to instill such fear in his maidservants? Uncertainty shivered through Elizabeth, but she swept it aside. Since she had not seen him since Sister Margaret’s visit, she could not have communicated her wishes except through Elena.

A bath was not such an onerous demand.

Elena had opened the shutters, and a breeze blew in the window and stirred Elizabeth’s unbound hair. She walked forward, drawn by voices and the clang of a blacksmith’s hammer from the bailey below. Sunshine spilled over the stone embrasure and cast the grille’s pattern onto the marred floorboards.

Elizabeth linked her fingers around the wrought iron. The sun’s warmth felt wonderful, and she leaned forward to soak in all she could.

Beyond the fortress’s curtain wall, a river meandered through wheat fields. At its deepest, the water looked as blue as her favorite bliaut. Giant oaks with gnarled roots lined the water’s edge. Swallows lifted from the boughs of one of the trees, looped and danced in the breeze, then disappeared in the direction of the distant, mist shrouded, blue-gray hills.

Elizabeth dropped her brow to the cool metal. What she would give to be a bird, with the freedom to soar wherever she desired. She would spread her wings, slip through the grille, and fly to a place where fear, death, and the past could never touch her.

Somewhere beyond the hills, her father and Aldwin rode toward Tillenham. They would reach it soon. Worry nagged at her again, and her fingers curled tighter around the bars. Did they know of her abduction? Did they know she was imprisoned at Branton?

If only there were some way to get a message to them.

Or escape.

A pair of robins hurtled past the window. They dove into the bailey and over the curtain wall, then raced back past her window. She laughed, wriggled her hand through the grille, and stretched out her fingers. One of the birds alighted on the ledge outside and studied her with its head cocked to one side.

At that moment, the door to her chamber opened. She glanced over her shoulder. De Lanceau stood in the doorway.

The robin flew away.

Withdrawing her hand, she faced him.

His expression was controlled, almost bland, but she sensed his seething rage. His gaze raked over her, from her hair to her bliaut’s hem that grazed her calves, and his lips curled in a faint grin.

He strode forward, slamming the door behind him.

Anxiety settled in Elizabeth’s belly like a lump of ice.

She was alone with him.

He halted near her, leaned one hip against the side table, and folded his arms across his jerkin. “You are well?” he asked, his words crisp yet polite.

“As well as I may be, under such conditions.” A silent groan burned inside her, for her frazzled nerves had betrayed her. While she had wished to convey her outrage and disdain, she did not want to infuriate him. Then he might never grant her a bath.

She also had no wish to repeat their earlier confrontation. Her skin still tingled where he had touched her.

“You feel mistreated?” His eyes darkened to the color of wet slate, and his gaze shifted to the bandaged wound at her temple. “How so?”

Unease ran through her, but she squared her shoulders and met his stare. “For a start, I am not used to being attended by a stranger. Mildred is my lady-in-waiting, and has been since I was a girl.”

“Elena is skilled.”

“She is, but I prefer Mildred’s help.”

He shrugged. “You cannot have it.”

Anger and concern thickened Elizabeth’s tone. “How do I know she is all right? If you dare mistreat her⁠—”

“No one has harmed her. She is being held in another part of the keep, and is fine.”

Elizabeth crossed her arms to stop them from shaking. “If I could see her for myself, my worries would be appeased.”

He leaned farther back on the table, into a bright splash of sunlight. “You will see her soon enough.”