Page 44 of A Knight’s Vengeance

Elizabeth’s hands fell to her sides, and elation welled up inside her. She had washed her skin and hair as best she could with the jug of water, but a bath would be wondrous.

If she kept her wits about her during the meal, she might also discover a way to escape. “I accept.”

Dominic grinned. “Good. Now, if you will please come with me, milord awaits.”

As Elizabeth crossed to the door, memories of her last encounter with de Lanceau flitted through her mind, and she hesitated. She had no way of knowing if his intentions today were honorable, and did not trust him as far as she could spit.

Anxiety smothered her excitement like a blanket tossed over a fire. He had roused sinful sensations in her body with his kiss. Mayhap he meant to deceive and then seduce her, as part of his cruel revenge.

A chaperone, however, would ensure he kept his hands on his food.

His fist raised to rap on the door, Dominic glanced back at her. “Milady?”

“I will not dine without Mildred.”

His gaze shadowed. “Milord did not include your lady-in-waiting in his invitation.”

“Then tell your lord I refuse. I shall indulge in a bath after my prompt and efficient rescue.”

She pivoted and marched back to the window.

A groan came from Dominic. “No wonder milord has behaved like a mad boar.”

Elizabeth blinked. A mad boar? The image that filled her mind was too delicious to ignore. She pressed her hand to her lips and giggled.

A muffled sound erupted behind her, and she looked at Dominic. He was laughing too.

“Very well, milady. I shall send Mildred to join you, though milord will not be pleased with me.”

“Thank you.”

After a brisk nod, he knocked twice on the door. The key rasped in the lock, the wooden panel swung open, and he motioned for her to follow.

She walked out into the dank corridor. Two broad-shouldered guards armed with swords and daggers moved away from their posts outside, and fell into step behind her.

Their boots rapped on the floor. The sound mirrored her heart pounding against her ribs. Elizabeth held her head high, walked with years of tutored poise, and pretended she took no interest in her surroundings. She prayed the guards did not suspect she was memorizing as much detail as possible and counting the number of paces and turns in the passage. The details might be crucial when she escaped.

Flickering reeds, locked into iron brackets along the wall, illuminated the passage. The flames cast eerie shadows across the mildewed stone.

Ahead, the corridor turned and merged into another passage that seemed less gloomy. Woven tapestries portraying campaigns of Charlemagne hung on the walls. Although they were grayed by dust, Elizabeth guessed that if the weavings were taken down and beaten with a wooden paddle, the colors would be as vibrant as the day the wool was dyed and spun.

Daylight brightened the corridor ahead, which echoed with laugher, cheers, as well as the clatter of crockery, and ended in a wooden landing overlooking the keep’s great hall.

Elizabeth squinted through the hazy smoke into the room below. The hall looked enormous, though not as imposing as Wode’s. Sunlight streaked in through horn windows splattered with bird droppings and positioned at opposite ends of the room. Trestle tables ran along two of the four walls. A meager assortment of men-at-arms and servants sat awaiting their food.

A stout, gray-haired woman flirted with the men and kicked aside the hounds at her feet as she set ale jugs on the tables. The third wall boasted a fireplace as tall as a man, and twice as wide. The fourth, a scarred table on a raised stone dais.

De Lanceau sat at the head of the lord’s table. The instant she stepped onto the landing, he saw her.

Through the smoke, his gaze met Elizabeth’s, and she stiffened.

Glancing past her shoulder, he nodded. The guards motioned for her to follow Dominic down the narrow stairs. As Elizabeth descended, she became aware of the curious stares that followed her, and the sudden hush.

With an encouraging smile, Dominic ushered her toward the dais. Dried rushes and herbs crunched under her shoes. In the silence, the sound seemed as loud as snapping branches. She clasped her sweaty hands and fought the warmth stealing into her face.

As she neared him, de Lanceau’s gaze sharpened. “Milady.”

He could not have looked more of a rogue. The lustrous silver thread embroidering his collar matched the glint of his eyes. His skin looked tanned against the white linen shirt. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, which shimmered from his last sip of wine. A quiver shot through her. She would not be able to eat one bite without thinking of his kiss.