Page 48 of A Knight’s Vengeance

Again Elizabeth fed him, repulsed yet also excited by the ritual’s intimacy. She tried not to watch him eat, but his lips were so well formed, his profile so handsome, ’twas hard not to.

After several more mouthfuls, he slid the eating dagger toward her. “Now, some meat.”

Her fingers closed around the smooth hilt. The blade looked sharp. “You dare to place a weapon in my hand?” she said, unable to conceal her astonishment.

“You are no fool, and I give you fair warning. Threaten me, and I will prove your idiocy before every man, woman, and child in this hall.”

He would indeed. She skewered a round of carrot with the knife and had just raised it from the trencher when she smelled perfume. Rosewater.

“Veronique,” Geoffrey murmured.

The skin across the back of Elizabeth’s neck prickled. Once, he had spoken to her in such a tone. When he had held her in his arms in the market. When he had not known her name and teased her for a kiss.

“Milord,” said a sensuous feminine voice. Elizabeth looked up. The woman dropped into an elegant curtsey before de Lanceau.

Veronique’s coral silk bliaut fanned out around her on the rush-strewn floor. The gown, shorter than the undergarment, revealed a chemise so delicate, it looked woven from spider webs. A coral-colored ribbon wove through the braid coiled about her head.

As Veronique straightened, the exquisite cut of the gown became evident. The fitted sleeves flared below the elbow and were accented by shimmering embroidery in patterns of diamonds and squares. The same design rimmed the squared neckline.

Pinned in the center of the embroidery, between Veronique’s breasts, was a gold brooch.

Elizabeth’s breath became a painful gasp.

Her mother’s brooch.

Anguish pounded in her veins. Rage clouded her vision until the hall became an angry red blur. Hatred boiled.

She heard Veronique titter. “So this is Brackendale’s daughter. Not much to look at, is she?”

Elizabeth shot to her feet. The knife, warmed by her skin, molded to her palm. Warning flared in Geoffrey’s eyes, an instant before she pressed the blade against his neck.

“I want my mother’s brooch. Refuse and I will plunge this dagger to the hilt.”

CHAPTER 10

As the knife jabbed his flesh, Geoffrey grimaced. Her eyes wide, Veronique stepped back several paces. Shocked castle folk pointed and stared at him. Under the table, dogs stopped fighting over a bone.

He heard the hiss of swords being drawn, and cursed himself for trusting the lady with the knife. He cursed Veronique for rummaging through his belongings without first asking permission, and taking what he would never have given her. Most of all, he cursed Elizabeth for forcing him into an awkward position. How did he reclaim the knife without hurting her?

“The brooch,” she said, her voice shrill.

Out of the corner of his eye, Geoffrey saw a guard edge toward the dais. He fought for the rational, controlled calm that had saved his life many times on Acre’s battlefields. This time, he must plan a strategy to avoid bloodshed. “Milady, if⁠—”

“Now.”

Her hand trembled, and the dagger jerked the slightest fraction. Warm liquid trickled down Geoffrey’s neck. Blood.

Elizabeth moaned, a sound of despair and horror. He sensed the instant her resolve wavered. Lunging to his feet, he grabbed her wrist and slammed it down on the table. Her fingers flew open. The dagger skidded across the oak and clattered onto the floor.

Veronique clapped. “Well done, milord.” The guards laughed, sheathed their swords, and the buzz of laughter and chatter resumed.

Geoffrey stared at Elizabeth’s down-turned face, hidden by the black veil of her hair. She shook in his grasp, the bones of her wrist jumping like a bird’s trapped wing. He heard a sound like a sniffle. Tears? He hoped not. He released her, then strode around the table and picked up the dagger.

With his cuff, he wiped his neck. The wound did not feel more than a scratch.

Veronique hurried to him, and her fingers brushed his jaw. “Does the wound hurt? Shall I bandage it for you?”

Motioning for guards to watch Elizabeth, Geoffrey took Veronique’s elbow and led her to a quiet corner. “Give me the brooch.”