Page 95 of A Knight’s Vengeance

“Cease!” Elizabeth stood and threw the trapping into a heap on the chair.

Geoffrey’s eyes hardened. He did not look at all guilty, curse him. Annoyed, confused, and tired beneath the smudges of dust on his face, but not ashamed.

He set the flower on the side table. “I thought that after what we shared last night, you would have softened a little.”

“You expect too much.”

“Why?”

How well he portrayed his innocence. His cool gray eyes hid a lie well. Elizabeth thought of him pressing Veronique’s naked body down in a patch of meadow grass, his hot mouth on her skin, and fought a furious shriek. “You should not ask me why. You wished to spend your day with someone else.”

“If you mean Dominic, aye, he came with me to the fields, but he always does.”

“I do not mean Dominic,” Elizabeth bit out.

“Then whom?” He sounded annoyed and frustrated.

“Who else?” Hurt ripped into her. “The woman who throws herself at your feet.”

“Veronique?”

“Do not sound surprised.”

He frowned. “I have not seen her all day.”

“Nor have I.”

For a moment, wariness shadowed his features. “She did not attend the midday meal?”

“Please,” Elizabeth muttered. “You need not spare my feelings. I am not naïve. I realize last night was no more than a meaningless⁠—”

Geoffrey’s look of pure fury stopped her. “You know naught. ’Tis not your place to question me, but I swear to you, I did not spend my day with Veronique.”

He turned to Dominic, who stood near a trestle table and looked baffled. It seemed the knight had not known of her and Geoffrey’s liaison before now. “Find Veronique,” Geoffrey said with a growl.

“She ’as gone ta market,” piped up one of the kitchen maids, who was carrying in a wooden board laden with roasted hare.

“What?” Geoffrey’s gaze fell upon the small, dark-haired woman who looked about to collapse in a faint. She dropped the board on the nearest table, scattering the dogs at her feet with the loud clatter, and curtsied.

“She left early this mornin’, she did. Ta buy rosewater.”

“Veronique did not send a servant to fetch it for her?” His stern, disbelieving tone sent the maid into another curtsey.

“’Twas such a foin day, milord, she decided ta go ’erself. I also overheard ’er the other week sayin’ that the merchant in Branton sold ’er bad oils. She told me she wanted ta ride to the fair in ’averly ta see if she could buy better there.”

“Haverly is a day’s ride from here,” said Geoffrey.

“Aye, milord.” The maid straightened.

“She went alone?”

“Nay. Viscon went with ’er.”

Geoffrey’s expression darkened. “She knows I despise the man. Why would she⁠—”

“Veronique also knows the roads are too dangerous for a woman to travel alone,” Dominic said. “Who better to protect her from thieves and bandits than a skilled mercenary?”

“I do not like it.” Geoffrey raked his fingers through his hair. “’Tis not usual.”