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.Spying the king's crest, she jumped up and ran to meet the messenger, her heart pounding with mingled hope and worry.If he'd a husband for Isobel, she would be happy.If it was news of a bridegroom for Lyssa, she would be wretched.She took the letter, sealed with the king's ring, and directed the messenger—a hearty, dark-haired man who bowed deeply when Isobel, all flying hair and bobbing breasts, ran over to see what news had come—to find refreshment in the hall.Isobel barely noticed him—and he a noble lord with a fine face! "See to his comfort," Lyssa said."But what news?""What do you await with such eagerness?"Isobel sighed."Oh, why must you ever be so difficult? 'Tis not as if we have any great excitement here.Mayhap the king will come to visit, and bring music and laughter and young men with him."Lyssa waved the messenger on.He cast one last longing glance toward the flushed Isobel, and left them."Will you stand all the day holding it in your hand, or will you open it?"Lyssa sent a silent prayer winging toward heaven—let it be her and not me!—then slipped a nail beneath the wax and unfolded the good parchment.My dear cousin,I have good news.That step-daughter you spoke of is famed for her beauty, so it was no trouble to find willing suitors.I have chosen Stephen de Kivelsworthy to be her groom.He is well-landed, a fine knight—and he is a young pretty thing himself, so mayhap that will please her.He leaves today for Woodell, with a retinue of guardsmen to protect you all.As for you, I have me a hunch you have no love of marriage and will not mind I have had me not an hour to devote to the matter of a husband to safeguard your lands.Soon.Lyssa let go of her breath, and gave Isobel a beaming smile."Good news," she said."The king has found you a husband!""A husband?" Isobel's dainty brows drew down."I have no wish for a husband.""Oh, not just any man," she said."Stephen de Kivelsworthy, whom Edward said is young and pretty and will please you."Isobel backed up."No! I will not marry him.""Can you not even wait to see him before you reject him? Mayhap—""No!" She whirled and ran from the yard, her hair flying behind her like golden ribbons.Lyssa narrowed her eyes.The girl was spoiled.What did she know of the loathsomeness of some husbands? Grabbing her skirts into her fists, she was about to go after the girl and box her ears, but a sudden stir from the gates stopped her.Robert came through first, his face bloodied from a nasty gash below his eye.He looked disheveled, furious, and dirty, and when Lyssa would have halted him to examine the cut, he violently ducked away."Do not touch me!" Lyssa let him go.The dogs came next, leaping and swarming in a pack, half-crazed by the smell of the meat.Thomas and Harry carried a stag, its feet lashed to a stout branch they carried between them.Its horns dragged a line through the dust.Delighted, Lyssa rushed forward."What a feast we shall have tomorrow with that beast roasting in a pit!"Thomas grinned."Indeed, my lady." He, too, was grimy from the hunt, his hair mussed on his shoulders, his hands dirty, a streak of something dark across the side of his tunic.Blood.Robert's or the stag's?But with the stout branch hanging from his immense shoulders, the smile of victory on his beautiful mouth, his azure eyes glinting happily in the dark face, he was a vision of knightly strength and health.After a fortnight, Lyssa thought she would be used to the sight of him, but it had not happened.Each time she saw him anew, the same small jolt went through her chest, the same odd weakness settled in her hips and knees.She drew closer, almost as if he were some magic beacon."I see your pup has had a good day, as well.""Aye." Thomas let a group of villeins ease the branch from his shoulder, and shook his arm as if to waken it."He'll be fit to take boar by winter.He's a fine animal."The pup, sitting in adoration at the knight's feet, wagged his tail, making feathery patterns in the dirt.Idly, Lyssa wondered if that was how she looked, leaping toward him like some friendly hound the minute he appeared."I'll send a girl to draw you a bath, sir," she said, waving her hand as if she could not tolerate the smell of him.Thomas only laughed, the sound booming out, rich as mead."You mislike my stink?" With a quick move, he stepped forward and grabbed her by the waist, hauling her up against him in a mocking display of force.Lyssa went rigid against him, dizzily aware of his hard thighs, of the line of his ribs against the softer flesh of her breasts.He held her tightly, his blue eyes glittering down at her."A man risks life and limb to bring back meat, and she whines about his smell?"Harry cackled, as Lyssa knew he was meant to do, and she knew that unless she played along, she would reveal to all that she was like that devoted pup of his, and all the besotted women swooning round the castle.With a toss of her head, she lifted one hand and delicately pinched her nose.She heard the others laughing, but when she stopped pushing at him, he'd tightened his grip just enough that her body was close against his, and his hand—that huge, skillful hand, spread open on her back, and the light in his eye changed.The teasing remained, but there was more, too—a flare of his nostrils, and the smallest parting of his lips, which somehow made her want to part her own, made her want to see his tongue.And all at once, she grew aware of a stiffness against her belly.As if he knew the exact moment she noticed it, he leaned closer, putting his mouth close to her ear."The hunt makes man randy."It was an outrageous comment, but she was engulfed by him, his arms and his body and his voice.His hair brushed her face, and she was startled at the silkiness that fell against her mouth.But most dizzying of all was the true smell of him, heat and sunlight and that dark note of forest floor mingled with sweat and leather and horse.It filled her head, and gave her visions of lying with him and sweating and crying out.Her spine felt thin and weak, like a single unwaxed thread, and she wanted more than anything for him to lower his great, dark head and kiss her.She shoved at him suddenly—and he let her go, a knowing in his eyes.Swallowing, she regained her dignity, and brushed at her skirts, and said, "My deepest gratitude for your hunting skills, sir."His eyes dancing, he bowed low."A grand feast we'll have on the morrow.""That we will—and I have me much work to do to prepare." She turned, clapping her hands to call for a girl to take Lord Thomas to the bathhouse.* * *The stag, rubbed thickly with salt and garlic, was set to roasting in a pit over a low fire.Tall Mary's father had gone to town and brought back with him musicians, and raisins and white sugar for cake.From her chamber, Lyssa heard the faint barks of the cook, and the sound of the piper practicing.The air was redolent with roasting meat and baking cake.It would be a fine celebration.But Lyssa felt strangely tense.One by one she'd tossed through her tunics and surcoats and a casket of jewels, and could not decide what she wanted to put on.With a sigh, she sank to a stool, yanking ribbons from her hair in frustration."'Twill not matter.Why do I care?" She scowled at Alice."And do not say what a fool I am.E'ry woman in the village is like as not tossing through her things as I am, hoping to catch his eye."Alice chuckled, and took up a brush, made with boar bristles.Gently, she took the ribbons from Lyssa's hair and worked free the small braids Lyssa had woven in this morning."'Tis only fitting for women to hope for the eye of a man so gentle and strong, is it not? Brutal we all know, and stupid, and ugly—but rare do they come as Lord Thomas, fair and good and wise all at once.""It matters not what he is," Lyssa said quietly
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