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H e knew it was Nan who had entered the hall by the change in the sounds around him, the sudden quiet followed swiftly by the excited murmurings, all attention drawn to where she moved toward the dais.

She paid it no mind, though she must feel it – she must feel him , the fixed intensity of him taking in the sight of her like a drowning man takes in air.

She walked silently, never speaking to the ladies beside her, never looking up until she reached the table below the dais where he stood.

Then her eyes went straight to his, a shock of blue that was almost unearthly.

It was the gown she wore, the color of sapphires, that accentuated the blue of her eyes.

Or it was the simple gold circlet set on her hair, a gleam across her brow.

Her coiled braids glowed beneath a crespinette modestly studded with pearls.

He could think of nothing but freeing her hair from its confines, watching it swirl around her face as those blue eyes moved across his bared body with fascination.

She looked at him for barely an instant, just a pause in her glance before she turned away and sat.

It left him to stare helplessly in her wake, and he was hardly alone.

It should not be possible for her to be yet more beautiful, and with only a fresh gown.

But the rich color and stark simplicity of it made her beauty stand out, and those few women in the hall who dressed more opulently were hardly noticeable next to her.

“I would wager there is none more fair at Edward’s court.”

Lady Eluned had appeared beside him at the dais, watching him closely.

This transformation was her doing, and her look told him it was calculated – not only to establish Nan’s status as more than servant, but to emphasize her beauty to the utmost. He tried to imagine why, but he could not seem to think past the look of Nan, the luscious curve of her mouth and the gentle arc of her cheek, the way she had said not a thing to him with her look.

“You think you are worthy of her?” Lady Eluned asked it in an undertone, almost but not quite goading, making it clear that she doubted it.

Of course he was not, but there was no reason to admit it to her. He tore his eyes from Nan, knowing she would not look up at him again, and turned to meet Lady Eluned’s shrewd gaze. “Are you?”

She was not flustered in the least by his challenging tone. Her chin lifted, a smile softened her lips as if his question pleased her, and she said, “I am least worthy of all, my lord. Shall we dine?”

So saying, she took her place at the high board next to Lord Robert.

Gryff sat too, uncomfortably aware of the attention on him.

His true name had not been given out, but it was a public declaration of his high status to seat him on the dais.

He stopped himself from looking at Nan again, but noticed that Lady Eluned’s eyes kept straying to where she sat.

“How come you to take such an interest in her?” he asked, careful to speak in Welsh.

Lady Eluned’s eyes were on him instantly, a swift assessment.

“Ah. She has told you her story.” He was left to wonder what in his face could possibly have told her that, while she turned back to her plate and continued brusquely.

“It was because of her service to me that she lost a husband and suffered great misfortune. I thought to pay that debt to her, though I know well it can never be paid in full. And then...” Her eyes found Nan again.

“I discovered there is so much more to her than just serving girl.”

It struck him as an unwelcome truth that this woman knew more of Nan than he did.

He had thought he knew her because he had heard her story and met her aunt and saw her reunion with her sister.

He had watched her kill men and marvel at cathedrals.

But he had known nothing of these people who were so dear to her – Robin and Lady Eluned and Lord Robert – and wondered now what else she carried hidden in her silent heart.

“Will you tell me why it is that she speaks so rare?” he asked. Even now she sat wordlessly among the chatter of gathering diners.

“Because it suits her?” Lady Eluned shrugged a little, looking out at Nan, then grew thoughtful.

“But there is a greater truth behind it: that the words of a serving girl are seldom noted. And so she did find a way through silence to her voice. It was only when she stopped speaking that she was ever heard.”

This made a kind of sense that he could not deny.

Nan spoke so little that all around her attended closely whenever words escaped her.

She was so many things – strong and intelligent and competent at whatever she put her hand to.

It was not surprising that she would be so clever as to have turned silence to her advantage in this way.

“She is no common woman,” he observed.

“Is she not?” Lady Eluned picked up her wine and let her eyes drift thoughtfully over the other people in the hall.

“In faith, that was my true discovery. Now I must wonder how many others there are under my very nose, whose worth is overlooked. Mark that lesson well, my lord,” she said with a wry twist to her mouth as she lifted the cup. “I would that I had learned it sooner.”

The servants came with ewers of fragrant water then platters of food, and Gryff made himself remember courtly conversation.

One of the ladies who attended Lady Eluned was seated next to him, the one who had seemed familiar.

It was because he had known her sister, he realized, though he bit his tongue against saying it.

He had stolen a kiss from her once under a snow-laden tree, during a hunt – but only one kiss, because she had blushed prettily and then turned painfully shy.

It was a memory that made him smile fondly until he thought suddenly of how he had reached out that first time to touch Nan’s hair.

How sure he had been that she wanted it, and how wrong he had been.

Even as this world of the highborn comforted him with its familiarity, he seemed to see it anew through her eyes.

Innocent pleasures were not so innocent, frivolity and cruelty like two sides of the same coin.

And he had never seen it before. He had never needed to, so occupied with his own concerns, so happy to indulge in what pleasures and privileges had been afforded him.

He could feel himself slipping back into it, if only a little, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The glib words, the excellent wine and rich foods, the attentiveness of servants, the coy attentions of the lady beside him who was daughter to a baron.

It was an easier world, for all the dangers in it, and he could not help but welcome its embrace.

When the meal was done there was music and dancing, and he watched a few men pluck up the courage to approach Nan, inviting her to dance.

To his relief, she did not, nor did she speak or smile or join in the merriment in any way.

Instead she drifted closer to the exit and slipped out, accompanied by one of the other ladies who had attended Lady Eluned in her solar.

He followed within minutes, hoping he might at least learn which chamber was hers. In the morning, he could wait outside it and try to speak to her. He would be careful – they must be careful that none suspected what she meant to him lest it bring danger to her – but he must speak to her.

As he crossed the courtyard in the deepening twilight, he caught sight of Fuss running to a shadowed corner. There was a faint gleam of blue silk, and his heart lifted to see she was alone. He called her name softly as he approached.

She stepped out of the shadow and lowered herself into a courtesy, her eyes down, a perfect show of humility.

Anyone would think she had been born and bred at court, the way it was executed.

There was the old aura of untouchability to her, that sense that everything in her was perfectly contained and set apart from him.

Worst of all was that she seemed to be waiting for him to tell her she might rise.

No, worse than that was how he could sense this deference was meant sincerely, because she thought it was expected of her.

“Stop this,” he said, too terse. She immediately rose and began to hurry away, past him, always keeping her head lowered. She kept moving even as he said, “Nan.”

He reached out to catch her elbow, and felt her go still beneath his touch.

There was rejection in her, a stiffness that did not soften and melt as he expected.

He waited, too happy to be touching her to break the contact, trying to judge her silence, desperately searching for the right thing to say. But she began to pull away.

He did not let go. He could not. He tugged at her arm to turn her to him and she spun, swift and sudden.

She flung his hand off her in the same motion, a knife in her fist as she stepped within inches of him.

It was the simple eating knife that hung from her belt, the only one she wore tonight – at least the only one that could be seen.

She met his eyes, more threat in her look than he had ever seen directed at him.

The air froze in his lungs, but he did not flinch. “You would not.” There was no doubt in his voice. “I know you would not.”

Her look never wavered as she pressed the blade closer, the edge of it just under his ribs. Her words were cool, deliberate, spoken very clearly so that he would not mishear any one of them.

“I suffer the touch of no man without I ask it, be he prince or no.”

She turned and made her way toward the manor, leaving him with only the burning blue of her gaze, her perfect Welsh ringing in his ears.