Page 6
Story: Knights, Knaves, and Kilts
Oh, but that voice was smooth. Deep and smooth. She could listen to it all day.
“I am Delaina,” she said. “And nay, the man you chased away has not harassed me, but I have been avoiding him.”
“Then allow me to escort you back to your seat, Lady Delaina,” Magnus said. “I will protect you against feeble lords who smell of wine.”
He meant Lavenham, who had imbibed too much drink already, and she giggled softly. “You speak of Lord Lavenham,” she said. “I’m told he has a big army.”
Magnus grunted. “So he does,” he said. “But my army is bigger.”
He said it somewhat comically, and she continued giggling. “I have little doubt,” she said. “But it is always good to know whom you are insulting.”
“Agreed,” he said. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he continued. “I must say that I should very much like to continue this conversation, but I fear that I have duties to attend to. Will you allow me to escort you to your seat?”
Delaina could feel the warmth from his gaze, friendly and curious. God, how she wanted to give in to it, perhaps even encourage it, but there was no way she possibly could.
And that was quite disappointing.
“Nay, but I thank you just the same,” she said. “I am searching for my lord because he seems to have gone away and not returned.”
“Oh?” Magnus said, looking around. “Who is your lord?”
“Lord Daventry.”
“Daventry,” Magnus repeated as the light of recognition flickered in his eyes. “Sir Simon de Staverton.”
“The same.”
“Where did he go?”
“To the privy,” Delaina said. “He has not been well and has been gone a long time. I am concerned for his well-being.”
“May I offer my assistance?”
There was a good deal of relief for Delaina in that question, because she honestly had no desire to wander the hall or grounds alone. Surely a knight would be trustworthy; at least, she hoped so. She didn’t get the sense that he might be preying upon her, so she was willing to take the chance.
Moreover, she needed the help.
“You may, my lord,” she said. “Thank you.”
Magnus held out an elbow to her, inviting her to take it. “The privy, you said?”
Delaina eyed his arm a moment before slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. She probably shouldn’t have, but she found that she wanted to.
“Aye,” she said. “Where is it?”
“I will show you.”
He did. Magnus took her toward the entry, possibly noticing that almost every man he passed had to turn and look at Delaina as if they’d never seen anything so glorious before, but he didn’t let on.
He was focused straight ahead. Truth be told, however, he knew who she was.
The moment she mentioned Daventry, he knew.
He and Denys had only just been speaking on it.
The Ruby.
Christ, he could see why she was called that.
He’d never seen any truth so clearly in his life.
She had a sweet, oval face with creamy skin and a slender neck.
Her nose was pert, her lips like a rosebud, but her eyes…
they had to be seen to be believed. They were a shade of blue that was like the ocean when the water was crystal clear and one could see to the white sand below.
He’d seen that kind of color before once, when his father took him south, to Dover.
It was a vibrant, pale shade of bluish green.
Her long lashes fanned out when she blinked, and her eyebrows arched delicately against her smooth brow.
But her hair was her crowning glory, the first thing one noticed about her. It was a pale shade of red, mixed with gold, and it glistened like liquid fire. Softly spun curls trailed to her buttocks, artfully arranged. Everything about the woman glistened.
She was far too beautiful for mortal men.
But she was a courtesan, a woman kept by men to please them.
Had she been chaste and virginal, she would have been the most sought-after woman in all of England, and he found himself wondering why a woman of such glory should be relegated to the life of a concubine.
That’s exactly what she was. She was paid to please her lord—in this case, Lord Daventry.
Magnus could hardly fathom that old, wheezing beast of a man bedding this ethereal creature. It just didn’t seem right.
For her, anyway.
Magnus struggled to push thoughts of her from his mind as he took her out into the night, where the grounds of Westminster were still quite crowded even though the king had arrived at the feast. Men stood in groups outside, chatting, as royal soldiers milled about on the grounds and on the walls, although there were so many buildings and apartments at Westminster that the walls didn’t necessarily have wall walks.
The only places that had that kind of vantage point were the gatehouse and other areas next to the Thames.
Magnus led her away from the parade grounds, heading back toward the gardens and the buildings that ran alongside the river.
The privies were back there, with waste running directly into the river.
He was so preoccupied with trying not to think about Delaina and her occupation that he didn’t realize until they were halfway to the river that he’d been taking enormous strides and she’d been struggling to keep up with him.
He abruptly slowed down, looking at her sheepishly.
“My apologies, my lady,” he said. “I tend to walk quickly everywhere I go. I swear to you that I was not attempting to make you rush forth with the speed of a newborn colt.”
Delaina grinned. “I must admit that I am grateful you have eased your pace,” she said, lifting her white gossamer skirt a little higher so it wouldn’t drag through the dirt. “I had not planned on running tonight.”
“No?”
“I did not bring the correct shoes for it.”
He looked at the little foot she stuck out, clad in a delicate slipper of white silk. He nodded in understanding.
“Those will not hold up very well should you intend to do something strenuous,” he said. “I will try not to lead a wild pace, I promise.”
“You’re doing very well now.”
“Thank you.”
He cast her a sideways glance, but there was a smile playing on his lips. “My pleasure,” he said. He paused a moment before continuing. “As I recall, Daventry has a town home in London.”
“He does.”
“I hear it is an impressive place.”
Delaina was concentrating on not dragging her skirt through the dirt, which was becoming muddy as they drew closer to the river. “He has spent a good deal of money on it, to be sure.”
“Are you planning on staying in London long?”
“Through winter, I believe,” she said. “He does not wish to winter in the country. He would rather be in the city where it does not snow as much. The cold affects his health.”
Magnus understood. “Truthfully, I am not fond of the cold myself,” he said. “I have often thought to go to more temperate climates like Marseilles or Rome and spend my winters there. It would be glorious to be warm in the wintertime.”
She smiled. “I could not agree more,” she said. “One year, I traveled to Valencia and spent the winter. It was indeed quite glorious.”
“Valencia?” he repeated. “Near Aragon?”
“Aye.”
“That was a long journey.”
“It was,” she said. “But very much worth the time.”
He grunted. “I’ve been as far as Paris,” he said. “I do not come from a family of travelers. We are rooted to Northumberland, and that is where we remain, but someday, I should like to see places like Marseilles or Rome or even Valencia. I envy you.”
They were nearing the buildings that contained the privy, and Delaina was sorry.
She’d very much liked conversing with Magnus, and she was coming to appreciate the fact that he was keeping the conversation from becoming too personal.
No questions about where she was born or even why she was so concerned for Lord Daventry.
That was the test of a truly noble and tactful man, in her opinion, and she was impressed.
In fact, from what she’d seen so far, there was nothing about Magnus de Wolfe that wasn’t impressive in general.
They finally reached the building that housed the privy.
Just as they came to the door, a drunken man came stumbling out, nearly sprawling in the mud.
He’d thrown out a hand to try to grab something on his way down, and that hand had come close to Magnus, who simply batted it away, and down the man went.
But he picked himself up and staggered off as Magnus watched with some disgust.
“’Tis is a bit early in the evening to be so drunk,” he muttered.
Then he removed Delaina’s hand from the crook of his elbow and gently released it.
“You will stay here. I’ll go inside and see if I can find Lord Daventry.
If you feel threatened or if someone approaches you, do not hesitate to scream.
I will be at your side faster than you can blink. ”
Delaina smiled gratefully, and their gazes lingered on one another perhaps more than they should have, until Magnus disappeared inside. He had to, for it wasn’t safe nor healthy for him to look at that woman in any way other than polite indifference.
They were at the corner of one of the walls, a tower with three stories to it, and Magnus trudged up the stone steps illuminated by torches every few feet.
The privy was on the second floor, this one used only by the men, while the women had a separate, more nicely appointed privy at the opposite tower.
Reaching the second level, he proceeded into the chamber that had the privy, with wooden dividers between the holes where men sat to conduct their bodily business.
There were five holes for this purpose, all of them lined up against the wall facing the river, and Magnus checked the first four holes only to find them empty.
When he came to the last hole, there was indeed a big body seated upon it.
The chamber was illuminated enough that he could see that it was Lord Daventry.
It took him a moment to see that he was also quite dead.
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