“Once again, you underestimate a woman’s place.”
Definitely lavender. I can smell it easily. Although my well-being should be foremost in my thoughts right now, it’s not.
“I vow not to do so again.”
From the look in her eyes, it’s obvious she doesn’t believe my claim, but it’s true. We are at an impasse, one I have to end.
“Shall we begin our training now? You are a Garra. Tell me, Aedre, what am I thinking?”
I’m thinking of two round breasts nearly pressed against me. I’m thinking of her sweet scent and the small smile I spied back in the village. I’m thinking this woman is unlike any other.
Something flashes in her eyes. “Do not . . .”
Too late.
“You are quite beautiful.”
She lowers her hand, but I grasp it before she moves away.
“What am I thinking?” he presses.
“I’m not sure what tall tales you’ve heard, my lord, but I do not read thoughts.”
Her wrist is so small, so delicate in my hand. Very much unlike her personality. Delicate is not a word I’d use to describe her. Not at all.
“But you do read expressions? Feelings?”
She snatches her hand back. “I do.”
“And?”
She makes a most unladylike sound. “And yours says you’d like to stick your cock in me. What of it?”
She continues on, forcing me to take long strides to catch her.
“Nay, Lady Aedre.”
We reach an outcropping of rocks and, weaving her way through it, Aedre climbs deftly toward one particularly flat stone. She arranges her skirts and sits, and I settle in beside her. Though it is large enough for both of us, we sit closer than we might have elsewhere.
The sound of the surf and seagulls reminds me of home, and the spot is as beautiful as the woman beside me.
To our right lies the village, a circle of buildings with the road we took to reach it from the south clearly visible. And in front of us, my favorite of all, the sea. Not a turquoise blue like back home, but an angry grey-blue—defiant, like the people of Murwood. Like the woman sitting next to me.
Much too close.
“I’d not stick my cock in you, if given the chance.”
Her brows rise. “Then I am not the Garra my grandmother thinks I am.”
She misunderstands me.
“Oh, you do not misread my thoughts, Aedre. I’ve thought of it, aye. I’ve wondered if you might smile if I kissed you. I fell asleep last eve imagining myself making love to you.”
If I said as much to any woman at court, my cheek would have already been properly slapped. Then again, not one of them would accuse me on our second meeting of wanting to stick my cock in them.
“Which brings us to your affliction.” We both know I have none, but she says it with confidence. “Do you find yourself entertaining such thoughts every time you meet a woman you desire?”
“Nay, I do not.”
“Tell me, Lord—”
“Vanni.”
“Tell me, Vanni, why you’ve secured my services.”
Leaning back against my hands, I consider her question.
“You are preparing to lie to me,” she accuses.
Something about Aedre’s very casual position, legs crossed under her skirts, so at odds with the daggers she shoots from her eyes, makes me smile.
“’Tis not amusing.”
“I’m not laughing at your words.”
There’s no denying her guess was somewhat accurate. I do not mean to lie to her, precisely, but the version of the truth I provide will be a tailored one, intended to help me gain information.
“Then you are laughing at me?”
“Are you always so combative?” I gesture out to sea, to the blue sky beyond. “’Tis a glorious day. Is this such a bad way to earn coin?”
No answer.
“Why do you dislike me so?”
That she answers easily.
“I do not know your purpose, and like most Southerners, you have antiquated notions of women. And . . .” She pauses.
“And? ’Tis not enough?”
Apparently not. I can feel myself smirking.
“I dislike nobles. Most especially your kind.”
“If I came from the court of Edingham, would that make a difference?”
She pulls her skirts in tighter against her crossed legs. “Nay.”
Small relief.
“You resent that I’m a king’s man,” I guess.
She nods. “Surely you know my ancestors have not been treated kindly by either court.”
“Many years ago, perhaps. But there is no longer much public antipathy toward the Garra. Well,” I qualify, “except by some in the church.”
She looks at me as if I were a boy of five.
“That does not equate to kind treatment. Are Garra openly welcomed in d’Almerita? Are they given the opportunity to practice? Or are they relegated to the outskirts of town, allowed to exist only if they follow Merian customs, and only then if ’tis deemed appropriate?”
“I know of no Garra in d’Almerita, but they would be accepted there.”
Her expression is beyond incredulous.
“The king is a good man who cares for his people,” I continue.
“He is a fool.”
At least her vitriol extends beyond me. I will not argue her point, not even for Galfrid, but I cannot allow our conversation to continue on in this vein.
“My purpose,” I say, changing topics, “is to learn what I can of Master Aldwine in order to sway him to our cause.”
I can tell she’s taken aback by my candidness. Which I hadn’t been prepared to offer. But whether it’s her profession or her nature that makes it so, Aedre is unnaturally astute. Half measures will not do with her.
“Which is?”
“One question each day,” I remind her.
“But I’ve asked none.”
She does not flinch. Recalling her words, I realize she is correct.
I do not know your purpose here. Tell me, Vanni, why you’ve secured my services.
“You are clever, indeed. Go ahead then, ask it.”
“What cause sends you to Murwood End to speak with Master Aldwine?”
She does know him.
I see the truth of it in her eyes. Too eager for an answer that has little to do with her. The question now is, how well? Is she the woman with whom he’s been linked?
Are they . . .
Something tightens inside me, and I ask, “How do you know him?”
“You first.”
Though I cannot tell her the entire truth, some of it will suffice.
“I’ve a message from the king for him.”
Unsatisfied with my answer, she’s about to ask another question when I stop her.
“One each day. Now tell me how you know him.”
Even I can hear that my voice is too tight.
“I mean to say, ’tis clear you know the man. Will you tell me how?”
She lifts her chin and smiles, although this isn’t at all the smile I’d hoped for. There’s something secretive about it. Triumphant. “We were raised together,” she says, “here in Murwood.”
Which is an interesting answer, but she gave me precisely nothing useful.
“You asked why I’ve secured your services.” I breathe in the crisp sea air.