Velvet Song

by Jude Deveraux

  “But what has this to do with why you are here?”

  Why doesn’t she stand on her own feet, Alyx thought. Why does she so calmly sit on his lap and talk as elegantly as if she were in some nobleman’s hall?

  “It’s a long story,” Raine said. “Through an accident, Alice Chatworth was badly scarred, and what little there was of her mind went with her beauty. Her brother-in-law cared for her since she was a widow, and perhaps the woman poisoned his mind, because later Roger challenged my brother to a fight, the winner to get the wife King Henry promised Stephen.”

  “Yes,” Anne said. “I remember now. There was a great deal of property involved.”

  “Stephen’s Bronwyn is a wealthy woman, yes, but Stephen wanted the woman as much as the land,” he smiled. “But Chatworth could not stand losing and he has taken prisoner my sisters.”

  “Raine, how dreadful. But how did King Henry—”

  “I was taking some of the king’s men to Wales when I heard of Mary’s being taken and I turned and went after Chatworth.”

  “Leading the King’s army?” she asked, and when he nodded, she grimaced. “So Henry has some reason to declare you a traitor. Is that why you are dressed like a farmer and roaming about these dreary woods?”

  “Aye,” he said, looking at her. “You look well, Anne. It’s been a long time since—”

  With that she jumped off his lap, standing before him, smoothing her dress, a gown Alyx longed to touch. “You’ll not seduce me again, Raine Montgomery. My father has promised to find me a husband soon and I’d like to go to him as pure as possible so I’ll stand for no more of your lovely words.” Turning, she looked at Alyx for the first time. “And who is this lad who stares at us with his mouth agape?”

  Immediately, Alyx closed her mouth and looked away from the both of them.

  “This is my squire,” Raine said, his voice full of laughter from Anne’s words. “I may have to live in this forest, but I do have some amenities. He works hard and can read and write.”

  “I take it no one was able to drive that knowledge into your thick skull,” she snapped. “Raine! Stop looking at me like that. You’ll get nowhere with me. Now you, boy, do you have a name?”

  “Alexander Blackett.”

  “Blackett?” she said. “Where have I heard that name before?”

  From the issue for my arrest, Alyx thought in a panic. Why hadn’t she changed her last name? Now this odious woman would reveal her disguise to Raine.

  “It’s a common enough name,” Raine said in dismissal. “Alyx, go back to the camp and wait for me.

  “No, boy!” Anne said. “Raine, I’m serious. I’ll not be used by you again, and I will not stay alone with you. You must lead me back to the other hunters. When they see that I am lost they’ll try to find me.”

  “I have guards,” he said, catching her about the waist, pulling her between his thighs. “We’ll have all the time we need alone. Alyx, leave us.”

  “I want that pretty little squire of yours to stay,” Anne said, her hands on his shoulders, pushing him away. “You’ve been so long in this woods perhaps you’ve come to prefer pretty boys over—”

  She never finished her sentence as Raine drew her close to him, pulling her mouth down to his.

  Unabashedly, Alyx watched them. Never had she seen anyone kiss someone like this, with bodies together, heads moving. More than anything in the world, Alyx wished it were she Raine was holding in his arms.

  So engrossed was she in the scene before her that when the first arrow came sailing through the air, landing inches from Raine’s leg, she stood still, not sure what was happening. Raine reacted instantly, in one motion flinging both Alyx and Anne to the forest floor.

  “They are after me,” Raine said calmly. “Alyx, you are small enough to move along the tree.” He pointed with his head. “Try to make it to my horse and fetch the weapons.”

  “What about you?” she gasped as another arrow landed just above their heads.

  “I must take Anne to safety. Obey me!” he commanded.

  Without another thought, Alyx began crawling forward on her stomach, inching her way into the dense covering of the forest. Every time an arrow struck behind her, her body tightened in fear. Afraid to turn around, scared she’d see Raine lying dead, she struggled ahead. When she reached the end of the fallen tree she lifted to a crouching position and began to run. When the arrows sounded in the distance, she was able to halt and get her bearings.

  The horse, that great angry stallion of Raine’s, was prancing wildly from where it was tied, a man near it, trying to catch the reins. If they caught the horse, there would be no way of fighting, for most of the weapons were tied to the saddle. Damn Raine, she thought. He was so hot for the silk-clad woman he forgot everything.

  After a moment’s silent prayer, Alyx opened her mouth and let go of a bit of music she knew the horse liked. Instantly, it calmed, ears perked, and at that moment the man grabbed the reins, untied them and had the horse under control.

  “The horse is as stupid as its master,” she said under her breath before beginning another series of notes, high, sharp and discordant, something the horse hated. She was rewarded with the animal’s bucking, loosing itself from its captors. When it galloped toward her, Alyx held her breath, afraid of the great animal for a moment before she once again began to sing and the horse calmed, allowing her to catch it and mount.

  “Now, please do what I say,” she whispered when it turned its great head toward her, its nostrils flaring, eyes wide, trained to help one heavy man in war and not liking this featherweight person in the saddle. “Go!” she commanded in the voice she used to control twenty-five active choirboys.

  The horse took off in the wrong direction and Alyx used all her strength to pull back on the reins and guide the animal back where she came from.

  “No, Raine! No!”

  Alyx heard the woman Anne screaming as soon as she had the great beast under control, and when she broke through the trees, there stood Raine, sword drawn and bloodied over a dead man, facing two other men also with swords, Anne clinging behind the broad expanse of Raine.

  “They are my father’s men,” she screamed. “They’ve come to find me. I told you they would.” With that Anne left Raine to go to the man on the ground. “He’s not dead. We can take him back with us,” she said, tossing an angry look at Raine. “Why do you never listen to anyone?” she snapped. “Why do you draw sword and talk later?”

  Alyx, feeling a great surge of anger tear through her, jumped down from the horse. It was obvious from his tight-lipped face that Raine was not going to defend himself. “My lord was attacked first!” she said, spitting rage at them. “When an arrow flies at him is he to stand and ask who sends the arrow before drawing sword? You, my fine lady, were well content when he protected your precious, plump body with his own, but now that it costs you the care of a man you do not remember how you tried to entice my master into the bushes.”

  “Alyx,” Raine said from behind her, his hand on her shoulder. “Remember, it is not chivalrous to—”

  “Chivalrous!” she yelled, whirling to face him. “The bitch—”

  Raine clamped his hand over her mouth, drew her to him, her back pinned against his chest while she struggled to free herself. “Anne,” he said quietly, ignoring Alyx, “forgive me and the boy as well. He has had little training. Take your men and go back to the stream. I will send someone to guide you out of the forest.”

  “Raine,” she said, rising from the inert man. “I didn’t mean . . .”

  “Go now, Anne, and if you see any of my family, tell them I am well.”

  At that she nodded, a man helped her mount a horse behind him, the wounded man was thrown across the saddle and they left.

  When they were out of sight, Raine released Alyx.

  “They tried to kill you!” she gasped, glaring at him. “And that woman railed at you for hurting her man.”

  Raine shrugged. “Who can unde
rstand women? She’s always been concerned with money and estates.”

  “And I take it you know her well,” Alyx said, rubbing her jaw, aware of the touch of Raine’s hand on her mouth.

  “Her father once proposed that I marry her.”

  That made Alyx halt. “And you decided not to, or did she turn you down?”

  He grinned crookedly, making one dimple show. “She accepted me in every way I asked but I did not ask her to marry me. She wavers from one moment to the next. She cannot even decide which dress to wear each day. I’m sure she would not like being a faithful wife, and I dislike beating women.”

  “You dislike . . .” Alyx sputtered.

  “Now,” he said, moving forward from the tree he’d been leaning against, “if we are through with your education about women for today, I’d like to do something about this leg of mine.”

  At that she glanced downward and for the first time saw the dark stain of blood soaking Raine’s hose.

  Chapter Seven

  YOU ARE WOUNDED,” she said in a voice that sounded as if she meant he were dead.

  “I don’t think it’s bad, but perhaps we should see to it.”

  Running to him, her arm about his waist, she leaned into him. “Sit down. I will fetch Rosamund and—”

  “Alyx,” he said, amused. “It isn’t a mortal wound, and I can well ride back to camp. You know, you are the worst squire I have ever had.”

  “Worst!” she gasped as he sat down heavily on a tree stump. “You are an ungrateful—”

  “What took you so long with the horse? I was fighting for my life and I could hear you in the woods singing. Were you hoping to entertain the enemy?”

  Never, never was she going to speak to him again, she decided, as she turned her back on him and went for the horse. Hearing him chuckle behind her only made her lift her chin higher.

  Even when he struggled to rise, she refused to help him and turned away so she could not see him.

  “Alyx, I must mount on the opposite side and the horse will not like it. You must hold him steady. I don’t wish to jar this leg more than I must.”

  At that she took the horse’s head in her hands, looked it in the eye and began to sing, controlling it with her voice. Raine seemed to sit on the horse’s back for some time before he spoke to her and offered her his hand to help her mount.

  All the way back to camp, she held onto the saddle and watched Raine’s blood seep down his thigh. The horse, smelling blood, began to prance, and, as a reflex, Raine clutched with his knees to control the animal. Alyx felt him stiffen at the pain that caused.

  “Perhaps you could calm him with your songs,” he said quietly.

  “With my noise, don’t you mean?” she answered, still hurt by his words.

  “As you wish,” he said stiffly.

  Alyx had never heard this tone before, but she recognized it as a voice covering pain. He said his wound wasn’t bad, but it showed no sign of ceasing to bleed. Now was no time to be angry. She began to sing and the horse calmed.

  “I will have to show you to my brothers,” he murmured. “They won’t believe this unless they see it.”

  As they approached the camp, several people, sensing something was wrong, came out to greet them.

  “It would be better if they did not see that I was wounded,” Raine said to her. “They’re hard enough to control and I need no new problems now.”

  Quickly, she slipped off the horse and went to stand at Raine’s side, her body blocking the people’s view of his leg.

  “We heard there was a fight,” a black-toothed man said, his eyes greedy.

  “Only in your mind, old man,” Alyx yelled, startling everyone with the power of her voice. Visibly, the crowd jumped, and so did Raine’s horse. “Stand back,” she ordered. “The animal’s gone wild. We had to take a whip to him to control him.”

  While the people were looking with fear at the great horse, its eyes rolling, smelling Raine’s blood, Raine swung a mace from the saddle. “Have you no work to do?” he growled. “Joss, come to my tent. I have work for you.”

  Grumbling, the people began to go back to their fires and hovels.

  When the horse was in front of the tent, they stopped and Alyx braced herself to help Raine dismount.

  “For God’s sake don’t help me,” he said through clenched teeth. “They will see you. Go and hold the horse’s head. Sing good and loud and draw attention to yourself.”

  Alyx did as she was bid and did indeed draw much attention to herself, so much that she was nearly half an hour getting away from the people who wanted her to sing song after song. At last, feeling she’d covered Raine’s awkward dismounting, she went into his tent.

  He was propped on his cot, wearing his shirt and loincloth, Rosamund kneeling by his thigh, a basin of bloody water by her knees.

  “There you are!” Raine growled. “Can’t you do more than display that voice of yours? Heaven help us if you should go to war. Your enemy would ask you to sing and you would drop all weapons in order to perform like some mummer. Go now, Rosamund, and see to the man I hurt. Jocelin, show her the way. And you, my worthless songbird, see if you can bind this leg or may haps sing the wound closed.”

  Alyx opened her mouth to speak, but Joss put his hand on her shoulder, his back to Raine. “He is in pain, remember that,” he whispered before leaving the tent.

  One look at Raine’s pale face made her realize the truth of Jocelin’s statement.

  “Do not stare at me! Make yourself useful,” Raine spat at her.

  She wasn’t going to stand for this treatment. His anger and hostility could only hurt him. “Be quiet, Raine Montgomery!” she ordered. “I’ll not take more of your insults. Lie still and I will tend to your wound, but there is nothing you can do to change the fact that you have been wounded. Growling at me will only make you feel worse.”

  He started to rise, but one look from Alyx made him lie back. “They’ll kill each other,” he said hopelessly, meaning the outlaws outside his tent.

  “It doesn’t matter if they do,” she said callously, moving to the far side of the cot and Raine’s wounded leg. “There aren’t five of them worth their space on earth.”

  Kneeling, she went down beside Raine’s thigh and lifted the cloth Rosamund had placed there. It was her first sight of such a wound, the skin cut, angrily inflamed from the puncture wound, blood still seeping out, and her stomach tightened.

  “Are you planning to lose your dinner?” Raine taunted as he saw her pale. “I’ve had much worse wounds, only this one seems to be so deep.”

  His legs, with the heavy, muscular thighs stretched in front of her, had several thick ridges of scars. Tentatively, she touched one.

  “An ax blade,” he murmured, lying back, at last the loss of blood beginning to drain his strength.

  As gently as she could, she cleaned the wound, frowned when she saw how dirty it was, as if the arrow had been filthy and had cleaned itself in Raine’s flesh. When she was finished, she drew a stool near his bed and watched him, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow but even, and she hoped he was sleeping.

  After a very long time, he spoke, his eyes staying closed. “Alyx,” he whispered, and immediately she knelt by him. “Under the cot is a case. Would you get it?”

  Instantly, she pulled the leather case out, smiled when she recognized it as containing a lute.

  “Can you play it?” he asked.

  Smiling confidently, she opened the case and withdrew the lute, her fingers already dancing in her anxiety to touch the strings. Softly she began to play and sing one of her own compositions.

  It was hours later when she felt sure Raine was asleep, lying still and pale on the cot, and she put the lute aside. In the silence, with only his ragged breathing in the tent, she wished Rosamund would return. Raine seemed worse than he had been and she needed someone to tell her he was going to recover.

  A glance about the tent showed her they needed water, and the side of her do
ublet was soaked with Raine’s blood and needed to be washed. In the morning there would be questions from the outcasts as to where the blood came from.

  Silently, buckets in both hands, she left the tent and headed for the river, avoiding all contact with the camp people. With a sigh of relief she saw Blanche engaged in a game of dice with several men and knew the woman would not leave to see to Raine.

  It was almost dark by the time she reached the water, filled the buckets and began to wash the doublet. To her chagrin, her shirt was also soaked. After a moment’s hesitation, she removed it and the binding on her breasts and began to wash everything, including her own dirty skin and hair. Nearly freezing, she dried herself with the binding cloth and gritted her teeth as she slipped into the very cold, very wet shirt and hose, tossing the doublet over her arm, grabbing the buckets and nearly running back to camp.

  Inside the tent, she held her breath, listening, glad Raine was still sleeping. When she’d rid herself of the buckets, she quickly discarded her wet clothes and pulled on one of Raine’s shirts, which covered her to her knees. She knew she was taking a chance, but, truthfully, she wasn’t sure if she didn’t hope he woke and found out she was a girl.

  She’d no more put the shirt on than a groan from Raine made her turn.

  “Mary,” he said. “Mary, I’ll find you.”

  With one leap she was beside him. He must stay quiet and not let the people in the camp know he was unwell. The idiots had some idea that Raine secreted jewels and gold inside his tent, and Alyx had no doubt they would love the opportunity to search.

  “Mary,” Raine called louder, one big arm waving, just missing Alyx’s head.

  “Raine, wake up,” she whispered loudly. “You are having a bad dream.” As she caught his arm and touched his skin, she realized immediately that he was feverish. His skin was hot to her touch.

  “No,” she gasped and cursed Rosamund for leaving the camp when Raine needed her. A fever! What could she do? Feeling totally useless, she dipped a cloth in one of the buckets of water and went to place it on his forehead, but one of Raine’s arms hit her and sent the cloth flying. At the rate he was flailing his arms, he’d hit a tent pole and the whole canvas would come crashing down on their heads.