nodded and feigned a hoarse voice as she quickly added,
“Not very well, I fear.”
Andrew appeared to ignore the last exchange as he
turned his head to frown sternly at her. “I cannot part
with Zeus,” he informed her. “He and I are one. A knight
works years with a steed so he may depend on the beast
when they charge into battle together. More often than
you know, Judith, a knight’s life depends not on the
sword in his hand but on the animal he rides.”
“But—”
“Geoffrey hoped to sell it to some young man he
respects,” Lydia explained, speaking to Judy but looking
fondly at Andrew. “When we saw ’twas you who had come
to visit us, we were of a single mind.” She glanced at
her husband and smiled regretfully before telling
Andrew, “We love you as we would our own.”
Andrew looked pained as he repeated, “I cannot pay
your price,” before leaning back and dropping his hands
into his lap. “Besides, I am a younger son. If any of
Thomas Laycock’s children should acquire this knife,
it should be Robin.”
“But Robin is in London, and you are here,” Ackworth
said, pointing out the obvious.
“And you’ll have children of your own,” Judy promised
him impulsively. Though she whispered, she knew she
sounded far more certain than she was. That Carla’s
Viscount Laycock had descended from a direct line
leading back to Robin seemed more likely than that he
was a distant grandson of Andrew’s. Still, the dagger
belonged to the Laycocks well before, and well into, the
20th century. Surely it came to the family now, in the
13th.
Andrew’s eyebrows met above his nose. Judy
wondered if, finally, she had stepped over the line,
forcing him to believe what Elfred believed. But then he
shook his head, looked back at Ackworth, and smiled
apologetically.
“I’m sorry. By all the saints, I wish that I could buy
it from you, but I have no means.”
Judy gasped. This is wrong! Andrew has to get that
knife. She nudged him and leaned forward to whisper
again in his ear. “Lord Ackworth wants a warhorse like
yours. I understand that you can’t give up Zeus. But
what does Zeus do with his free time back at the Laycock
stables?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m asking if there are any baby Zeuses running
around at home.”
“Aye. Two. One foal is but a few months old, the other
still less than a year. Neither is the animal Geoffrey
desires.”
“But both of them will be, right? It’s just a matter of
time?”
“Judith, I haven’t time. Geoffrey wants to sell that
dagger soon.”
“I’d bet, if you offered him the other two stallions,
the young ones, he’d hold that knife for you ’til they
were old enough to go to him.”
Andrew considered what she had said before facing
their hosts and saying something to them in French.
Then, tucking his head close to Judy’s again, he spoke
softly behind his hand. “I do not desire the dagger for
myself, Judith. I need no such prize. If I could buy it, I
would make a gift of it to my sire. ’Tis his 50th natal
day soon. Surely, he would treasure it.”
Judy wanted to hug him, but she didn’t. She wanted
to weep, but she blinked back the tears burning her
eyes. Boy, he was turning out to be something she hadn’t
expected. Not even when she found she wanted him so
badly that she’d invited him into her bed. First, the open
trust he had displayed in her. Now, the selfless
generosity on behalf of his father.
Andrew really, really had to have that knife. And
Judy had to have her tote.
“Could you get my satchel for me, please?” she asked.
He looked baffled, but retrieved the nylon tote for
her. When she had it in her hands, she turned around
and gave both the table and the Ackworths her back.
Then she set the bag on the floor between her feet and
dug through her possessions. When she found what she
was after, she hid it in the folds of her skirt and faced
the others again.
“Lord Geoffrey, Lady Lydia, I have a proposition for
you,” she declared, speaking very, very slowly and
enunciating every syllable. They had to understand.
Judy needed to handle this negotiation herself without
Andrew interpreting for her, or the presentation would
not be as effective. Presentation was everything—it was
the key to getting what you wanted.
“Andrew wants the dagger, but he cannot trade you
Zeus for it. However, Zeus has sired a foal, a little boy
horse—”
“A colt,” Andrew interrupted.
“Yes. Aye. A colt. And he will give you that colt in
exchange for the dagger.”
Ackworth considered Andrew thoughtfully. “Nay. I’m
sorry, but I need a mature stallion for breeding. The
one I owned a score of years has been dead half a year
already. I have good mares that go wanting even now.”
“The colt will be ready to breed...when?” Judy looked
at Andrew.
“The winter after next. Or possibly that autumn.”
“Andrew, I fear I cannot wait that long,” Ackworth
said. “Nor can I hold this beautiful, damnable weapon
that long, either. I dare not risk it.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.” He shook his head.
“Wait!” If they’d stop interrupting, Judy knew she
could move things along. “Actually, Andrew’s destrier
has sired two foals. There is one even younger.”
“I am sorry, my lady. I need a mature stallion now,
not foals who cannot mount mares for several seasons.”
“Hear me out,” Judy pleaded, glancing at the
sparkling hilt of the weapon under discussion. Andrew
wanted it so badly, and she wanted it so badly for him,
she felt as though she wanted it for herself. She felt
exactly this way when holding out for more money for
her clients.
“Andrew will let you take the babies, the foals,
immediately.” She glanced at him again. “They’re
weaned, aren’t they?”
“One is.”
“Okay. Very well. He will let you take them as soon
as they’re both weaned. We realize you cannot use either
of them for breeding straight away, but...” She plucked
the object she had been hiding in her lap, stood, and
held it out to Lydia. “You may also have this.”
The lady shrieked, in fear or delight, Judy couldn’t
at first determine. But she grabbed the fake tortoise
shell handle right out of Judy’s hand and lifted the
mirror to her face. Lydia gaped and blinked. Then she
grinned, exactly as the servant, Bridget, had upon
recognizing her own reflection. Soon she was chattering
in staccato French that even Mademoiselle O’Flynn
couldn’t have caught two words of.
She flew up from her
chair, flipping the mirror over to its magnification side,
shrieked again, and then held it under her husband’s
nose—for a second, not long enough for him to take it
from her. Lady Lydia was too busy examining her eyes,
her hair, her teeth.
They struck the deal. Andrew drew up a note so that
Geoffrey Ackworth could claim Zeus’ offspring from the
Laycock stables even if Andrew wasn’t present to
oversee the transaction. Lydia Ackworth had her mirror,
which now appeared to be permanently attached to her
hand. And Andrew had his engraved, jewel-studded,
ceremonial dagger to give his father, Lord Thomas,
ensuring that one day, centuries down the road,
Viscount Laycock of Wixcomb, England, would inherit
it.
Twenty
Judy no longer ached as she had the first couple of
days on the road. Perhaps the pain had been dulled this
particular night by the amount of alcohol she had
consumed. More likely, she’d become inured to her
discomfort because of her exhilaration. Wow, negotiating
the dagger deal had been a high, a real toot! Judy hadn’t
felt this good since she’d wrangled Carla’s last book
contract.
But now, she confessed to her hostess, she felt tired,
so she followed Lady Lydia upstairs to the floor beneath
the vaulted roof. Judy anticipated an ancient, rustic
version of her grandmother’s attic guest room—
something cozy and dry with a little bed tucked away in
a corner. What she got was a narrow, lumpy mattress
stuffed with straw lying on the rush-covered floor.
Gratitude quickly replaced her initial
disappointment. Though a far cry from cozy, everything
at least appeared dry. And, truthfully, she felt glad to
have anyplace at all to lie down flat. So she kicked off
her shoes, knelt down on the floor, and curled up on the
pallet. Within minutes, she fell asleep.
***
“Judith.” Andrew whispered so softly, her name was
barely audible. With Geoffrey and Lydia sleeping only a
few paces away in their private bedchamber, he had to
be quiet. Yet he had to speak with her, had to thank
her, had to convey how very much her efforts meant to
him.
“Wha...?” Judith blinked until her eyes focused. Then
a drowsy little smile quirked the corners of her mouth.
“Are you sleeping up here, too?”
He wished he were. But as he drew a coverlet over
her legs and up to her shoulders, he said, “Nay. ’Twould
be unseemly to share your quarters. I have a pallet
belowstairs.”
She crinkled her nose. “I thought,” she said, “I’d
have a real bed tonight.”
Damnation! Judith deserved a real bed after all she
had done for him this evening. If he had realized her
expectations, he would have gone into the woods and
cut the timber to fashion her one.
“I am sorry,” Andrew apologized. “Only the wealthiest
landowners, the likes of my own sire, can afford to have
unused beds in their homes. Most people would not
think to do so even if they could. Many fine ladies and
lords grow up sleeping on pallets with their sisters or
brothers.”
“I wasn’t complaining. Just a little surprised.”
“You surprised me, too.”
“I’m always surprising you.” Judith rolled her eyes.
“Tonight I was afraid you’d finally decided I was some
kind of mystic fortune-teller. You know—when I said
you’d have children.”
He wanted children. With Judith. “Will we?”
“We should,” she whispered, fondling a hank of
Andrew’s hair that fell away from his face as he leaned
over her. “We’d have only dark, swarthy sons and dark,
sultry daughters. A handsome family.”
He covered her hand with his own, drew it across
his cheek, and then planted a kiss in the center of her
palm. “Judith.” The anguish and hope he felt in his
breast nearly strangled him.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” She came more
awake as she sat up and studied his face in alarm.
“Naught.” Brusquely, he put her hand down, tucking
it under the covers. He couldn’t touch her at all, or soon
he would be stroking every inch of her body. “I came
only to tell you how grateful I am for your assistance
this eve. I’d ne’er have thought to bargain with Lord
Geoffrey. The price he asked for the dagger was more
than reasonable. Because I couldn’t meet it, I’d have
let the matter drop.”
“But you wanted it for your father so very much.”
“Aye. ‘Twill please him greatly. I should like to please
him before I go.”
“Go?” Her eyes widened. “Where will you be going?”
God’s blood! He hadn’t meant to say that. But it was
almost too easy to bare his heart to Judith. He wanted
to share everything with her, his thoughts, his life.
But he couldn’t explain. It would be easy enough to
say that if she proved to be Sir Peter Lamb’s unwed,
dowered daughter, he would leave Laycock Keep to live
with her on her own land. But Andrew had no wish to
bring up the possibility that if she had no dowry, after
they married he would have to leave her to earn their
way with his horse and his sword arm.
So he said only, “Surely you understand my
situation, Judith. A younger son cannot remain at his
sire’s keep for all his life. ’Tisn’t done.”
“Oh.” She blinked slowly, and he felt her warm
breath flutter against his cheek. The lingering scent of
roses that always seemed to follow Judith teased his
nostrils, and when he lowered his gaze, he found her
lips so near his own, he could easily have touched them
with his tongue.
“Judith.” He leaned toward her, and she slid her arms
around his neck. His body and hers melded together as
he laid her down and followed after, crushing the blanket
and her gown. But at least, at last, he again felt the
curves of her limbs, her hips, and her breasts.
“Andrew.” She rained kisses on his face as his hands
roamed over her, exploring those curves. “Andrew, I
want you.”
“And I want you. Jesu, I want you!” He spoke against
the column of her throat, so that his voice sounded
muffled.
A voice from another chamber sounding clear and
sharp startled them both into stillness. “Judith!” Lydia
called out. “Lady Judith, is all in order?”
Rigid, Andrew continued to clutch Judith against
him. As he held his breath, she replied in a normal
voice he could never have managed, “Yes, Lady Lydia. I
am fine. I was only...talking to myself.”
“We’re glad your voice is returning,” the lady said,
“but ’tis best you get some sleep now.”
“I will. Good night.”
I’ve gone mad, Andrew thought. He had as yet
no claim
to Judith—to have come to her bedchamber in another’s
home, where they might be discovered together and her
reputation sullied...!
“Forgive me,” he mumbled, releasing Judith and
backing away. “I vowed not to touch you before I’ve seen
you home to your kin. ’Twas wrong of me to lie beside
you on your pallet.”
“Andrew!” she said. “You hurt me terribly by rejecting
me whenever I offer myself to you. I’ll tell you a secret.
Though I’ve sometimes been persuaded to go along, I’ve
never offered myself to any man but you.”
His heart clenched. “I am not spurning you, dearling.
I would ne’er spurn you! But this is not the time or the
place.”
“It wasn’t the right time or place at Laycock, either,”
she grumbled petulantly.
“Sweetling,” he whispered, hoping to reassure her,
“in only two days more, all shall be different. After we
speak with your sire—”
“My sire,” she gasped, staring wide-eyed at him.
“We’ll be arriving in York the day after tomorrow? Is
that what you’re saying?”
“Aye. If we ride hard.” He pushed to his feet, damning
himself for having come to her and damning himself
for leaving her now. “Forgive my intrusion,” he said
stiffly. “Go to sleep. You need to rest.”
“Andrew!”
He ignored her soft cry and left as silently as he had
come. Yet Judy never fell back asleep.
***
When they resumed traveling the next morning,
Andrew set a quick pace, encouraging Judy to
alternately trot and run her mare so that they would
make better time. Her head hurt and her eyes itched,
and it seemed she was forever riding through curtains
of spider webs spun between the trees lining the road.
Besides plucking sticky filaments off her face and
belligerent spiders out of her hair, she also had the worst
case of morning mouth she had ever tasted. Of course,
she had neither mouthwash nor flavored toothpaste to
chase it away, so she was quickly sinking into a very
foul mood.
Andrew’s almost manic energy did nothing to lighten
her spirits. Why, she wondered, was he in such a
damned hurry all of a sudden? Didn’t he have a clue
what might happen once they talked to that old man?
Was he stupid, or what?
As Andrew obviously had no intention of slowing
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