She returned to her chair. "This is a chance for me to find out about my home. Someone there must have heard of the name."
Timothy sighed. "And you will not pass up a chance to preen and prance. When is this ball?"
"Well, it is fun to dress up. Tomorrow night." Kit put a hand on Timothy's shoulder. He knew she could feel the scar's ridges through his shirt. "I am touched by your concern." Her fingers dug into his shoulder. "But do not treat me as a child. I am only a little less fond of you for thinking I like to preen and prance. I only like to preen, thank you."
She relaxed her fingers. "Have you thought that I want him to find us?"
"Do you mean?" Timothy went cold. Could she do that?
"No more. No more running for you either. I just might decide I am not fond of you after all if you do."
"Is that all I had to do to escape your paws?"
Kit lightly backhanded his nose. "I don't think I will ever let you escape my paws. You are too fun and cute in a dry, fuddy-duddy way." She slid the coins into the purse, licking one of the coins coated with honey.
Timothy grimaced. "That coin is probably filthy. Are you going to lick the table too?"
She closed the drawstrings on the purse. "You sound like your mother." She hestitated." Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. See? Apologies are not hard when you say something you should not."
"I think I saw her the other day."
"Who haven't you seen? I doubt she would leave her room." Kit traced a finger over Timothy's stubble. "I rather like you with this fur."
"I do need a shave." He rubbed the stubble on his chin.
"You will not!"
"As you command, my princess."
"Will my knight escort his princess to the banquet hall?" Kit asked.
Timothy stood and took her hand. "Most assuredly, my lady. What does your heart desire?"
"Honey cake things!"
"Perhaps you had enough honey? Your hand is a little sticky."
"Nice way to spoil it, Timmy. Now where'd I put that skirt and damned scarf?"
"We really should let Cat out of the stable next time we go out."
Kit clapped her hands. Her tail stood upright. "We can take her to the ball!"
"That wasn't what I meant."
"We can be the eccentric couple!"
"Like we need to draw more attention to ourselves." Timothy had no choice but to swim the current now.
"Stop worrying. I have a plan. At least, I will by tomorrow. Ah! There is my skirt. I much prefer these leggings. They are more comfortable for my tail."
"Your tail looks happier. So are you ready now?"
Kit pulled her blouse over the skirt and tied the headscarf. "I need a hat."
"Don't tell me. One of the floppy ones."
"Okay! Let's eat some more honey cakes!" She slipped her hand through his arm. Together they walked toward the laughter and conversation below.
"Why are we doing this again?" Timothy pulled at his green coat. The fine fabric cut the wind despite its light weight. Kit flowed beside him with her arm in his. She wore a matching green dress of silk. Silk! The fabric clung to every slight curve of her figure, and the neckline dipped low enough trip Timothy's eyes. The dress almost dragged the ground. Her hair fell in small, tight curls accented by a green hat. Cat strutted beside her, combed and gleaming, a red satin ribbon hugging her neck in a large bow. It extended up to form a leash. Cat gazed with large, liquid curiosity. "Number three!" Kit said.
"What?"
"That is the third time I've seen you looking. The dress must suit me!"
Timothy forced his eyes to sweep the hall. The white marble gleamed in the light of the chandeliers overhead. Servants carried trays of wines, odd shaped food, and boxes of some sort of white powder. They danced around the knots of party goers, a golden scale adorning the breast of each. Merchants, dressed like spring birds, down to plumes in their hats, mingled with what could only be nobility. In any other context, Kit's dress would be garish. To Timothy's eyes it was an oasis. The street crowd had nothing on these people.
"It isn't a bad thing." She pressed his arm close. "You look surprisingly good for a shepherd. Although the smell of sheep ruins it."
"Baa." Cat made a face.
"No, not you. You can clean up, unlike Timmy."
"Ah! Master Clarke!" Shefar gleamed in a white silk robe, a bright crimson sash wrapping his wide waist. A gold amulet in the shape of scissors hung from his neck, and a gold clip adorned his unusual hat.
"My lady." Shefar bowed and kissed Kit's hand. "I am glad you decided to come." Shefar looked at Cat. His smile slipped a little, and puzzlement creased his thick eyebrows. More than a few guests regarded Cat with similar expressions.
"Thank you for the invitation." Kit looked around the hall. "There is certainly potential here."
"Yes. Merchant guild gatherings always present opportunities." Shefar caught Timothy looking at his hat. "Oh, my clip? It is just something from my hometown in the east."
"You didn't mention you were from the east," Kit said.
"It is just a dusty town. Many of us are from the lands of dust and sand. Speaking of that, I want you to meet a business partner of mine." He waved at a man standing off to the side. The man wore rings on every finger and a heavy necklace covered with more of more rings, although these were simple gold. His deep purple coat and leggings hugged too close.
"Trent Mohmed." The man grabbed Timothy's hand. "So you are the one who came up with the river-stone gem idea. I must say, it was an excellent one! Shefar had to do some convincing, but I am glad he did."
"It wasn't—" Timothy said. The man had a grip! Kit ground her foot into Timothy's. "Thank you. People will pay for gems that all look the same. Why not pay for stones that are truly unique?"
"Yes! As a jeweler I often thought it was funny how people will pay so much to wear a diamond that looks like any other. Now each piece can be truly unique! Pardon me. Who is this lovely lady?"
"My name is Kit, his humble wife."
Timothy snorted. Kit buried an elbow into his ribs.
"Baa."
"And this is Cat," Kit said.
"Yes, well. I've seen ladies with dogs before. A lamb is certainly…unique." Trent replastered his smile.
"I daresay you cannot be the one these filthy rumors speak of." Trent eyed Shefar and the dark man shrugged.
"I was to be sold in my husband's place to pay off his father's debts," Kit said.
"A beauty such as you? No! That cannot be," Trent said.
"I…managed to pay off my father's debt with the money we made." Timothy watched Kit from the corner of his eye. She nodded once.
"Oh! Most excellent! Rags to riches with a happy ending. And to think I was a part of it! If only an indirect part." Trent grabbed Timothy's hand and pumped it hard. The man's gaze slid down Kit's exposed neckline.
Shefar cleared his throat.
"I haven't forgotten you, Shefar. I must put this story to song! I am an aspiring bard in addition to being a jeweler," Trent said. "I had nothing when I came to this town from the east. It was my songs and dealings that made me what I am today! I am sure you have heard the song 'Jewel of the Desert.'"
"Not really," Timothy blurted. Kit kicked his ankle and he winced. She wore an innocent, bored expression.
Trent deflated. "No? It is a pity they do not perform it anymore. In any case, they will be singing your tale of triumph! But I have a few questions for you. For the song, of course. How did your father acquire the debt? Where did you find those wonderful stones?"
"Some other time, Trent. I am sure our guests want to enjoy themselves." Shefar took a wine glass offered by a passing server.
Kit took a glass of the amber liquid, and Timothy shot her a warning look. She rolled her eyes at him. Timothy waved away the server's offer.
Kit took a sip. "I do have a question for you, Master Mohmed."
Trent bowed. "I may have an answer for you, my lovely lady."
"I am interested in a certain town you may have heard of—"
Applause drowned out Kit's words. Across the hall, musicians mounted the riser. Their fine dark clothing looked out of place against the garish people who welcomed them.
"I think I've seen those guys before. Up on that odd wooden castle," Timothy said.
Fine instruments replaced the drums and crude instruments of the other night, and stringed music filled the air. People bowed and paired off to the large open area in the center of the room. Trent bowed to Kit with a hand extended. "May I have this dance, my lady?"
"Certainly." She handed Timothy Cat's leash and her wine glass. He fumbled to take them both. She glanced over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at Timothy, her hips swaying. Timothy could almost see her tail wagging beneath the long dress.
"You have to watch Trent." Shefar leaned in. "He has a reputation."
"She will be okay."
"A pet lamb?" Shefar scratched his mustache with a finger. "Are you trying to start another fashion trend? Will I have to hire shepherds next?"
Timothy noticed several men and women smiling at him and talking behind their hands. He sighed. Leave it to Kit to find a way to embarrass him.
"Have you heard of Belafonte?" Timothy asked.
Shefar straightened. His face closed. "I have. " He straightened his strange hat. "You know, I didn't believe her story." Shefar gulped a mouthful of wine. "It was just too fantastic. But…" He waved at the dancing crowd. Kit and Trent flashed passed. Kit's eyebrows knitted, and Trent looked uncomfortable at whatever she was saying. "They loved it. The story is what sold the stones."
"So why did you help us?" Timothy asked. A server walked by. Cat pulled at the leash.
"I am a merchant. I saw an opportunity with the festival going on. That, and she reminds me of my granddaughter. She loved to make up stories like your wife's. That is why my granddaughter is more successful as a merchant than I am!" Shefar puffed out his chest.
"And what do you know of Belafonte?"
He deflated just as quickly. "Stay away from Belafonte. It is a wretched, cursed place. I had to pass through that forest in my travels." He fell silent, favoring his wine.
Timothy frowned. Cat pulled at her leash again as a wine server passed. "No, Cat. Nothing for you tonight."
"Baa." Cat looked up with enormous eyes. Timothy sighed. Better the lamb than Kit. Timothy set Kit's wine glass on the floor, and Cat buried her nose into it, tail wagging. Shefar's eyebrows climbed.
"Cursed?" Timothy asked.
"Forbidden by your church. Spirits, I was told. I did not stay to find out. My people do not go near papal soldiers. I'm sure you understand."
Timothy did not, but that was not important. "Where is it?"
Shefar shook his head. "Best stay away. If you will excuse me, I have some business I need to attend to."
Timothy watched the people watch him. Cat's gleeful slurping drew more than a few fingers and laughs. The town was cursed? Papal soldiers? Why would soldiers still be there after destroying it?
Kit and Trent whirled by. Trent wore a sickly smile and held Kit's hand and waist as if she were a hot coal. Kit wore a toothy grin.
Timothy's eyes wandered the crowd. Thankfully, no one approached. More than a few eyed him as if they would. His eyes locked on a familiar face set against black.
"Sister Tera?"
The young nun looked up as if she heard his whisper, her eyes finding his. She nodded before turning toward the large Jesuit beside her. What was she doing here?
"Oh! The lamb is cute! You look rather lonely over here." Melanie wore a high-necked purple dress that clung to her ample chest and hips. "I heard from the stableman that you had a lamb. She is cute."
Cat belched.
"I am surprised you are not out there dancing your success. You are the night's talk," Melanie said.
"It is hard not to be the night's talk when you are dressed ridiculously and have a lamb on a leash."
"Oh, I don't know. You look rather handsome. I am sure tomorrow many ladies will be parading their own leashed lambs. As long as they don't bring them into my inn. I am surprised you let your wife dance with Trent. He has a reputation for womanizing."
Timothy chuckled. "By the looks of things, I think he will want to forego his current partner's charms."
"He does look uncomfortable." Melanie patted Cat on the head. The lamb offered another belching bleat of happiness. "People are unsure of you, you know. That story of yours has people interested and uncertain."
"Has everyone heard the story and about the river stones?"
"This is a small town," Melanie said. "Gossip and festivals go like honey and pancakes. Don't worry. There are some juicy stories on the vine that will leave you two forgotten."
Small? Fairhaven could fit in this town's walls three times over.
"Can't be soon enough."
The music flowed to a stop. Trent mopped his brow with a purple satin handkerchief. Kit looked dower.
"Thank you, Master Mohmed. You are quite an excellent dancer."
Trent bowed without his previous grace. "The pleasure was mine."
Kit grasped Timothy's hand as the next movement strummed the air. "I hope you can dance."
Timothy had just enough time to hand Cat's leash to Melanie before Kit dragged him to the dance floor. Her waist felt warm and soft beneath the silk.
"Don't walk on my feet or dress, book bug. I would rather not have my tail exposed because of your clumsiness." She rested her other hand on his shoulder. A smile lit her eyes. "Trent said Belafonte is not too far from here. In a forest. But he did not say where." Timothy just missed stomping her foot. "Shefar knows of it too."
She leaned her head against his shoulder. "He kept trying to whisper nonsense and business in my ear. You know I wouldn't have to deal with that if you would have done your part in this. You surprise me, Timmy. You can dance!"
"I thought you knew shepherds. Actually, a lady friend of Kyle's taught me a long time ago. Shefar mentioned papal soldiers."
Kit's back turned to stone under his hand. "That nun is here?" Her head snapped from his shoulder. "I need to wrestle her in front of everyone when she is taking a bath."
"Sister Tera? I saw her too. I don't know—wait, while taking bath? What do I not want to know?"
"It is a woman thing."
"She saw your tail!" Timothy said.
"She is stronger than she looks," Kit mumbled into his shoulder.
"Why is she here?"
Kit pinched his back. "Why do you think? She is after me!"
"Could she be working with Tahd?"
"Maybe," Kit said. "Likely."
They moved with the music for a time. Timothy focused on not stepping on Kit's dress or feet while keeping his eyes on the nun. The feel of Kit pressed against him battled with his concentration. Sister Tera and the Jesuit disappeared into the onlookers.
"I am happy." Kit looked up into his eyes. "I wish we could stay like this. They are nice, these warm feelings. I don't feel alone anymore."
"You feel nice. I mean. I…I am happy too."
Kit's laugh chimed. "You feel nice too, Timmy."
The music ended. Timothy let Kit's hand drop out of his. He felt a cold draft as she stepped away. But she stayed close and held his other hand against her waist.
"Why, I say, I don't think I have seen a dance quite like that one," Melanie said. She smiled. Cat slurped from another wineglass. "It almost makes me want to find a husband."
Trent slammed back half a glass of wine, and red stained his cheeks. "If you ever want a partner for your stones, you can find me at my shop at Gemin Street." He staggered off.
"I can't say I have ever seen the great Tramp Trent so put off by a woman. Other than myself, of course." Melanie passed Cat's leash back to Kit. Behind them the musicians kicked up a slightly more refined version of the bawdy tune they played in the market square. The finely dressed people swung each other around with only a
little more dignity than the street dancers. Timothy glanced over his shoulder but couldn't see Sister Tera anywhere.
"Baaalurp!" Cat said.
"We had best go." Kit pressed against Timothy's side. "Please tell Shefar we are grateful for his invitation."
Timothy felt the knot between his shoulder blades ease once they were outside. Cat staggered next to Kit, her ears drooping. Kit held Timothy's hand against her waist.
"I have to admit that was more fun than I expected it would be. That is your fourth time, shepherd."
Timothy pointedly held his gaze on her low neckline until she pulled back his fingers resting on her waist. "Keep doing that and I might have to let you look in earnest. Why, I daresay I don't see a hint of blushing."
"I look forward to seeing your tail tonight."
Kit's face heated beneath her curls. She wrenched his fingers off her waist and stepped away from him. "And your perverted side comes through."
Timothy rubbed his fingers. "It is a magnificent tail. We should buy you a better comb for it."
"And who is the spendthrift now?"
"Baa!"
"You have a nice tail too." Timothy told the lamb. "What will you do when we reach Belafonte? At least we know it is in a forest east of here. Maybe Shefar and Trent will tell us more."
Kit twirled a curl. "I hadn't thought about it. I'm sure you will want to get back to shepherding."
"I am done with that. I only took up shepherding because it let me have time alone to read. Maybe I will write a book. The Sultry Fox!"
Kit's lips compressed.
"I don't think I could escape your paws, anyway. I…I don't think I want to," Timothy said.
"Why, I'd say you are fond of me, Timmy." She thumped his chest with a fist. "Do not speak of my tail that way again. You are becoming too forward."
A heavy boot scraped.
The trio froze. Cat's ears fell flat on her head and she crouched down. Timothy strained his eyes against the dull moonlight.
"Over there." Timothy pointed.
The weathered, scarred face slipped from the night's shadows. The bolt of his raised crossbow caught the moonlight. Tahd's face and hands seemed to float against the shadows.
Vixen Hunted Page 15