Isabel felt eyes on her and turned around. “Good morrow, cousin,” she said with a little laugh, embarrassed. What must he be thinking, seeing her this way? “Did you
find what you were looking for?”
“Not yet.” He came closer, into the room. “I fear we must impose on you a while longer.”
“We don’t mind.” She laid the tunic on the bed. “Someone must have thought you needed something better to wear,” she explained. “It was probably Hannah—she was saying last night it was a disgrace, your being seen in that tatty robe when you’re my father’s kinsman.” He was still watching her, one corner of his mouth turned up in the barest hint of a smile. Stop babbling, she scolded herself; you sound like a fool. “But then, you must prefer the robe, for your penance.”
“No,” Simon answered. “I don’t, as a matter of fact. Thank you.” He smiled in truth. “Or thank Hannah.” He had been afraid the strange hunger he had felt for her the night before would have grown worse, but strangely, it had not. Being with her now, he could almost forget he hungered for blood at all. “Is she the one you sent down to ask if I wanted breakfast?”
“I didn’t send anyone. I just assumed you didn’t.” She lit the candle on one of the torches. “But that was Susannah who came down on her own,” she said. “She and your Orlando will never be friends, I’m afraid. What did he say to her?”
“Nothing, really.” How long had it been since he had allowed himself to have this kind of simple conversation with anyone, much less a woman? He found it soothing, fascinating. But what had she been thinking with her face pressed to that tunic? Did he dare to ask? “I think Orlando worries that I might be tempted into sin.”
“I’m a bit worried myself,” she said with the husky hint of a laugh. “If anyone could tempt you, it would be Susannah.”
“I’m not so certain of that.” Isabel looked at him, surprised. He almost sounded like he meant to flirt with her. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? “So which one is Hannah?” he asked.
“Hannah is older,” she answered. “Susannah is her niece. Her husband, Kevin, works in the stables with Tom, their son—Hannah’s husband and son, not Susannah’s. Susannah isn’t married.” She sat down on one of the chests. “Then there’s Mary and Margaret and Glynnis—they’re all in the kitchen. Glynnis is Kevin’s mother, and her husband, Wat, used to be the blacksmith in my father’s day. But he’s too old now to do much more than sharpen plows and such.” Simon yawned, sitting on the edge of the bed, and she laughed. “But I’m boring you straight to sleep.”
“No, in faith, you’re not,” he promised. “I want to hear.” If he could only tell her just how glad he was to listen, how long it had been since he had heard anyone talk about plain, simple life. As sleepy as he was, he drank in her words like water in a desert. “So are Kevin and his son the only men in their prime in the castle?”
“Nearly,” she admitted. For a moment, she thought about Brautus’s warning—could Simon be questioning her to learn about Charmot’s defenses, planning an attack? But she dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. “But you saw them last night in the courtyard, remember? Raymond and the second Tom help in the fields, such as they are, but they don’t live inside the castle proper. Raymond’s wife, Mary, used to live here before they were married, but since the baby, she keeps mostly to the cottage in the woods.” He was smiling again, obviously amused, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “You can’t really want to hear all this.”
“You’d be surprised.” In truth, he didn’t care what she said so long as she kept talking. The night before in her fancy white gown, she had seemed like some captured princess in a fairy tale, fluctuating in her manner between chilly restraint and the edge of tears. Today in her plain green jumper, she was relaxed and fun, the sort of girl he would have courted to distraction back when he was able. “You have to remember, I’ve had no one to talk with but Orlando in quite some time.”
“Orlando seems quite entertaining to me,” she said with another laugh. “Where is he, by the way?”
“Still reading in your father’s study.” He didn’t want to talk about Orlando or even think of him. Orlando was reality, the world of darkness where he was a monster. He was enjoying this dream. “What of your father’s knights-at-arms? Surely he must have had guardsmen when this castle was built.”
“He did,” she answered, sobering a bit. She must be more cautious, or she’d be telling him everything, Brautus’s ruse included. She found it so easy to talk to Simon somehow, even after less than a single day’s acquaintance, much easier than any other young man she had ever known. Not that she’d known many—the king’s herald, and the occasional peddler. The only strange noblemen she’d seen since her father died had stayed safely on the other side of the wall. But she had often imagined what it might be like to talk with one of them, and it had never seemed possible it could be as simple as this. Unlike the knights who had come to fight for Charmot, Simon wasn’t grand or pompous or even particularly solemn, cursed as he believed he was; he was fun. “There used to be a whole regiment here,” she admitted. “But when Papa died, they all left to find a new lord.” She stood up, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s very quiet at Charmot, you know, and not very profitable. We don’t even have a proper village.” She took her father’s key out of her pocket. “But I should let you rest.”
“Wait,” he said without thinking, getting up and crossing the room in two long strides to reach her. Stay here with me, he wanted to say. Talk to me, and laugh, and let me look at you. Just don’t leave me alone.
“What is it?” she asked, gazing up into his eyes. In a single moment, everything had changed. His smile was gone, replaced by a look so sad and lost it made her want to cry. Who are you? she wanted to ask him. What is this curse that binds you? What has hurt you so? But of course she could not.
He wanted to touch her, he realized; the hunger he had thought was gone was not; it had only changed to something more subtle and dangerous. He could already feel her soft, warm cheek against his palm as he imagined cradling it there. But he did not dare. “I must thank you, cousin,” he said aloud, forcing back a tremor from his voice. She was an innocent; that must be why she affected him so strongly. He had no experience in resisting the lure of noble maidens in his vampire state. Any other beauty of her class would surely have made him feel the same—he must believe this. Orlando was right; he could not let himself be distracted. “Thank you,” he repeated, embracing her as a kinswoman, the same way she had embraced him the night before.
“You are welcome, cousin.” His arms closed around her, and for a moment she pressed her cheek against his chest, breathing in the warm, masculine scent that had always meant sanctuary in her father’s arms. But something was wrong; something was missing. He didn’t… but before she could form the thought in her mind, he was letting her go. “You’re welcome,” she repeated, making herself smile. “Rest well.”
“I will,” he promised, smiling as she left.
She found Orlando still sitting at her father’s desk poring over a scroll, the last of the candles she had left for them burned down to a stub. “Good morning, master,” she said, taking the key from her pocket to signal it was time for him to go. “I fear I have come to disturb you.”
“Not at all, my lady. The hour is late—or early, I suppose.” He rubbed his eyes. “I forget not everyone has changed their days for nights.”
“I must admit, I don’t see how you manage it, either of you.” He had removed his cloak, and many of the little pouches and purses she had noticed him carrying before now hung from the shelves. One lay open on the desk, spilling what looked like a fortune-teller’s seeing stones across another scroll. “Or why you’d want to try, for that matter.” Orlando must know the details of Simon’s curse; why else would he be here to help him? “What purpose can it serve to live forever in the dark?”
He smiled, and his dark brown eyes were warm with what seemed like genuine friendliness for the first time since they’d met. “I cannot tell, my lady.” He rolled up his scroll and neatly tied the binding, his small fingers graceful and quick. “There is much about my master that must seem strange to you, I know.” He got up from the chair with a thump that should have been comical but was not. His manner was so grave and dignified, even with him dressed in motley colors and barely as tall as her shoulder, she could not think of him as foolish. “But you must trust me when I tell you this. Both of you will be much happier if you do not ask too much of him.”
“Ask too many questions, you mean?” she said with a laugh. “I will try, Master Orlando, if you wish, but it will be against my nature, I’m afraid.” She helped him put the scrolls away—already he seemed to know exactly which order they should go in, while she didn’t have a clue. “My father always said I was far too inquisitive for my own good.”
“A healthy curiosity is never a bad thing, even in a woman.” He tossed his seer’s stones across the desk, gave them a quick study, then scooped them back into their bag. “You were your father’s only child?”
“So far as I know,” she answered. “But this time yesterday, I didn’t know I had a cousin.” A rough map had been pinned to the wall, showing Britain and France and a fair percentage of the Mediterranean. “Are these all the places you and Simon have been?”
“Not nearly,” he answered. “Was your father born at Charmot?”
“No, in France—Bretagne, actually.” She pointed on the map. “He came here to serve King Henry after the wars. But my mother was born in a village very near here, the daughter of a free farmer.” She turned to him and smiled. “So I’m half peasant and partly pagan besides.”