“Not all of it.” Beth shook her head. “But she knows I’m different. She said...” Beth lowered her voice. “She said power unclaimed is dangerous, and power hidden is hunted.”
Baldwin cursed under his breath. “She suspects witchcraft.”
“Actually, I think she suspects something worse.” Beth’s laugh held no humor. “She asked if I’d come from the stars or from beneath them.”
The implications chilled Baldwin’s blood. If Jacquetta believed Beth to be otherworldly, a demon or angel or something beyond mortal understanding, her fate would be sealed.
“You must avoid her for the remainder of her stay,” Baldwin said firmly. “Return to your chamber and do not emerge until they have departed.”
Beth’s chin lifted in that stubborn way he had come to recognize. “I’m not hiding. She didn’t threaten me, she was curious. Almost... excited.”
“That is precisely what concerns me.” Baldwin gripped her shoulders, the silk of her gown smooth beneath his palms. “Jacquetta’s curiosity has destroyed lives before.”
Their faces were close, too close. Baldwin could see the flecks of gold in Beth’s green eyes, could smell the wine on her breath mingled with something uniquely her, like summer rain and strange spices. For a heartbeat, he thought of closing that distance.
Instead, he released her and stepped back. “Promise me you will exercise caution.”
Beth studied him, her expression softening. “You’re worried about me.”
It wasn’t a question. Baldwin looked away, uncomfortable with how transparent his concern must be. “I am responsible for all within my walls.”
“Right.” Something flickered across her face, disappointment, perhaps. “Just doing your lordly duty.”
Before he could respond, a page approached with a bow. “My lord, the Queen requests your presence for the final dance.”
Baldwin nodded, though his eyes remained on Beth. “We will speak more of this later.”
As he turned to go, Beth called after him, her voice light with forced humor. “So, just to clarify, do I kneel before drinking the wine or after?”
Despite everything, Baldwin felt his lips twitch. He glanced back at her, this impossible woman who had fallen into his ordered life and set it spinning like a child’s top. “Neither. You curtsy, and not to the serving man.”
Her laughter followed him as he returned to the great hall, warming him like strong mead on a winter’s night.
Later, as the feast finally wound down, and the guests retired to their chambers, Baldwin found Beth walking the battlements alone, her face turned toward the star-strewn sky. The wine stain on her gown had dried to a dark shadow, and she had removed the elaborate headdress Eleanor had forced upon her. With her hair loose around her shoulders and her profile limned in moonlight, she looked both vulnerable and untouchable.
He approached quietly, but she sensed his presence, nonetheless.
“I told you the court would devour you,” he said, coming to stand beside her at the parapet.
Beth smiled without looking at him. “Let’s not invite them in for dinner, then.”
The night air carried the scent of the lake below, cool and clean. For a moment, they stood in companionable silence, the weight of the day settling between them.
Then a page appeared making his way along the battlements, bearing a folded parchment sealed with wax. “For the lady,” he said, bowing low. “From the Duchess of Bedford.”
Baldwin took the message, his brow furrowing as he handed it to Beth. She broke the seal and read by moonlight, her expression changing from curiosity to something like fear.
“What does it say?” Baldwin demanded.
Beth looked up at him, her eyes wide in the darkness. “’When the moon wanes, meet me by the lake. Come alone.’” She swallowed visibly. “What does she want with me?”
Baldwin gazed out over his lands, the peaceful waters of the lake reflecting stars that suddenly seemed cold and distant. “Nothing good,” he murmured. “Nothing good at all.”
CHAPTER 9
The morning after the royal feast dawned with a stillness in the air as Baldwin stood at his chamber window, watching mist curl off the lake. Last night had not gone well. Beth was too inquisitive for her own good and had drawn the attention of Jaquetta. No wonder sleep had eluded him. He ran a hand through his dark hair, still disheveled from hours of restless tossing to and fro.
Behind him, a servant laid out his clothing for the day. A doublet of forest green velvet with silver embroidery at the collar and cuffs, matched with dark breeches and polished boots. Hunting attire, suitable for accompanying the king, yet fine enough for court. Baldwin ignored it, preferring instead to glower at the peaceful scene below.
