Mary felt every nerve ending in her body flare with excitement. This was it. This was the break she’d been waiting for. She tried to control the frantic pounding of her heart, but it was blaring in her ears. “When?” she breathed.
He stroked his chin. “About a year ago, I think.”
“What do you know about her? Whom was she with?”
Without realizing it, Mary had grabbed onto the monk’s arm. He was looking at her as if she were a madwoman. “No one, my lady. She stopped for the night to take a meal, that is all.”
“Where was she going?”
Obviously wishing he hadn’t said anything, the young churchman carefully extracted his arm. “I don’t know, my lady. Do you know her?”
“I think she is my sister. She’s been missing for over three years.”
His eyes filled with sympathy, and something else. Pity, she realized.
“I’m sorry, my lady. It couldn’t have been your sister. The young woman I spoke of was Italian.”
Mary felt her heart sink. “Are you certain?”
He nodded. “She didn’t speak a word of English and very little French.”
The disappointment was even more crushing than before. Despite the monk’s certainty, Mary wondered if maybe he was mistaken. But why would her sister be pretending to be Italian? Janet had been horrible with languages.
Mary apologized to the monk for her zealous questioning and quickly took her leave. But she could think of nothing else on the ride back to the castle.
It was later than she’d realized by time she passed through the gates. The feast had already been going on for nearly an hour by the time she’d changed and started toward the Great Hall.
She’d half hoped Kenneth would be waiting for her. Not only was she eager to speak to him about Davey, she also wanted to get his impression about what had occurred at the church. Usually she would have gone straight to Sir Adam, but her first instinct was to find Kenneth.
She had to apologize for what had happened this morning. A blush stained her cheeks. Well, maybe an apology wasn’t necessary in light of how much he’d enjoyed it, but she knew things could not go on as they had been. She wanted to give him—them—a chance.
The Hall was a flurry of sound and color as she entered. Obviously, the ale and wine had been flowing freely for some time. People were swarming about the room. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to see where Kenneth was seated but was unable to see over all the heads.
Finally, after fighting her way through the crowd near the door she saw him. The smile that had become reflexive in such a short time rose and then fell. The blood drained from her face, as everything inside her body seemed to curl inwardly. Her heart. Her stomach. Her hope.
The sear of white-hot pain across her chest was nearly unimaginable.
He was surrounded by women and basking in the glow of their adoring light, like some Greek god at a temple. The women on either side of him were leaning so close their bodies were pressing against his. He wasn’t doing anything to encourage them. Yet. But it was only a matter of time. He’d made her no promises. The picture before her was brutally familiar and a reminder that she could not forget that. No matter how much she wanted to. If she’d wanted her eyes opened, they were now.
Oh God. I can’t do this again.
“Are you all right, my lady?”
In a daze, Mary turned, seeing that Sir John had come up beside her. “You look quite pale.”
“I’m not feeling too well. I-I think I shall return to my room.”
She could see the concern in his face. “I will escort you.”
Mary nodded, too numb to object.
Twenty
It had been bad enough to learn that his wife had left the castle without telling him and sought out Sir Adam’s assistance rather than his for her errand. Kenneth was irritated, and yes, maybe even a little jealous. But it was nothing compared to the dangerous emotion that surged through him when he heard who’d escorted her back to her room.
“Felton? You are sure?”
Lady Eleanor gazed up at him in surprise. “Yes, perhaps an hour ago. I thought that you knew.”
