“Waiting for a St. James sister to fall into my arms,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye.
“Ah, I see,” she smiled down at him. “Which one?”
He pushed himself off the wall, turning around so that he could see her lovely features better. “Must you really ask that question?” He held out his arms. “It is your turn.”
She laughed. “No, thank you, my lord. I have no desire to see if your strength will hold out a second time.”
He smiled broadly at her, resting his fists on his hips. “Then allow me to say good morn to you, my lady,” he bowed gallantly. “I do hope you slept well after your harrowing experience last night.”
“I did, thank you for asking,” she said. “And you?”
“I never sleep.”
“That’s terrible. How do you survive?”
“By my wits alone.”
“That must be terribly difficult.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting my wits aren’t up to the task?”
She laughed, a dazzling display of lovely teeth and tinkling gales. Before she could reply, the door to her bedchamber opened.
“Dani?” It was Alys. “Who are you talking to?”
Sheridan quickly stood up, wondering why she suddenly felt so horribly guilty. “I…,” she faced her sister. “A… person was passing by as I was looking out of the window and I simply said good morn.”
Alys was at the window and pushed her head through. Sheridan was positive she would see Sean and the entire morning would be filled with lectures and angry exchanges. Sheridan turned back to the window, her eyes falling upon the last place she had seen Sean and fully prepared to make excuses to her sister.
But a strange thing occurred; Sean had disappeared and there was nothing below but dirt and stones. Curious, not to mention disappointed, Sheridan scanned the area but saw nothing. It was, yet again, as if he had simply disappeared. Alys, bored with the featureless view, went over to the bed and threw herself onto the mattress.
“I am so miserable, Dani,” she threw her arm over her forehead. “The only man I was every truly attracted to has apparently decided he is interested in you.”
It occurred to Sheridan that her patience for Alys’ self pity was very thin. An unselfish sister would have been happy that she had found some interest in male companionship. But Alys could see nothing but her own disappointment.
“If you are speaking of de Lara, then I would suggest you find another subject,” she said. “Jocelin warned us about him. My encounter with him last night had, shall we say, brutal moments. You’d best forget about him.” Alys peered at her. “What about you? Will you forget about him?”
Something in Sheridan changed at that moment. She had never lied to her sister in her life. But she decided in that flash of time to keep her feelings about de Lara to herself. Alys would only create misery if she knew that her sister actually had some curiosity towards the man. And it wasn’t the fact that it was deLara; Alys created misery if her sister showed interest in any man. If Alys could not be the center of male attention, she had always been determined to ruin her sister’s chances.
But Sheridan said nothing of what she was thinking. She promised herself at that moment that she would keep her feelings to herself. It would be safer for all of them if she did. Moreover, if her bizarre interest in de Lara was something to last for only a day or two, she did not want to be embarrassed. Alys created quite enough embarrassment to go around with her own dalliances.
“He is forgotten,” she said simply. “Now, what will we do today, darling? What is your preference?”
Alys shrugged. “I do not feel like doing anything. I do not want to see anyone or be seen. Perhaps we will stay to the apartments and contemplate our pitiful existence.”
Sheridan didn’t feel like staying to the apartments. She felt like walking out on the grounds on the off-chance that de Lara might find her again.
“As you say,” she said as lightly as she could, heading for the massive wardrobe against the wall. “I plan on going to the chapel this day and having the priest say mass for father.”
They all knew how Alys hated attending mass. Too often, she fell asleep in the middle of it and snored like an old dog. “You go ahead,” the redhead snorted. “I will wait for your return.”
Sheridan dug through the wardrobe, coming across the delicate black mass shawl that had belonged to her grandmother. She really had not planned on paying for mass today, but it was as good an excuse as any. Her stomach twitched with an odd, giddy excitement and she knew in the same breath that she was being foolish. De Lara was more than likely long gone, maybe forever. But she didn’t care. The urge to see him again, to speak with him, was strangely overwhelming.
She blew into the antechamber where Jocelin was still glowering. She was mildly startled to see another body present; she’d never even heard him enter.
“My lord Marshall,” she dipped into a polite curtsy. “I did not know you were here, my lord.”
William Marshall sat opposite Jocelin, his gray eyes piercing as they gazed at her. “I have only just arrived, my lady,” he stood up. “My old friend and I barely had time to speak last night. I went to his chamber and they told me he had come here. I apologize if I have intruded.”
