Connie Mason by The Black Knight Read Free Book Online Page B

perplexed expression on his handsome face. “What the devil!”
    “Put the wine down, John,” Drake said quietly. “ ’Tis not fit to drink. ’Tis tainted.”
    John shuddered and carefully set the cup on the table. “God’s blood, Drake, are you sure?”
    “Nay, but you saw how Waldo’s man acted when I asked him to drink first. You may test it if you like, but I would not recommend it.”
    “Nor would I,” John said in a hushed voice. “I will take your word for it. What made you suspect?”
    “Waldo does naught without a reason. He has ever hated me. Sending the gift of wine is so unlike him, I immediately suspected trickery. Mayhap the wine would have made us too ill to compete tomorrow, but more likely it would have killed us.”
    John shuddered again. “Poison. Why does Waldo hate you? He is the earl, not you. You said there was never any question about Waldo being your father’s heir, and that you are . . .”
    “A bastard,” Drake said, finishing where John left off. “Heed me well, John. One day I will prove that I am the rightful heir of Eyre. I have never doubted that proof exists.Granny Nola said that one day I would want to learn the truth, and that when I am ready, she would help me find it.”
    “Your granny is a wise woman,” John said.
    “Aye, she is also hale and hearty and her memory sharp. Besides myself, you and Sir Richard are the only men who know where to find her village in Wales. I trust no others. For a time I worried she might not be safe from Waldo, but no one but Lord Nyle and my father knew where she lived, and they are both dead.”
    “Your trust humbles me,” John said. His gaze rested on the flagon. “What shall we do with the tainted wine?”
    “Spill it on the ground behind the tent. Pour the wine from the cups into the flagon.” Drake held the flagon while John poured the wine into it. John’s hands shook so badly he splashed some of the wine on his hose. Then he followed Drake outside and watched as the thirsty ground soaked up the poisoned wine.
    As soon as the flagon was empty, Drake awakened Evan, calling him out of the tent he shared with the other squires. The lad stumbled out of the tent, sleepy-eyed and yawning.
    “How may I help you, my lord?”
    He handed the empty flagon to the squire. “I have an errand for you, lad. Take this flagon to the keep and give it to Lord Waldo. Tell him it was delicious and extend my gratitude for his thoughtful gesture.”
    “Aye, my lord.”
    “Mind you, give it to no one but Lord Waldo,” Drake said as the lad scampered off.
    “You can count on me,” Evan called over his shoulder.
    John laughed softly. “Methinks brother Waldo will be surprised to see you looking hale and hearty in the lists tomorrow,” John opined.
    “So he will, John, so he will.”
    John took his leave. Drake returned to his tent, his mindwhirling with all that had happened this night. Try as he might, he could not put Raven out of his mind. Her plea for help had been so desperate it had caught him off guard. So had her sweet kisses and startling burst of passion. She had stunned him with her heated response to what had begun as a mockery. Instead of showing his contempt for her he had found himself fighting his own body’s incomprehensible need to throw her down in the hay, toss up her skirts, and fill her with himself.
    God’s blood!
What was wrong with him? Raven of Chirk had become the kind of woman Drake had learned to avoid: treacherous and sexually stimulating at the same time. Women like Raven deserved men like Waldo. He could not forget that but for Raven, Daria would have married him. Though he would never know for sure what the future would have held if Daria not been torn from his arms, he did feel certain that she would still be alive today. But Raven had snitched to her father, and his future had taken a different course.
    Sleep was hard won that night, and it came at a price. Drake’s dreams were filled with a green-eyed,