Heart's Magic by Flora Speer Read Free Book Online

earn
your keep here.”
    “I simply help as best I can. Lady Alda has
other interests.”
    “Which do not include fulfilling her duties
as chatelaine.” His quiet voice suggest a low opinion of the
beautiful lady of the castle.
    “I have no complaint to make of Lady Alda.”
That was not entirely true, but Mirielle did not intend to divulge
her opinion of Alda to Sir Giles. “Nor will I hear a word against
her from anyone else.”
    “Admirable discretion. Perhaps we should
speak of another subject. Tell me, my lady, did you learn your
conjuring skills in Wales?” Giles lifted their wine cup. He sipped
from it, then passed it to her. Again their fingers touched, and a
new tremor rocked her.
    “You cannot deny your skill,” he said. “When
first we met you convinced me with a single gesture that you were
aged and homely. Which is plainly not the case.”
    “Your friend was not similarly convinced,”
she told him, trying to deflect a compliment she was afraid to
acknowledge.
    “Hugh is not easily tricked.”
    “Why are you here?” She abandoned all
pretense. “I do not believe you are merely pilgrims traveling
homeward. I sense some other reason for your presence at Wroxley.”
At her words he went very still, watching her while Mirielle stared
boldly back at him.
    “Why, my lady,” he said at last, “what reason
could two strangers have for entering such a strong fortress under
false pretenses? Outnumbered as Hugh and I are, what could we hope
to gain?”
    “I do not know.” Mirielle ran her tongue
across lips suddenly made dry by fear. “My every instinct tells me
you are an honest man at heart, yet I fear your coming means
danger. Sir Giles, I beg you, do no harm to my cousin Brice.”
    “You love him.” It sounded like an
accusation.
    “Brice is the only true kin I have left since
a terrible sickness took the rest of my family from me. Yes, I love
him—and I owe him all my loyalty.”
    “Lady Mirielle, I give you my word. As I am
the honest man you think me, I will never do harm to another man
who is honest.”
    “That is only half an answer.” She was made
even more fearful by his words, for she knew things about Brice
that might give another man cause to wish her cousin harm. “Please,
do not hurt Brice.” Her hand touched Giles’s forearm. She felt the
solid strength in him, and she wished she could put her head on his
shoulder and pour out all the fears and the concerns that too often
kept her awake with worry far into the night.
    Then Brice, turning from Hugh and Alda, with
whom he had been talking all this time, asked Giles a question
about his journey from Compostela to England. Mirielle took her
hand off Giles’s arm, telling herself she owed her loyalty to
Brice, not to Giles. She spent the rest of the evening in a state
of confusion, trying to convince herself that she could not be
feeling what her heart and her body warned her she was feeling.
    “I cannot bear this cold hall any longer.”
Lady Alda stood, pulling her shawl close about her shoulders.
“There are too many drafts here and there is nothing interesting to
do, no one worth talking with. I will seek my own room, where it is
warmer. Sir Brice, you will attend me.”
    Hearing this speech, Mirielle glanced at
Brice. If Alda was unaware or did not care that she had just
insulted their guests, at least Brice was not completely immune to
social niceties.
    “Good sirs, I apologize for leaving you so
precipitously.” Brice rose from his chair. “I would gladly remain
here to talk with you, but my lady Alda is in fragile health. It is
my duty to see her safely to her room.”
    Alda tapped her foot in impatience, heaved an
exaggerated sigh, rearranged her voluminous shawl to better display
her bosom and, as if to give the lie to Brice, managed to look as
if she were in the very best of health.
    “Since you will remain at Wroxley for a
second night,” Brice went on to Giles and Hugh, “I hope we will
have time to talk longer