—Lia Demont, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey
CHAPTER TWELVE
Surrounded
It was not the maypole dance, for there was not a maypole in the common room. It was a ring dance, like the ones they did at court, and the mix of sounds from the lute, flutes, coronets, and box bells sent a giddiness through the air that only added to Maia’s nerves. His hand was warm and calloused and full of strength.
Maia was much shorter than Feint Collier, and she had to look up to see his face. His smile told her that he was pleased with himself for having finally claimed her. She steeled herself against that smile, wanting the tune to be over with so she could escape into the night. There was a dreadful apprehension in her stomach, but it was mingled with the flutterings of dancing for the first time since she had come of age.
“You have me to yourself at last,” Maia said to Collier as they twirled around the slow-moving circle. “What do you have to say?”
“I was hoping to enjoy the moment a bit longer before ruining it with words.”
“Are you such a poor speaker then?”
He shook his head. “I love conversation. It is only that with you, certain topics are clearly forbidden. Such as your name.”
“Yes,” she said.
“So is your origin. Your Dahomeyjan is flawless, but you are not from this land. You certainly have a gift with languages.”
She cocked her head at him. “A curious word to use, Master Collier.”
“I used it deliberately.”
“You said you are not a maston,” she said to him, dropping her voice lower. “Yet you use such words and even quote from the tomes.”
“I am not a maston. Are you?”
Maia felt the probing nature of the question. She shook her head.
“I thought not,” he said with a subtle nod. “My father was, yet he sired a wretched and would not claim me. I do not think well of mastons.”
They separated and went down the line, exchanging partners three times before meeting up again. The time they spent apart passed in a blur. His hand grazed hers. So warm. His deep blue eyes were inquisitive.
“I have another question for you, my lady,” he said, gazing down at her with a half smile.
“I will answer it if I can.”
They twisted and went the other way as the circle reversed its order. Her feet felt light and easy—the dance was slow enough that it was not difficult to keep up with the changes.
“You are traveling with a kishion. Is he a threat to you, or a protector?”
A shiver of cold shot through Maia’s stomach. “Why do you ask that?”
“Come, my lady. He has a dark look. I sense you are in danger with him. Even now, he is watching us too keenly. Will he try to kill you if you leave with me?”
Maia looked at him in surprise. “I am not leaving with you.”
“That came out wrong. Let me try again. It is difficult talking with a murderer staring at you so intently.”
“Staring at me?”
“No, at me! I know you do not trust me, but you trusted me enough for this dance. Thank you. What I want to know is if you can dismiss him. Did you hire him for protection or did another?”
Maia swallowed, needing to choose her words carefully. “I am with him by choice, Master Collier. If you tried to take me from here by force, he would hurt you . . . not me.”
A proud little smile twitched on his mouth. “He could try. How good can such a man be to have earned so many scars?”
Maia looked at him in concern. “Do not provoke him, I beg you. He has seen twice as many winters as you or I.”
“I do not intend to, my lady. I fear more for your safety than my own.”
“Very generous. But we must depart this evening. When Jon Tayt returns, we will go. Thank you for the horses.”
“It is my pleasure to help you,” he said, dipping his head graciously. “Where are you bound?”
She smiled and shook her head.
“Another forbidden question. Let me try again. Do you play any instruments? You keep staring longingly at the minstrels.”
“I love music.”
“Ah, I would love to hear you play!” He nearly crowed with delight.
“Another time perhaps,” Maia said, shaking her head.
“Then you concede there is a chance we may meet again?” he quipped. “That restores my faith.”
“That is not what I meant,” she said, trying not to quash his feelings.
“You injure me again, my lady,” he said with a sigh. “You will not say where you are from. You will not tell me where you are bound. How will I find you to hear you play?”
She bit her lip, enjoying his teasing banter—probably too much. She needed to keep her thoughts clear. He was trying to trick her into revealing too much.