Her reply was pert. “Feeding the horses. What does it look like?”
Fury snapped out of him, “Do not address me in that disrespectful manner. This is no place for you. Why do you not tend to your mistress?”
“She does not need tending.” There was no fear in her face, no backing down.
Again his admiration for her stirred, although he was all too aware of Thierry watching curiously, waiting to see what he would do. “Go inside.”
“But Thierry offered to take me out for a ride.”
Now he was just as furious with his friend as he was with her. “You are a distraction to my men.” He inhaled a sharp breath. “And you are under my feet, in my way.”
“Then walk around me.”
He stepped closer, fists clenched at his sides. The horse whinnied, ducking its head, shaking its mane.
The woman stood her ground. What happened last night, it seemed, had given her brazen attitude an extra push, made her even more heedless of his orders. Abruptly he realized it had given her more cause to despise him.
But when he stared into her eyes he saw they were reddened, her eyelids a little puffy.
His actions had hurt her.
A strange cold emptiness lay in his gut and he didn’t like it. He looked to blame anyone else but himself. Rounding on Thierry, he exclaimed, “Why are you here? Have you naught useful to do?”
“The lady is fond of horses it seems,” the other man replied genially. “We were just talking about her childhood and how sheildhood ait”
“The lady does not go outside the gates. If you have nothing else to do, Bonnenfant, I can find you something.”
The woman exhaled a heavy sigh and pushed between them, leaving the stables with her mantle fluttering behind her, a fulsome oath muttered into the breeze.
Guy whirled around to face his friend. “I don’t trust that woman. She is not to go outside the walls, do I make myself clear?” It was the first time he’d ever raised his voice to Thierry, the first time he’d ever pushed his role as lord and master over their friendship.
Thierry frowned but nodded.
“Good. You might be randy as a bull for her, but that’s no cause to let her take the upper hand.”
“She was upset about last night and I thought I should apologize…”
“Apologize!” Guy roared, something snapping in his temple. “I see she knows how to play you, Bonnenfant. Be wary!” He swung away and then stopped, too hot to let the matter rest. He strode back again. “She’s only fluttering her lashes at you so that you’ll let down your guard,” he added, softening his tone, patting his friend on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to tell you this, as I now see you harbor some silly fondness for her, but the woman is clearly out to cause trouble here and I suppose she pays attention to you because she found a weak spot in your conscience.”
Thierry leaned away from that patronizing hand and propped his shoulder against a beam. Silent, he observed his old friend through narrowed, wondering eyes.
Guy cracked his knuckles, for want of anything else to do with his restless hands. “I thought we could ride today in the tiltyard. It’s been a while since we practiced in the lists.”
Thierry pushed away from the beam, arms folded, standing tall. “Excellent idea. The ladies can watch.”
Nodding, Guy turned and walked out of the stables.
The first thing he saw outside was that dratted Saxon wench up on the battlements, her curved shape silhouetted against the cool blue sky. She had not gone inside as he commanded. Further, she was up there again, where he’d expressly forbidden her to go.
* * * *
She heard him coming, but kept her face turned away. Let him try to haul her body down the stone steps. Perhaps he’d fall and break his damned Norman neck.
“Woman! Did I not tell you to go and tend your mistress?”
“Sybilia does not need tending. She tends herself very well.” She smirked at the distant scenery. “Better than I can tend myself it seems.”
He stopped just a few steps from where she stood. The wind pulled at her skirt, slapping it against her legs.
“Why did you let Thierry watch last night?” she demanded, still not looking at him. “I thought you were interested in hearing about my life. You told me I would never be hurt again. All the time it was a trap. It was cruel of you. I hope you enjoyed it.” She was afraid that if she looked, his powerful pre sence would draw her to him again and make her forget what she had to tell him. When he found her in the stables just now, she’d yearned for just one kind word, perhaps even a smile. How quickly she learned he had no intention of giving her either. She was in his way today. Under his feet, he’d said. It hurt like the sharp prick of a thorn.