A Lily on the Heath 4 Read Online Free Page A

the hand of her powerful cousin Gavin Mal Verne seemed not to have dampened her spirit.
    Although Malcolm and Gregory had been peers and trained together as pages then squires before being knighted, they had never been particularly close friends. Gregory had a slick way about him Mal didn’t care for, as well as an overly critical tongue. Aside from that, he’d been betrothed to the beautiful, wealthy young woman who was a favorite of Queen Matilda—a far sight different from Malcolm, whose father had selected a plain, if not biddable, wife for him whose dowry was only a small chest of gold coins and a pair of warhorses.
    Still, he would never have wished Gregory harm. And to be slain by his betrothed wife’s cousin was no happy occurrence, regardless of the reason for it. Judith must have been overset and distraught, although clearly she had come to terms with his death.
    Malcolm wasn’t able to extricate himself from the company of King Henry until long after the platters and trays had been cleared away, the bottles of wine emptied, and the dancers pled exhaustion. Many of them, including the fiery-haired Lady Judith, left the hall. When Duchante the jongleur sat himself up on a stool to sing a final ballad for the night, Mal couldn’t have been more relieved.  
    As soon as the song ended, he begged leave of the king and queen, citing the need to check on his horse in the stable.  
    Outside, Mal breathed in the fresh night, glad to be quit of the loud, crowded hall with its heavy, smoke-filled air. The enclosed yard, or bailey, was fairly empty except for men-at-arms taking their turn standing watch on the walls above and an occasional serf or other figure rushing off somewhere. Flickering torches studded the turrets and were assisted by a full, pearly moon and a swath of sparkling stars. The night was very well lit.
    He had to ask directions to the particular stable where Alpha had been taken, and was told by one of the marshals “’tis the low yonder one, on the way passing the hawk mews.”
    Of course that direction put him in mind once again of Lady Judith, and as he strode toward the stable, he wondered if she kept any of her raptors with her at court. Or if she even hunted any longer. And he wasn’t certain why he continued to think of her.
    “Malcolm?”
    The voice interrupted his thoughts, bringing him to a sharp standstill.
    “Lord Warwick?”
    As if he’d conjured her up with all of his musings, suddenly there was Lady Judith standing at the shadowy doorway to what was presumably the mews.
    “Lady Judith,” he said. All at once, he felt tense and uncomfortable, which irritated him even more than…well, than the whole idea of being here. Away from Warwick. And Violet.
    “My pardon, my lord, I shouldn’t have greeted you thus. Until this night, I didn’t realize you were Warwick now,” she said, stepping closer and into better light.
    “Good evening Lady Judith,” he said, pausing reluctantly. “It has been a long time since we’ve spoken.”
    “Aye,” she said, and from behind her, he heard movements inside the mews. “I’ll return in a moment, Tessing,” she called into the building.  
    Mal had a sense of relief she wasn’t out of the keep in the middle of the night without company. Still, if Tessing was the same falconer who’d worked with Judith at Kentworth, the man must be near sixty by now, hardly a deterrent to any drunk or rapacious man-at-arms who meant to cause mischief—or worse. “Where is your man?” he asked. “Are you here in the bailey alone?”
    “Alone but for my constant companion.” She produced a slender glint of metal in the form of a dagger. “And Tessing. As well as Sir Holbert. I’m not foolish enough to go about without him or Sir Piall, even in the king’s yard.”
    Mal nodded and realized his mind had gone irritatingly blank. He’d never had much to say to Judith—not that her busy tongue would have allowed him any opportunity to speak—and