Chapter Nineteen

T he king and his entourage were not expected until the following afternoon and already Hawkspur was brimming with people. Alyce slipped into the great hall unnoticed while everyone's attention was on a pair of men juggling empty tankards between them. She leaned against the wall near the door at the rear of the hall to watch the festivities and rest for a few moments after a long day. The room erupted into cheers each time someone guzzled down the contents of another tankard and handed it to one of the men to add to the dizzying swirl of silver cups flying in circles between them.

Alyce had spent the last two days working with the servants and cooks to ensure all was ready for the arrival of King Edward, Queen Eleanor, the king's army, and the queen's attending ladies. Word had traveled quickly about their impending arrival, hence the reason the hall was packed with the curious, the fortune seekers, and the hopeful. Everyone here wanted an audience with the king and queen for their own personal gain in one way or another; some just to be in the same room as the royal couple, some hoping to fill their purses with silver in return for their skills as entertainers, and others looking to improve their political positions.

Alyce wished she could avoid the king and queen completely and hide away in her bedchamber with Ffyddlon—whom she had banished to her room after tripping over the hound for the hundredth time in her hurry to get everything done. But now was not the time to disappear like a coward, despite the heavy stone of fear that had settled into her stomach.

She'd sat with Cynwulf alone in his solar this morning as he explained to her again how his desire to know the man who was his sire had led to getting caught up in his rebellion. He'd not meant for it to go this far, but by the time he realized Daffydd's true intent, he was in too deep. He'd told his sire that he would not participate in an insurrection against the king, but those most loyal to Daffydd explained to Cynwulf how easy it would be to implicate him if he did not continue to produce the information they requested. They even suggested that Geoffrey's death may not have been a random act, but rather a warning.

The only answer Cynwulf had when she asked what he planned to do next was a shrug of his shoulders. Alyce had mulled over the situation all day as she worked, intent on developing a list of options to discuss with her brother. But the day was nearly done, and she hadn't thought of even one idea to remedy the situation.

The jugglers were pushed beyond the limit of tankards they could successfully keep tossing between them, and the crowd burst into laughter and applause as the cups rained down on the wooden floor. Each juggler managed to end the show with one tankard in hand, which they clinked together with bravado, then bowed to the spectators with a flourish and proceeded to walk through the crowd collecting coins of appreciation.

She was about to take her leave when a large figure settled against the wall next to her. She knew without turning her head that it was Hawk and her heart started to beat faster as she breathed in the aroma of leather, sweat, and something that was wonderfully warm and uniquely him.

Was it worrisome that she could pick out Hawk from a crowd of men by his scent? She tried to remember what Geoffrey had smelled like, but she couldn't recall ever noticing a scent that was uniquely his own.

Before Hawk arrived, people had been crowded in around her, bumping her with their elbows as they drank and laughed. With Hawk standing at her side, the crowd had edged away from them.

"It has happened again, my lord," Alyce said with a smirk, still not turning her head to look at him.

"What is that, my lady?"

Alyce felt the gooseflesh rise on her arms at the low, seductive rumble of his voice. "The crowd moving aside just because of your presence. What is it about your face that makes people scurry away from you in fear?" She said the last with a teasing smile.

He chuckled deep in his chest. "I can't tell you, but I hope it never changes. I don't like most people."

Alyce laughed and turned toward him, a witty remark about his rude behavior on her tongue, but the words froze on her lips when she looked into his eyes. He was staring down at her so intently, it took her breath away. For several heartbeats, the raucous laughter and talking in the hall faded away and it seemed there was no one else in the room but the two of them.

He leaned closer to her and said in a whisper, "But I like you, Alyce."

Her hair was pulled back into a long braid to keep it out of her way as she worked, with a square of linen held in place at the top of her head by a silver circlet, leaving her ears and neck exposed. She gulped at the sensation of his warm breath tickling against her skin.

It took her a long moment to regain her sense. "You are a dangerous man, Hawk. And if I seem to forget that fact, I expect you to do the honorable thing and remind me." Her voice had a teasing tone that she could not seem to suppress. In truth, it felt good to forget the seriousness of her life for a few moments and play the game of seduction with a handsome man.

He quirked an eyebrow. "And if I don't do the honorable thing?"

His words came out as a low growl that sent shivers down Alyce's spine. She bit her lip and steeled her nerve. Hawk was a pleasant diversion, but she must not forget he was also a complication in her current situation.

Janet emerged from the buttery carrying a tray filled with tankards of ale and cups of wine, and Alyce held up a hand to get her attention, waving her over.

"How is little Henry?" she asked, taking a tankard and cup from the tray, hoping her smile did not look as awkward as it felt.

Janet's eyes widened, and she stuttered for a flustered moment before replying, "He is well. Thank you for asking, my lady."

"Thank you for the drink," Alyce said handing the tankard to Hawk before taking a sip of the wine. Janet bobbed her head as others started to reach for the remaining drinks on her tray and she disappeared into the impatient crowd.

Alyce could feel Hawk's eyes on her, and she waited for him to say something. When a long moment passed without comment, she tipped her head and slanted her eyes at him. His only acknowledgment was to nod once and clink his tankard against her cup. She breathed out a long sigh, pleasantly surprised that some of the tension in her neck had eased.

A rich, melodic, baritone voice filled the hall, and a hush fell over the crowd. A bard had climbed atop one of the trestle tables and started to sing a familiar tune. He was a familiar face to many in the hall and a favorite of the traveling minstrels who regularly passed through Hawkspur.

Alyce had never given a second thought to the fact that the bard was Welsh and many of his ballads were about legends from his homeland. She'd always loved the tales, but on the eve of the king's arrival amid escalated fighting with the Welsh rebels, she worried his presence would not be welcome.

Tomorrow, she decided, she would ask Cynwulf to give the bard a purse of silver and send him on his way. Best not to add any more tension while the king was at Hawkspur.

Hawk angled his body toward Alyce and leaned a shoulder against the wall. "What does the bard sing about?"

Keeping her attention on the bard, she tipped her head toward Hawk. "'Tis a Welsh tale about a woman who emerges from a lake and the man who falls in love with her."

"It is a story you like?" Hawk asked, his breath tickling her ear as he spoke.

Alyce turned to face Hawk, contemplating his words. "I like stories, and I like this particular bard's voice. I had not thought much about whether I like this particular story."

"What is not to like about stories of love?" Hawk's intent gaze heated her cheeks. It felt oddly intimate to be talking of love with this man, even if only in the context of a bard's ballad.

"Love is kinder to some than to others." She held her head a little higher after she said it, feeling victorious that the admission did not fill her with bitterness or self-pity. The revelation brought a small smile to her lips. She was stronger than she realized, than she allowed herself to believe.

An unexpected surge of pride washed over her. As a girl, she had been taught to be humble, modest about accomplishments, and self-deprecating. But those were not qualities of people who were bold.

And she needed to be bold now more than ever, lest the actions of her brother and the decisions of her king determine a future for her not to her liking.

Feeling lighter, she turned back toward the bard, a genuine smile on her face. "Yes, I do like this story."

*

Hawk watched in fascination as Alyce's entire body seemed to come alive. He'd seen men come back from near defeat when others thought them finished. They'd rise up out of the mud and blood on a battlefield, shoulders back, head high, looming larger than before they were knocked down. It was as though something they had kept buried deep in their souls until that moment was suddenly found, and the men facing them braced themselves for a new and tormenting strength that would not be easily put down.

He had no idea what had brought about this change in Alyce, but the shift was almost palpable. Her cheeks were flushed, and there was an energy radiating from her. He felt like he'd just emerged from the darkness of a cave into the powerful heat of the sun, and he wanted more of it.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was gingerly picking up a tendril of hair hanging loosely over her shoulder. Her head turned slightly toward him when his fingers grazed the material of her gown. She was not adorned in any of her finery, but rather in a modest, dark tunic more suited for hard work. He noticed the smudge of dirt just under her jawline and had to stop himself from leaning down to kiss her there.

He trailed a finger along the sensitive skin on her neck, remembering the smell and feel of her when she'd let him kiss her on the parapet. At least a sennight had passed since then, but the memory of the scent and taste of her had plagued his thoughts every night since then. He wanted to kiss her again.

And more.

One night to satisfy his curiosity and purge her from his thoughts.

"You will cause a scandal, my lord," Alyce said in a low, sultry whisper that had Hawk thinking about throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her out of the hall to a secluded place. She turned her face toward him. "You forget your duty, sir, and the king arrives tomorrow. Should you not be fulfilling your mission instead of seducing me where anyone can see you?"

The revelers in the hall were singing along with the bard or swaying back and forth with their arms thrown over the shoulders of their companions. A few curious people turned furtive glances at the Lady of Hawkspur and Hawk. He stopped stroking the side of her neck, but he let his fingers skim lightly over the back of her arm as he lowered his hand back to his side.

"We are ready for the king. My men know what to do," Hawk said, glancing to where Red and Hunter stood with several of his other soldiers. He knew they were watching Cynwulf's every move and would not let him out of their sight. And if Alyce's brother tried to leave the castle, they would send word immediately.

Alyce turned to look in the direction of his men, then toward her brother. The tension returned to her face, and he felt an unfamiliar twisting in his gut.

Was he feeling guilty?

He pushed the thought aside. Cynwulf's troubles were of his own making, and there was nothing he or Alyce could do to save him.

She looked down at her hands as she twisted the end of her braid between her fingers. As though realizing what she was doing, she let go of her hair and stilled her nervous hands. She lifted her chin to look him in the eye. "If you think seducing me will help your mission, you will be sorely disappointed."

"If anything, it will hurt my mission," Hawk said, then sighed. "Yet here I am."

He didn't want her to think he was using her for his own gain. The truth of the matter was seducing her was more dangerous to him than it was to Cynwulf. The more time he spent with Alyce, the harder it was for him to remain objective about what he must do to complete his mission. He had wracked his brain trying to determine if there was a way to save Cynwulf, but he knew it was too late. What Hunter had heard when he followed him to his clandestine meeting in the Welsh forest was incriminating enough to get him hanged as a traitor.

Still, Hawk felt like his insides were being gnawed by rats every time he thought about what it would do to Alyce to see her brother arrested and punished.

"I have no power to hurt your mission," she said. The warrior goddess he'd seen only a few moments before was retreating, her face becoming guarded as she shrank away from him.

He wasn't ready for her to go. "That's not true. You have the power to bring me to my knees."

She didn't say anything for a long moment while she stared at him. Her expression was bland, unreadable, and Hawk feared he had offended her with his unexpected honesty. Hell, he'd even surprised himself with his honesty.

"You shouldn't say that, Hawk." Her tone was so soft he almost didn't hear her over the singing of the bard and the murmuring of the crowd. "I might believe you."

There was a vulnerability in the way her brows drew together, creating a small crease in her forehead that he wanted to soothe with his thumb. At the same time, there was a fire in her eyes that Hawk felt certain was lust.

The hall burst into applause and shouts of appreciation as the bard finished the ballad, the sound startling Alyce. She looked away from him and Hawk cursed silently, thinking he'd lost her.

She pushed away from the wall to step around him in the direction of the doorway, but as she passed by him, the back of her hand brushed against his in what felt like a lingering caress. Hawk felt the blood rush through him, just as it did when he was about to claim victory on the battlefield.

The thought crossed his mind that the touch wasn't intended, a misjudgment when she passed by him. But as he watched her leave, she paused in the doorway and looked back over her shoulder at him before disappearing.

Victory.

There was no misreading the sultry slant to her eyes or the seductive curve of the barely-there smile on her lips. At that moment, he couldn't think of anything sexier or more alluring than shy Lady Alyce giving in to her desires.

Hawk slipped out behind her while the crowd was distracted by the bard as he bowed from his place on top of the table and held out his cap to catch the offerings of tossed coins.

The small corridor to the solar was lit only by the light from the hall, and he could clearly see it was empty. He turned his head to look up the spiraling staircase, and there she was, standing on the second stair, waiting for him.

She continued up the stairs and he followed her until they were out of sight of any prying eyes below. He nearly toppled over when she stopped suddenly, turning into him to wrap her arms around his neck and press her lips to his. She stood one step above him, and Hawk had to tip his head back slightly to deepen the kiss, which he did eagerly.

She pulled back to look into his eyes. "I want just a little while of not thinking about kings, missions, or rebellions. Can you give me that?"

"No, my lady." He kissed her hard to chase away the crestfallen expression on her face. He smiled against her lips, pulled her body against his, and growled, "A little while will not do. I want all night."