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  The questions Alyx asked were about the camp people, questions she should have known the answers to, since she’d lived with them for months. But she felt like an outsider.

  “They won’t be easy to win,” Jocelin said. “They have many grudges against you. Blanche has blamed many problems on you.”

  “Blanche!” Alyx said, sitting up straight. Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place.

  “Blanche was the woman who caused Constance’s death. How else would she have known about Edmund Chatworth? You must hate Blanche.”

  “I am through with hating.” He stood. “Would you like to see Rosamund? If you want to help the people, she can tell you how to start.”

  Alyx wasn’t prepared for the changes in Rosamund. Her eyes shone so brightly when she looked at Jocelin that the birthstain on her cheek almost disappeared. Joss’s eyes were no less bright.

  “Alyx would like to help you,” he said in a soft, sweet voice, taking Rosamund’s hand.

  Rosamund gave Alyx a tolerant smile that made Alyx stiffen her back, and she thanked heaven for Judith’s training.

  “I’m sure we can find something for you to do,” Rosamund said in her soft voice.

  It took Alyx a week to make Rosamund realize she meant business. During that time Alyx worked early and late and no job was beneath her. She washed and bandaged running sores. She delivered a child to a woman eaten with the French pox and when the blind baby died, she buried it; no one else would touch the poor thing. She sang to an old woman who screamed incoherently at ghosts only she could see.

  “Her ladyship’s doin’ us low ones a favor,” a man said to her as she went through the dark to her tent. “Afraid to dirty her hands, she was, and now nothin’s dirty enough for her. But I don’t see Raine bowin’ before her.”

  In her tent, Alyx put her hands to her temples. Her head ached from noises and ugly smells. The sick allowed her to touch them, but the healthy people ignored her except to taunt her. And as for Raine, she rarely even saw him.

  “Did you come here to win Raine or these diseased scum?” Joan asked frequently.

  “Raine,” Alyx had whispered, rubbing her temples. Now the tent was empty, Joan obviously sleeping somewhere else. Alyx wasn’t used to having servants and was a failure at controlling Joan. Seeing that the water buckets were empty, Alyx grabbed them and went to the river.

  Kneeling at the bank she looked about her, at the sparkling surface of the water, broken diamonds in the moonlight. A sound made her turn and her heart leaped to her throat at the sight of Raine, his big body—a body she knew so well—blocking the moon.

  “Have you proven what you wanted?” he asked quietly, his voice as smooth and hard as steel. “Did you expect to bandage one nasty wound and the people would fall at your feet in gratitude? They are better judges of people than I am.”

  “And pray tell me what that means,” she said, aghast.

  “You are a good actress. Once I believed you were . . . honest, but I learned the hard way. I hope they do not fall as far as I did.”

  She stood, hands into fists at her side. “Spare me your self-pity,” she said through her teeth. “Poor Lord Raine lowered himself to fall in love with a commoner, and then when she did her best to save him from the King’s wrath, he knew at once she’d overstepped her bounds.”

  Her voice rose. “I want to tell you something, Raine Montgomery. It doesn’t matter if these people do hate me. I damn well deserve it. And as for their falling at my feet, I don’t expect them to. At least they are the honest ones. You hold yourself up like some martyr and won’t listen to anyone. Instead you’d rather believe yourself wronged and to think that only you has a sense of honor.”

  “And what do you, a woman, know of honor?” he sneered.

  “Very little. In fact I know very little about anything except music. But at least I’m willing to admit I have faults. I have wronged these people, and I’m trying to right my wrong. You, my high lord, have wronged me—and your daughter whom you don’t even ask about.”

  “I have heard of her,” Raine said stiffly.

  Alyx let out a sound that ran across Raine’s skin like a steel rasp. “How big of you!” she spat. “The great, lordly Raine, lord of the forests, king of the outlaws, has heard of his own daughter.”

  She quietened. “I came here to win you back, but now I’m not sure I want you. Stay away from me. Take your cold honor to bed with you.”

  “There are other women willing to share my bed,” he said, eyes hard.

  “My pity goes to them,” Alyx forced out. “As for me, I prefer a different sort of man, one who is not so stiff and cold, one who is still alive.”

  She did not see his arm shoot out. He was always faster, stronger, than she remembered. His strong fingers bit into the back of her waist and as her eyes locked with his, he smiled slightly, humorously, as he pulled her close to him.

  Bending his head, his lips hovered above hers. “Cold, am I?” he said, and his voice sent chills down her spine.

  Some small part of Alyx’s brain could still reason. He meant to teach her a lesson, did he? she thought, as she stood on tiptoe and slipped her arms about his neck.

  When their lips touched, both of them drew in their breaths sharply and pulled away from each other, violet eyes staring into blue. Alyx blinked once, twice, before Raine’s mouth descended on hers with the hunger of a dying man. He straightened, his arms about her, and her feet came off the ground as he grabbed the back of her head in his strong hand and turned her head sideways. His tongue thrust inside her mouth, sending sparks so hot through her body that they seemed to burn away her strength. Her body went limp against his, allowing him to support her full weight.

  His lips began working against hers, pulling her closer, his hand massaging, kneading her head, his fingers playing with the muscles in the back of her neck.

  Alyx began to tighten her grip in her attempt to get nearer. Her legs moved upward until they were about his waist. She turned her head, taking the initiative as her tongue tangled with his, her teeth hard against his lips.

  The sound of approaching riders, many horses strong, came through to Raine’s sense of danger. Slowly, groggily, he came out of the red fog and roughly, angrily, set Alyx away from him.

  For a moment, his expression was soft; then it turned cold again. “Did you hope to entice me back to you?” he whispered. “Did you use the same weapons on Chatworth?”

  It took Alyx a moment to understand what he meant. “You are a fool, Raine Montgomery,” she said softly. “Does your hate override your love?” With that, she lifted her skirts, forgetting the water buckets at her feet, and turned back to camp. Behind her she heard Raine talking to the riders, his voice unnecessarily angry.

  Chapter Twenty

  FOR WHAT GOOD it is,” Joan was saying as she combed Alyx’s curls, “the people are less angry with you.” There was no congratulation in Joan’s voice. “When are you going to stop wasting your time and go after Lord Raine? We’ve been here two whole weeks and still he only glares at you. You should strip off your clothes and climb into bed with him.”

  “He’d gloat too much,” Alyx said, buttoning the purple wool of her sleeve. “I’ll not give him the satisfaction of winning so easily. He’s said some awful things to me.”

  At this, Joan laughed. “What does it matter what men say? They have brains only for killing each other. Put a sword in a man’s hand and he’s happy. A woman must work to teach him there are things in life besides war.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. Raine worries more about whether I have betrayed him than he does about how his child fares alone without its mother. Perhaps I should return to my Catherine and leave Raine to his brooding.”

  “Brooding is correct,” Joan said. “Did you know that he has slept with no woman since he returned from Lord Gavin’s?”

  Alyx’s smile started small and stretched very wide.

  “He loves you, Alyx,” Joan said softly.

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