“I’m glad you do.”Talontapped a finger on his cup of cider.“Because I don’t.I understandyou wanting her under her master’s protection while she’s alidi, but what’s theadvantage you see in my protection specifically?”
Sophie sat back and pursed her lips.“Count Nithard fears me.But his son, Ranulf, does not.Despite hisfoolish bragging, he does fear you, the strength of your sword.That is the advantage I see in your protection.”
“What’s the cause of thetrouble between Lara and Ranulf?”He dreaded the answer.“Was it alove affair gone wrong?”
“Love?”Sophie barked.“Ranulf doesn’t know how to love anything or anybody but himself,just like his father.”
She stood and rummaged through herbaskets, leaving him as unsatisfied with her answer as he was withhis own imaginings over what Lara and Ranulf’s relationship hadbeen.He drained his cider, and Sophie set a vial of love potion onthe table along with several packets of dried herbs.
“Measure out a spoonful ofherbs for each cup of boiling water, then stew it until it coolsenough to drink.”She pushed the packets over.“Most men I wouldtell to drink a cup before retiring, but you, you should drink two.And soak in a hot bath each night, as hot as you can standit.”
Talon picked up a packet and sniffedit.“What’s in it?”
Sophie laughed.“Do you never imbibeanything you don’t know the contents of?”
“Not if I can helpit.”
“It’s feverfew for theache in your head and neck, nettle and dandelion to reduce theswelling, spearmint for the palate, and valerian and calendula toinvite slumber.”
Talon pocketed the herbs and eyed thevial of love potion as if it were poison.He stood, and Wolftrotted back into the house and looked up at Talon, his tonguelolling.But still no Lara.Why wouldn’t she even come out to greethim, a guest in her house?
“Wolf,” he asked thehound, “where’s Lara?”
The dog walked over to the cellardoor, which creaked and then squeaked as he stood next to it, tailwagging.Talon gave Sophie an accusing glare and then picked up thevial of potion and stuffed it into his pocket.“Madam,” he saidwith a stiff bow of his head.“I do thank you.”
***
Talon’s head pounded and his neckseized every time he turned his head.He had no stomach for hissupper, which had Berta flapping over him like a wet hen.She tskedat his half-eaten bowl of stew and said something in Anglbert’s earthat caused the graybeard to pull on it as he peered at Talon.Phillipe spoke into Anglbert’s other ear, the two of them grinningand whispering and chuckling until Talon pushed his bowl aside andstood.
“Madam.”He ignored thebraying asses across the table.“I’m retiring to my chamber.Havethe maidservants fill my tub, hot as a man can stand it, and leavea pot of steaming water on the table.”
“Of course, Captain.”Shebobbed her head.“I’ll see to it at once.”
“Good.”He glared at hisso-called friends.“Then you can talk of me all you want.”And maybe mylidiwill come out of hiding.He glanced over at the kitchen door, through which Larahadn’t walked once this evening, though it was part of her dutiesto help serve supper.He considered that he was her master andcould have commanded her to do so, then he touched his hand to hisaching head.He’d bled enough today.
The maidservants filled the tub,eyeing him and giggling every time they walked past with theirbuckets of steaming water as he sat at the table, letting his teabrew.Once they were gone, he drank one full cup of a brew that wasbitter at first taste and then sweet by the first swallow, theeasing warmth sliding down his throat and into his belly andleaving a minty taste on his tongue.Drink by drink, swallow byswallow, the knots in his gut and neck began to loosen.He sat backand closed his eyes to a pair of big, hazel cat eyes fringed withthick, dark lashes smiling at him.
“Damned.”He straightened,poured his second cup of tea, and downed it as quickly as possiblewithout burning his tongue or throat.Then he stood and strippedand stepped into the tub, lowering his tight, aching body into thewelcoming heat of the water.“Cursed and damned.”
Grabbing a drying cloth, he rolled itup and set it on the tub’s edge and laid the back of his head onit.He closed his eyes and tried to relax and enjoy the envelopingheat, but still those smiling cat eyes danced around his mind alongwith the constant question of how much Lara had heard of hisconversation with Sophie, and how much she’d understood.He soakedand mooned a while longer, but still had no answers, so he sat upand then slowly peeled the bandage from his head and dunked underthe hot water, wincing as his cut stung.He soaped, rinsed, andsoaked until the worst of the soreness had left his back andshoulders and his head had stopped pounding and merely ached, thenhe stood and dried himself and put on a clean under tunic and pairof linen breeches.He was sitting at the table, wondering whetherto drink a third cup of the tea Sophie had told him to only drinktwo of, when a soft knock came on the door.
“Enter.”
Lara carried a kettle in one hand anda basket in the other.She set the basket full of clean linenbandages down on the table, then poured steaming water from thekettle into the washbasin before setting it down on the table.Shepulled a chair out and sat on it so she was almost knee to kneewith Talon, eyeing the cut above his brow while Talon studied her,the arch of her brows, the high cut of her cheekbones, the finenessof her pores, and the fullness of her lips.Sophie’s tea must havebeen working, because he was content to sit and stare, to watch herstrangely shy smile and concerned gaze as she dipped a cloth in thewashbasin, wrung it out, folded it up, and gently pressed it to hiswound.
“How does your head feel?”she asked.
“Like the Black sat onit.”
“He just about did.”Shegave a quick grin, making Talon think he should have drunk thatthird cup after all.
She removed the wet compress, thengently probed the area around his cut with her fingertip, hertantalizing fragrance of rose soap and earthy woman teasing hissenses.She lowered her hand, and Talon sucked in a breath ofcleansing air as she left the table to rummage through her bag andpull a tub out.She returned to the table with the tub of linimentshe’d smeared on his cut in the stables and opened it.
“Willem told me you andPatience have been friends since you were very young.”He tried todistract himself from her nearness.
“Aye.”She smeared afingerful of ointment over his wound.“Since the day we met at oneyear of age.”
“She’s Berta’sdaughter?”