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.No woman so proud she disdained the fawnings of an earl could be less.“He hides the truth,” Hugh accused.Juliana folded her arms across her bosom.“What truth?”“I know not, but he’s more than a simple castle-builder.”Beside Raymond, Keir whistled under his breath and said, “Lord Hugh is too observant.”“I thought him a simple man.”“Simple, but not stupid,” Keir said, “and very determined to protect Lady Juliana to the best of his ability.”Raymond ignored him.The time of his own unveiling was months away.It would be springtime, at least, and by then…ah, by then, what? What were his plans? Without ever telling Juliana who he was, he had impressed her.Without knowing his reputation as a warrior, she’d trusted him with her precious daughters.Without actually seeing his credentials, she had trusted him with the building of her defenses.Without knowing his relationship to the king, without knowing about his family’s wealth, she’d come to like him.Without knowing his reputation as a lover, would she come to his bed?“I don’t like him, either,” Felix pronounced.Juliana turned on him, and asked sarcastically, “Why not, my lord?”Felix reddened under the collective fascinated gaze of everyone in the room.“He’s, ah, insolent.And he…he’s more than he appears to be.”Keir muttered, “And that lord is a mimicking moron.”Raymond nodded agreement, but he basked in her sweet defense.“Look at him!” Hugh leaped to his feet.“Look at him.He swoons like a moonstruck youth over the chance to lift your skirt, and if you believe any different, you’re a fool.”She did look.She looked, and in the tender appreciation of her gaze, all Raymond’s plans seemed nigh on to being fulfilled.“Sweet Saint Sebastian!” Hugh said.“You should see yourself.You look as moonstruck as he, for less reason.Do you think he sees you as some dream of love? Nay, he sees you as lands, as security, as an appetizing body.”Still she looked at Raymond, half smiling, relaxed, and from the place where Sir Joseph sat, hunched and malevolent, came an accusation.“She’d never pass the test of Saint Wilfrid’s needle.”Raymond and Keir exchanged a puzzled glance, and Keir asked, “What is Saint Wilfrid’s needle?”Juliana lifted her chin.“Only a chaste woman may pass through the narrow passage in Ripon cathedral called Saint Wilfrid’s needle.”“And you’ve proved you’re not a chaste woman,” Sir Joseph sneered.Goaded beyond sense, Hugh shouted, “You’re behaving like a whore!”The sweet spell was broken with the repetition of that word Sir Joseph had chosen as a label.Not Hugh’s grimace of apology, not Juliana’s disgusted exclamation could stop Raymond as he rose from his bench and stalked toward Hugh.“I’ll feed you those words until you choke on them.”Hand on his dagger, Hugh stepped forward.“Only a knight could fight me and win,” he said.“Are you a knight?”“Do you doubt I could fight you?”“I doubt you are a castle builder.I wonder where you learned this courage, developed those muscles, learned to move like”—Hugh cocked a brow—“a knight.”Juliana looked troubled.Keir cursed under his breath.Raymond gritted his teeth.“Mayhap Lady Juliana gives her trust too easily,” Hugh said, snarling.“My trust is none of your get,” Juliana retorted.“If you wish to fight, then fight someone who—”Layamon interrupted from the doorway.“M’lady?” He held a wet, shivering man in a traveller’s cloak beneath his hands.As Raymond watched, Layamon pushed the fellow forward.In English, he said, “Nary a word can I understand from this knave, but he keeps repeatin’ yer name an’ waving this letter.” He placed the paper in Juliana’s outstretched hand.“It has th’ king’s seal on it.”Juliana examined the seal and looked at the traveller who had been so roughly treated by her man-at-arms.“What language do you speak?” she asked in Norman French, and was rewarded by a babble of heavily accented, rapid Poitevin French.“My lady.” The traveller fell to his knees.“My lady.” He kissed her hands.“I have been treated ill by that peasant.” He tossed his hood back, and his jowls jiggled in Gallic indignation.“He said he didn’t understand me, but he proves he can speak a civilized tongue to you.” With a large, white cloth, he dabbed at his damp forehead and wiped his mustache dry.“’Tis nothing more than part of the travails of journeying through such a barbaric land.If the king had not insisted, I would not have come at all.” He mopped his cheeks.“Or at least not until spring.” Hindered by his kneeling position, he produced a half-bow.“But of course King Henry was most insistent, and when he told me of your beauty and charm, he did not exaggerate.”He tried to kiss Juliana’s hands again, and she seized the chance to speak.“I don’t understand.Why did King Henry send you to me?”Surprised, he gestured.“You asked for me.”Raymond’s heart sank.“I asked King Henry for no one.No one except—” Her gaze swung to Raymond and back to the portly man at her feet.She leaned down, peered into his eyes, and asked, “Who are you?”“I?” The excitable Poitevin touched his hand to his chest.“I? I am Papiol.” He struck a pose and lifted a finger into the air.“I am the greatest master castle-builder in all of the kingdom!”7Juliana stared at the jowled, expressive face of the stranger who called himself the king’s master castle-builder.She watched him gesture, she saw his lips move.She knew he was speaking, but she couldn’t hear him.She could only hear Sir Joseph, cackling with evil amusement.Somewhere inside her, hurt throbbed like an untended tooth.Somewhere inside her, tears welled for the poor, silly woman who’d trusted a man and been betrayed yet again.But she didn’t feel the hurt or cry the tears, for all she experienced was anger.She could taste it, feel it roil in her veins, smell the fire and brimstone it engendered.Absolute fury shook her.She formed the words carefully, like a drinker who’d overindulged in potent wine.“Who did you say you were?”The man kneeling before her stopped gesturing, stopped speaking, stared as if she’d run mad.“I am Papiol, the king’s master castle-builder.”He spoke with the deliberation of one speaking to an idiot, but she wasn’t offended.“Which king?” she demanded.“My lady?” Papiol mopped nervously at his neck with the well-plied cloth.“For which king are you master castle-builder?”The bulging brown eyes bulged even more.“Why, for our sovereign liege, King Henry.” Still on his knees, Popiol inched away.“May his line prosper.”“If you are the king’s master castle-builder, then who is that?” She pointed at Raymond.“My lady, I am not acquainted with any of the courtiers who surround you.” Papiol paled when she glared at him.“Just tell me if you have ever seen his leering, lying, deceitful face before [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]