“M’lady,” her little maid was standing in the bedchamber door. “What… what do you wish to wear this night?”
Sheridan looked at the woman as if she had gone mad. But in the same breath, she knew that the king would be at the feast. If the king was there, then de Lara would also be there, and possibly even Alys. She had to go, no matter how much she did not want to.
“My white silk that Father brought from France,” she said. “I would wear the gold girdle with it.”
The maid fled to prepare the garment. It was the most expensive gown Sheridan owned, a magnificent white piece that hung off her shoulders with a wide, rounded neck, a long waistline, and huge belled sleeves. Gold and white embroidery lined the neckline, edge of the sleeves, and the entire hemline of the gown. It was, in a word, spectacular. For some reason, she wanted to look her best tonight. One must always look their best when challenging the king.
She dressed carefully. The Gardenia oil she had purchased that day was used liberally. She left her long, silken hair unbound and flowing down her back in soft curls. Beeswax with a hint of ocher colored her lips. Gazing at herself in the polished bronze mirror, she saw someone different gazing back at her. It was hard to pinpoint, but somehow the reflection had matured. There was wisdom to the gaze, stiffness to the back that suggested an unwavering drive. She also realized, at that moment, that she would trade herself for Alys if she had to. Perhaps that was what she was attempting to do; strike a bargain with the man her father hated most. She wanted to make herself tempting. She hoped that Henry would forgive her.
There was a knock at the door. Snapped from her thoughts, Sheridan practically ran to the panel, throwing it open and fully expecting to see Jocelin and, hopefully, Neely and Alys too.Instead, her eyes widened with surprise and horror. Sean de Lara stood in the hall.
“You!” she gasped.
She tried to slam the door but Sean caught it before it could close. He wedged himself between the door and the frame as she struggled to shove it closed. He could have easily burst into the room, tossing Sheridan halfway across the floor in the process. But he simply held his ground.
“My lady,” he said steadily. “I come with news. Please let me in.”
She did something at that moment that she hadn’t done since her father’s passing. She unexpectedly burst into tears and Sean gently pushed the door open. She didn’t resist. He stepped in and shut the panel behind him.
He stood there a moment, watching her sob. She looked absolutely radiant in the white gown. He wanted very much to pull her into his arms and comfort her.
“Lady,” he said in a soft, gentle growl. “Please do not cry. There are things we must discuss.”
She looked at him, furiously wiping the tears from her eyes. “You… you told me to trust you and then you took my sister.”
He did put his hands on her, then. “I know,” he murmured, steering her towards the nearest chair. “I had to.”
She allowed him to seat her. He pulled up a stool from the hearth and sat in front of her. He gently took one of her hands into his great palm.
“Alys is fine,” he said. “She will see you at the feast tonight.”
She wiped a stray tear, her luminous eyes glimmering like a clear blue lake. “She… she is well? She is unharmed?”
He brought her hand to his mouth. “Aye,” his lips brushed against her flesh as he spoke. “She is quite well. She had an afternoon of sweets and conversation with the king.”
The tears faded and she experienced the sensation of his warm lips against her skin. It sent bolts of excitement through her veins. But his words garnered her focus at the moment. “Sweets and conversation?” she repeated. “But… I do not understand. Everyone knows that the king… when he sees a maiden he wishes, that he simply… or you.…”
He smiled, his lips still against her hand. It was as much as he dared do though he very much wanted to do more.
“That is why I asked you to stay in the merchant stall, for your own safety,” he said. “The king has not seen you yet. But he has seen Alys already. I am sorry for my methods, but it was imperative that I act as I did in order to keep her safe. Suffice it to say that she is untouched.”
Sheridan was still puzzled. “I do not understand any of this,” she muttered. “If she is well, why did you not bring her back to me? And what of Neely? Where is he?”
“Your captain is in the vault,” he replied. “I shall release him tomorrow. Other than an aching head, he too is well enough. But I have other news regarding the bishop.”
“Jocelin?” she said, her voice laced with panic. “What has happened to him?”
Sean took a long, deep breath. He had only just calmed her and did not want to upset her again, but he was forced to speak the truth. “The bishop came to the king’s apartments demanding Alys. I am afraid he was rather aggressive. I could not intervene, you understand. I was busy making sure that Alys did not come to harm.”
This time, she gripped his hand. It was the first time she had done so. Feeling her soft, warm fingers against his flesh was a sensation he’d not felt in years. He’d forgotten how much he’d missed it.
“What happened to him?” she asked softly. “Please tell me.”
“He is also in the vault.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “The king threw a man of the church in the vault?”
His reply was strangely impassive. “It is of little consequence. The king has a long history of contention with the Church. They cannot do any more to him than they already have.”