A Lily on the Heath (Medieval Herb Garden 4)

“Ah, my lady, I did not look at the wench so very closely. ’Twas a simple question is all,” he said quickly. But Judith noticed he kept his gaze averted from his master.

“Very well, then,” she said. “Let us hunt!”

They had no dogs with them to roust out any prey, but Gambert offered to ride about in the meadow and act the part.

“First you scheme to keep my master-at-arms here at Clarendon, and now my squire is becoming a hound,” Mal said dryly to Judith. “Mayhap this hunt wasn’t my best decision. ”

She laughed up at him, catching herself from touching his arm just in time. He’s not Hugh, she had to remind herself. Not as loose or informal. But she surely enjoyed his company.

He was looking at her when she laughed, and their eyes met for a moment. His gaze was intense and warm, surprising her—and Judith’s mouth went dry. Her insides flushed with a sudden heat and she felt her heart trip a little.

Then abruptly he looked away. “Well, lady, shall we hunt or nay?”

A little unsettled by her strong reaction to Malcolm, Judith turned her attention to Gambert. He was galloping across the field in zig-zag formation as if he never wished to stop. Holbert helped her untie Hecate’s jesses, which was difficult to do with one hand.

Then she looked at Hecate and said, “Off!” She thrust her hand high and her falcon pushed up into the air. She felt the gentle dig from the raptor’s claws from the effort, thankful for the thick glove to protect her from being footed. She had enough scars on her other hand from irritated falcons.

“I never tire of watching them soar,” she murmured, looking up as her raptor circled the meadow, fast and high and free. And then without warning, Hecate dived. “Hie!” Judith cried, straining to see what had been flushed out. “A quail!”

Without being asked, Malcolm slung her back into her saddle and she kicked off, riding toward the bird and its prey. The others followed, and by the time she reached the area where Hecate had snatched at the quail, Mal was on Judith’s tail.

She dismounted quickly and whistled for her bird, who returned promptly to her fist. Judith took the piece of ra

w meat Holbert had readied for her, giving it to Hecate as a reward for her catch. The raptor must be rewarded immediately after catching its prey, or on the next time, the bird might eat it before Judith could be there.

They hunted for another hour, with Hecate finding a small rabbit, and Holbert’s falcon snatching up a squirrel and a vole.

“’Tis time to return, I trow,” Mal said, squinting up at the sun. “It has been a good hunt, my lady. ”

“Aye,” she replied, herself satisfied with the results. And the company. She cast him a look, acutely aware of the constant awareness she had of him. It was so different from how she felt around Hugh, when she teased and flirted. With Hugh, it was naught more than a way to pass time. But it was different with this sober man.

As they rode back, she and Mal led the way and the others fell behind. At first, they trotted along in silence. But after a short time, Judith’s curiosity got the better of her.

“And so…if you did not mean to hunt,” she asked as they neared the walls of Clarendon, “what brought you to the mews this morrow?”

He looked straight ahead. “I merely thought to see how your injuries were. And to share my sorrow over the loss of your mare. ”

“Ah. Thank you,” she replied. They rode in silence for a moment, then, ready to think about aught other than the loss of Crusty and Piall, Judith said, “I bethought you might wish to compare my list of potential wives to that of the queen’s. ” When he looked at her, startled, she added cheekily, “Beatrice of Delbring? Truly?”

Malcolm didn’t seem to know how to respond, for his face was filled with consternation and his cheeks turned ruddy.

“The queen—and I—believe you could make a better match. And although her majesty has included Gladys of Darvington and Winifred d’Alsineaux on her list of candidates, you have already been warned away from them by me, have you not? I cannot imagine you wishing to face either of them at table day after day for years, for they are both miserable and unhappy women. ”

“The lady doesn’t have to smile at me in order to fulfill the role of a wife,” he commented.

“Verily ’tis true, my lord, but why not choose a wife who is at the least pleasing to converse with as well as one who is wealthy and fertile?” Judith knew she was speaking boldly, but as ever, her tongue had a mind of its own. “’Tis fortunate for you the queen shall never allow me to wed and leave her side, or you must needs find a reason to strike even me off your list of possible wives. ” She forced herself to laugh merrily.

If she’d hoped Mal would have said aught about finding no reason to strike her off his list, or even express some token dismay that she wasn’t eligible to wed, Judith was bound to be disappointed, for he remained stoically silent. So she rattled on, inducing her tones to remain bright and cheery. “Now, Lady Ursula would be a fine choice. And though she has moments of cloud-headedness—and who among us does not—she is amusing to converse with. Her estate is fine, and best of all,” she added mischievously, “she has seen you training in the yard. ”

“Of what import is that?” Mal demanded, glancing back as if to see whether his squire had heard. But Gambert was well behind them, talking with Sir Nevril and Sir Holbert. The open gate to Clarendon was just ahead.

“Why, she has been swooning and exclaiming over your…uhm…prowess with the sword,” Judith told him with great innocence. “Her cheeks turn pink whenever someone mentions your name. And ere I told her about your skill fighting off an entire pack of mad dogs, she has asked me many times to re-tell the tale—each with more detail than on the last telling. I’ve had to describe how you leapt from the seat of your horse and allowed Alpha to run off in order to save him, even though I was not witness to that particular performance. ”

By now, Malcolm’s face was more than ruddy and his features had tightened. “By the rood, how your tongue ever wags, Lady Judith,” he said grimly. “The next I know, Duchante himself will be singing ballads of my supposed feats. ”

“But my Lord Warwick, how can that be a bad thing?” Judith teased as they clattered over the drawbridge into the bailey. She must keep her words jesting, for if she thought too closely about what she said, she might begin to believe it herself. “Methinks garnering the rapt attention of the ladies when one is in search of a wife can only be a happy occurrence. ”

“I care not whether a maid moons over me or nay,” Malcolm said with stiffness in his tones. “’Tis her lands and the dowry she brings, not how the lady looks at me. ”