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Edlyn laughed, a carefree trill that sounded quite unlike her normal merriment. “You are too diplomatic, my man.” Plucking Hugh’s sleeve between two fingers as if he were a slug she disdained, she said, “Step back and I’ll take him to Richard.”

“Richard?” Hugh rumbled. “You call that blackguard by his given name?”

With a slight tug, she urged him forward. “I call him as he wishes. I do whatever he wishes. I told him of my skill in storytelling, and he wishes to hear a story this night.”

Hugh didn’t hear the significant note in her voice. He only heard I do whatever he wishes, and he snarled, “If he wishes your tongue to entertain him in private ways, will you rush to do that, too?”

The knights and yeoman who lined the tables heard him and started to laugh, until she slapped him. Once, hard, across the face.

Silence fell again, an amazed and anticipatory silence this time, and everyone waited to see the direction his anger would lead him.

It led him nowhere. He was blank. Stunned. She’d hit him. Edlyn had hit him, and he would have sworn this woman never hit anyone, ever, as long as she lived.

So why…?

“I hate stupid men,” she said.

Stupid. He’d been stupid. She’d been telling him something, and his jealousy had led him astray.

Bending his head in apology, he worked to recall the bent of her conversation, and after drawing a breath, he said, “You’re going to tell a story.”

A tension relaxed in her. It told him she had a message to impart, if only he would listen.

“Richard wants me to entertain him with one of my famous tales of yore, and I have assured him I will so fascinate him and all the men they will be captivated”—she glared at him meaningfully—“and helpless.”

Richard vaulted up and over to them before Hugh could reply. He picked up her hand and kissed it. “Are you scheming to escape, my lady?”

She stared around the great hall, filled with brigands, thieves, and blood-thirsty mercenaries. “Escape? Not even my lord is strong enough to battle this army alone.”

“I’m glad you realize it.” Turning to Hugh, Richard clapped his hand on his shoulder. “My friend! Welcome to my castle.”

Hugh didn’t know how to respond, and he didn’t like it. If he answered in a civil manner, Richard would be pleased, for it would be a tacit acknowledgement of his illegal possessions. Yet to spit in his eye would endanger Edlyn and his men.

Richard understood Hugh’s dilemma, and he reveled in it. His bright white teeth flashed, highlighted by the sooty beard that covered his face, and Hugh hated him anew. Lifting the hem of his surcoat, now dank and dirty, Hugh said, “Your welcome is one I will always remember.”

“Next time,” Richard said, “dress a little better.”

Edlyn got between them so quickly Hugh didn’t even have time to raise his fist. “Lads. This is a civilized meal, remember!”

The only satisfaction Hugh got in bridling his anger was seeing Richard’s expression when he realized he’d been addressed in that motherly, admonishing tone Edlyn used so effectively.

“Get used to it,” Hugh advised.

Richard showed a flash of boyish defiance before turning an enchanting smile on Edlyn. “I do as you command, my lady. I’ll even bring the offal up out of the dungeon.”

“If you kept your dungeons cleaner, you wouldn’t have to worry about offal.” She crushed his pretensions with a snap. “Now be civil.”

Hugh noted a swollen purple bump on Richard’s forehead on the fringe of his bangs that hadn’t been there earlier. Was that how Edlyn taught him respect? And what had Richard done to deserve such treatment? The two men exchanged glares, each wishing the other would break the bonds she had set on them and attack.

Then they noticed Edlyn had walked away. They leaped after her, each competing for her attention, but she ignored them until she reached the head table. There she waited, regally indifferent, as they struggled to pull out her bench. She sat, then they sat, one on either side of the only noble lady in the room.

They might have remained locked in silence, but Edlyn leaned away from Hugh. “You have a greater stench than Almund at his ripest.” She turned to Richard. “I’m not eating next to him while he smells this way.”

Richard leaned around her and grinned. “You heard the lady. Move.”

Hugh could scarcely comprehend her impertinence. “You want me to leave you here at the table with this thief?”

She waved her hand. “Just move back a little so the odor’s not quite so fresh.”