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He winced away from Edlyn’s unexpectedly brisk hand as she applied salve to his broken nose. “And what do you intend to do with me?” she asked.

He looked startled.

“You never thought beyond tonight, did you?” She grabbed him by the ear and twisted it. “I’m nothing but a thing to use to even the score—whatever that score is—with my lord Hugh.”

“Ouch,” Richard said. “Ouch, ouch, ouch.” His voice rose in a crescendo as he slid off the bench and onto the floor trying to escape her cruel hand.

Hugh had never seen her look more magnificent. Lit by the flame of fury, she incited worship, like a goddess from the old religion.

Richard had needed this kind of discipline for years, and Hugh cackled when he heard Richard whimper.

A mistake.

Edlyn let Richard go and rounded on Hugh. “If you think that’s funny, wait until I clean your wounds.”

“I am well.” Hugh’s jaw ached and the skin over his ribs—that newly healed wound—rang like a church bell, but his eye throbbed the worst. Cupping his hand, he covered it. “I am well!”

She pried his hand away and gazed at the magnificent bruise. “Put your head in a bucket of water. It’ll take down the swelling.”

She walked back to the head table, and no one stepped in her way.

“If you do that, you’ll drown.” Richard spoke from his place under the bench.

Hugh stared down at his nemesis, brought low by a lady’s hand. “And you wanted to own her.”

“She goes with you.” Richard chuckled and crawled to his feet. “She can’t be an easy woman to live with.” He scratched his chin. “Especially if…”

His voice trailed off, but he got such an expression of fiendish delight on his face that Hugh clutched. What was Richard up to now?

With a speculative glance at first Hugh, then Edlyn, Richard took his place beside Edlyn at the head table. Hugh was braced for disaster, but although he observed them closely, he saw nothing untoward in Richard’s behavior. They ate from the same trencher but never touched. They spoke but never smiled. They might have been miserably married for years, for all the coolness they showed each other, and Hugh found himself pitying Richard of Wiltshire.

Halfway through the meal of venison culled from the king’s forest, Edlyn rose and from beneath the table drew a lute. Every eye observed her as she strode into the center of the great hall and strummed a note. All conversation died, and Hugh thought the thieves waited almost nervously for Edlyn’s next move.

She strummed again, then played a dramatic series of notes. “On the request of my host, I tell the tale of Fulk Fitzwarin the outlaw.”

Not that tale! Hugh wanted to shout. Anything but that one. He didn’t need Richard and his men encouraged in their struggle against the king’s authority.

But as her sweet, low voice began the tale, Richard’s men leaned forward, prepared to listen to the tale of the outlaw so like themselves.

It seemed Edlyn knew what she was doing.

Moving slowly, careful not to draw attention to himself, Hugh slipped back into the shadows, prepared to grasp what weapons he could and steal the others. Edlyn might be irritated with him, but she needed him to save her from the fate that awaited her.

Slowly, accompanied by occasional dramatic strummings on the lute and an innate sense of drama, Edlyn spun the story of Fulk Fitzwarin and his mighty struggle against evil King John. She told how he lost his birthright through treachery.

Hugh slipped sword after sword from the scabbards that rested on the floor beside each mesmerized knight.

She told how Fulk always maintained the highest standards and never robbed except from the king.

Hugh picked up a carving knife from one of the platters of meat.

She told how Fulk married the lovely and gracious Lady Matilda to save her from King John’s lecherous intentions.

Hugh found a shield propped up against the wall and hid his stockpile of weapons beneath it. Then he grasped the sword and dagger he’d chosen as his own. He would attack at a propitious moment—but first he wanted to hear about the deliverance of Sir Ardulf. It was his favorite part.

The men around Hugh forgot to eat, they forgot to scratch, they forgot to fart. They did nothing but stare at Edlyn as she jerked their heartstrings. They laughed when she described how Fulk used the king’s fine cloth to make outfits for merchants, then sent the men to the king to thank him for his generosity. They held their breaths when she described Fulk’s daring rescue of his brother. They cried when two of his faithful followers fell to the king’s arrows.

They listened to the end, so intent on Edlyn’s tale they were transported through time and space to walk in the shoes of noble Fulk Fitzwarin.