Midsummer's Knight. Tori Phillips
again. Kat wondered if he was coming down with a cough. Perhaps Sondra could prepare an elixir for his sore throat.
“Permit me to introduce myself, my Lady Katherine.” Sir John arched one golden brow at the couple before him. “I am Sir John Stafford, gentleman groom of the king’s bedchamber.”
“Aye,” Miranda replied, not glancing at the speaker. She seemed to have lost herself in the depths of Sir Brandon’s blue eyes.
Get up, coz, and behave yourself. That is supposed to be my husband. Kat looked across the couple to Sir John. He shrugged his shoulders in reply. Though his motion seemed outwardly simple, he radiated a vitality that drew her like a dancing moth to a candle flames. Her heart bounced. That one was a rogue, she decided. Such an attraction would be perilous. Why couldn’t her betrothed have been Sir John? At least he didn’t talk in sugared subtleties.
. “The lady may find the noor—polished though ’tis to an enviable shine—to be a bit chill,” Sir John suggested. His golden eyebrows arched with meaning.
Kat caught herself admiring Sir John’s clean, straight jawline. She swallowed with difficulty.
“Your pardon, my lady.” Sir Brandon rose in one fluid motion, bringing Miranda up with him. “I was enraptured.”
“Has my...my cousin offered you some refreshment after your journey?” Miranda gripped Sir Brandon’s hand.
“Nay.” Sir John gazed boldly at Kat, which made her feel hot and cold at the same time. “But I am willing to take whatever refreshment she may offer.”
The very air crackled around Kat like lightning come to earth. The implication of his softly spoken words sent tingling waves of forbidden excitement crashing through her. Sir John’s eyes appeared to turn bluer as his gaze caressed her. Though the day was warm for May, a cluster of goose bumps sprouted along her arms. Angels in heaven! What was this churl insinuating? What an utterly improper, utterly rude, utterly...delicious idea! Impossible! I am fast losing my wits!
“I need no other refreshment, now that I am bathed in my lady’s eyes,” Sir Brandon murmured, drawing closer to Miranda, who, for her part, stood rooted to the floor tiles.
Kat tittered—something she had not done for almost two decades—and twisted a knot within the folds of her gown. “We do not often hear such goodly speech, as we live so far from the court.”
“I fear my friend may have overstepped his bounds at this first meeting, Mistress Miranda.” Sir John glared daggers at Sir Brandon’s back, as if to remind him of his manners. “Jack...jackanapes; Brandon! Mayhap the Lady Katherine would like to see the gift you have brought her?”
Sir Brandon dropped Miranda’s hand. “Forgive me, I pray you. I find myself most marvelously at sixes and sevens.” He drew out a red velvet pouch from inside his gold-embroidered doublet. With a brilliant smile, he held out the gift to Miranda. “For you, sweet lady, as a pledge of our betrothal.”
“You are too kind,” Miranda murmured. She almost let the bag slip between her trembling fingers. Glancing at Kat, she raised her eyebrow in question.
“Pray seat yourself, coz.” Kat pushed her toward the chair.
Clutching the bag to her breast, Miranda melted into the safety between the chair’s carved wooden arms.
“’Tis all the excitement of meeting such noble gentlemen,” Kat babbled to their guests. “It has quite overcome my lady.”
“That feeling is shared by one who desires to draw closer to her heart,” Sir Brandon replied with a flourish.
“God’s teeth!” muttered Sir John.
With shaking fingers, Miranda managed to untie the red tasseled cord and spread open the pouch. She lifted out a golden chain made up of dainty rose-shaped links. A swan, fashioned from a large freshwater pearl, its wings tipped with square-cut diamonds, dangled from a gold-and-pearl clasp at the center.
“Crickets!” Miranda gasped, holding up the jewel to catch a sunbeam.
“Sweet Saint Anne!” Kat exclaimed at the same time.
In the minstrels’ gallery, Columbine missed a note. The lute clattered to the fioor, then lapsed into silence.
“But I cannot accept such a gift as this!” Miranda’s green eyes glistened with a watery sheen as she glanced from Kat to Sir Brandon, then back to Kat.
“The necklace does not please you?” Sir Brandon shot a puzzled expression to his friend, then looked at Miranda once again. “You do not care for pearls—or swans?”
“Oh, aye, I love them both, but I...”
Kat gave Miranda’s shoulder a hard squeeze. “’Tis such a costly gift, my lord. We lead a very simple life here in the country. We do not often see the jeweler’s art at Bodiam. Indeed, I cannot recall when we last did see such a thing of beauty as your gift, Sir Brandon.”
Miranda ran a finger lightly over the pearl which made up the swan’s body. “Never,” she echoed.
“’Tis obvious. You have quite taken my lady’s breath—and her good sense—away.” Kat squeezed Miranda again.
Miranda gazed up at Sir Brandon. A warm glow bathed her face. “Trust me, my lord, when I tell you, that never before in my life has anyone given me such a gift as this. I thank you for it, and bless you for your kind thoughts. Truly, I will remember this day forever.”
“May I be so bold as to fasten it around your neck, my lady?” Sir Brandon drew near to the chair. “Such a jewel requires the proper setting, which only you can give it.”
Miranda shot a quick glance at Kat.
Say aye, Miranda, but pray, do not faint now. I do not think it wise that my betrothed should carry you up to our bedchamber.
“Do so, Sir Brandon,” Kat gushed. “I long to see it upon her.”
Sir Brandon made a great show of brushing back Miranda’s hair. Kat noticed that his fingers played across the back of Miranda’s neck as if he were strumming a lyre. Closing her eyes, Miranda sighed deeply. By the book! Her cousin was besotted already! Kat promised herself to have a lengthy and very specific talk with Miranda later on about the hazards of letting nature take its course.
“The bauble looks well upon her,” Sir John said loudly, very loudly. “Stand back, Brandon, my good friend, so that we may all enjoy the view. By my troth, my lady, I think your little musician will come near to falling over the gallery rail.”
Kat looked up to see Columbine leaning far over the side. “Columbine, attend to what you are about!”
“Your pardon, my lady,” the girl apologized, before disappearing from view once again. The lute resumed play. Kat noticed that Columbine now strummed a ballad of love.
“My thanks, Sir John. As you can see, a few pearls and a diamond or two are enough to make our world spin a giddy turn.”
Eyeing Miranda, Kat wondered if she was going to say anything more. Her cousin’s stunned silence didn’t seem to alarm Sir Brandon. He gazed upon Miranda with the most idiotic look on his face. Kat didn’t notice that Sir John had moved to her side until he spoke.
“I apologize to you, Mistress Miranda.” His voice washed over her like cooling waters on a hot day.
“Whatever for, my lord?” Kat stared very hard at the tip of her black satin slipper.
“We did not expect to find that two women of beauty and charm graced the hall of Bodiam Castle, or we would have thought to bring two such swans.”
Kat laughed nervously. She did not dare to look up into those searing blue eyes again. Sir John stood so close she could feel the heat from his body. His presence befuddled all her senses. “I...I have no need for such a fine gift as that, my Lord Stafford. As you can see, I dress plainly, and I know my station in