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Authors: Amanda Quick

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BOOK: Mystique
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“Nay, there was nothing wrong with the meal,” Hugh conceded. “But I must admit that one always wonders about the possibility of poison when one learns that the person who oversaw the preparation of the food elects not to eat it herself.”

“Poison.”
Alice was outraged.

“The very thought adds spice to a meal, does it not?”

Ralf flinched as though Hugh had just drawn his sword. A collective gasp of horror came from the nearby servants. The men-at-arms stirred uneasily on the benches. Some of the knights rested their hands on the hilts of their swords. Gervase and William looked as though they were about to be ill.

“Nay, my lord,” Ralf babbled quickly, “I assure you, there is absolutely no cause to suspect my niece of having poisoned you. I swear, sir, on my honor, she would not do such a thing.”

“As I am still sitting here, none the worse for having dined well, I am inclined to agree with you,” Hugh said. “But you cannot blame me for being wary under the circumstances.”

“And just what circumstances would those be, my lord?” Alice demanded.

She saw Ralf squeeze his eyes closed in despair as her tone went from tart to downright rude. It was not her fault that the conversation was not beginning on an auspicious note. Hugh the Relentless had injected the antagonistic element, not she.

Poison, indeed. As if she would even think of doing such a thing.

She would have considered using one of her mother’s more noxious recipes only as a last resort and then only if her sources had informed her that Hugh was a stupid, cruel, brutish sort who lacked intelligence. And even under those conditions, she thought, growing more irate by the moment, she would not have set out to kill him.

She would merely have used some harmless concoction that would have rendered him and his men so sleepy
or so nauseated that they would have been unable to murder the household in cold blood.

Hugh studied Alice. And then, as though he had read her thoughts, his hard mouth curved faintly at one corner. The smile contained no hint of warmth, merely an icy amusement.

“Do you blame me for being cautious, lady? I have recently learned that you are a student of the ancient texts. ‘Tis well known that the ancients were very adept with poisons. In addition, I hear that your own mother was an expert with strange and unusual herbs.”

“How dare you, sir?” Alice was furious now. All thought of handling this man with care and circumspection had flown out the window. “I am a scholar, not a poisoner. I study matters of natural philosophy, not the dark arts. My mother was, indeed, an expert herbalist and a great healer. But she would never have used her skills to hurt anyone.”

“I am, of course, relieved to learn that.”

“I have no interest in murdering people, either,” Alice continued rashly. “Not even rude, ungrateful guests, such as you, my lord.”

Ralf’s ale mug jerked in his hand. “Alice, for the love of God, be silent.”

Alice ignored him. She narrowed her eyes at Hugh. “Be assured that I have never killed anyone in my life, sir. And that, moreover, is a claim that you, I’ll wager, cannot make for yourself.”

The dreadful stillness that overlaid the crowd was broken by choked-off exclamations of horror from several of the listeners. Ralf moaned and dropped his head into his hands. Gervase and William looked stupefied.

Hugh was the only one in the hall who appeared unperturbed. He gazed at Alice with a thoughtful expression. “I fear you are correct, lady,” he said very softly. “I cannot make such a claim.”

The shocking simplicity of the admission had the same effect on Alice as running straight into a brick wall. She came to an abrupt halt.

She blinked and recovered her balance. “Aye, well, there you are, then.”

Hugh’s amber eyes lit with brilliant curiosity. “Where, precisely, are we, madam?”

Ralf valiantly attempted to stop the downward spiral of the conversation. He raised his head, wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his tunic, and looked at Hugh with a pleading expression. “Sir, I pray you will understand that my foolish niece meant no offense.”

Hugh’s expression was doubtful. “Nay?”

“Of course not,” Ralf sputtered. “There is no call to be suspicious of her merely because she did not choose to dine with us. In truth, Alice never dines here in the main hall with the rest of the household.”

“Strange,” Hugh murmured.

Alice tapped the toe of her slipper. “We are wasting time, my lords.”

Hugh glanced at Ralf.

“She claims that she, uh, prefers the solitude of her own chambers,” Ralf explained hurriedly.

“And why is that?” Hugh returned his attention to Alice.

Ralf grunted. “She says she finds the level of the, uh,
intellectual discourse
, as she terms it, here in this hall too low for her taste.”

“I see,” Hugh said.

Ralf shot Alice a belligerent glare as he warmed to an old and familiar complaint. “Apparently the mealtime conversation of honest, stout-hearted men-at-arms is not sufficiently elevated to suit my lady’s high standards.”

Hugh’s brows rose. “What is this? Lady Alice does not care to hear the details of a man’s morning practice at the quintain or learn of his success in the hunt?”

Ralf sighed. “Nay, my lord, I regret to say that she shows no interest in such matters. My niece is a perfect example of the foolishness of educating females, if you ask me. Makes them headstrong. Causes them to believe that they should wear the braies. Worst of all, it breeds ingratitude and disrespect for the poor, hapless men who are charged with their protection and whose sad lot it is to have to feed and shelter them.”

Goaded, Alice gave Ralf a fulminating glance. “That is nonsense, Uncle. You know perfectly well that I have been
suitably grateful for the protection that you have extended to me and my brother. Where would we be without you?”

Ralf flushed. “Now, see here, Alice, that is quite enough out of you.”

“I’ll tell you where Benedict and I would be if it had not been for your generous protection. We would be sitting in our own hall, dining at our own table.”

“Blood of the Saints, Alice. Have you gone mad?” Ralf stared at her in mounting horror. “This is no time to bring up that matter.”

“Very well.” She smiled grimly. “Let us change the topic. Would you prefer to discuss how you managed to spend what little of my inheritance I managed to preserve after you gave my father’s manor to your son?”

“Damnation, woman, you are not exactly inexpensive in your habits.” Ralf’s anxiety about Hugh’s presence gave way briefly before the long list of grievances he felt toward Alice. “That last book you insisted I purchase for you cost more than a good hound.”

“It was a very important lapidary written by Bishop Marbode of Rennes,” Alice retorted. “Indeed, it sets out all the properties of gems and stones and it was a wonderful bargain.”

“Is that so?” Ralf snarled. “Well, let me tell you how that money could have been better spent.”

“Enough”
Hugh reached for his wine cup with one large, well-shaped hand.

The movement was a small one, but coming as it did from the depths of the vast pool of stillness that enveloped Hugh, it startled Alice. She took an involuntary step back.

Ralf quickly swallowed whatever further accusations he had intended to make against her.

Alice flushed, annoyed and embarrassed by the stupid argument. As if there were not more important matters at hand, she thought. Her fiery temper was the bane of her existence.

She wondered briefly and with some envy how Hugh had achieved such great mastery over his own temper. For there was no doubt he kept it in an iron grip. It was one of the things that made him so dangerous.

Hugh’s eyes reflected the flames on the hearth as he
contemplated her. “Let us dispense with what is obviously a long-standing family quarrel. I do not have the time or the patience to settle it. Do you know why I have come here tonight, Lady Alice?”

“Aye, my lord.” Alice decided there was no point in dancing around the subject. “You seek the green stone.”

“I have been on the trail of that damned crystal for more than a sennight, lady. In Clydemere I learned that it had been purchased by a young knight from Lingwood Hall.”

“As a matter of fact, it was, my lord,” Alice said briskly. She was as eager to get down to business as he.

“For you?”

“That is correct. My cousin Gervase discovered it for sale by a peddler at the Summer Fair
in
Clydemere.” Alice saw Gervase start visibly at the mention of his name. “He knew I would find the stone extremely interesting and he very kindly procured it for me.”

“Did he tell you that the peddler was later found with his throat slit?” Hugh asked very casually.

Alice’s mouth went dry. “Nay, he did not, my lord. Obviously Gervase was not aware of the tragedy.”

“So it would seem.” Hugh glanced at Gervase with predatory interest.

Gervase’s mouth opened and closed twice before he managed to find his tongue. “I swear I did not realize that the crystal was dangerous, sir. It was not very expensive and I thought it would amuse Alice. She is very fond of unusual stones and such.”

“There is nothing particularly amusing about the green crystal.” Hugh leaned forward just far enough to alter the pattern of light and shadows on his harsh features. His face became more demonic. “In truth, the longer I chase it, the less amused I am by it.”

Alice frowned as a thought occurred to her. “Are you quite certain that the death of the peddler was linked to the crystal, my lord?”

Hugh looked at her as if she had just asked if the sun would likely rise on the morrow. “Do you doubt my word?”

“Nay, of course not.” Alice stifled a small, inward
groan. Men
were
so ridiculously touchy about their powers of logic. “‘Tis merely that I do not see any connection between the green stone and the murder of a peddler.”

“Is that so?”

“Aye. The green stone is not particularly attractive or valuable so far as I could discern. Indeed, it is rather ugly as crystals go.”

“Your expert opinion, is, of course, appreciated.”

Alice paid no attention to the sarcasm in his words. Her mind was leaping forward, pursuing the logic of the interesting problem. “I will concede that a vicious robber might have killed to obtain the stone if he was under the mistaken impression that it had value. But in truth, it was quite cheap, else Gervase would never have bought it. And why would anyone murder the poor peddler after he had already sold the crystal? It makes no sense.”

“Murder is eminently logical in such a situation if one is attempting to cover a trail,” Hugh said, far too gently. “I promise you that men have killed and been killed for far less reason.”

“Aye, mayhap.” Alice braced her elbow on her hand and tapped her fingertip against her jaw. “By the eyes of the Saints, I vow that men are certainly extremely keen on doing a great deal of stupid, unnecessary violence.”

“It does happen,” Hugh conceded.

“Nevertheless, unless you have some objective evidence that indicates a clear connection between the murder of the peddler and the green crystal, sir, I do not see how you can conclude with any certainty that there is a link.” She nodded once, satisfied with her own reasoning. “The peddler might very well have been killed for some other, unrelated reason.”

Hugh said nothing. He regarded her with a chilling curiosity, as if she were some strange, heretofore unknown creature that had materialized in front of him. For the first time, he appeared somewhat bemused, as though he did not know quite what to make of her.

Ralf groaned in obvious misery. “Alice, in the name of the Rood, pray do not argue with Sir Hugh. This is no time to practice your skills in rhetoric and debate.”

Alice took umbrage at the grossly unfair accusation.
“I am not being ill-mannered, Uncle. I am merely attempting to point out to Sir Hugh that one cannot deduce something as serious as a motive for murder without solid evidence.”

“You must take my word on this matter, Lady Alice,” Hugh said. “The peddler is dead because of that damned crystal. I think we can both agree that it would be best if no one else died because of it, can we not?”

“Aye, my lord. I trust you do not think me lacking in proper manners, ‘tis merely that I question—”

“Everything, apparently,” he finished flatly.

She scowled at him. “My lord?”

“You appear to question everything, Lady Alice. At another time I might find the habit mildly entertaining but tonight I am in no mood for such distraction. I am here for only one purpose. I want the green crystal.”

Alice steeled herself. “I mean no offense, my lord, but I would like to point out that my cousin purchased that stone for me. In actual fact it is now my property.”

“Damnation, Alice,” Ralf wailed.

“For God’s sake, Alice, must you quarrel with him?” Gervase hissed.

“We are doomed,” William muttered.

Hugh ignored them all, his full attention on Alice. “The green crystal is the last of the Stones of Scarcliffe, lady. I am the new lord of Scarcliffe. The crystal belongs to me.”

Alice cleared her throat and chose her words cautiously. “I realize that the stone may have once belonged to you, my lord. But I believe one could argue that, strictly speaking, it is no longer yours.”

“Is that so? Are you trained in the law as well as in matters of natural philosophy, then?”

She glared at him. “That stone was procured by Gervase in a perfectly legal transaction. It was then passed on to me as a gift. I do not see how you can possibly lay claim to it.”

The unnatural silence that gripped the chamber was shattered by another collective intake of breath. Somewhere a tankard crashed to the floor. The harsh clang of metal on stone echoed through the hall. A dog whined.

Ralf made a small, croaking noise. He stared at Alice with bulging eves. “Alice, what do you think you are doing?”

“Merely establishing my claim to the green crystal, Uncle.” Alice met Hugh’s eyes. “I have heard it said that Hugh the Relentless is a hard man, but a just and honorable one. Is that not true, my lord?”

BOOK: Mystique
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