“No more than three weeks,” Brandon answered in a soft undertone. “I mean to enjoy my last moments of freedom until my wedding day. After that, my fate will be sealed, come rack or ruin.”
“And a sweet good-night to you, too,” Jack replied, just before he fell face first amid the bedclothes.
Chapter Five
The arrow flew across the green velvety lawn and embedded its shaft in the red heart of the straw-filled target. Its fletching of gold and red feathers vibrated with the shock of impact.
“Bull’s-eye, Sir John! I win yet again!” Kat regarded her missile with supreme satisfaction. “I am most amazed that Sir Brandon boasted of your skill at archery, my lord, for you have yet to come within an inch of me.”
A devilish look of some secret amusement stole into the depths of Sir John’s brilliant blue eyes. Kat’s heart turned over in response.
“I fear my prowess has been much overrated, Mistress Miranda,” he murmured, a sly smile curving his lips. “Methinks I have forgotten the wager. What do I owe you this time?”
“The golden ribbon from your left sleeve, Sir John, to match the others I have already won.” Kat smiled, though her lips trembled as he drew nearer to her.
“Faith, mistress, if we continue to shoot at yon target, I shall not have a lacing left to hold my apparel together. By the rood, all my clothes will fall to your feet.” Untying the satin ribbon, he held it out to her. “You would not wish to see me so...at one with nature, would you?” he murmured as he drew closer still.
His steady gaze bore into her, daring her to answer his scandalous suggestion. The idea of him standing stark naked before her both startled and fascinated Kat. She blinked her eyes, to banish the wanton thought, then she tugged the ribbon from his hold. As their fingers touched, a dizzying current raced through her as if her blood had suddenly begun to boil. She laughed to cover her nervousness as she fumbled to tie her latest prize around her wrist.
“Perish the thought, Sir John. Our weather here is most unpredictable. You might find you’d catch a sudden chill, if you were thus exposed to our varying winds.”
Sir John took the ribbon from her shaking fingers. He tied it in a love knot over her pulse point, then bent his head and sealed the knot with a featherlight kiss. “Perchance you might find it in your heart to keep me warm?” he whispered, the gleam in his eye turning to blue flames.
Kat’s heart danced a lively galliard as his lips softly grazed her tender flesh. A hot flush stole into her cheeks. She must not faint!
“Larks and sparks, Sir John!” Kat flicked a nonexistent piece of fluff from her peach-colored sleeve. “I am not used to such fine speech as yours. Please tell me, at King Henry’s court, what do the ladies wager, if not for some article of clothing?”
Sir John chuckled as he straightened up. “His Grace is most generous with all the ladies, Mistress Miranda. In the evening after the supper has been cleared away, he gives each lady a small bag of silver coins for gaming at cards.”
Kat’s eyes widened. “His Grace is very generous. And you? Do you also wager with the king’s bounty?”
Laughing, Sir John adjusted his green velvet cap over his sleek blond hair. “Nay, innocent Miranda, I must provide my own coins.”
“Ah,” Kat said thoughtfully. This turn of the conversation offered her the opportunity to test another part of her nephew’s vivid description of her betrothed.
“And my Lord Cavendish?” She glanced over her shoulder at the other couple farther down the archery range. Her eyes narrowed. Surely Sir Brandon need not hover so close behind Miranda, as he helped her draw back her bowstring! And why was her cousin giggling in such a wanton manner? What jest had the man whispered into her ear? Or was it more than a jest? Remember, coz. he is supposed to be marrying me. The thought did not cheer Kat.
“What about my Lord Cavendish?” echoed Sir John, who also regarded the pair. His eyes darkened to a deeper blue. “He seems to find your cousin...most entertaining.”
“Aye,” Kat snapped. She turned away from the loving scene before she said or did anything to betray their mse. I really must have that serious talk with Miranda tonight, ere she finds herself bedded before I am wedded!
“We were speaking of Sir Brandon,” Sir John reminded her, clipping his words, like the gardeners clipped the hedge of yew trees.
“Aye. Sir Brandon.” Kat ran her tongue across her lips. “Tell me, does he gamble much?”
Sir John lifted one brow as he smiled down at her. “Define ‘much,’ Mistress Miranda.”
Playing with the ribbons that she had so recently won, Kat twined the satin streamers through her fingers. “Does my Lord Cavendish wager large amounts of money when he is at the card table? Forgive my boldness, Sir John, but as Katherine’s cousin, I must be concerned with her welfare. Therefore I ask you plainly. Does Sir Brandon lose much in gambling?”
Behind them, Miranda’s giggle rose half an octave, accompanied by the richer tones of Sir Brandon’s laugh. Sir John glared over Kat’s head at the two. “Sir Brandon may lose his shirt and the skin under it, if he does not take more care in the future,” he muttered, more to himself than to Kat. His darker mood passed when he glanced down at her again. “But in answer to your question, Sir Brandon is an excellent player of all manner of games.” He leaned closer to her. “And, Mistress Miranda, I speak from very close association.”
His warm breath, mint scented, fanned her face. Another wave of giddiness swept over Kat. It must be the weather. Perchance the wind bore some strange pollen to make one feel giddy in the middle of the afternoon.
“Just so,” she murmured. Mayhap she needed a tonic. She must speak to Sondra about that later. “And you swear that my cousin need not fear that Sir Brandon will spend her fortune at cards and other wagers?”
Sir John placed his hand over his breast. “Upon my heart and soul, I do swear...for him, that is. My...friend comes from a wealthy family in Northumberland, and he is well provided. Cards do not hold him in their thrall, as they do many others—such as your cousin’s knavish nephew.”
Kat cocked her head. “How now? I...and my cousin have not heard this tale before. Pray, enlighten me, Sir John.”
Another giggle pierced the warm afternoon. Sir John curled his lips in disgust. “Let us walk the garden paths, Mistress Miranda. I fear that so much billing and cooing between yon lovebirds is very distracting to my thoughts.” He offered her his arm.
“Gladly, Sir John.” Kat slipped her hand around his elbow. Under his green velvet sleeve, she felt the strength of his muscles. For a moment, she imagined herself enfolded in his strong embrace. Her mouth went suddenly dry.
They passed through an opening of the yew hedge into the intricate knot garden. The crushed shells of the pathways crunched under their feet as they paced out the geometric design of the trimmed boxwood plantings.
“You spoke of Fen...young Sir Scantling, my lord?” Kat prompted, after the archery range was out of sight and sound.
“Aye, mistress. Pardon my bluntness, but he is an asshead.”
Sir John’s muscles tightened a little under Kat’s fingertips. She wondered what the young fool had done to incur the wrath of so noble a lord as Sir John.
“You may speak plainly with me, my lord. I am not being wooed for my wedding day.” Not yet, thank God!
“You should be,” Sir John muttered under his breath. Then he cleared his throat and continued in a louder tone. “Scantling plays nightly at cards, dice or any other wager the courtiers might devise. Once he even bet upon the outcome of a louse race!”
Kat missed a step.