Free A Killing Season by Priscilla Royal

pain, it should be done in a more private place. “A good enough reason to pray for a swift return home…”
    “I hope my company does not offend?” The man’s voice was soft with misgivings and intended courtesy.
    The two women spun around.
    Sir Leonel bowed.
    “Not at all,” Eleanor replied with more fervor than was required. She knew her face must be glowing and that the cause was not attributable to the surprise of his arrival.
    “I was in the chapel too. You did not see me.”
    Indeed she had not, the prioress thought. God must have blinded her to this man’s presence so she could concentrate on the state of his dead cousin’s soul.
    “I did,” Anne replied. “With all you have suffered over the death of your cousin, Gervase, it seemed a kindness to let you pray in peace.”
    Eleanor looked into Leonel’s eyes. How many men had eyes that color of a summer flower, she mused, then realized that he was standing so close she could feel his warm breath.
    She willed herself to retreat until her back was against the wall. “You were sad witness to his tragic fall,” she said, pleased that her voice did not tremble this time even if her knees did.
    “And I grieve deeply, my lady, but his mother suffers far more. Lady Margaret and I were standing at the window in the corridor above when he approached.” Leonel bent his head. “I still cannot understand what caused the accident. Perhaps he was bewitched, yet we had spoken together not long before and shared some wine. At that time, I observed nothing untoward.” He frowned in somber memory.
    To keep her mind focused on something other than his musky scent, Eleanor commanded the arrival of cool reason while allowing her curiosity free rein about the circumstances of this death. “I remember the bitter wind when we arrived and how much comfort mulled wine gave us. Might the chill air have caused him to drink more than he ought?”
    “I tarried over my cup longer than he, but we did not talk together for long. He had planned to meet with Raoul. His youngest brother had something he wished to discuss, he said. My cousin soon left me.” He tilted his head in thought.
    What a fine profile, Eleanor thought then cursed her distraction.
    “I remained in the Great Hall and did not seek the company of Lady Margaret until she sent for me.”
    “Raoul? Who is…?” She blinked, trying to remember where she had heard the name, then quickly felt very much a fool. “Oh yes! He came to greet my brother and me after our arrival.” She glanced up at the baron’s nephew, carefully avoiding those violet eyes. “You believe your dead cousin was bewitched, not befuddled with drink?”
    Leonel frowned. “My aunt might have believed that, and perhaps she has cause. I thought bewitched, yet I truly do not know what caused this tragic accident. My uncle does ask if some spell has been cast, for he has now lost three sons. One death may strike the heart like a sharp mace, but three wound so deeply that any father might long for death himself. He cries out in his sleep for relief.”
    She nodded, bracing herself against the wall for strength that she did not own.
    “Had my cousin been under a wicked spell, my uncle might find a little consolation in knowing that Gervase died at Satan’s hand, not God’s.”
    “I do not understand,” Eleanor said, confused by his words and her own sinful failing. “Why would he find solace in that?” She hesitated. “And why would anyone think that God had struck down your uncle’s son?”
    “It would be best if he himself explained his fears, my lady. Forgive me for speaking out of turn.” He bowed. “And I have kept you far too long from rest. Pray forgive my selfishness, but your company has given me courage and reassurance. Thank you for offering this wretched sinner such charity and succor.”
    Not trusting herself to speak without betrayal of her emotions, Eleanor lowered her gaze and prayed that he saw only soft benevolence in