Free The Running Vixen by Elizabeth Chadwick Page A

towards them in the all too solid flesh, his cloak bannering behind him with the vigour of his stride and his brows slanted down in a black scowl.
    ‘Adam, I will kill you myself if you start anything,’ Heulwen hissed from the side of her mouth, as she rose and prepared to greet her husband designate.
    ‘Me?’ he said sarcastically. ‘Why should I want to start anything? Do you think I want to be on your conscience for the rest of your life?’
    Heulwen stumbled and Adam had to lunge and grab her elbow before she fell headlong down the dais steps. At their foot, Warrin de Mortimer regarded Adam with a mingling of irritation and strong dislike. Heulwen freed herself from Adam’s grasp and went to take Warrin’s cloak with a smile of greeting. As she reached for the fastening pin, he circled her waist with his hands and stooped to claim her lips. The kiss did not linger, but it signalled possession.
    ‘Home and unscathed from your jaunt with the Empress, I see,’ he said to Adam.
    ‘So it would seem.’ Adam leaned across the table for his scabbard, and without haste began to belt it on.
    De Mortimer gave him a look of contemptuous amusement, as though he were watching a truculent child over whom he had a clear and confident advantage. ‘You know,’ he mused, ‘it doesn’t seem a moment since we were sparring in that tilt yard out there.’ He grinned nastily. ‘I hear you have learned from the drubbings I gave you.’
    ‘A great deal more than you, Warrin,’ Adam answered evenly, and turned to Heulwen as if the other man did not exist. ‘The money is in my saddlebags. I’ll have Austin bring it to you. What about the piebald?’
    ‘I - I don’t know,’ she stammered, floundering in the currents of hostility swirling between the two men. ‘I will have to think about it.’
    Adam sent a jaundiced glance in de Mortimer’s direction. ‘I’ll leave him, then. If I’m any judge of character, you’ll not be selling him at Windsor either. As to the other matter, leave it in my hands. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.’
    She nodded and raised her chin. ‘Thank you, Adam.’
    ‘Think nothing of it.’ His mouth was wry as he swept on his cloak and, leaving his wine, brushed past her and de Mortimer to summon his men.
    ‘Aren’t you going to congratulate us?’ needled de Mortimer. ‘I’ll almost be your brother-by-marriage, won’t I?’
    Adam did not turn round, and he had to swallow his gorge to answer. ‘Congratulations,’ he said stiffly, and strode down the hall, away from the temptation to do something utterly stupid.
    Once outside in the cold, clean air of the bailey he let go, crashing his fist into the solid forebuilding wall in lieu of Warrin de Mortimer’s handsome, contemptuous face. His skin peeled away from his knuckles in small grated strips. He looked at the thin welling of blood and welcomed the pain that blotted out thought.
    ‘He affects me like that too,’ Renard said strolling down the stairs to join him. ‘He’s so damned patronising - he treats me as if I were no older than William.’
    ‘You act that way sometimes.’
    ‘Are you going back to Thornford now?’
    Adam examined his raw, bunched knuckles, the price of holding on to control for too long, then shot a dark glance at Renard. ‘Why?’
    ‘Oh, no reason.’ Renard shrugged. ‘I thought I’d ride with you. Starlight needs the exercise and I’d rather not stay here while Warrin crows and struts before Heulwen like a dunghill cock longing to tread a hen. Did you see all the rings he had on his fingers?’
    Adam looked at his ally and found a brief smile. ‘He was somewhat over-endowed.’
    ‘He’s wearing spikenard too. I could smell it on him a mile away!’ Renard wrinkled his nose. ‘There’s not going to be much room for Heulwen in his heart. He’s madly in love with himself!’
    Without comment, Adam went to Vaillantif and unlatched a saddlebag. Withdrawing a leather money pouch, he handed it