Free Music for My Soul by Lauren Linwood Page B

have a quick word with you?” He nodded and she continued. “I would ask that York take my place today. I’m far too upset about Gwenith now to perform. I could easily play York’s role.”
    Although this had been her original idea to avoid Lord Montayne and Sir Ashby, she still thought it a good one. The mighty lord had no idea she was a part of this troupe.
    For all he could guess, she’d simply been enjoying the pleasures to be found at a country faire. She preferred to keep him in the dark, both to her identity and her traveling companions. When Gwenith became stronger, she still intended to leave and return home to France. The nobleman need never know who she was, since by now he surely had finished his business with Henri.
    Farley shook his head. “Impossible, my dear. That fool York just broke his leg minutes ago.”
    Madeleine gasped. “What happened?”
    “’Twas a woman.” Farley chuckled. “‘Tis always a woman with York.”
    Madeleine frowned. “A woman broke his leg?”
    “No, no, child. He broke it showing off for a woman.” Farley nodded sagely. “York thought to impress her and got up on Eamon’s stilts. He lost control of the blasted things and fell. Elspeth is fussing over him now, along with the pretty young thing who caused York to behave like an idiot. Between the two, I’m sure ‘twill be set in no time. But,” he added, “York will be in no mood to play for an audience today.”
    Guess she’d have to perform. Mayhap Garrett wouldn’t even attend their show. He probably thought lowly mummers beneath him. She hurried to gather her lute from the tent.
    Gwenith awakened when she entered. “Maddie? You look a mess. Whatever happened to your hair?” she asked weakly.
    Madeleine reached back to touch her braid. “Oh, ‘twas nothing, Gwenith. I tried to help catch a cutpurse. No success, though, just a bit of rolling about on the ground, with the cutpurse long gone.”
    “I can see that. You must change your tunic. ‘Tis muddy on the back.”
    Madeleine sighed in exasperation. She slipped quickly out of her clothes and into new ones, but that didn’t leave her time to re—braid her abundant hair. She would have to wear it down. She pulled the sections apart until her hair was free and quickly brushed till it was smooth. With a kiss to Gwenith, she hurried from the tent.
    Passing Hannah, she noticed the glow of the younger girl’s face. Usually, Hannah was churlish and fussy, never pleased with how the costumes looked on the mummers. Today, though, she radiated good will.
    “Good luck to you, Madeleine,” Hannah called sweetly.
    Madeleine laughed softly to herself. If this was what a bit of time with Sir Ashby did for the girl, she wished Farley could hire him for an entire day. Thinking about Hannah’s usual disposition, she thought a week might suffice nicely.
    She approached the side of their makeshift stage. Already the crowd was larger as any she’d seen so far. She scanned the mass nonchalantly, searching for sign of Lord Montayne. When she saw none, she exhaled, not even realizing she’d held her breath. Part of her was relieved at his absence, yet part of her longed to see him again.
    He’d taken her by surprise earlier. He’d been in her thoughts off and on for the several weeks since her escape. His image appeared before her at the most unexpected moments, so many times, in fact, that it had begun to worry her. Now he’d emerged when she’d least thought to see him.
    And what of his words to her?
    She recognized the anger that tinged his tone when he first came upon her. He not only missed his favorite cloak, but he was furious about her lies, pretending to be Lady Montayne.
    What struck her most, though, was his bold admission. He dreamed of her, as she did him . Madeleine shivered, though not from fear.
    Nervously, she scanned the crowd again, hoping she’d missed him and that he really had come to the performance. She felt a tug on her arm. Looking down, she