Free Lord of a Thousand Nights by Madeline Hunter

comfort. He was, in the end, only a paid sword, and had been little more than a thief these last years. At least one person in this conquered tower would always see him so, no matter where he sat.
    What role had that played in her denial? Why should he give a damn?
    He shouldn't give a damn but, unaccountably, he found that he did.
    At the end of the hall, a servant girl scrubbed the tables, her long dark hair draping from beneath her kerchief. She glanced at him and continued her work. He watched her move to her labors, her breasts and buttocks swelling against the fabric of her homespun gown.
    She noticed his attention, and approached. He recognized her. She had sought his eye several times during the last two days and given him warm, shy smiles. She smiled less shyly now. “My name is Eva. Would you like me to fetch you some ale, my lord?”
    My lord. Not really accurate, but a minor point to the servants under the circumstances. One person in this keep would never call him that, even if it were accurate, even at the point of a sword. Despicable whoreson, dishonorable bastard, aye, but never my lord.
    Ian looked across the table at Eva. He smiled.

Chapter SIX
    T hroughout the next day, Reyna made very sure to avoid Sir Ian. If she heard his step coming up one stairway, she darted down the other.
    In the late afternoon, a commotion in the passageway drew her out of her chamber to see Margery and the other ladies conversing with excitement.
    Margery's gaze raked over the simple gown that Reyna had put on after dinner. “Go and make yourself presentable,” she ordered. “We are expecting a visitor. The rider just came announcing him. It is a French noble, the Comte de Senlis.”
    “Why would a French comte visit here? This keep is held by an English army, and the French are their enemies.”
    “Whatever his reasons, we must greet him properly. I have instructed Alice to do her best for the evening meal. We don't want this man to think he is amongst barbarians. Make yourself decent or hide in the kitchen. He arrives soon.”
    Reyna returned to her chamber, slipped on her blue cote-hardie, and descended to the yard, where the women waited to greet this luminary from France. Ian was there, and he hadn't done anything to avoid looking like a barbarian.
    He was completing a pulley that he had devised to bring water to the upper levels of the tower. A large beam jutted out from the top-level garderobe, and ropes dangled down from its wheel.
    Alice's grandsons, Adam and Peter, hung in the shadows. Ian noticed and called them over. Grinning with delight, they helped him run a test of the pulley. They fitted a water-filled bucket into the sling at the bottom of the rope, and Ian began hauling it upward.
    He wore a sleeveless tunic and the cut chausses, and his body stretched against the fabric. The taut muscles of his arms made powerful lines as he reached hand over hand. Reyna realized that this was the first time she had seen him in full daylight. The sun picked up red lights in his dark brown hair. The feather-edged pools of his eyes looked deeper and more compelling out here.
    He finished his test and stood back with a satisfied expression. She walked over and studied the mechanism. “If you fit a crank to the rope, even women could do it,” she said.
    “A good idea. Of course, in time of war the pulley makes the keep vulnerable. Whoever commands here will have to destroy it then.” He finally noticed the line of women in their finery standing by the tower stairs. “What is this? Are we expecting the pope?”
    “Margery said that a visitor is on his way here.”
    “All of this is for David? He should find that amusing.”
    “David?”
    “David de Abyndon, Morvan's brother through marriage.”
    “Margery misunderstood. She thinks the Comte de Senlis arrives.”
    “David is the Comte de Senlis. But before he received Senlis he was a London merchant, and I knew him as such. In England he is still known as Master