Free Joining by Johanna Lindsey Page B

from the keep without coming down them. He asked a nearby servant if there was another exit and he moved to the stairs next to the chapel instead.
    Sure enough, he soon heard the light steps of a woman coming down the other stairs. She was a crafty one, he had to admit, one with a sharp wit. He had actually gone to bed last night somewhat amused over her parting remark. Serve him his tongue indeed.
    But he was wrong about who was coming down the stairs. He was surprised to see that it was Jhone instead—and then not so surprised as another thought occurred to him.
    “’Twould seem I moved to this location too late,” he said to her when she reached the bottom step. “She was not up there, was she?”
    “She?”
    “There is no need to stall for her, Jhone, by playing dense. So she thinks to hide from me for yet another day? She will not—”
    “You are mistaken.”
    “Am I?” He frowned and indicated she should precede him up the stairs. “Then you will show me—”
    “I already have,” she said cryptically, and slipped past him to hurry into the hall.
    His frown got much darker. He did
not
like riddles, which was what he had just been served. He debated whether to climb the stairs himself to search out his betrothed, when he was already sure she would not be up there, or to follow her sister to find out what she had meant.
    With a low sound of aggravation, he entered the hall to follow the lady, only to find that there were … two of them. He stopped short and simply stared at the two women sitting on either side of their father, both wearing gowns of light blue velvet with a darker blue chemise, both wearing blue wimples, both—identical.
    ’Twas the lighting, of course, it had to be—yet daylight streamed in the windows, casting no shadows. He took a few steps closer and could still see no difference. They were shaped the same, dressed the same, both incredibly lovely, both—identical. A few more steps and he noted one gown was embroidered about the neck and sleeves with gold thread, the other with silver, but that was the only difference. Their faces were the same—identical.
    Why had he not seen it sooner? But then he knew why. Each time he had looked at Milisant Crispin he had seen the outrageous clothes she was wearing and looked not much further. He’d seen her legs, clearly defined by tight leggings, and had been annoyed that every other man could see them as well. He’d seen her dirtstained skin and had not seen what was beneath the dirt. And he’d been clouded by anger each time, that she was just as he had feared she would be.
    He continued now to the high dais where the lord’s table sat, uncomfortably aware that he did not know which woman to sit next to. Neither of them was watching him, which might have given him a clue.
    Wulfric rarely felt such uncertainty, and liked it not at all. Nor did he like feeling like an idiot, which was exactly how he felt for not having known that Nigel Crispin had twin daughters. His father had no doubt mentioned it to him at some point in his life, but he had either not been paying attention or he had just never been interested enough to remember. Either way, he could fault himself for not knowing.
    The odds were even that he could make the right choice without looking like a fool, so he moved to the first seat that he came to, which would put him next to the twin nearest the stairs.
    She was kind enough to correct him, though, before he sat down, turning to whisper to him, “Are you sure you wish to sit here?”
    Obviously not, and so he continued on to the empty seat next to the other twin. However, this one, too, turned to whisper to him before he sat down, “I am Jhone, Lord Wulfric. Do you not wish to sit with your betrothed?”
    He flushed then, and flushed worse as he heard the other twin giggle. Lord Nigel even coughed, likely aware of what Milisant had done, or used to such antics from his identical daughters.
    Wulfric was not amused, not in the