Page 43 of Katherine the Vixen

“I was merely pointing out that for dressmaking purposes she will do admirably. She has the same proportions as your mistress’s.” Siaspar carried on. “But other than that, I agree with you, there’s no comparison between the two. She has a much more pleasant countenance than Lady Malpas, who doesn’t seem to know how to smile.” Straightening himself to his full height, he nodded his dismissal. “Now please, leave us. Go and ask Lady Malpas whatever it was you wanted to ask her. We are busy.”

Lady Helen left with a scowl on her face.

“Finally,” Siaspar said, allowing a smile to bloom on his lips. “I can’t stand the old bat.”

“Oh, my lord!” Katherine exclaimed, falsely scandalized. “What an ungenerous thing to say.”

“Maybe. But true nonetheless. Don’t tell me that she doesn’t put you in mind of the animal?”

Thinking back to the lady’s scowls, Katherine had to admit that he was right. How had she not seen it before? “There may be something of the bat in her attitude,” she conceded slowly. “But I have yet to see her fangs.”

Siaspar laughed. “You are jesting, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Helen had fangs, you know. But, as she doesn’t smile any more than her mistress does, I fear that we will never know.”

“You, on the other hand, remind me of a fox.”

A stupefied silence followed her declaration. Katherine felt her eyes widen in horror. What had possessed her to say something like that out loud? The thought had struck her, which was bad enough, but then the words had left her lips before she could think.

Siaspar ran a hand through his hair and looked at her from under his lashes. “A fox?” he asked slowly.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I don’t know why I said that. I did not mean to be impertinent, my lord.”

“No, I imagine you didn’t, as you don’t seem to have an impertinent bone in your body. But I confess I’m curious. Why a fox? I do not have ginger hair,” he pointed out, ruffling his hair further.

“I know, it’s just… It’s the way you move. Silent, elegant, graceful.” She reddened. Sometimes predatory. But she could not say that. What she had said was embarrassing enough.

“A fox then. Oh well, I suppose that it could be worse.”

The smile he threw her illustrated better than a thousand words why she thought him like the animal. Yes. Predatory. Dangerous.

Entrancing.

“As for you, I would have to settle for a dragonfly. Or a cat.”

Katherine burst out laughing, relieved he had not taken issue with her inappropriate comment. “These are two startlingly different animals, wouldn’t you say?”

“They are. But you have both their vivacity and a placidity many people would envy.”

This struck her as both the oddest and most wonderful compliment she had ever received. The next time she saw a cat—a dragonfly would be more difficult here in the castle—she would think of Siaspar.

“Lady Malpas, of course, is nothing but a churlish mule,” he added. “But I’m sure you had figured this out for yourself.”

Katherine let out another laugh. Just then, two men were introduced into the great hall. Immediately, she tried to revert to a more seemly attitude, but Siaspar didn’t seem in the least ashamed of being caught bantering with a scullion. Of course she didn’t look like a servant in this instant, or even a rich villager.

She would, to the men who did not know her, look like a lady. They would see nothing amiss on the fact that the two of them were engaged in conversation.

The men started to speak to him in rapid Welsh. After a moment the eldest of the two turned to her and launched himself into a lengthy declaration.

“This is the tailor. He hopes you will forgive him, but he doesn’t speak English.”

Siaspar’s translation no doubt cut to the heart of the matter. The man had spoken at least a dozen sentences.

“Please. Why should he speak my language? I’m the one who is not at home,” Katherine replied hurriedly. When Siaspar relayed her words back to the men, they stared as if she had just admitted to having sprouted wings earlier that morning. “Did I say something wrong?” she whispered, worried.

“No,” he said slowly. “I think they are surprised to hear an English woman say that she should be the one conforming to their customs. As would I be, if I didn’t know you already. But I know you aren’t anything like the arrogant invaders who consider themselves at home in our country and better than us.”

People like Lady Malpas he meant. She nodded. Indeed she didn’t care to be considered like that.

The youngest tailor intervened next.