Page 9
She nodded.
“Will you eat first?”
Again, she nodded.
Tristan stood. “I will be back,” he said, turning.
“Wait!”
She’d made to come after him but stopped abruptly when he looked back at her.
“No one else can see me like this,” she said, opening the cloak.
“Where is this ‘Maine’ where they wear no clothing?” If she didn’t close the cloak, Tristan would do it for her. He really did need to find her something she could use to cover herself.
“Italy.”
He was so distracted, Tristan forgot his question.
“Maine is a small village in Venetia.”
“Italia?”
Tristan had never been there himself, but he’d met enough Venetians to know this was most certainly not how they dressed.
Why does she lie?
“I will find clothing,” he said finally, “if you promise to tell me the truth.”
He nearly laughed at her confused expression. She was not a very good liar.
“You may pretend not to understand, but if you care to return to your falls, then you must think of a better lie than that. Or the truth will do. Either way, I will have answers.”
Before she could open the cloak again, Tristan left to seek Durwin, only to find his trusted squire awaiting him outside the door.
“Who is she, my lord?” Durwin said in a hushed voice. “The men say they found her on the shore, lying there—”
“Listen to me, and listen well,” Tristan said. “You will tell no one of the woman’s arrival. Do you hear me?”
“Aye, my lord.”
“And find Joan. Tell her to come immediately.”
“The laundress, my lord?”
Rather than answer, Tristan gave Durwin a moment to think about how few females served at Saxford and how many of those were named Joan.
“Aye, my lord.” Durwin bowed and hurried off to do his bidding.
Such a good lad. Tristan was about to go back inside, but his hand froze above the iron handle of the door. The ten-year truce was coming to an end in less than a month. Tristan had a battle to prepare for, and there would be a visit from his ally Lord Kenton any day now. He had no time to play nursemaid to a woman who’d washed up on the shore and could hardly keep her wits about her. Tomorrow, he would send her north with an escort and be done with it. In the meantime, he would keep watch on her himself, just in case he was wrong and she had been sent here as a spy after all.
Either way, he’d be rid of her soon. A shame, for his mysterious woman really was quite comely. He did not know how much time had passed that he’d been thinking of the beautiful stranger when Joan came upon him suddenly.
“My lord, you sent for me?” The laundress rounded the corner much more quickly than he’d expected her.
“There is a woman inside my chamber.” He ignored Joan’s frown. “Not that kind of woman.” But as soon as he said it, he thought of Hannah’s long, bare legs and imagined them wrapped around his waist.
“My lord.”
Joan had served at Saxford longer than Tristan had been lord here, and she’d been one of the first of the previous lord’s servants to accept him. For that he owed her his gratitude, but not an apology for his wayward thoughts. So he continued instead, “Find something suitable for her to wear. Assist her in preparing for the meal.”
In the meantime, he needed to find the rest of the men who knew Hannah was here so he could ensure they kept that knowledge to themselves.
“Lord . . .”
He’d already turned and left Joan to her duties. “I must go—”
“But, my lord, what manner of woman is she?”
He stopped. I know not would not be an acceptable answer, though it had the benefit of being true.
“A lady,” he said finally, not believing his own words. No lady would ever expose herself as Hannah had done, and yet she had not seemed ashamed by her lack of clothing. No common woman spoke to a lord as she had either. Without anything more to offer, he turned to leave.
He could feel Joan’s gaze on him still, but Tristan could not explain what he did not understand.
But he did intend to get answers as soon as Hannah joined him at the meal.
