[version history] -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shadowheart Allegreto is a charismatic, dangerous man who will stop at nothing to regain his rightful place. And the perfect tool has just fallen into his hands, in the lovely form of Lady Elena�the long-lost Monteverde princess. Only she can solidify his claim. But the dark passion that grows between them is more dangerous than any treachery mortal men could devise... Praise for the bestselling novels of LAURA KINSALE . . . �Readers should be enchanted.� �Publishers Weekly �An absolute gem, virtually flawless... I can�t find the words to praise it highly enough.� �Rendezvous �Poignant and sensitive ... hard to forget.� �Heartland Critiques �Once in a great while an author creates a story and characters so compelling that the reader is literally placed on an emotional roller coaster... Ms. Kinsale once again takes the reader on that roller coaster... The story is rich with life, the writing beautiful, and the characters unforgettable. This is a book readers will long remember and turn to again and again.� �Inside Romance -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shadowheart Laura Kinsale BERKLEYBOOKS,NEW YORK -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Copyright notice -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Contents 12345678910111213141516171819 20212223242526272829303132 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- For Sage and Keeper and Folly, dogs and muses and a reason to smile -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- � Chapter One ^� � ForestofSavernake, in the fifth year of the reign of King Richard II � On Plow Monday, all the chickens died. Elayne knew she shouldn�t have tried to substitute a chicken feather for the quill from a magical hoopoe bird. ButSavernakeForestdid not harbor hoopoe birds. In truth Elayne had no notion what a hoopoe bird looked like�the only place she had ever seen the name of the creature was in the handbook of charms and experiments that contained her formula. Elayne felt that it was hardly certain her small attempt at a love spell had caused the complete demise of the Savernake poultry. But Cara�s suspicion would fall on Elayne. Cara�s suspicion always fell on Elayne. It could not be hoped that her older sister would overlook the sudden termination of every fowl in town. In a larger locale, inLondonby hap, orParis, the loss of a few dozen chickens might pass unremarked. But not in such a minor place as Savernake. Elayne pulled her mantle close, striding over the frozen ground away from the village. She could feel the black feather and small waxen figure hidden beneath her chemise, tickling her skin like a finger of guilt. She had ventured to substitute for the magical hoopoe quill because another recipe in the volume called for a feather from the wing of a black chicken. But it was a foolish experiment. The other recipe was meant to cause a man�s beard to grow. Perchance that goal did not sympathize well with the ingredients for arousing a man�s affections, and the result had a deadly effect upon all the poultry for ten leagues roundabout. She only hoped that Raymond de Clare, in whose image she had formed the wax, would not now suddenly sprout a beard. As she neared the abandoned mill, a small herd of the king�s deer looked up from browsing at a frost-rimed thicket. They bounded away as Raymond stepped out from behind the great mill wheel. He held out his gloved hands to her, but Elayne turned her face away, suddenly shy. She thought him the handsomest man in Christendom, but in her agitation and guilt, she could not quite look at him just then. �No welcome for me?� he asked, amusement in his voice. �Yes,� Elayne said. The word came out a breathless squeak, barely audible. She forced herself to raise her eyes, assuming worldliness and experience with a lift of her chin, and made a little courtesy.�Belaccoil! Kind greeting, Sir Knight.� �Oh, we are on ceremony, then,� he said, grinning. He gave a bow worthy of the king�s court�not that Elayne had ever been within a week�s ride of the king�s court, but she felt certain that Raymond�s great sweep, showing the red-and-black slashed sleeves of his doublet under his fine scarlet cloak, must be admirably suited to such rarefied spheres. She evaded his gaze as he straightened, feeling that if she could not touch his face�only touch his face, or take a loop of his thick chestnut hair about her finger�that she would die of unrequited love before the night was gone. Instead she put her foot onto the frozen millrace. Eluding his offered hand, she jumped over the icy channel and started to walk past him. He turned as she did and walked with her, brushing her shoulder. Elayne made a skip, moving ahead of him, pushing aside a bare branch that overhung the doorway of the old mill. He laughed and flicked her cheek. �You are avoiding me, little cat.� She looked up aslant, a covert glance at his jaw. He was perfectly clean-shaven�no sign of a beard. With a sense of relief she said cheerfully, �It is a favor to you. In faith, sir, you can�t wish to dally with such a rustic as I!� He caught her shoulder, turning her to face him. For an instant he looked down into her eyes�she felt his hand, his fingers pressing her through the thick gray wool of her cotehardie. �Nay, how could I not?� he asked softly. �How could I find a sparkling diamond at my feet and fail to pick it up?� Elayne stared at his mouth as if she were the one bewitched. He leaned his hand against her, gently pushing her against the wall. The stone pressed hard into her shoulder blades. She glanced aside, afraid they might be discovered. The leafless bushes cast a wavering light in the doorway, but the old mill was empty and silent. She put her palms against his chest, as if to hold him off, but inside she was praying that he would kiss her, that at last, after weeks of this dangerous play and ferment between them, she would know what it was like. She was seventeen, and she had never been in love, never even been courted. She had not known that a man who stole her sleep and dashed her prudence, a man like Raymond, could exist. �I am only another lady, like the rest,� she whispered, her heart beating against his hand. �Haps not so meek as some.� �You, my love, are an extraordinary woman.� He bent his head close. Elayne drew in a quick breath. His lips touched hers, warm and soft in the crisp winter air, softer than she had expected. He tasted of mead, very strong and wet�not completely to her relish. As his tongue probed between her lips, he breathed heavily into her mouth. In confusion and a sudden distaste, she pushed him away so quickly that he had to put out a hand to the wall to catch himself. He lifted his eyebrows at her. He stood very straight. �I do not please you, my lady?� �Nay, you do!� she said quickly, patting his sleeve. She was already ashamed of herself, to be such a coward. �It�s only�if someone should see us�oh my ... Raymond!� She bit her lip. �You make me so abashed!� His stiff expression eased, for which Elayne was grateful. Raymond de Clare did not bear any affront lightly, even the smallest. But he smiled at her and brushed back her woolen hood, pulling her earlobe lightly. �I shall not let anyone catch us.� �Let us go to the Hall. We can walk together there, and talk.� �Among a throng of people,� he said dryly. �And what do you wish to talk of, my lady?� �You must make a poem to my hair and eyes, of course! I�ll help you.� He laughed aloud. �Indeed.� He smiled down at her, a strange smile, as if his mind had gone to some distance, but his eyes never left her lips. �Do you suppose I need help?� �I feel certain that any knight could profit from a lady�s fine ear for these things.� �All this reading and writing of yours. Haps you will compose my proposal of marriage also.� �Certainly, if you should require my aid,� she said airily. �Mark me the bride of your choice, and I shall study upon her, to discover what will be the most persuasive words to win her hand.� �Ah, but only tell me what words would persuade you, little cat.� �La, I shall never marry!� Elayne declared, but she felt her lips curl upward to betray her. To hide her mirth, she tilted her head so that her hood fell down across her cheek as she gave him a sidelong glance. He snorted. �What, then�will you wither into an old crone, reading books and stirring over a pot of hopeless spells?� �Hopeless!� she exclaimed. �Mark me, such incantations are not so vain as you suppose!� He nodded soberly, in just such a way that she could see that he was making a fond mock of her. �Wella, then,� she said, shrugging. �You may believe me or not. I cannot see why I should cease my learning only because I marry.� He shook his head, smiling. �Come, in serious discourse now�though I know how it pains you to speak soberly.� Elayne straightened. �I do not tease on that point, I assure you, Raymond! Married or maid, I shall pursue my study. Lady Melanthe does the same.� �I hardly think her example is one to be followed�� He broke off as Elayne looked up quickly at him, and added, �Of course your godmother is admirable, may the Lord preserve her, but Lady Melanthe is Countess of Bowland,� he said. �Her manners are not those of the wives of simple knights.� �Then I must take care not to marry a simple knight!� Elayne said. �Happen that some foreign king will be lookin...
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