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She looked up at Geoffrey, and for a second, he was hit with the full force of that enchanting gaze, that adorable, piquant face, those full ruby lips...  "I shall praise you in my prayers every night!  How can I thank you for your mercy, to a poor, lost damsel and, aye, a foolish one.  How foolish, how credulous, to believe what I have believed!"

And Geoffrey found himself reassuring her, just as Alain had done.  "Your trust does you credit, even though it was betrayed—for surely, what woman would think that her own sister would play her false?  What man could think less than highly of a woman who would ride to meet her lover?  Assuredly, my lady, we must accompany you!"

And, as he pulled his horse into step beside hers, he realized the truth of what he had said.  Thank heavens she was an innocent, for that face, that voice, that form gave her a power over men that was absolutely incredible.

Somehow, it never occurred to either of them that she might not really be so innocent, and might know exactly how much power she had.  Even more should they have believed that she knew how to use that power, too.

They rode back onto the forest road, turning their horses away to the west, Geoffrey and Alain vying, with witticisms and flattery, to raise her spirits.  They succeeded admirably—within half an hour her eyes were alight with mirth, and her laughter rang like music in their ears.

The bandits were on their way, and Cordelia resolutely forgot about them.  Yes, she had put those dark, reckless eyes, broad shoulders, and sensuous lips firmly out of her mind, and she knew she had, because she thought of them every now and then, just to make sure.  Her mind clear, she went soaring off on her broomstick to track down her brother and her suitor, cursing the delay under her breath—with far too much vehemence.

It didn't take her long to find the village in which Alain and Geoffrey had spent the night.  She searched the minds of the villagers quickly and lightly, injecting a thought of the two heroes who had come through the town, and reading the memories that rose in response.  Her eyes widened as she learned of the appearance of the ogre, and of the battle.  She was even more surprised to learn that it was Alain who had slain the monster, not her brother—or, at least, that Geoffrey had given him full credit for the deed.  She wondered, for a moment, if her brother had lied; then decided that he probably had not.  Not that Geoffrey was above lying, mind you, or at least prevaricating—it was merely that, in this instance, there was more for him to gain by truth, at least in terms of his goals for Alain.  Geoffrey was not the sort to lie unless it was to give him a military advantage, anyway, and never in matters of honor or glory.  Chivalry, to him, was sacrosanct.  How silly, she thought, but was astounded when she found no memory of their leaving; everyone in the village seemed to have waked to find them gone—except ...

Except the village priest, who had risen early for Matins, and seen them ride into the forest ...  Cordelia arrowed off toward the trees.

CHAPTER 8

Cordelia sped high above the treetops, a speck in the sky, listening for thoughts from her brother and ...  yes, suitor.  But flying takes time, and broomsticks move considerably more slowly than jet planes.  The sun was dropping toward the western horizon before Cordelia finally "heard" Alain's mind with her own.  Not Geoffrey's, of course—he habitually kept his mind closed, his thoughts guarded, and he took considerably more concentration to read, if he did not choke off all contact.  But Alain ...

Alain was besotted.

Cordelia sat rigid for a moment, wide-eyed, horrified, all attention riveted to Alain's words reverberating in her mind, gallant and flattering.  Why, he had never spoken to her like this!  Through his ears, she heard the musical, belllike tones of the female voice answering him.  She sat frozen, unable to think, unable to spare the slightest thought for anything else ...

She was falling.

She was plunging toward the earth, broomstick in a nosedive, falling out of the sky!  She truly had become distracted, not even sparing a thought for telekinesis!  Anger flowed; at herself, for such carelessness; at Alain, for his fickleness; at Geoffrey, for having led him into this; but most of all, at that scarlet hussy who dared to steal the affections of her man!  Never mind that the girl probably knew nothing of Cordelia, or Alain's proposal—she was loathsome anyway!

But Cordelia was not about to be outdone, nor to see her prize stolen from her.  She would match the hussy on her own ground, and win!  She brought the broom out of its nosedive and sped above the treetops, scolding herself for having let Alain get away.  Surely there must have been some way to say no and insist on a proper courtship, without packing him off to the arms of such a vampire as this!  And that, without ever having met the girl.

There they were, on the roadway, visible for a moment between the leaves!  But neither of the boys noticed her in the slightest, and the girl certainly didn't.  Just as well, Cordelia thought, and sped ahead of them until the road curved close to the river in an open meadow.  Cordelia decided that they would not pass by so ideal a camping place with the sun already low.  She landed in the woods a short distance from the edge of the clearing, leaned her broom against a tree, and waited.

They came riding into the meadow through the shadows of trees stretched long across the grass—a golden young knight and a dark young knight, with a blonde beauty between them, laughing and chatting as they came out of the woods, both men seeming mightily pleased with themselves.  Cordelia lingered a few minutes longer under the shelter of the leaves.  Both of them were looking quite lively; their color was heightened, their eyes sparkled.  So did the woman's; she looked down with frequent blushes—very coy, very demure, very calculating!  Cordelia hated her on sight, not only for her golden tresses and baby-doll face—after all, the poor child could scarcely be eighteen!—but also for her deliberate manipulation of the men.  Couldn't the fools see what she was doing?

No.  Of course not.  They were enjoying it too much.

What was worse, Cordelia found herself feeling dowdy for the first time in her life—at least, in comparison to this paragon of pulchritude.

Oh, but what a scheming creature she was!  The high neckline seemed demure and innocent—but the clinging fabric showed her for what she was, in every sense.  Shameless, brazen!  Cordelia must learn how she achieved the effect.  The blushes, the coquettish glances, looking up at Alain with spaniel eyes, every movement planned, every modulation of her laugh, and no doubt, the choice of every word, though Cordelia could not hear them.  She fumed inside, but also felt a sinking despair.  How could she possibly compete with such an accomplished man-eater?

And she had to admit, after all, that the woman had been blessed with uncommonly good looks.

For a moment, her heart quailed, but only for a moment.  Then she saw the men dismounting, vying with one another to see who would help the lady from her perch.  Laughing, she chose Alain—of course!—and his hands closed about her waist, lifting her down.  Of course, she slid a little too hard, a little too far, and fetched up against his chest.  For a moment, he froze, still holding her toes off the ground, then put her down with a little, forced laugh.  She laughed, too, then turned away to blush—each movement exactly timed, head bent at exactly the right angle.  Cordelia seethed, but she had to admire the sheer artistry of the wench.

Well, she would learn to outdo the minx at her own game!  No, not her own, Cordelia reflected—if she tried to compete with the woman on her own terms, she was lost.  Honesty and innocence were Cordelia's strong suit—being forthright without being forward.  She must somehow make those qualities into advantages—and she would!