by Nicole Locke
Why hadn’t he asked more questions of her? What had happened at Roul’s to make Ian take her prisoner? Was she part of a scheme or completely at the whims of a madman? Why had they talked of colours he could never see and wanted to so badly because of her? He knew hardly anything of her—and she was everything to him.
Standing behind her and Ian, watching the Lord of Warstone dote on a woman whom he kissed, touched, laughed with, had been agony. Wretchedness. And it had released in him a possessive rage he could barely contain.
For now, he didn’t have to. Ian was occupied, as were his parents. He didn’t know where Balthus, Louve or that woman Biedeluue were, but he didn’t care.
He wrestled with his unfamiliar emotions, knowing he needed to get them under control before he saw her, but he couldn’t.
His instinct was to get to Margery and hope she could soothe the beast that he’d suddenly become.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Are you going to stand in there and not come to see me?’
Margery didn’t know what Evrart was doing, but she’d watched out of the window and seen him stride across the courtyard as if the Great Hall was on fire. When she had heard his heavy steps, and his door opening and closing, she’d waited.
After all, he knew she was in here—and why else would he have come to his rooms in the middle of the day if not to see her? Now, when he didn’t open the connecting door, she’d had enough. He might not want anything to do with her, but there was so much to tell him. To warn him of!
He seemed...overwrought. His hands were clenching at his sides and his chest was heaving as if he’d run uphill. She didn’t know what she’d expected to see when she released the latch, but Evrart just standing on the other side of the door wasn’t it.
‘Are you harmed?’ There was no one behind him, and yet... ‘Is there danger?’
He stormed over, grabbed the door and her elbow. When he began to push her back, she dug her heels in.
‘What are you doing?’ she said.
‘You can’t be in here.’
His voice was rough, low, and brooked no dispute.
‘So we stand here, in between, then,’ she said, her voice cracking. This was so hard! She should have protected herself better. Then she wouldn’t feel this hurt. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. To ask of you.’
He released her. ‘Your hand...’
‘It’s wrapped.’ She raised it before them. It was only the shock of it that caused her to cry out.
‘He cut you. Hurt. You.’
Evrart was always so controlled, so careful of his movements, of his words. She’d never seen this fierceness in him before, and the longer she stayed quiet, the more Evrart seemed as if he was to reach for his sword and storm the battlefield.
‘I cut myself first, remember? People have cuts.’ The cut she’d made to distract Ian’s attention from Biedeluue had been deep, and still caused her pain. Ian’s had been shallow. More like a scratch. ‘They’ll be healed soon enough.’
His nostrils flared. ‘Why did you open the door?’
What had happened to him while he was away? What was happening to him now? His words were cutting, harsh, and clipped at the ends. She felt his emotions crashing against her. He was the one who had told her they couldn’t be together. This anger had to be at something else.
‘I saw you walking here...heard you open your door.’
‘But I didn’t open the connecting door. Did you not think, for one moment, that there may be a reason I didn’t?’ he said.
She hadn’t. Because she had known he was there and, despite the fact he wanted no future with her, she needed to tell him of her sister, to ask him if he could help her. Since she was locked in here, she had no choice but to beg Evrart. And she needed to know if the new arrivals were friends or enemies. Nobody came to the fortress that she knew of, and now her sister had appeared last night, and new people had arrived in the early morning.
‘You were there and I needed to talk to you,’ she said, fully aware that she was repeating herself. But he looked so shocked, she wasn’t certain he was understanding what she was saying.
‘You didn’t know if it was safe,’ he said.
That hardly mattered. She’d been locked inside when she was used to independence. If she had access to the outside, she’d be there now. The fact she had access to different rooms was hardly any compensation, but while she did, and he was near, she’d always open the door.
‘You have to stay safe!’
He grabbed her arms, held her still. His grip was almost gentle, almost fierce. The tension in his palms vibrated up her arms. Why was he so concerned? There was no future between them.
Right now, she just wanted her sister out of this fortress and to know why more people had arrived. So, though it hurt just looking at him, though she felt tears prick at her eyes and anger at his callousness stab at her heart, she needed to stand here and talk—for her family. Then, afterwards, when he’d left, when he’d either said he’d help or he wouldn’t, she would curl herself up on the sill again.
‘This isn’t about me.’ She raised her chin, pleased her voice didn’t betray her. ‘Who are those people? They entered early this morning. I saw you standing with them.’
He looked at her hands lying on his forearms, his brow raised, his eyes wide. She’d shocked him. But when he looked at her again she saw beneath the swirling brown and blue a banked heat.
He swallowed. ‘Ian didn’t say?’
‘I didn’t see him. He was in the other chamber and quickly left.’
It was how it had been since he’d returned. Some days he ignored her—other days he muttered of matters she wasn’t certain she wanted to know about. Like brothers’ betrayals and how proud he was of them. Like poison and fools. A smattering of words that made no sense and frightened her all the same.
Evrart pulled back slowly until their hands were released and air cooled her skin. ‘They are his parents.’
She blinked, relieved. She couldn’t imagine Ian having a family, but if they’d come then perhaps Ian’s attention would be on them instead of her sister.
‘That’s good, then, isn’t it?’
He looked aghast. ‘Haven’t you heard any rumours at all?’
She had. Roul had talked of Ian when he had arrived there, and she’d asked some of the servants, but nothing before that.
‘They’re dangerous. So is Ian. So was my life before.’
His hands were outstretched, as if to grab her again, but he pulled them back, looked at them as if he didn’t know what they were doing.
‘No, this is nothing like before. Ian’s not well.’
‘What does this have to do with his parents?’
‘Everything to do with them since they’re the cause of it.’ Evrart shook his head. ‘I’ve been with him for a long time. His reason is slipping. I don’t know how much is truth from him. He’s more dangerous than before.’
She hadn’t known him before, but at night Ian tossed and turned in his sleep. He said words about his wife. He was distressed, and his cries made it seem possible that he cared for his wife. Then he’d wake again, and she’d know better than to let her guard down. It was like caring for a wild animal that at any moment could kill you.
‘Do you trust me?’ asked Evrart. ‘I was gone for weeks. I left you here whilst Ian was in residence. I—’
He wanted trust from her battered heart? All her life she’d protected herself and defended her family. With Evrart she had been prepared to defend him, too—except he told her he didn’t want her.
Yet, did her emotions have anything to do with trusting him? Because she still had them. Foolishly, probably, when they had no future. And yet...
‘Were you recounting that story of the hogs to Ian to cheer me?’ she asked.
‘Did it?’
&n
bsp; Her quiet warrior had embellished a humorous story. Had that been him asking for forgiveness? Did it matter when it came to her own feelings? ‘I trust you, Evrart. I do.’
He exhaled roughly, adjusted his neck, but a look that was almost uncomfortable flitted across his eyes.
‘Do you...not trust me?’ she said.
His eyes locked with hers, but the man who rarely talked had returned.
She pointed behind her. ‘We lay in that bed. Together.’
‘And it was true.’
It had felt that way to her. Was he sincere?
‘You told me we had no future.’
‘We talked of my not seeing colours. We talked of quince and forbidden fruit. We talked of the chapel garden. But I have to know everything. To protect you if I must. To protect my family if not.’
He looked away then, as if he realised he’d said too much. He had. He didn’t trust her. She’d lain with him. Given herself freely for the first time. And yet there was a belief inside him that thought she wasn’t to be trusted.
‘I know you were Roul’s mistress,’ he said.
He might as well have struck her. This was worse than being told they had no future. Now he was telling her she was unworthy of him. She just stood there, taking his words, unable to protect herself.
‘And I know there was a man before who was a fool and lost you in a game,’ he said.
She barely heard him through the roaring in her ears—but she didn’t need to hear him because she was already backing away to close the door.
He reached out. ‘No, don’t. I’m saying everything poorly.’
‘You are, but even if you decorate your words, your meaning is still clear.’
He looked down at the ground, before looking back at her. ‘I don’t want to talk of those men. I want to know of you.’
He didn’t deserve to know.
His brows drew in. ‘Let me ask, please. His parents are here, and I can’t leave anything to chance. What does Ian want with you? Everything in me says that your reason for being here is Ian’s alone, and yet he’s not behaving with you as he should if you were innocent.’
She’d told him she trusted him. Now she felt like some sort of fool to have done so. She just wanted him gone. It hurt to look at him. He didn’t deserve to know her past, but he wasn’t leaving. Maybe when he knew some of it, he would.
‘I had nothing to do with Ian before that one fateful night,’ she said. ‘I chose Josse because of his age and his manners. Because he was wealthy enough to take care of my family and he did so. With Roul, I avoided him as much as he’d allow me. I ate by myself. That night I was starving. It was dark, and I walked to the kitchens where Ian held a dagger to a woman’s throat. I ran, but he caught me. I didn’t hear words exchanged, or if I did, I’ve forgotten them. He kept me, and I don’t know why. He told me he killed her, but I’m still here,’ she said.
He frowned. ‘If you happened upon one of his games he should have killed you. It’s another game of his. It’s not you.’
Wasn’t it? She had been the mistress of Josse and of Roul. If she hadn’t put herself in that house she wouldn’t have been in Ian’s games. She felt Evrart’s eyes search hers, felt as if her own were doing the same.
She found it odd, now she’d talked of Josse and Roul, that he talked of Ian and not the men she’d lain with. Twice now he had let that part of her past go. Maybe he didn’t want to know of the men, or perhaps it didn’t affect him as she thought. A part of her wanted to pursue it with him, to let him know how terrible a person she had been before Josse had ridden through town and she’d made the decision to remedy it all. But what would be the point?
She needed to get her sister free, and then she’d be gone. This man, for whom she had let all her defences down, was here for just this part of her life. He wanted no future with her. And yet she worried for him, because he was implying...
‘When you left that day...that last day when you and I—’
‘He was waiting for me outside this door,’ he said. ‘He knew I was in here. When he left, he said his time was to be interesting. I thought he meant his next journey, but now I wonder if it was...here.’
What would be interesting here? Nothing.
‘Margery, we need to say so much more, but the timing... Ian’s parents are here and that changes everything. Whatever rumours you’ve heard, that isn’t the same as living with them. They are badgers with smiles on their faces.’
Ah. Back to the guests and her sister. ‘I can hardly avoid them if Ian decides to—’
‘He won’t introduce you, but they will still know you’re here.’
‘Why wouldn’t he introduce me?’
‘He’s never had a mistress before, and you aren’t even his mistress. It would cause too many questions.’
‘But there’s all these people...and they’re likely to be in this area of the castle because they’re his family.’
‘True, but...’
Evrart looked to the side before he looked at her again. She saw something in his eyes—something she wanted to know very badly. Something that had nothing to do with Ian and his parents.
‘They have an odd way of pretending,’ he continued, though his voice was a bit raspier than before. ‘If nothing is said, and if it is of no import, then it’s beneath them.’
She felt the heat in her cheeks. It was true. As a mistress without powerful connections, she was beneath Ian, and she knew in her heart she was beneath Evrart. Evrart—who kept looking at her as he’d devour her, or stuff her away in some burrow where no one could find her.
‘You’ll stay away from them,’ Evrart said.
It sounded as if he cared...he looked as if he wanted her safe. And, as foolish as it might be, she wanted it to be true. Because, even if she was a fool to do so, a part of her trusted him, a part of her loved him. All of her worried for him.
‘I’ll stay safe as long as you will,’ she said.
Evrart gaped at the woman who now stood in the doorway connecting his room to hers. She was right there. Fearless wide clear eyes, full lips, that defiant tilt to her head that made him want to bury his hands in her curls, tilt her chin up and kiss her.
‘I’m always safe,’ he answered.
‘No, I don’t believe you’ve been safe for a very long time. If I’m to stay safe, then you are, too.’
Had anybody ever said such words to him? Had he ever had such a reaction? He’d left Ian and his mother in the courtyard, strode as fast as he could to come here. But when he’d arrived it had been as if all the fear and rage over the last days had escalated inside him. He’d merely wanted a moment to gather himself. To not be a madman when he faced her.
And all she’d done was open the door...
A breath, some words, and reason had returned. But how could he hold on to it if she said such words as this to add to the words that said she cared for him?
Those words whipped heat around him. Her voice was telling him she wanted him safe, calling to him to take, to protect.
Possession. Protection. Those words had lashed at him since last night, when he hadn’t been able to hold her, when he’d pressed his ear to the connecting door in case she came to harm.
Her hand was wrapped. Not a drop of blood had bled through. It had to have been a shallow cut, but he hated it. Hated their separation. So, though Ian had dismissed him, and he’d hurried to reach her, once he could, he’d tried to rein himself him.
He’d stood by the door just to breathe and settle his heart, and then she had pertly opened it and harangued him.
Ian’s room was empty for now, and so was his. Margery was here. Another step and she’d be in his room, near his bed. All he had to do was shut the connecting door to Ian’s chambers...
‘Evrart, you’re quiet again.’ She shook her head, her curls brushing against her
shoulders, releasing that fragrance he swore he’d scented in his bed last night. How she had plagued him even then!
No, there was danger. She couldn’t be here.
The corner of her lip was healed, the bruises around her neck faded. He was glad. He was grateful. He wanted to mark her all over again. Simply the thought of Ian having access to her when he could not was driving him mad.
‘You’re here.’
She was here in front of him, and they had talked of what they needed to. Now he just wanted. But they had no time!
‘And so are you,’ she said. Simply. Easily. As if it didn’t mean everything to him.
He’d gone a lifetime without her, then weeks more after he’d kissed her, held her. But these hours of being close to her without knowing her like that again were unbearable. He couldn’t do it again. Not in this lifetime.
‘I should have told you of my family and Ian’s threats against them,’ he said.
She tilted her head, her expression one of guilt, concern. ‘Perhaps. And I should have told you of mine,’ she said.
He didn’t understand. ‘Yours?’
She nodded. ‘My family. Because one of them is here.’
He stepped away. Looked through Ian’s rooms and then his own before he dared take another glance at the woman who unbalanced him.
‘We should sit,’ she said.
He’d thought her past held the danger. How much time had he already been here? How much time before Ian was to be here, or the rest of the household?
‘Tell me,’ he demanded.
‘I sent a message, asking to be rescued.’
‘What?’
‘I learnt to read and write from Josse and I taught my siblings.’
‘Margery...’
She closed eyes briefly. ‘I sent a message to my sister, to make her keep away, and another to my brothers, asking for their help because I was in danger.’
Evrart cursed. Cursed again. ‘The usher?’
‘Biedeluue. She is my sister.’
‘The cook—?’
