It took Tarran a split second to recognize her. He’d known her for quite a long time and there was no mistaking her features. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but she slapped a hand over it and yanked him into the darkness against the bulkhead. He was a big man and yanking on him almost pulled her arms from their sockets. But he moved, mostly under his own power, sparing her any dislocated shoulders. For several long moments, they stared at each other, neither one of them daring to speak.
Tresta finally broke the silence.
“If I remove my hand, will you be silent?” she hissed.
Tarran’s eyes narrowed with reluctance and resignation. But he nodded his head and she removed her hand.
“You will stay as silent as the grave, Tarran du Reims,” she muttered. “Do you understand me?”
He looked at her with much the same expression her husband had when he thought someone had gone certifiably insane.
“How on earth did you get here, my lady?”
She scowled. “That is none of your affair,” she said. “But let it be known that I have come to be with my husband and if you divulge my presence to him before I have had been provided the opportunity to do so myself, then I swear I shall see to it that you never serve my husband again. I shall make sure that you are released from his service and that your name is forever disgraced. I shall make your life a living hell, Tarran, and have no doubt of this. Is this in any way unclear to you?”
Tarran wasn’t the least bit threatened. He had seen thirty-four years, was intelligent, and gloriously handsome. With his shoulder-length dark hair, sculpted good looks, and a beautifully built physique, he had no shortage of female admirers. But he was a warrior, first and foremost, and the only woman he had ever given a second glance to was Tresta. But his duty was to her husband and he would not violate that trust, no matter how attractive he found her.
Furthermore, he knew her well enough to know her moods. She could be difficult to handle at times and he did not find that quality pleasant. But other times, she could be sweet and intelligent and humorous. Gloriously humorous.
He liked a woman who made him laugh.
“It is very clear,” he replied after a moment. “But it does not excuse the fact that you should not be here. If I do not tell your husband of your presence, far worse things will befall me than your threats.”
“I will never forgive you, Tarran. Mark my words.”
“It is a chance I will have to take.”
“Don’t you dare!”
Tarran grabbed her by the wrist. Panicked, Tresta lashed out and struck him across the face, so hard that she caught his nostril with a fingernail and bloodied his nose. Jolted, Tarran slacked his grip enough so that she was able to break free.
She fled into the darkness of the hold.
Tarran wiped the blood from his nose, debating whether or not to pursue her. She couldn’t get far on the ship. After a moment’s indecision, he made his way back to Teague.
Though he had no fault in this, Tarran began to feel like the bearer of bad news. He was unsure how Teague would react. He was a large man and was mostly able to control his temper, but Tresta could push him beyond reason at times. Tarran had seen many things between them in his years of service. He would hate to be the catalyst to a husbandly explosion.
He was debating with himself when Teague looked up and saw the blood on his face.
“What happened to you?” he asked.
Tarran almost lied to him. That, in and of itself, frightened him. It meant his loyalty was in question and he didn’t like that one bit. He almost blurted his news.
“There is a problem, my lord.”
“What problem?”
Tarran puffed out his cheeks, exhaling sharply. “Your wife is here.”
Teague stared at him as if he did not understand his words. Then, his brown eyes widened. “Tresta is here?” He shoved past Tarran so hard that he nearly pushed the knight over. “Where is she? Did you leave her on the shore unattended?”
“Nay, my lord, she is not on the shore,” Tarran said, reaching out to stop him. By this time, William, Gilbert and Hallam were standing, all of them in various stages of concern and shock. Tarran continued. “She’s on the ship.”
Teague gave him that familiar expression that suggested he had lost his mind. “On the ship? What are you talking about?”
Tarran knew it sounded foolish, even to him. He explained quickly. “When I was returning to the hold, I found her hiding in the shadows dressed like a peasant,” he said. “I didn’t even recognize her until she bumped into me. When I took hold of her to bring her to you, she struck me and ran off. My bloodied nose is proof of that.”
Teague stood a moment, dumbfounded. Then, fury began to creep into his cheeks. “She is on this ship?”
“Aye, my lord.”
“She is dressed in some foolish costume?”
“I saw her with my own eyes, my lord.”
Teague’s dark eyebrows twitched menacingly. “We find her now,” he growled. “All of you, spread out through the hold. Find my wife before something horrible befalls her.”
William, Gilbert and Tarran fled. Hallam, ever defensive of his sister, went to stand beside Teague. Having known his brother-in-law as long as he had, he knew the man was mostly fearful for Tresta’s safety more than he was actually angry with her.
That would come later.
“She begged to come,” Hallam said quietly. “I cannot believe that it is true that she would follow us. But… but whatever comes, try not to become too angry. Remember that she did not do this with evil intent.”
Teague turned sharply to his wife’s brother. Hallam was a pale, plain slip of a man. He tried so hard to be a good knight but lacked the strength and skill to do so. Still, his heart was good and Teague did not have the will to discourage him. The man had far more wisdom than power and Teague had come to depend on that particular talent.
“If she is here…” He paused, regrouped, and struggled to calm himself. “If she is here, Hallam, then I will do what is necessary to make sure she does not follow me all the way to The Levant. I will throw her in the White Tower if I have to and beg them to hold the key until I return. I swear I will.”
Hallam watched him stalk off into the darkness. Teague d’Mearc never said anything he didn’t mean. Nor did Tresta, which made for interesting activities in the battle of wills. In his opinion, however, whatever consequence awaited his sister at the hands of her husband, this time, she deserved it.
*
The five knights nearly turned the hold upside down in the hunt for Lady d’Mearc.
Mess boys and old, grizzled sailors scattered as the thunder came down upon them. Gilbert was the first to come across Simon, then Channing, before finally locating Tresta wrapped up against the bulkhead in one of the canvas hammocks. It had been a clever place to hide, but Gilbert had been sharp in his observations. Moreover, Simon had panicked and pointed to the hammock. They all knew the redheaded knight could be very mean when provoked. All of the pages had suffered a run-in with him at one time or another. Gilbert had picked up the entire hammock without unwrapping it and hauled it back into the knights’ compartment.
Teague took the bundle from Gilbert and unrolled it across the floor like a carpet, spitting Tresta onto the deck. Her cap had come off and all of her glorious copper-colored hair splayed wildly across her shoulders. Slightly dizzy from being rolled around, she looked up to see four stern faces gazing down at her, and one positively furious one.
Teague’s brown eyes were as sharp as a blade. Tresta was guilty, defiant, and glad to see him all at the same time.
“Do not be angry with Channing and Simon,” she told him. “I commanded them to accompany me. They had no choice.”
Teague’s jaw was ticking. “How in God’s name did you get here?”
“We rode horses, staying close to the road without actually traveling upon it. When we reached London, we sold the horses so we could eat.�
� When Teague didn’t say anything, she began to feel desperate. They had not departed shore yet and she did not want him to throw her off the ship. “Please do not be angry. I only wanted to…”
Teague reached down and pulled her to her feet. Taking her to a corner of the bulkhead where they could not be heard, he faced her, struggling to control himself. He was terrified and furious at the same time.
“Do you have any idea how foolish this is?” He suddenly reached out, grasping her face. “Tresta, you could have… Christ, do you have any idea what could have happened as you traveled from Snow Hill to London, alone and without armed escort?”
He made it sound so absolutely horrible. “We suffered no trouble, my love,” she insisted softly.
The hands on her face move to her shoulders. Teague lowered his head, laboring for control, as his grip on her tightened.
“Tresta,” he said, more calmly. “It is well and fortunate that you did not suffer trouble. I thank God for it. But the fact remains that only a madwoman would have traveled alone. You had to be at least five days on the road…”
“Six,” she interjected. “Channing’s horse turned up lame and that slowed our progress.”
He gave her that expression again, mad-like, as if she had grown another head. “Listen to what you are saying. Do you hear yourself?”
She’d had enough. She threw her arms around his neck, her lips against his ear, hot and passionate. “Please do not be angry,” she murmured. “I told you that I cannot be without you. I begged you to take me. Please, please do not send me home. Not now, not when I have finally found you. I’ve gone through so much trouble to get this far.”
His first reaction was to push her away. He was in no mood to embrace her. But the comfort of her sweet body against him changed his mind and his fear multiplied tenfold when he thought of the foolishness of her actions.
He had no idea how close he came to losing her.
“Christ, Woman,” he breathed in her ear, his arms winding about her tightly. “Are you truly so daft that you would risk your life for me or am I truly so lucky to have someone who would love me so?”
She kissed his cheek, his neck. “I told you I could not be separated from you. I meant it.”
He just rolled his eyes, feeling like an idiot for allowing himself to be manipulated. He knew he should get her off the ship immediately and hire an armed escort to take her home, but he couldn’t seem to pull himself away from her at the moment. He was, when his anger settled, very glad to hold her again.
“What of Jasper and Rhys?” he asked.
“I left them sleeping with my father to watch over them.”
“I cannot believe he let you come.” He suddenly held her at arm’s length. “You did not knock him on the head and bury the body, did you? Hector would have never let you come had he had any breath left in his body.”
“I stole away in the dead of night.”
He just stared at her, finding himself more and more torn. He knew he should be decisive. She needed to go home.
“Tresta, my dearest love,” he said, knowing that reasoning with her would be a better tactic. “We discussed this the night before my departure. I thought you understood that it was more important that you stay at home, with the children. It is your duty, as Lady of Snow Hill. Without me to rule, it is imperative that you rule in my stead. Our vassals must not feel as if they have been abandoned and neither must our sons.”
Her lovely face fell. “But… I must be with you. I cannot go for weeks, months or years not knowing if you are safe and well,” she said. “I cannot live in that hell. I will surely go mad. And if you do not return…”
He shook her gently as if to shake the horrific thoughts from her mind. “We have been over this too many times to count. Why must you think the worst? Why can you not believe that I will return to you safely?”
Her expression darkened further. “Because I heard you talking to your knights one evening when you thought I was in bed. I heard you tell them that only one out of every two knights who journey to the Holy Land ever returns. I heard you tell them about the hardship that awaited them. You’ve not told me any of this personally. You’ve not been honest with me in the least. You have attempted to paint a pleasant picture where none exists.”
His eyebrows lifted, at first to be angry with her, but then to acknowledge the truth of her words. “Mayhap that is true. But it was only to spare you the worry.”
“You spared me nothing. What you gave me was suspicion and fear to allow my imagination to run wild.”
He gazed into her eyes. He could feel himself weakening and he struggled against it. “If that is true, then I am more sorry than you can know,” he said softly. “It was not my intention, nor was it my intention to withhold the truth of the situation. I only wished to spare you.”
Tresta didn’t say anything. She was exhausted and hungry and feeling weak. Her knees suddenly buckled and she settled back against the bulkhead, sliding to the floor as Teague reached out to slow her descent. He went down on his knees beside her, no longer the furious husband.
He was concerned.
“Sweetheart, you’re exhausted,” he murmured. “Let me get you something to eat and then we’ll figure out what to do.”
She waved him off. “I am going with you, Teague. I must. Please do not send me home.”
His jaw ticked as he fought off his frustration. Glancing over his shoulder, he motioned to Hallam to bring his sister something to eat. Then he turned back to his wife.
“If you go,” he said quietly, “I can promise you that my chances of surviving this quest are greatly diminished.”
“Why?”
“Because I will not have only myself to protect. I will have to protect you, too. You will divide my attention and, therefore, jeopardize us both.”
“But I can use a sword. I can fight.”
“This is not a fight. This is a holy war. You have no idea what you are asking to participate in.”
Before she could reply, Hallam joined them. He kissed his sister’s hand as he deposited a small piece of brown bread in her palm. She smiled at her brother gratefully and took a huge bite of the coarse bread.
“Teague,” Hallam muttered in his ear. “The time is upon us. They are preparing to release the moorings.”
Hallam slipped away. Teague watched his wife wolf down the bread. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”
She stopped in mid-chew, thinking. “Early this morn.”
“And before that?”
She swallowed the bite in her mouth, taking another piece and chewing more slowly. There was guilt in her movements. “I do not recall. Sometime yesterday, I suppose.”
Teague shook his head. He wasn’t at all happy with the fact that she had not taken care of herself during this journey, in any aspect. Her desire to reach him had been so strong that it had blinded her to everything else.
“The ship is preparing to set sail,” he said quietly. “We must get you off.”
She almost choked on the food in her mouth. “Nay! I am not getting off!”
“Tresta…”
She threw down the remainder of the bread and staggered to her feet, reeling out of Teague’s arm length. “No!”
She was off. Teague rose to his feet and followed her at a quickened pace. He refused to run. It wasn’t as if she were going to run off the ship, so he was confident he could catch her at some point. He only hoped it was soon enough to remove her from the boat.
The hold was dark and crowded. It smelled impossibly bad and he stepped, more than once, in some manner of bodily excrement. He caught sight of Gilbert, standing with Simon and Channing near their hammocks, and he whistled between his teeth to catch the knight’s attention. Gilbert approached.
“My lord?”
“Tresta has run off again. We must collect her before this boat departs.”
Gilbert faded off into the dank hold, but not before he jabbed a finger at the pages and bade th
em to accompany him. Like fearful wraiths, they followed. Teague moved along the bulkhead, his eyes sharp, watching the sailors in the darkness and keeping alert for one shaped like his wife.
She would not be difficult to find.
Three hours later, the ship was entering the channel between England and the Continent and still, he had not found her.
CHAPTER THREE
The ropes had burned her tender hands.
Rigging was a man’s work, Tresta knew, but she had been doing it for the better part of two hours and she was becoming quite adept at it. The Michael had a deck crew, a hold crew, a captain, four officers that she could count, and a surgeon with a hugely red face and bulbous nose. The deck crew was the largest and she had lost herself in the smelly group of men just before the ship dropped moorings and weighed anchor. She presumed, and hoped, that Teague would continue looking for her in the hold, convinced she would not dare present a presence on deck. She had wagered that she would be right and he would be wrong.
So, she joined the mass of men lashing the moorings and hoisting sails. Not strong enough for the truly heavy work, she took direction from the menacing boat master and focused on securing the rope once the sails had been lifted. Then someone had handed her a bucket of water with some type of lye in it for cleaning the decks, and she had found a corner of the deck and begun scrubbing the sea-worn wood. It had taken her out of the traffic and into a task where no one would bother her. When the ship left the mouth of the Thames and entered the open channel, she had finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Teague could not send her home now.
After a half-hour on the open water, her relief at not being discovered by her husband had turned into nausea induced by the rolling of the waves. Tresta’s fear of becoming ill on the boat was realized as the movement was beginning to make her ill. She stopped scrubbing long enough to sit back against the rail of the ship, breathing in the chill sea wind and hoping it would settle her stomach. The boat master chose that moment to walk past her.
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