Knight Secrets

by C. C. Wiley

  Hamish let his disgust ooze all over her. “Micah calls me a child, too. He told Faith and Mercy that I’m a babe. He says Lord Ranulf doesn’t want me and I’ll never leave Sedgewic. Do you think ’tis true?”

  Clarice squirmed under his pitiful gaze, unsure how to reassure him when she herself was the one always left behind. Besides, she had enough troubles of her own.

  The appearance of new swans lifted her spirits. As she had discovered, the distance between Sedgewic and Margrave lands was not that great. ’Twas possible the peddler—her peddler—had returned to Margrave and found the manor deserted. In his need to dispose of the expensive swans, he’d carried them to Sedgewic. The peddler might be her means of escape. Together they would find the proof of her father’s innocence and search out the king’s protection. She required an ally inside the castle walls. Otherwise they were impenetrable from all sides.

  “Hamish.” Erwina marched into the chamber. Her gray head bobbed as she searched for her prey. “You were to deliver the clothing and the invitation. Why do you still stand here?”

  Certain she heard his chubby knees knocking together, Clarice rushed to his aid. “Mistress Erwina, I was going to have Hamish thank you for the clothing,” she announced. “But as you are here, I’m pleased to thank you in person.”

  Erwina blinked away from Hamish, then turned to pin him with a look that spoke loudly that he should run while she had her back turned. “’Tis the lord of Sedgewic’s orders. Said ’twas important that you had a change of clothing.”

  “Oh. I’ll have to thank R-Ranulf—” Clarice’s tongue stumbled over his name as Erwina’s eyes widened. “I mean his . . . lordship.”

  The woman’s gnarled fingers twisted and untwisted the limp apron tied around her waist. She cast a furtive glance toward the large bed in the chamber. “’Tis not my place, but . . .” Weighing her words carefully, she trudged on. “Your mother would be greatly saddened by your behavior.”

  “Annora? I assure you, Mistress Erwina,” Clarice patted her stooped shoulder, “my stepmother has never been pleased with anything I have done.”

  Erwina shifted, continuously twisting the defenseless apron. “Oh, of certes, your sainted mother would have always had your best interests at heart.”

  “I fear you have her confused with someone else. Annora’s heart doesn’t have room for me.”

  Erwina nodded. “One day, child, you’ll understand.” She nudged her toward the fresh pile of clothing. “Hurry now. You had best make haste if you plan to ride with the lord of Sedgewic and his men.”

  “What?”

  Chapter 21

  Before Clarice could press Erwina for the meaning of her veiled comment, Ranulf stood in the doorway. His raw strength filled the chamber. “What must the lord of this domain do for a lady to attend his wishes?”

  He eyed the abandoned pile of clothing lying on the floor. “Mistress Erwina, my time is short and my patience thin. If the wench dislikes the clothing, show her the trunk.”

  Clarice took several steps toward the irritating man. “Lord Ranulf, I’m right here. There’s no need to speak of me as if I’m not standing in the same room.”

  He scowled, dismissing her comment with a flip of his hand. “Erwina, find something of my wife’s that will fit her. See that she is prepared to ride before the hour is out.”

  Murderer. The word circled Clarice’s thoughts like a vulture. Was it possible? She could not believe he would murder his wife. But at the will of his king? The ache in her lungs squeezed tighter. He would indeed.

  Clarice stilled the pounding in her heart. She folded her arms, matching his attitude and glare. “Where exactly do you intend to take me?”

  His gaze roamed over her person, lingering for a moment upon the valley between her breasts.

  Her cheeks flushed with temper. The devilish man had heard her but refused to answer. Shoulders straightened, back lengthened, she tried stretching her height. “’Tis a simple enough question and I refuse to leave this room until you have answered me.”

  Ranulf turned. “Erwina, I require her presence at the bailey yard before the horses are brought around. Don’t make me wait.”

  “Please.” Clarice touched his sleeve, failing to still the trembling in her fingers. “Do you mean to send me away?”

  “Mayhap one day, little one.” He placed his palm on her fingers, cupping her hand. “But not today. Today I have a great deal of work to do before we leave for France.”

  “Then you intend to take me with you.” Hope leaped through her veins. Plans raced through her head. If she could not escape the devil, she would outsmart him and meet with the king himself. “Then I’ll have the opportunity to speak with King Henry.”

  Ranulf’s misty gray orbs narrowed. “What of great importance would you share with our king? Have you spent time with royalty? Does he even know your name? No, of course he does not.” He continued to examine her as if she were an insect. “Ah, ’tis as I thought. Your silence speaks for itself.”

  Clarice waved the air as if it were of no great importance. “Once I meet with him, he will want me to attend him and his court.”

  “You outstep your boundaries. Our king doesn’t have time for a frivolous court romance.”

  “’Tis you who oversteps propriety.” Hands on hips, she looked him up and down as if seeing him for the first time.

  “Many a bitter word laced with syrup has brought foolish men to their knees.”

  Seeing her window of escape begin to close, Clarice licked her lips and tried a different tack. “Pray, hear me out. You are a man in favor with the king.”

  “My sweet, you are not riding past Sedgewic lands. You’ll remain here until my return. Besides, Henry is too busy to give you audience.”

  Clarice’s plans evaporated like the mists in the morning sun. Determined to change her situation, she pressed on. “But you said—”

  “Silence! My concern is for today. Our numbers are limited and I don’t have enough men to allow even one to guard your every step.” He rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling his hair. “As I see it, I’ll have to undertake the task of keeping you out of trouble. ’Tis the reason I request you ride with me.” He held his hand up in warning. “Only for today.”

  Her thoughts swirled. Christ’s blood! Joined at his hip at every turn, she might never escape. Nor did she care to explore the growing discomfort she felt whenever Ranulf was near. Desperate to leave the confines of Sedgewic and the truth of her feelings, she grasped at an alternative to his plans.

  “As you’ve said, Mistress Erwina is overtaxed with the duties of the household. I should stay here and help her. ’Tis certain you can see the poor thing is nigh on to wasting away.”

  He tilted his head as if sniffing out his prey. “’Tis a tempting thought and much easier to obtain than gaining audience with the king, but I think not, sweeting. Although I’m certain you meant it to the marrow of your tender bones, I cannot expect Erwina to waste her day guarding you from yourself.” He pressed his hand over her mouth. “As you said, she carries a great load and we wouldn’t want to add to its weight. Would we?”

  Clarice nipped his fingers. ’Twas small satisfaction when he winced before he jerked out of reach of her sharp teeth, but ’twas worth the pleasure just the same.

  “I see you prove my point without effort, wench. My decision stands.”

  “Oh, piss and bother.” She stamped her foot. “What if I swear an oath and promise not to venture from this room?”

  “You expect me to believe one word you say? Oath or not, it holds no value.”

  “Horse’s ass,” she muttered. “May a plague find its way to your codpiece.”

  Her breath caught when he dragged her to his chest and planted a kiss on her parted lips. He buried his hands in her hair and drew her closer, assaulting her senses. His tongue danced lightly, luring her lips to offer sanctuary to his own. He stopped as suddenly as he had started and dragged his mouth away.

 
; Wide-eyed, Clarice ran a hand across her throat. “Do not attempt that again,” she whispered.

  “Do you threaten me?”

  “No,” she said. “But there are ways to hurt that leave no visible scar.”

  She took a step back, sensing she had gone too far. As his hand drew back, a moment of something akin to disappointment pierced her heart as she braced for the punishment. Disgust with her inability to see through his lies roiled in her stomach. Physical pain she would have expected from someone like Robert. Not this man standing before her.

  Continuing to surprise her, Ranulf’s hand rammed through his hair, unaware that as he did so, he revealed the edge of the jagged scar running from his temple. Her heart tugged at the sight.

  “Yes,” he said. “And there are ways that leave their mark, no matter what you do.” His thumb slid over her sensitive lips. “I wonder which you intend. Either way, I fear there will be damage to both of us before we are through.”

  Clarice glanced at Erwina, who looked as if she wished a hole would open up and deliver her from this house of madmen.

  “Begging your pardon, my lord,” Erwina said, bobbing a curtsy on her spry old legs, “but what are your wishes?”

  “My wishes?” Ranulf paused. “I fear my good nature has taken a turn. I’d be hard-pressed to conjure it up for the king himself.” Once again, his mouth formed a stern line. “I don’t give a bloody good damn. Do with her what you will.”

  The door slammed in Erwina’s face and she whirled on Clarice. “If she hadn’t already passed on, your mother would be dying of shame. I am beginning to think you deserve the life you have been given.”

  Clarice attempted to pull her shoulders back, but they refused to go. She slumped to the floor in rejection.

  Erwina drew close and rested a hesitant hand on her head. “There, there, lass. Don’t give in to the trouble that surrounds us. All will be well.”

  “How can you say that, Erwina?”

  “Well, he did say I could use you as I willed.”

  Clarice looked up, wary of the punishment to be meted out. It should not have mattered, really, as she was accustomed to labor. The servants at Margrave were too few to work the fields, so she did her best to help. Many a night she fell into bed out of sheer exhaustion, surrounded by her dreams.

  “’Tis a great castle, teeming with hungry mouths,” she whispered meekly. “I shan’t dare try to figure out how you managed for so long. I imagine ’twas a little easier when Lady Mary was alive to help.”

  Erwina grunted. “That one? She had no desire to learn the ways of running a household.”

  “’Tis certain she had been taught by her fostering family.”

  “That one preferred the servants learned their places. She was most offended when Lord Ranulf brought her to her new home. Castle Sedgewic was in worse shape when she arrived than ’tis now.”

  Clarice lifted a disbelieving brow. “’Tis unimaginable this castle is for the better.”

  “Lord Ranulf has made great strides in putting it in order. Not one chamber was fit for use when they first arrived. If the roof was safe, then the floors threatened to fall down. If the floors were sturdy, then the roof had holes in it. Lady Mary demanded to go back to the court, but all her tantrums were ignored. There were rumors the king did not wish for her immediate return. It wasn’t long before his lordship had to leave to tend to the king’s needs.”

  Clarice thought of the times she had been left to molder while her family traveled to London. On one recent occasion, Robert had bragged to her that he would soon earn the king’s favor and have all the women begging at his feet. He had said one in particular came to mind. Then he scampered off to lift the skirts of Annora’s latest maids. Poor thing. ’Twas a blessing Annora had removed the young chamber maids from Margrave Manor and sent them to the house in London. However, ’twas whispered Robert abused his position in Margrave House, too.

  “Whatever did Lady Mary do to occupy her day?” Clarice asked.

  “She managed to find her mischief—” Erwina cleared her throat. “’Tis wrong to speak unkindly of the dead.”

  “Hamish spoke of the lady’s death. That she was murdered.”

  “Ack! That child needs more than a beating, but it would do us no good anyway.”

  “Mistress Erwina—”

  The cap shook as the old woman crossed herself. “And there’ll be no more talk of Lady Mary. If you wish to know more, speak to Lord Ranulf.”

  Clarice suppressed her curiosity and returned to Erwina’s earlier words. They buzzed around her, confusing her with things she did not understand.

  “What did you mean about my mother?”

  Erwina stopped bustling around the chamber. Her back to Clarice, she stiffened before answering. “Oh, I think you misheard me, dear.”

  “You said she would be disappointed. Did you know my mother?”

  “Hush now! We haven’t time for a game of questions.”

  “I never knew her . . . my mother.”

  Tight-lipped, Erwina moved about with precision, gathering items from chest and pile. “Hurry, child,” she called. “You must make haste.” Erwina propelled Clarice toward the pile of garments. “No time for chatter.”

  Before Clarice could question the woman’s frantic pace, the gown she wore was replaced by a dress of fine green wool. She traced the intricate geometric patterns embroidered on the sleeve. A bit much for daily tasks, is it not?

  Erwina looked up from her rummaging through the pile and frowned. “’Tis a pity, but men do not always think of the simple details required for a lady’s dress. It appears they forgot the head covering. Should it be necessary, you’ll have to use the hood on your cloak to cover your head. The headband will hold your hair in place. The pins should do the rest.”

  “’Tis lovely work.” Clarice peered at her reflection in the bowl of water, unsure how she was to manage the skirts while she labored at household chores. “I am most amazed by your efficiency. One day you’ll have to tell me how you came to be so handy.”

  Flushed with pleasure, Erwina hastened her charge to the door. “’Tis a tale left for a day when we aren’t in a hurry to be off.”

  “Where are we going? Erwina, you heard the lord’s orders. I am to help you.”

  “He also said to do with you what I will, and I will it that you ride with him.”

  Clarice gaped. “’Tis unwise. He was sorely vexed when he left. I cannot just go to him.”

  “True. Let me think.” Erwina tapped her lips.

  Her smile left Clarice feeling like a sacrificial virgin. As she thought about it some more, she decided she felt more like the chicken with its neck stretched on the chopping block.

  “Ah!” Without another word, the woman ushered her down the stairs, leading the way to the buttery, where she went to work loading baskets. Their baskets full, Erwina guided them across the castle yard until they reached the empty bailey without mishap. After patting Clarice on the cheek, she left her standing, arms loaded with baskets laden with food, balancing a wineskin on one hip, waiting for the lord of Sedgewic.

  Feeling like that doomed chicken, Clarice’s heart pounded in her chest. As the master of Sedgewic marched up with his two large friends, she imagined the butcher block under her neck and the bite of the steel cleaver.

  Sir Darrick and Sir Nathan walked purposefully beside Ranulf. The occasional slap on Ranulf’s broad shoulder punctuated their quiet conversation. Hamish skipped behind their every step, attempting to keep up with the three. Their long strides covered a span that required him to half-run and skip to keep up. The chubby colt fighting to keep up with the virulent stallions.

  Despite all the reasons she should not enjoy the sight, Clarice admired the way Ranulf poured a certain determination into the carriage of his person. His bearing told of his comfort with leadership. His size spoke of the strength and power contained within the man.

  As they drew closer, she swallowed, prepared to feel the sharp e
dge of his tongue. “You are late, my lord.” Tipping her head, she struggled to lower into a curtsy without dropping the bundles of food.

  Sir Darrick took her elbow as she rose and removed the weighty load from her arms.

  “My thanks, Sir Darrick,” she said.

  “What are you about, Clarice?” Ranulf asked.

  “I do believe you said to meet you here within the hour.” She made a show of shading her eyes as she cast a gaze about the empty bailey. “And I see the horses have yet to be brought ’round.”

  Ranulf’s gray eyes glittered with an emotion she could not determine. He braced his arms across his chest before making a final decision.

  Clarice jumped when he grabbed the wineskin from Darrick and shoved it into her hands. Without another word, he balanced the remaining baskets in his arms. “Come,” he snapped.

  Heat flooded her cheeks as he walked away, leaving her to juggle the wine and fight her heavy skirts all the while trying to keep pace. Pausing to catch her breath, she glanced over her shoulder at the two men behind her.

  Darrick laid a hand upon Nathan’s shoulder as the taller knight made to go after them. “I would not become involved. Let them deal with it.”

  Nathan shrugged off his friend’s hand. “The devil, you say. Ranulf is behaving like an ass.”

  Mischief reflected in Sir Nathan’s green eyes as he strode up to Clarice. Her skin pebbled a warning under his scrutiny. Dread seeped into her bones. Whatever he planned would get her into more trouble with the virile lord. She yelped when he lifted her into his arms with ease. Nathan’s chuckle reverberated against her ribs. His auburn brows rose before dropping a wink her way. She caught the sight of Ranulf’s rigid stance before he methodically placed the baskets on the ground.

  “Nathan,” Darrick called, “be a knight of honor and hand over the lady to the lord before he claps you in irons.”

  Nathan met the advice with defiance. “No matter. The walls are weak and the irons are probably rusted. I would be free within the hour.”