by Byrne, Julia
She glanced that way to assure herself that her uncle’s stallion was securely locked up. The horse was a brute, bad-tempered and dangerous, unusually nervous of open spaces and possessed of a marked dislike for the human race. It occupied the only stall fitted with a door because if it saw daylight between itself and an object of dislike it tended to charge. More than one stable-boy had been savagely attacked by the animal.
“If Tom is planning to ride that seed of Satan tomorrow we’re going to have a merry time of it,” she muttered, peering into the shadows.
The door at the other end of the corridor seemed to shift slightly. As if someone had closed it and she’d caught the last inch of movement with the corner of her eye. But the door led only to the storeroom; surely no one was in there at this hour.
“Idiot,” she told herself. “You’re imagining things.”
Shrugging off the fancy, she unhooked the rope across the front of Chevette’s stall and crouched down before the wooden manger. It was the work of seconds to reach under it and run her fingers along the space between the manger and the wall until they slipped into the rough hollow she had slowly and painfully gouged out of the wood three years ago.
The crucifix hidden within fell into her hand with an almost soundless whisper of its gold and ruby chain.
Nell gave the precious object only the briefest glance. She lifted the hem of her gown, fumbling for the hidden pouch tied around her waist. It was awkward with her other hand holding the candle but she didn’t dare set down the light while she was in Chevette’s stall. Only when the crucifix was out of sight did she rise, step back into the corridor, and re-fasten the rope across the stall.
Her heart was racing again, but this time with elation. She’d done it! She could relax and turn her attention to her other reason for being here.
She reached out to stroke Chevette’s velvety muzzle and was rewarded with an affectionate shove.
“This is farewell, little friend. I wish you could carry me home, but ’twill be a long journey over rough country and you’re too delicate a lady to—”
The snick of the door latch shattered the silence like the crack of a whip.
Nell went utterly still. Cold air brushed her face. Her candle flickered wildly then steadied.
Someone had entered the stable.
But the storeroom door was still closed.
She whirled to face the way she’d come, cursing the blackness that made it impossible to see more than a few feet beyond her meagre light.
All was quiet again, but she was being watched. She could feel it. Her skin prickled all over with a primitive awareness of danger.
“Tom? Edmund? If that is one of you playing some stupid trick, I swear I’ll throw this bucket of water over you.”
There was no response.
Keeping her gaze fixed on the shadows, she bent and reached under the rope, her free hand groping for Chevette’s drinking pail. Her heart was pounding so loudly she could hear nothing else. Who was going to emerge from the darkness? Edmund seeking revenge for her earlier interference? Tom intending to force himself on her?
Her stomach clenched as she remembered her cousin’s words before she’d left him in the middle of their dance. She’d assumed his subsequent absence meant he was indulging himself with some other woman, but had he seen her enter the stable? Was he going to force her into a position where she would have no choice but to marry him? Merciful saints, would he actually rape her?
The questions raced through her mind, freezing her in her half-crouched position. Tom was capable of the act, aye. But did he possess the wit for such rapid planning?
“A wasted gesture, lady,” said a low voice from the darkness. “I can spit you where you stand before you touch that useless pail.”
The candle in her hand shook as a man appeared at the far edge of her wavering light.
Another stranger, she thought distantly. But though the man’s face was unknown to her and hazy in the poor light, the dagger in his hand was terrifyingly distinct. Her frightened gaze dropped to the weapon before she straightened and took a step back.
“Who are you?” she whispered. “What do you want?”
He only smiled in answer and made a sharp gesture with the knife. Light shimmered over the long blade when he moved forward a pace.
Nell edged away again. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was aware of movement as the horses in the nearby stalls shifted nervously, sensing something amiss. She continued to retreat, her gaze riveted to the blade as if under some sort of spell. The man matched her, step for step, not speaking.
His silence was more terrifying than all the rest. There was a chilling inevitability about it, as if he had no doubt about the outcome of their slow progression.
She had to get away! She had to think! ’Twould be useless to scream; she’d be killed before the guards could get to her. If they heard her at all.
The storeroom. If she could reach the storeroom…hide in the darkness…unlock the outer door…
Angry snorts and the crashing of hooves shattered her thoughts. She glanced back, shivery anticipation racing through her when she saw that the storeroom door was only a few yards away. The intruder could surely see what she intended, but he was making no attempt to stop her. Mayhap he was intent only on stealing a horse. A few more steps and she could reach back and—
The stallion’s stall was open!
Nell froze again, unable to believe she was seeing dark space where there should be a solid door. Her gaze whipped back to face the intruder. Had the door been left open accidentally? Was he responsible?
Blessed Mother, she needed to move. But her feet felt as if they were stuck to the floor. Her legs were shaking. Her stomach churned.
“Keep going, lady.” The man’s voice, whisper-soft in the silence, was laced with menace. His eyes resembled pits of blackness.
Where could she go? Forward to certain death at the hands of a thief? Backward to be trampled beneath the hooves of an enraged stallion? For the horse would surely charge as soon as she drew level with the stall.
“Please, if you just go…I won’t say anything. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Tell them what?”
“I don’t know.” She made a shaky gesture toward the stallion.
“You think I came for the horse? You’re easier to deal with than that brute. Aye, I know you don’t want to pass him, but you will, lady. You will.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why are you doing this? Who are you?”
He laughed softly, as though humoring her, and opened his mouth—
A swift rush of air sliced through the stillness. The man jerked, his eyes blinking wide with shock. He stared at her a moment longer, eyes glazed and glaring, then he pitched forward to land face-down at her feet.
The jeweled hilt of a dagger protruded from his back, straight over the heart.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Don’t move,” Beaudene said quietly from the shadows halfway down the passage. “And don’t make a sound.”
Nell couldn’t move. Or speak. Dazed, she watched Beaudene come forward and step over the body. He passed her without a glance and slowly approached the stallion’s stall.
“Easy,” she heard him say, his voice very low. “Easy, boy.”
The soft words continued until the stallion’s snorts and stamping hooves gradually became muffled as the stall door swung closed. Beaudene stepped back into the corridor, tucking something into his surcoat as he approached her.
“Unusual to find a horse who feels more secure in a confined space,” he murmured.
“Some of the grooms…think he may have been attacked…in the open…” She let the words trail off. Why in the name of all the saints was she talking about a horse when she was standing here with a corpse at her feet? Had shock laid waste her wits?
Her rescuer appeared completely unmoved by the situation. He stepped past her, took the candle from her limp grasp, and went down on one knee
beside the body.
Nell hurriedly averted her gaze when his hand went to his dagger. She swallowed hard, not daring to ask questions until she got her stomach under control.
When she forced herself to look down again, Beaudene had turned the man over and was staring at his face. His own expression was grim.
“How—” she began shakily.
“Quiet!” He rose, flashed her a look that raked her from head to toe, and seized her arm. “Unless you want to rouse everyone in the place, we’ll talk away from that stallion before he kicks his stall to pieces.”
“Oh, pardon me for wanting to know what’s going on,” she muttered. “How very inconsiderate of me.” The small burst of anger revived her, restoring some badly-needed warmth to her body.
“Are you just going to leave that…him…there?” she demanded as Beaudene propelled her down the passage. Chevette poked her head over the rope as they passed, looking enquiringly after them.
“I’ll deal with him in a minute.” Beaudene came to a halt near the door, swung her around to face him, and released her. “But before I do, you, madam, have some questions to answer. Our friend over there obviously knew you use this place for your assignations, so we’d better get your lover out of the way. Who did you come here to meet and where the hell is he?”
Belatedly Nell realized that her bodyguard wasn’t quite as unmoved as she’d thought. He was keeping his voice low from necessity, but instead of offering a few kind words of comfort, he was questioning her as if she was the felon.
“How do you know it wasn’t him?” she snapped, gesturing wildly in the direction of the corpse.”
“Don’t play games with me, lady. You may be wanton, but you’re not stupid enough to arrange a tryst with your own murderer.”
“Mur…” The small tide of anger washed out of her in a rush, leaving her sick and shaking. “What do you mean? He was trying to steal my uncle’s stallion. The stall was open…and the storeroom. He must have been hiding there. I saw the door move, but thought I’d imagined it.”
“And then he went to the trouble of letting himself out of the storeroom so he could come back through this door and continue his theft while you were still here? Don’t be an idiot!”
There was one thing to be said for insults, she thought. They stopped her falling apart.
“Why would he want to kill me?” she demanded. “I didn’t even know the man. He was probably going to force me into the storeroom and lock me in, but I knew if that stupid horse saw me ’twould—”
“He knew it too, you little fool. Didn’t you hear what he said? Sweet Jesu!”
Rafe turned away from the stunned look on his charge’s face and shoved a hand through his hair. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything, but he’d had to shut her up before she described a picture that was already sickeningly clear in his mind. A picture of soft, fragile woman beneath the hooves of half a ton of enraged stallion.
Damn it to the pit, he had to stop thinking of Lady Eleanor as soft and female and desirable, and figure out what was going on here.
“I…don’t remember,” she stammered.
He shot her a sharp look, hearing real confusion in her voice.
“At first I thought he was—”
“Aye, your lover. How soon can we expect him?”
Her eyes flashed with such fury that for a moment Rafe thought she was going to hit him. He half hoped she’d try it so he could have the pleasure of subduing her. Something told him ’twould go a long way toward relieving the turbulent emotions roiling within him.
“Well?”
“I did not come out here to meet a lover!” Her voice shook with rage, but every word was enunciated with great precision. “I came out here to say goodbye to my horse!”
She flung out her arm on the last word, drawing his gaze down the line of stalls to the palfrey looking back at them. The little mare’s expression was so thoroughly disapproving and indignant that, despite the anger still burning inside him, Rafe nearly laughed. The damned horse looked as if she knew what was being said and if he knew what was good for him, he’d better believe it.
“All right,” he said, smiling reluctantly. “I suppose I’ll have to believe you since she’s telling the same story.”
“Don’t fall into a seizure from the effort,” Nell muttered. She was uncomfortably aware that the retort didn’t have the force it needed, but Beaudene’s brief flash of humor took her completely by surprise. She hadn’t thought him capable of humor, never mind that his wry smile was doing something very strange to her insides. The quietness of the stable seemed to close around her suddenly, making her conscious of the lateness of the hour and how alone they were.
“Well…” She glanced down the passage, thankful that the body lay in shadow. “I suppose we should call the guards. Believe me, they won’t be surprised.” She began edging toward the door. “’Tis all of a piece with everything else that’s been happening to me lately.”
All signs of humor vanished from Beaudene’s face. He put the candle down on the shelf with a precision that was ominously deliberate “What has been happening to you lately?”
Nell halted in mid-step. “Just…accidents. Little things. Stupid things, really. I wasn’t even hurt.” She slid one foot sideways.
Beaudene reached out, clamped his hands around her arms and hauled her back.
“Accidents have been happening to you and you came out here, alone, in the middle of the night, to say goodbye to your horse? Holy Mother of God, did I say you weren’t stupid. I take it back.”
“I am not stupid,” she protested, trying to free herself. “How was I to know there’d be a thief out here? We’ve never had one before.” She thought briefly of the hidden pouch hanging from her waist, then shoved the image out of her mind.
“He wasn’t a thief, you little fool.” He shook her slightly. “He was an assassin! A hired thug! And you made his task a lot easier by traipsing around in a headdress expressly designed to upset a horse that already hates people.”
“Well, I didn’t think I needed to take the time to remove my headdress and braid my hair,” she retorted. “And how do you know the stallion hates people?”
“One of the grooms went to great pains to tell me the details when I noticed the animal earlier. Now, shall we see if you’re capable of answers as well as questions? Talk!”
Talk? How was she to talk when heat swirled around her? Heat from his eyes, from his hands, from the closeness of his big, powerful body. Heat that scorched, and yet lured, as a flame lures a moth to its own destruction. Again, she tried to free herself.
“When you take your hands off me,” she managed.
He released her, but it didn’t help. She could hardly think, let alone speak. For a few minutes there, she’d been grateful for Beaudene—after all, he’d saved her from injury or worse. But now shivers were racing through her, following each other so rapidly she was sure the tremors must be visible. She’d thought she knew every danger a woman could face from a man, but there was a new danger here. Something beyond her knowledge. A threat without name.
“Start with the first accident,” he ordered, snapping her back to the present. “When did it happen?”
“A few days after my father’s letter arrived,” she answered, forcing her mind to some sort of coherent thought. “We were hawking, and something startled my horse. She reared and I fell, but ’twas nothing. I wasn’t hurt, not even bruised.”
“And then?”
“I think…aye, ’twas the pennants in the hall. The standards hanging over the minstrels’ gallery. One of the lances came loose and fell on me. Then, a week later, I was locked in with the mastiffs. They hadn’t been fed because my uncle intended to hunt wild boar the next day, but—”
“Hell’s fiends! And you didn’t suspect anything?”
Nell spread her hands. “Suspect what? I thought ’twas spiteful mischief. God knows, I’ve been the target of my cousin’s spite for years. And nothing dir
e happened. The mistake was discovered immediately and I was freed.”
“So, ’tis clear the dogs failed to make a meal of you. Were there more accidents after that?”
“Well, there was the arrow that missed me when Margaret and I were shooting at the butts, but she never could aim straight. Then the broth, and today my gown, but noth—”
“Aye, nothing dire happened. We’ll argue about it later. I hope you’ve said your farewells here, lady, because we’re about to leave.”
She gaped at him. “Leave? Now?”
“That’s what I said. Which horse were you going to ride tomorrow?”
“Rufus, but—”
“The chestnut next to your palfrey?” His gaze followed the direction of her hand. “Good. He looks strong. Where’s your saddle?”
“Have you lost your senses?” she demanded, shaking off her stupefaction at this abrupt turn of events.
Leave? Ride off into the middle of the night? With him?
She hadn’t lost her wits to that extent.
“I have no intention of leaving,” she spluttered. “Especially without telling anyone, without any baggage, without—”
She broke off, realizing that Beaudene was taking no notice of her protests.
He stepped into one of the stalls and led out a huge bay horse with a black mane and tail. The horse stood quietly while its bridle was fastened and the blanket smoothed into place. Beaudene reached for the saddle resting atop the side wall of the stall and laid it across the horse’s back. Two leather bags followed. ’Twas not until he’d tested the straps and the saddle-girth that he turned back to her and raised an imperative brow.
“Will you listen to me?” Nell demanded, stamping a foot in frustration. “This is to act without reason. What about my baggage? I don’t even have a mantle!”
“Then you’ll have to make do with that gown you’re almost wearing,” he retorted. “Unless you can tell me which of those chests stacked outside your room holds your mantles.”
She stared at him in dismay.
“Of course you can’t. You probably didn’t even direct your own packing. Ornamentation and coquetting is about all you’re good for, isn’t it.”
