by Regan Walker
“All right. We will take him to Branton Keep. Depending what you tell us, Father also may wish to interrogate the man—as well as you.”
Holden fought a sting of irritation. He wasn’t a criminal. He lived by the code of chivalry and, quite frankly, resented that his honor was suspect. But, de Lanceau’s sons would hopefully grow to trust him once he’d explained all. “I understand. I will gladly answer whatever questions you and your father wish to ask.”
“Good,” Edouard said. “One last thing.”
“Of course, milord.”
“Have you and I met before?”
Holden nodded. “We have, although not formally. Some years ago, I served as one of your father’s squires. You were also a squire, but at the castle of Dominic de Terre. If I remember correctly, you returned to Branton Keep for the occasional visit.”
The de Lanceau heir smiled, but his gaze held a warning. “Father has an excellent memory. If you did indeed serve him, he will remember. For your sake, every word of what you have told us had better be true.”
Cradling Isolde, who was wide awake and content, Claire sipped her mulled wine and glanced at Mary. “You are very quiet.”
Mary smiled. “I am enjoying holding him.” She looked down at the slumbering baby, still wrapped in his white blanket, his tiny mouth parted and one of his perfect little hands up by his face. He’d cried the whole way from the woods to the castle, but after being fed by a kitchen maid who’d recently given birth, he’d fallen sound asleep.
How could one hold an infant and not fall completely in love? ’Twas surely impossible. He fit perfectly in the crook of her arm, and the snuffling noises he made in his sleep and sweet baby smell of him made Mary’s heart squeeze with love.
“Beware. You will want one of your own.”
“I already do.” She’d always known she wanted children, but hadn’t imagined the desire was so strong, until the boy had been placed in her arms.
Claire cooed to Isolde, now burbling happily, while the nearby fire in the hearth crackled and snapped. After returning to the keep, Mary and Claire had retired to the cozy upstairs chamber that Lady Elizabeth used as her sewing room. A small silk gown made for Isolde and partly embroidered with yellow and pink flowers lay on the nearby table, along with thread.
“Do you think the men are still in the forest?” Claire’s words were tinged with worry.
“I am sure Edouard, Tye, and the others are handling the situation well. They will be back as soon as they can.”
“With the man we encountered, I hope.” Claire frowned. “I want to know more about him.”
As Mary recalled the sword against her back, she shuddered.
“He seemed so determined to get back the child,” Claire continued. “While he denied being the father, I vow he is connected to the baby somehow.”
“I believe so, too,” Mary said.
“I also want to know where the mother is. The healer said the babe is no more than four or five months old, so he will still be feeding from his mother’s breast.”
“True.”
“Why was she not accompanying the man? That seems odd to me. And why did he put the babe’s basket in the stump? To protect the child, because a fight had broken out?”
“That seems likely,” Mary said. The Holden she knew would have strived to protect the boy from all possible harm.
“It does seem the most likely explanation. But, part of me also insists that he could well have taken the babe because ’tis a bastard. He meant to abandon it—”
“Nay. He would never do such a thing.”
As Mary felt the weight of her friend’s stare, her face grew hot.
“Would he not?” Claire sounded surprised, but also intrigued. “How do you know?”
Mary smoothed her hand over the sleeping babe’s wispy hair. Anguish burgeoned within her. She’d tucked what had happened with Holden into the farthest reaches of her memories. She’d hoped to never speak of or see him again, or revisit the humiliation and shame of the past.
“Mary.” Claire had used that tone of voice—the one that insisted ’twasn’t fair to keep secrets from a best friend.
“Fine.” Mary sighed. “I think I know who he is.”
“Oh?” Claire sipped her drink.
“Some Christmases ago, before I became Lady Brackendale’s ward, I…had an encounter with a young man. He was a squire at this keep.”
Eyes widening, Claire set her mug on the table beside her. “An encounter?”
“Aye. I—”
“Did you kiss this squire under mistletoe?”
“Nay.”
Claire’s eyes grew even wider. “Did something scandalous happen with him, then, under the mistletoe?”
“No mistletoe was involved. But, what happened could be deemed scandalous.”
“Was your virtue threatened?”
Mary gasped. “’Twas not that kind of encounter.”
Her friend giggled. “All right, but you must still tell me all about it. Why, though, did you not tell me of it before? We have been best friends for how long?”
After lowering her gaze, Mary glanced over at the blaze in the hearth. “I did not tell you before because I…was ashamed, and I thought….”
“You can speak to me of anything,” Claire said firmly. “You and I have already been through so much together.”
Indeed, they had.
Tears stung Mary’s eyes as she smoothed the babe’s hair again. Embarrassment from long ago welled up, but she refused to allow it to overwhelm her. She’d shed more than enough tears in her lifetime because of Holden.
“You believe the man we met today is your squire,” Claire murmured.
“Aye.” After taking a deep breath, she told Claire all that had taken place with Holden. The words, mingled with anguish but also relief, poured out.
“Goodness,” Claire said. “Did you never hear from him again?”
“Not long after I moved to Wode, he sent me a letter.”
“He wrote you a worthy apology, I hope?”
“I have no idea what the letter said. I did not read it, but threw it into the fire. I also told the steward to burn any further missives from Holden.”
Claire put Isolde, who had started to fuss, to her shoulder and gently patted her back. “I am curious to know if he did apologize. If he did….”
“It changes naught,” Mary said. Yet, a little voice inside her insisted such a declaration wasn’t fair.
“After what happened between you two, I can certainly understand why you would feel anger toward him. But, as your best friend, I—”
A maidservant had appeared in the doorway. She dropped into a curtsy. “I apologize for interrupting, miladies.”
“’Tis all right.” Claire kissed her squirming daughter’s cheek. “I think these babes need feeding soon, anyway.”
“The men have just returned to the castle, miladies,” the maidservant said. “They would like you to meet them in the great hall.”
“This will be your room for now,” Edouard said. He set Holden’s saddlebag on the nearby trestle table. The two brothers had removed his knives from the bag and any other items that could possibly be used as weapons, and had raised eyebrows over the cloth horse they’d found inside. Rather than explain why he’d kept it ever since the fire six Christmases ago, Holden had said it belonged to Norwin.
Glad to have most of his belongings returned, Holden halted in the middle of the tower chamber and wiped his brow with his sleeve. The de Lanceau heir, a couple of paces ahead of him, nodded his thanks to the young woman who’d just lit a fire in the hearth. The maidservant, curvy and dark-haired like the lady from the forest but nowhere near as comely, blushed, curtsied, and hurried out of the room, passing Tye who lounged in the doorway with his arms crossed.
The tap of the maidservant’s footfalls echoed from the stairwell. With Edouard ahead of him and Tye close behind, Holden had just climbed up those same winding stone steps. Normally, he
’d have had no trouble, but his stomach had churned and he’d broken out in a sickly sweat. But, he’d silently vowed not to reveal to the other men just how unwell he felt.
Sinking onto one of the chamber’s two sturdy oak chairs, Holden cast a quick glance about. The square-shaped room was sparsely furnished with a cot and blankets, the table opposite, a faded woolen rug, and chamber pot.
Not luxurious accommodations, but certainly adequate. Far better than when he’d fought in France; he’d often slept on the ground or in stables alongside animals. At least as Altingstow Keep’s captain-of-the guard, he had his own private, comfortable room in the garrison.
“’Tis a fine chamber.” Praying that his stomach would settle, Holden managed a smile. “I am most grateful for your hospitality.”
Edouard moved to lean back on the trestle table where servants had left an earthenware bowl of water, linen cloths, soap, and wine. “Father is expected home before nightfall.”
Was that another warning that Holden was to face Moydenshire’s great lord, and that if Holden had spoken falsely, he’d be in grave peril? He steadily held Edouard’s gaze. “I look forward to seeing him. I have not spoken to him in years, but remember him being a chivalrous, just lord.”
“He is indeed,” Tye said from the doorway.
“Chivalrous and just?” Edouard echoed. “An interesting choice of words.”
Holden folded his arms. “I did not mean any offense. From the moment we met, however, you have seemed determined to distrust me.”
“With good reason.”
A harsh laugh broke from Holden. “What reason?”
“If you are indeed the captain-of-the-guard, you must know of the rumors about Altingstow Keep.”
Holden’s spine stiffened. He’d heard a great many rumors. The most dangerous ones cast suspicion upon Penley’s loyalties. “With respect, most rumors are false or only partial-truths.”
“Mayhap.” After a pause, Edouard asked: “How long have you been captain-of-the-guard?”
“Two months,” Holden said. “Long enough to learn what I needed to know.”
“You are aware, then, of my father’s involvement with the Great Charter, also known as the Magna Carta. ’Tis no secret that he worked tirelessly over the past few years to not only garner support for the document from England’s barons, but to ensure it reached King John and was ratified by our sovereign.”
“I do indeed know of your sire’s deeds. Penley strongly supported the goal of putting limits on the king’s ruling powers. He wanted an end to the ever-rising taxes and the sovereign’s treachery.” When the doubt didn’t leave Edouard’s expression, Holden added: “Penley was proud to ride with your sire and countless other lords last April, when the charter was delivered to the sovereign in London.”
“You also must know, then, that King John is even now attacking castles in the middle of England, crushing lords who rebelled against him in support of the document.”
Holden nodded grimly. “Your sire is a powerful and respected liege, though. His influence should protect Moydenshire from the crown.”
“Father has no doubt the sovereign will seize any opportunity to try and undermine him.” Edouard’s eyes narrowed. “King John would never dare to confront my sire directly; such a confrontation would be foolhardy, for Father has many allies in England. Instead, the king resorts to secret plots and hiring others to carry out his deceptions.”
“As I have heard, too,” Holden said.
“Does Penley still support the charter?” Edouard asked.
Shock rippled through Holden. “Of course he does.”
The brothers exchanged a glance.
“You know with absolute certainty?” Edouard pressed.
“Since Penley is not only my liege but my closest friend, I believe I do.”
Edouard curled his fingers over the edge of the table, as though settling in for a debate. “I will be blunt. Father has heard rumors that Penley may withdraw his support.”
God’s blood. “From whom?” Holden demanded.
“I cannot say. But, Father has heard similar rumors about several other lords who owe fealty to him. The news about Penley especially troubles my sire, for Altingstow is a large, influential estate in this part of England. If Penley were to publicly withdraw his name, his knights and allies might follow his lead and do so as well.”
Holden clenched his jaw. “I swear to you, Penley is and will remain committed to upholding the Great Charter.”
“Father certainly hopes so. If enough lords rescinded their support, our sovereign could decree the Magna Carta wasn’t representative of the wishes of England’s ruling nobles—reason to do away with the Charter altogether.”
Regrettably, Holden and Penley had discussed such an occurrence. “In private days ago, my lord expressed to me his fear of such circumstances,” Holden said. “After receiving several letters from officials in London, and responding each time with support for the Magna Carta, he feared the crown might try and manipulate him, force him to agree that the king was entitled to absolute authority, even though ’twas not what he wanted. When his lady wife—my sister, Odette—told him she thought she was being watched, that someone was trying to steal their only child—”
“Steal him?” Tye cut in.
“Aye.” Holden scowled. “What better way to force a man to yield than to abduct his infant son?”
Edouard made a sound of disgust.
“’Tis why I took the babe from Altingstow,” Holden said. “Penley had been called away to resolve a feud between landowners, and had ordered me to protect Odette and Norwin. When my sister came to me in tears—a cloaked stranger arrested outside Norwin’s chamber had somehow escaped the dungeon—I knew Altingstow was no longer safe. I did as Penley and I had agreed: I left the castle in disguise to bring Norwin to Branton Keep. Penley also served as your father’s squire in his youth and knew your sire would never refuse to protect a child.”
“On that, we can all agree,” Edouard said.
“Penley is an excellent father. He adores his son,” Holden continued. “When he hears about the mercenary attack, he will be furious. He will spare no expense to find and arrest those who endangered Nolan’s life.”
Frowning, Edouard drummed his fingers against the table. “What you have told us sounds convincing.”
“’Tis the truth.”
Edouard’s dark brows rose. “For all we know, you might have kidnapped the babe.”
Holden struggled to control his ire. “I am not a kidnapper.”
“Well, until we can confirm—”
“The child is my nephew.”
“That does not mean you are unworthy of suspicion.”
Unfortunately, the de Lanceau heir was right. “I love that boy as if he were my own.” Holden’s tone roughened. “I would gladly give my life for his.”
Tye straightened in the doorway. “Today, I vow, you almost did.”
Holden didn’t dare think what might have happened if the mercenaries had managed to overpower him in the forest and ride off with Norwin. Just to think of the boy going missing, of him being in the clutches of strangers, made him feel ill.
“Norwin might be safe from abductors, but he is still very young.” Tye frowned. “He needs his mother.”
“My sister and I agreed she should wait for her husband to return to Altingstow and then they would travel here together. No doubt they will arrive soon.”
“We will tell the guards at the gatehouse to watch for them,” Edouard said.
“Thank you.” Holding Edouard’s stare, Holden said, “Ask Penley and Odette what kind of a man I am. They will confirm I am a knight of honor.”
Edouard’s mouth ticked up at the corner, as though he admired Holden’s insistence on his good character. “I will indeed ask. In the meantime, we will wait until Father is back, and then we will speak with you again.”
’Twas galling that these lords still doubted him, but Holden must be patient unti
l he could speak with de Lanceau. At least he’d have a chance to wash the blood from his hair and face, change into clean garments, and become somewhat presentable before seeing his lordship.
Tye raked his fingers through his hair. “I would like to see my wife and daughter. Are we are finished here?”
“I believe we are,” Edouard said, crossing to his brother.
They might be done with the conversation, but Holden sure as hell wasn’t. “I would like to see Norwin. I must know he is well.”
“He is. That I promise.” When Holden frowned, Edouard added: “You will see him again soon, but for now, I will send the healer to tend to your wounds. Be forewarned, I am posting guards outside your door. They will remain there until we determine you are indeed the man you claim to be. Also, that you did not abduct the child.”
“Guards?” Holden swore under his breath. “Is that really necessary?”
“I agree with Edouard.” Tye’s features hardened with warning. “Try to leave this room, and you will find yourself spending Christmas chained in a dungeon cell.”
Chapter 6
Her pulse hammering as though she’d run up the stairs, Mary stepped onto the small landing outside the tower chamber. Two armed guards standing either side of the wooden door greeted her, while torches secured in holders on the walls flickered, the shifting light eerie in the small, enclosed area.
A short while ago, she and Claire had gone to meet Tye, Edouard, Dominic, and Aldwin in the great hall. But, Mary hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the man in the forest, who’d been brought to the castle. She had to know if he was Holden; she must be brave and find out.
When the conversation had become lively, she’d risen to adjust a few sprigs of holly on the garland around the hearth and had managed to slip away.
What she was doing now was thrilling, a bit scandalous, and undeniably scary. But, she’d climbed too many stairs to turn back now. She also had her dagger stowed in her garments, and the guards were within earshot if she needed help.
She raised her trembling hand and knocked.
