Pity for Elianne rose. She deserved better than Reiner as her sire and a child-murderer for her brother. "How easily you sacrifice your children to your needs, Reiner. Now that you've found a use for Elianne, that leaves only me as a potential tool. When and how was I to be slaughtered to serve your ambition?"
"Are you mad?" his father snapped, straightening, his arms opening. "I dare do nothing against you. We're bound forever by the acts we've committed, you and I."
"Are we?" Adelm cocked a scornful brow. "You've been very careful, Reiner. I thought you wise when you insisted we take no profit from the robberies until long after we ceased to commit them. All these years, you steadfastly kept our relationship a secret. I'm the only one who paid the men who serve us in our scheme. Amabella has sent goods to her family and received credit in return. All you have is a bed, one that every soul on your estate and a good many others will swear you inherited. Who would believe me now when I say you conspired with me, or that we are blood kin?"
Here, Adelm paused. "Now Haydon's bastard demands you produce the thieves who slew his sire or give him the chance to take your life. To save yourself, will you conveniently discover that your captain has been committing these robberies and expose me?"
Reiner blinked. Enough guilt flashed across his face to suggest he'd considered doing just this. "You make me sound more clever than I am," he protested, trying for outrage and failing at it.
Adelm loosed another harsh breath of a laugh. "In that you may well be right. I'm the fool, for I came to you fair begging for you to use me. I even insisted on believing you were the one who paid for my upbringing, even when I could see with my own eyes that you hadn't the means to be my benefactor."
Reiner sneered. "So your mother finally told you all, did she? Don't blame me because you assumed what hadn't happened. If you'd asked, I'd have told you that Amabella's family paid your way in life." He shrugged, the movement of his shoulders belittling and dismissing all at once.
Adelm ignored the slur, intent only on his own goal. "Tell me this, then. If you paid nothing to raise me, what was your purpose in fetching me to Knabwell and your side? It wasn't to advance my career or acknowledge me, for that you refuse to do."
His voice softened into the tones of a threat. "That leaves but one thing. You needed a thief."
And a man who'd not baulk at murdering innocent children. Once again, the little ladies' blood burned on Adelm's fingers, just as their foreshortened lives burned in his heart. He rubbed his hands on his tunic, trying to escape the sensation.
"So, what of it, if I did?" Reiner demanded. "You could have said me nay when I laid the plot out before you, but you didn't. It's not as if I tempted you from saintliness into sin. Your foster-father was quick to point out that you'd more than once lurked in shadowy places to rob those unfortunate enough to cross your path."
There it was, sitting in the open air where day's light might show its every ugly facet. What little bond had ever existed between Adelm and his sire died as Reiner confirmed that all he'd ever wanted was a tool.
"Bah!" Reiner cried, bracing his hands upon the table as he leaned toward his eldest child. "Don't you blame me now because years ago you were as eager as I to make yourself a rich man."
"Aye, and what have you managed to do," Adelm chided, "but see to it that neither of us will have anything to show for all my years of effort? You had to goad Prioress Gertha one last time. Now all our wealth is forever beyond our reach."
It was hard to pretend distress over this when the prioress's command worked so well in his favor. Behind those locked gates his dam had the time and privacy she needed to strip Reiner of his portion of their ill-gotten gains and give it to her son. That was, if she truly meant to do as she promised and not betray him as she meant to betray Reiner.
Across the room, his father snatched his cap from his head and dragged a hand through his hair. "What was I to do, leave Haydon's bastard unwatched when he intends to destroy me? That stupid, pompous, religious bitch. Until Gertha relents, we're be right back where we were before the first robbery. Only now that Lord Haydon is dead, there can be no more attacks by our thieves.”
"You may be where you were," Adelm replied. "I, on the other hand, will be given the position of deputy, replacing Sir Gilbert."
His mouth twisted in sour amusement. Aye, Gilbert deserved to lose his place, if for no other reason than his rudeness toward those he believed beneath him.
"It will be a very wise move on your part, Reiner," Adelm went on as if his father had agreed, when Reiner stood across the table from him, his eyes wide and mouth agape. "I'll serve you far better than that babe-in-arms ever could. Promote me, Father," he finished, calling his sire by that title for the first time in all the years they'd known each other.
"Are you mad?" his sire cried, the shake of his head nigh on frantic. "I can't dismiss Sir Gilbert in your favor. There'd be an outcry across the shire."
Adelm shrugged. "As you will. But know your refusal leaves me no choice but to go to Sir Josce and tell him what we've done."
Reiner loosed a loud bark at the threat. "Do it. You just said there's nothing to connect us."
Crossing his arms, Adelm eyed his sire and at last acknowledged how much he despised this man. His father was crude and arrogant, manipulative and self-serving. "Nay, I said only that you were careful to distance yourself, at least until you panicked. Where are the spice merchant's goods?" It was a gentle question.
Amabella had refused to have anything to do with what they'd taken in their final robbery, once she'd learned of Lord Haydon's death. Adelm suggested destroying the stolen wares, fearing the connection as much as his mother. Reiner wouldn't hear of it. The spices were incredibly precious, the peppercorns alone worth a penny a corn. Moreover, all they'd taken wouldn't fill even the bed of the priory's donkey cart, which, Reiner insisted, made the stolen goods that much easier to conceal.
Now the color drained from the sheriff's face. Wicked amusement tugged at Adelm's lips. In the end, despite all Reiner's complex, clever twists and turns, greed and panic had conspired to betray him. He had actually forgotten where the goods were hidden.
"You must retrieve them," the father cried to his child, his voice rising in pitch. "God help me, but I cannot do it, and not just because I'm vowed to stay away from Coneytrop."
"Now Father, that wouldn't be very clever of me, would it," Adelm said with a shake of his head, "not when their location ties the nobleman's death to you. Nay, they'll stay right where they are, for as long as they remain there, I own your loyalty. As I said, I'll be your deputy come the end of Michaelmas court."
As the trap snapped shut around Reiner, he regained his usual choler. "I'll see you dead for this, you son of a bitch," he roared.
The insult made Adelm smile. "Tut, what a thing to call my dam when she doesn't particularly deserve it. Better that you said I was a son of a son of a bitch. As for my death, I am at your convenience, Reiner. But beware my will and what is writ within it." An empty threat, but his sire didn't know that no such document existed.
Reiner's fists slammed against the surface of his table. The quill fell from its rest. Spilled sand bounced upon the wooden planks. Caged as he was, it was all the reaction the sheriff dared.
With triumph as his companion, Adelm turned on his heel and left his sire's office.
"Not that way. Can't you hear the tumbling water? Come around the trees as I do, else you'll soak those fine boots of yours."
Only a voice as high and piping as Will's could have pierced the steady bass thrum of water as it cascaded down the hillside. Standing up to her waist, wet hair streaming down her back, Elianne pivoted in the pool to look behind her. Some thirty feet from her, greenery thrashed. Branches on the overgrown willows and alders shifted, the height and violence of their movement suggesting Will led someone far larger than himself.
This was what came of running to the pool without warning Aggie where she intended to hide. All Elianne wor
e was her chemise. The sodden undergown clung to her like her own skin.
Her gaze leapt to the alder at the pond's edge. There, in the same fork she'd used from the day of her first toddling journey to this place, her clothing waited. Although they weren't that far from her, she'd never reach them and dress before Will and whomever he led were upon her.
There was but one option. Elianne dove, the cool water closing over her head. Eyes closed, three powerful strokes and years of acquaintance took her behind the sheeting falls. Here, time and cascading water had carved a hollow from the hillside, leaving a submerged shelf. When she put her knees upon that rocky ledge, her head rose from the pool's surface only as far as her lower lip.
The water made a lacy curtain in front of her, distorting everything she saw through it. What it did for her, it did for those looking in this direction. As long as she knelt here and was careful with her movements, no one would be the wiser to her presence.
On the bank, two figures stepped out of the greenery. One was small and dark, the other tall with a gleam of gold where his head should be. Dismay ate Elianne alive. It couldn't be him, not when Will was speaking English. Nay, she wouldn't allow it to be him.
"See? Isn't this wondrous?" Will said, his awed tone demanding agreement. It's better than any tub you might use, this I vow, Sir Josce."
It was. Elianne closed her eyes in hopelessness. God save her, but the man she most fervently hoped to avoid meant to bathe here whilst she was trapped behind the falls.
"Have a care, though," Will was saying to her father's enemy. "If you've a mind to dive, you cannot do it from that side."
Elianne frowned at Aggie's son. What sort of loyalty was this? He chatted with the strange knight as if they were the dearest of friends.
"And why's that?" A touch of laughter resonated in Sir Josce's voice. His English was without accent, as if he'd spoken the tongue all his life, just as she had.
"The pool's not deep enough to that side, but on the other. Of course, to dive from that side you must scale the side to the top, there, and it's a goodly drop from there to the water. Enough to make a man's bones turn to water," Will assured Coneytrop's visitor, the tone of his voice suggesting that he'd perhaps experienced just such a fear.
"Our mistress has done it, but not many can swim or climb as well as she." There was pride in his voice now, despite that it was untoward for the masculine to find anything worthy in the feminine.
"Now, have a care here, as well, for there's a great frog that lives amongst these rushes. Me brothers and me keep him as ours. We'd thank you kindly for leaving him be."
Bittersweet memories stirred in Elianne. Once, not so very long ago, all the frogs here had belonged to her and her sisters. So had the slender grass snakes, the water bugs and the newts. This place and its magic had been their refuge and their playground.
This time, Sir Josce did laugh, the sound a warm rumble of amusement. "My thanks for the warning. I'll have a care not to disturb him."
"Yer a good knight and true, sir," Will replied, his tone content as if he'd assessed Coneytrop's guest and was well pleased by what he saw. "Well then, here's your towel and the soap pot. You can use it all if ye wish. Mama knows how to make more. Papa says you may take your time as it pleases you. We'll be having us a bit of a sup come sundown, but there's naught for your sort to do until then." With a cheery fare-thee-well, Will crashed back into the greenery and departed.
Elianne bubbled out her groan into the chill water. What if the knight took Will at his word and spent hours here? She'd either freeze or drown waiting for him to leave, that's what.
The water tumbled. In the distance, a kingfisher loosed his persistent piping. Nothing else disturbed the silence. Easing back on the shelf, she rested her head upon the base of the narrow vertical fissure that cracked open the hill's face.
The crack was as tall as she and just wide enough for a thin person to squeeze through it. The opening led into a cave, the forechamber of which she and her sisters had years ago turned into their own castle, making chairs of rocks and tables of sticks, with rushes upon the floor. More than one afternoon they'd woven poppets from reeds, dressing them in flowers and giving them milkweed fluff for hair. Aye, and in the pageants they staged for their playthings, those poppets lived far different lives than the ones that had befallen their creators.
Moments passed, and still there was no splash to mark Sir Josce's entry into the pond. What was taking him so long? Elianne shifted on the shelf to peek around the edge of her liquid curtain.
The knight had one foot raised upon the log that served those who used this pool as a seat. He was removing his chausses, the garment that men wore which covered their legs from toes to hips, their tops tied to the string that held their braies around their waists. Just now, Sir Josce was unwinding one of his garters, the strip of cloth that fitted his stocking's legs to his calves.
His back was toward her and his shirt off, not for the first time over this past summer, if the sun-darkened color of his skin told the tale. There was something about the span of his shoulders and the gleam of his bare brown back that made Elianne's breath catch. As had happened at the ice house, that strange urgency stirred in her, this time with enough strength to make gentle wings take flight in her stomach. She ducked back behind the water and pressed a hand to her belly. Much to her relief the quivering stopped.
After what seemed an eternity had passed and he still hadn't entered the water, Elianne again peered around the fall at him. He faced her now, not a stitch on him. Sunlight glowed against the hard planes of his chest and the strong curves of his upper arms. His belly was flat, his hips narrow, the muscles of his thighs powerful. Her gaze caught on his manhood.
That urgency grew stronger still, while the wings within her stomach became a fair sized flock. Once again she jerked back behind the concealing fall of water. What was wrong with her? She'd seen more than one unclothed man before this day, whether it be her sire, or Richard, or men from Coneytrop's hamlet as they swam or bathed. Never once had the sight of any of them caused such a reaction in her.
At long last, Sir Josce splashed into the pool. Blinking away the fall's distortion, Elianne watched his head rise above the surface not but a few feet from her on the other side of the cascade. He blew and huffed against the water's coldness, the toss of his head shifting wet hair out of his face. For a goodly while he alternated between diving and floating upon his back on the water's surface. Despite that she now shivered, his ability to swim won Elianne's grudging admiration. There weren't many as comfortable as she in the water, not even her sisters, who'd spent as much time here as she had.
Time crawled. She gave herself up to freezing solid when he finally sloshed from the pond. Thank heavens. Her fingers were so cold she could barely feel them. She marked off what she thought was long enough for him to dress and leave. No branch cracked, no greenery crunched.
Impatience and discomfort forced Elianne to once more duck low into the water and lean out from behind the water's concealment. Disappointment only worsened her shivering. He wasn't leaving. Unlike everyone else, who washed while in the water, he stood upon the bank with his back to her as he applied his soap.
Elianne jerked back into hiding, shifting uncomfortably on her rocky perch. This was absolutely impossible. He had to leave. Nay, she had to leave, but how, when he blocked her path?
She glanced above her. Right here, over her head, was escape and concealment. Aye, at hand but beyond reach. She'd have to climb the wall to enter the cave, and that would expose her to Sir Josce.
Water splashed again as he reentered the pond. Perched stiff and still, Elianne waited, counting every breath as her desperation worsened. He'd soaped, now he was rinsing. He had to leave once he was done.
Once again, he swam until he was just beyond the water's curtain. The angle of his head made it seem as if he looked right at her. Elianne caught her breath and sank a little deeper into the water.
His head dis
appeared beneath the pond's surface. A moment passed, then another and still he didn't rise. Good. If he drowned, she could leave.
Water bubbled beside her. Sir Josce's head broke the surface. His knee hit hers on the shelf as he came to rest on it beside her. His skin was warm against her own chilled leg. Shocked, Elianne stared at him.
He smiled. "So, were you planning to stay in hiding until you wrinkled like an old woman? Lord, but it's cold back here. Come back out where it's warmer and the sun shines."
With a shriek, Elianne dove through the fall. Kicking with all her might, she drove herself toward the bank and escape. She was halfway there when his arms closed around her, pulling her back. Thrashing against his hold, she screamed underwater. He dragged her to the surface.
She came to her feet, once more standing in water to her waist. Sputtering, she dug her toes into the mud beneath her feet and thrust away from him, reaching for anything, even a willow's trailing branch, that might aid her escape. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her back against him, wrapping his arms around her. With her hands caught in his, that meant he trapped her arms alongside his as he held her.
Elianne strained. It was hopeless. He wasn't just taller than she, but far stronger.
A shiver shot through her, this one having nothing to do with the cold. They were indecently close, her back to his front, her breasts resting on his forearms. Wet linen was no barrier to sensation. His chest was warm and solid, his thighs like stone behind her own. She arched her back to keep her hips from touching his. Oh Mary, but what if he meant to wreak vengeance on her sire by misusing her?
"Let me go," she demanded, coughing out what she'd swallowed in her panic.
"How can I when I know you'll only run from me?" he said, his mouth so near her ear that she felt his breath against it.
The Warrior's Maiden (The Warriors Series Book 2) Page 7
