Margo Maguire

by The Virtuous Knight

  He had planned to ask if there was anyone who would be willing to sell him a bit of linen, or a woman’s underdress, but knew that these coarse hens would have nothing appropriate for Lucy. And even if they’d had something for her, his Lucy was too pure to wear their sullied garb.

  He would think of some other solution to her clothes.

  ’Twas nearly dark when Alex left the village, and he rode carefully up the narrow path that led to Holywake. He was certain that the most prudent course would be to remain at Holywake for the time being. He had no connection to the abbey, so Skelton’s men would have no reason to look for him there.

  The fact that Lucy would be left alone if he went on to York or to Eryngton played no part in Alex’s decision to stay. She was a capable woman. She would do what needed to be done whether he stayed or not.

  However, if he was going to remain with her at Holywake, they were going to have to do something about the state of her clothes. ’Twas possible that a ride into York was needed. He might have better luck there in finding men or women to come and work at Holywake, and he was sure to find someone who would sell him something more modest for Lucy to wear.

  With a solid plan in mind, he spurred Rusa on her way.

  Lucy awoke alone the following morn in the room that would be the nuns’ refectory. She’d fallen asleep there the night before, waiting for Sir Alex to return.

  She knew she would have to accustom herself to being alone, but she’d felt his absence acutely last night. She relied upon him far too much.

  Biting her lip in consternation, Lucy decided that would have to change. Starting today, she would keep to herself as much as possible and figure out a way to get the work done at Holywake so that she could leave. Sir Alex had likely found men in the village who would come and work for a day’s pay, which would hasten her own departure from the abbey.

  Then she could get on with her life.

  She got up from the bed she’d made upon the floor and pulled the braid out of her hair. There was no sign of Alex, and Lucy wondered whether he’d come back from the village. If he’d hired laborers for her, there would have been no reason for him to return.

  With that thought, a lump of dread formed in her throat. Her heart ached and tears filled her eyes. She would never see him again.

  The man who had twice saved her from certain death, who had held her and cared for her when she’d needed him… She had come to mean naught to him. And it hurt to realize that.

  Brushing the tears from her eyes, Lucy swallowed the lump. She gathered herself up and looked around, taking stock of what needed to be done, where she should begin. ’Twas no use grieving over what had never been…what could never be, even though Sir Alex’s absence left a gaping hole in her heart.

  She had plenty to do to keep her occupied, and when she was finished here, she would be free to go. Though she knew not what her destination would be, or how she would make her way, she was certain—

  A furtive noise in the entryway startled her. Someone, or something was there. In silence, Lucy crept toward the door to see if an animal had found its way inside, or if it was a more dangerous intruder. Flattening herself against the wall next to the door, she peeked around the corner and saw a strange man setting a bucket of water on the floor.

  She whipped her head away, concealing herself again, and held her breath, wishing that he would just go away. If he came any farther inside, he would notice her in the refectory since she could not creep quietly or quickly enough to get away.

  Her heart beat painfully in her chest and her palms became moist as she waited for the man to leave. She could not imagine why he would have shown up at the abbey today, of all days, carrying his water and—

  She frowned. The man’s movements were vaguely familiar. And since she only knew one man…

  Lucy peeked around the corner again and released the breath she’d been holding. She frowned as she observed the familiar colors of his clothes, his dark hair, his shoes that had been nearly ruined by river water.

  Sir Alexander’s appearance had changed drastically and her heart jumped at the sight of him. Expecting never to see him again, she would have run to him and cried out her joy as well as her relief, but somehow managed to keep her feet upon the ground.

  “What’s wrong?” Alex asked gruffly when he saw her.

  His jaw was clean-shaven and he’d tied his hair neatly at his nape. He wore a clean tunic of dark green rather than the rough brown wool he’d been wearing when she last saw him.

  “I…I thought…” A tear spilled from her eye just then and she turned away.

  “What is it?” he asked, coming to stand behind her.

  “Naught,” she said. “I m-must have raised some dust and it got in my eye. And then I thought you were…”

  “Who did you think I was?” he asked.

  “I— I don’t know,” she said, composed now. She turned to face him again. “You came so quietly…I thought ’twas someone from the village. Or an animal come to nest. I didn’t know you.”

  “I, er…shaved my beard.”

  If she’d thought him magnificent before, she could think of no better word to describe him now. The skin of his strong, angular jaw was soft and smooth, his chin slightly cleft.

  Lifting her hand, Lucy touched his naked cheek with the back of her hand, his lips with her fingers. And wanted more than ever for his lips to touch hers. For his arms to pull her close.

  But he stepped away.

  “I’ll be riding to York today,” he said, turning his back to her, “and if I meet up with the black knights, I don’t want them to recognize me.”

  Chapter Nine

  She was so beautiful that Alex could hardly catch his breath when he looked at her. ’Twas a good thing he’d planned to go away for the day. He did not think any number of prayers could keep him from touching her.

  But his touch would not be the light, guileless caress she had given him.

  Once he returned from York with laborers, the situation would solve itself. His impious attraction was only due to their solitude. When they were surrounded by workers and occupied every hour of the day, ’twould disappear.

  “I— I did not recognize you,” Lucy said. “Those knights will never know you.”

  Her swollen eyes and red nose were those of a weeping woman, and Alex wondered what had upset her. But he was not going to ask. Her troubles were her own, and he had no part of them, no matter how strongly her tears tugged at him.

  “I found some supplies in the village, but no one to come and work for you,” he said. “The village is in the midst of the harvest, so there is no one to spare.”

  “Oh,” she said simply, her gaze making him uncomfortable. He felt naked without his beard, shaken by her gentle touch on his face.

  “When I go into York, I’ll find workers for you,” he said. “And I’ll get whatever supplies they did not have in the village.”

  He went to an old wooden stand where he’d placed the items he’d already purchased for her in the village. “Is there anything more that you want?” he asked.

  She looked through the rags and the hard soap he’d gotten from Ada, then noticed the food at the bottom.

  “A broom,” she said, though he could see that she was distracted.

  And so was Alex. By her eyes, deeply blue and still moist. By her silken hair flowing loose about her shoulders, so soft, so bare. And most of all, he was distracted by her vulnerability.

  She needed him.

  Alex suddenly pulled his knife from its sheath and began cutting pieces of cheese from the brick he’d bought in the village. Then he tore a couple of pieces of bread and handed them to Lucy.

  ’Twas time to go. He did not want to be needed by her or by anyone. He had a clearly defined task and in God’s good time, he would complete it. In the meantime, he would give assistance to this woman who’d been stranded, through no fault of her own.

  He went outside and started to mount Rusa, but Lucy st
opped him with one hand upon his forearm. “Please do not g-go until I have thanked you for all you have done, Sir Alex,” she said, blinking back tears, “and b-before I can wish you Godspeed on your journey.”

  When she raised herself up and kissed his cheek, Alex realized she believed he was leaving her. Permanently. “I wish you well—”

  Drawing away, he took her hands in his own and said, “I’m coming back.”

  The familiar crease appeared between her shapely brows and she appeared not to understand his words. When she swallowed back her tears, an odd sensation crept from Alex’s belly to his chest.

  “I’ll be back before nightfall with the supplies you’ll need, and laborers to help you.”

  “But I…I thought you did not plan to stay.”

  He took another step away. “I do not. But it suits me to remain here at Holywake for now.”

  Lucy worked all day, scrubbing floors and washing what tables and other furniture had been left by the order that had abandoned Holywake only a few years before. The Craghaven abbess expected the new abbey to be adequately furnished when she arrived, and it mostly was. New bed frames lined the dormitory walls and some of the windows had been repaired. There were water marks on the floor of the chapel and the refectory that Lucy assumed had been caused by a roof leak. She could not see whether it had been repaired, too.

  The tables in the refectory seemed to be newly made, but there were no benches. There was still much that needed to be done, and Lucy could not fathom why some of the work had been completed, but not all.

  Nor could she understand why Sir Alexander had decided to stay. Somehow, she needed to be better prepared for his eventual departure from her life. She’d nearly wept on him this morn when she thought he was leaving her forever.

  It would not happen again.

  Lucy spent most of the day with her hands in soapy water, scrubbing windows and floors. She thought about the possibilities life would bring once her task was completed here, and where she would go. York seemed the most likely place, where there would be many wealthy merchants’ families who needed nurses or servants of any other sort.

  She did not allow herself to think of the yearning she’d always had—that of having a family of her own. She was well beyond marriageable age and ’twas unlikely that any suitor would take an interest in her. At least she might enjoy another woman’s infant—like tiny Bert Bavent. Lucy had no doubt that she could learn what needed to be done for a bairn, and she would love doing it, so much more than her dreary life at the abbey.

  Many were the times the abbess had admonished her to be grateful for her place at the abbey, for no man would want a crippled wife. Naturally, she’d had a dowry when she’d been sent away from Eryngton. Craghaven Abbey had been the beneficiary, so Lucy did not have even the slightest wealth to tempt a husband.

  She would not allow herself to brood over it. Lucy was determined to live as full a life as her lame leg allowed. Even if she was not to have a husband and family, she planned to live without walls and restrictions.

  The weather changed in the late afternoon, becoming more seasonably cool, and threatening rain. Wondering when Alex would return, and whether she should prepare a meal for them, Lucy collected wood for a fire and carried it into the kitchen. She picked up her blanket from where she’d left it in the refectory, and made herself comfortable in the kitchen.

  ’Twas not until it had grown dark that Lucy heard the sound of hooves on the road and the creaking of wagon wheels. Alex was back, and he’d brought help.

  Alex’s mood was foul when he returned to Holywake in the pouring rain. He drove his new-bought wagon into the leaky barn and found a relatively dry spot to stow it, then unhitched Rusa. As he was pouring grain for the mare, Lucy rushed in, shielding her head from the rain with one of the blankets.

  “Sir Alex, you’re—” She stopped and looked around. “Where are the… You found no one to help me?”

  He shook his head. “They’re building a new church in York,” he said. “There’s not a spare carpenter in the town, or any other kind of worker, either…at least, none willing to travel all the way to Holywake for work.”

  All was not lost, though. Alex had found lumber at the site of the new church building, and the priest had been willing to part with some of it for a pretty price, along with an old horse cart. Alex had stopped at various shops as well, and purchased more of the items Lucy would need. ’Twas fortunate he’d had the wagon, else he’d have had difficulty carting everything back to Holywake.

  When he looked across the wagon, he saw that she was crestfallen. He caught a glimpse of the crease between her brows before she turned away, gathering the blanket around her.

  Alex reached her before she got to the door, and took her arm. She turned and looked up at him.

  “’Tis not so bad,” he said. “I’m no stranger to a carpenter’s tools.”

  The expression that came into her eyes took his breath away. ’Twas full of hope and gratitude and… He took a deep breath and moved to the back of the wagon.

  “Since I’ll be staying here for a few days,” he said, picking up parcels from the wagon, “I can make some repairs, build a few benches.”

  He’d been proud of the comfortable chair he’d fashioned for Isabella when she’d been with child, and he’d built his son’s cradle with his own two hands. Once the lad had grown, he’d enjoyed the little pull-cart Alex had made him, and the toys he’d carved from wood.

  Alex had forgotten all that. Since he’d left Clyfton, the only times he’d looked back were when he prayed for the souls of his beloved wife and son. It had always been too painful to do more than that.

  “What is all this?” Lucy asked, standing beside him. He’d been so immersed in his thoughts, he hadn’t heard her move. And he was suddenly very angry that ’twas Lucy next to him, and not Isabella.

  “Grain, some vegetables, candles, a cookpot,” he said, gathering the goods he could carry in his arms and starting for the door without her. ’Twas up to Lucy whether or not to follow. He did not want her to rely upon him for anything more than he’d promised—a few benches, repairs to some of the windows and to the roof.

  Intentionally ignoring her, Alex went out into the rain and walked through the grass and high weeds. He would not worry about Lucy. She had managed to come out to the barn alone and she could get herself back the same way.

  The main door was ajar so he pushed inside, stopping abruptly before he tracked water into the clean entrance hall. Even in the meager light, Alex could see that the hall was spotless. He craned his neck to look into the refectory, and saw that it was the same. Lucy must have worked all day to rid the place of the dirt and clutter.

  She came in just behind him, slightly breathless, and carrying a wrapped bundle in each hand.

  “Oh!” she said when she saw him standing just inside the door. “Are you going in?”

  “The floors…”

  “They look much better, do they not?” she asked, seeming pleased that he’d noticed.

  “Lucy, I would rather not track water all across the clean floor,” Alex said impatiently. “I’ll just leave these things here and go check my snares.”

  “You set snares?”

  He gave a curt nod. “Before I left this morn.”

  She set down her parcels, and before he could leave, she placed her hand upon his arm and used him for balance while she removed her shoes. A moment later, she’d disappeared into the refectory or somewhere beyond, lifting her skirts to avoid dripping on the floor, and carrying her packages with her.

  Alex went back into the rain while he squelched the ridiculous sensation of coming home. It made no sense whatsoever, since they’d arrived only yesterday, and he’d spent precious little time here. Clyfton House had been his home, and it was no more.

  He collected the two hares that had been ensnared near the burn that trickled through Holywake’s grounds. Before carrying them to the abbey, he stopped in the barn and picked u
p the last package he’d bought in York.

  When he returned to the main building, Alex stopped under the low overhang outside the nunnery’s kitchen. He stood there protected from the rain while he dressed his kill. Eventually, he rinsed his hands in the pouring rain and pushed the door open.

  This room had been cleaned, as well. And there was a warm, welcoming fire in the hearth.

  “Are your dry clothes in your saddle packs?” Lucy asked. She stood up from a place she had made near the fire and started for the door. “I’ll get them and you can change here, by the fire.”

  He started to tell her not to trouble herself, but she hurried out of the kitchen with that uneven gait of hers before he had a chance to tell her he’d go ’round and get it himself. And standing in the warmth of the stark and unfurnished kitchen, he realized how cold he was. He would just warm himself until Lucy returned—

  “Here you are, Sir Alex,” she said, handing him his pack. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  A moment later and she was gone again, giving him the privacy he required. He stripped to the skin and put on a dry tunic, along with new hose and braes. His shoes were sodden again, so he left them near the fire to dry, along with the rest of his clothes.

  When Lucy returned, he was dressed.

  “Shall I cook some of this meat for supper?” she asked, carrying the pot and one of the bags he’d left at the front door.

  A hot meal for his belly would suit him well, after being out in the cold rain for hours. But Lucy must be weary after all her obvious toil today.

  “I’m a fair cook,” she said cheerfully.

  “I have no doubt of it,” he replied, “and a hot meal sounds good. But I will help you.”

  “There is no need,” Lucy said. “You’ve labored all day for my cause, and ’tis only right that you rest now.”

  He would not have her waiting upon him. While she poured water into the cookpot, he took his knife from its sheath and cut the meat. He tossed the pieces into the water, and Lucy began to cut onions and garlic. When she added them to the pan, Alex noticed the condition of her hands. They were beyond chapped. Red and swollen, the knuckles were cracked and seeping blood.