The Loyal Heart

by Merry Farmer

  “Thank you,” she heard herself saying before she really thought about it. His eyes darted around to her. “For being concerned about me,” she clarified, clearing her throat. “But really, I’m fine. I can take care of myself.” Her eyes dropped to the wolf-head dagger secured in his belt.

  “Aubrey.” He spoke her name with renewed energy, reaching out his hand and taking hers. “Come to Derby Castle. Come to stay, until this murderer is caught.” He glanced down to look at his hand holding hers. “Come where I can protect you, where I can keep you safe.”

  Aubrey swallowed, unsure why her throat felt so tight. “I can’t leave my brother.” She glanced at his hand holding hers. It was large and warm.

  “I’m not asking you to.” His eyes sought hers again. “Geoffrey should come to the castle as well. I would never ask you to leave him here at Morley alone and defenseless.”

  She dropped his hand. “Geoffrey is anything but defenseless,” she lied. He sighed in irritation and took half a step back. “And it is his place to protect me, not yours.”

  “But there was a time-” He paused. She raised her eyes to meet his. “There was a time when it was almost my place, when we were-” He pressed his lips closed, glanced off to the horizon.

  Aubrey watched the struggle in his face and in the way he swayed, hands clenching and unclenching. “It wasn’t you, Crispin,” she confessed. “I hate being forced to do anything. I wasn’t about to marry anyone just because Buxton told me to.”

  “And it had nothing to do with the rumors surrounding old Windale’s murder?” He asked without looking at her.

  “Those are just rumors.” She didn’t sound convincing even to herself.

  He glanced to her, filled with remorse. “I still….” His eyes snapped away.

  Silence fell between them. It hurt. Aubrey cleared her throat. “You still carry the dagger I gave you.”

  He turned his distracted eyes to the wolf-head dagger in his belt. His hand caressed it. “Do you want it back?”

  Her heart plummeted from her throat to her stomach where it seemed to spill heat into places she didn’t want to think about. Rarely had she seen him like this. Vulnerable. If he had been like this when they were engaged instead of always glowering like an angry statue….

  No. She pushed the thought aside. Damn him for having a heart and wearing it on his sleeve. Her future was with Ethan. Her eyes fixed on the dagger again.

  “Crispin.” He glanced up, his face set but his eyes betraying hope. She took half a breath. “The nuns are here, at Morley.”

  “What?”

  Aubrey nodded and created a story on the fly. “They came knocking on our door late last night, soaked to the bone and scared half out of their wits. They managed to escape from … from Windale.” There was no way around involving Ethan in the story, “They made a run for it while they were fighting the guards. I’m not sure, but I think one of them is injured.” She only hoped she would have enough time to let Madeline and Sister Bernadette know what she had come up with.

  “They are safe?” His shoulders relaxed.

  His concern made her smile. “Yes. They are in the house, at prayer.”

  “Let me see them,” he demanded, turning and starting off across the yard.

  A jolt shot down her spine. “Don’t you believe me?” She jumped after him and caught his arm with both of her hands.

  Crispin looked down to where she held onto him, then up into her wide eyes. She let go of him so fast her shoulder cracked. “I do believe you,” he blinked. “It is my duty to make sure they are well and to see them safely to Derby and on to their destination.”

  She glanced past him to the house. Madeline was standing in the window nodding. Aubrey glanced to Crispin, alarmed by the suspicion that had crept into his eyes. “It’s just that they’re praying,” she covered. “I don’t think you’re supposed to interrupt nuns when they’re praying.”

  His face twitched into a grin. Her stomach filled with butterflies. “Aubrey, what do you know about nuns?”

  “I … don’t … they’re pious?” She glanced to the house again. Sister Bernadette was at the window motioning for Aubrey to come. She turned back to Crispin. “Maybe if you just introduced yourself, invited them to the castle.”

  He frowned, eyes narrowed. “I promise I won’t disturb them.”

  She shifted her weight back and forth as the situation grew bigger than she thought she could handle. He knew she was lying. It twisted her chest with guilt. There was nothing for it but to push forward to the house, walking ahead of him. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that everything in the house would match her story.

  Her heart was thumping in her chest by the time she climbed the steps to the front door and pushed it open. Sister Bernadette and Madeline were on their knees at the opposite end of the hall, rosaries in hand. They moved their lips silently, Sister Bernadette wearing her usual serene expression and Madeline with her face screwed up in concentration. Aubrey let out a sigh of relief.

  “Sister Bernadette and Sister Mary Peter,” she whispered to Crispin.

  Crispin had stopped just inside of the doorway, head lowered and shoulders rounded. “And one of them is injured?”

  “I am well enough,” Sister Bernadette spoke as if the comment had been addressed to her. She lowered her hands, crossed herself, and rose to her feet with a slight grimace, commanding attention as she walked across the room, hands still folded over her rosary. She came to stand in front of Crispin who bowed to her. “And who are you?”

  “Sir Crispin of Huntingdon,” he answered and did his best to look in her eyes. It was a struggle. “Bailiff to Lord Alfred of Buxton, Sheriff of Derbyshire.” He couldn’t maintain eye contact under her piercing stare. For some reason Aubrey wanted to take his hand and tell him not to worry.

  “I thank you for your concern, Sir Crispin.” Sister Bernadette inclined her head towards him. “Was it you who sent the guards to escort our caravan through the forest?”

  “It was, sister.”

  She stared at his bowed head, silent for a long moment. “I thank you for that kindness. Are those men well?”

  Crispin’s eyes flickered up to hers for a moment. “They are being treated for minor injuries at the castle.”

  “I should like to visit them when we pass through Derby.”

  “I’m sure they would like that,” Crispin answered. Aubrey studied the deep lines of his face, the tension seizing his shoulders. She couldn’t fathom why a nun had him tied in knots. “Sister,” he began again, “Lord Alfred would be honored if you would come to stay at the castle. As recompense for this unfortunate attack. It may not be safe for women to travel while this murderer is at large.”

  Aubrey doubted Buxton had made such an offer.

  “Thank you for your generous invitation,” Sister Bernadette nodded. “I believe we will accept.”

  Crispin nodded to her. His eyes flickered to Aubrey. “I have asked Lady Aubrey to come to the castle to stay, along with her brother, until this murderer is caught. Perhaps she would be willing to escort you?”

  Aubrey snapped her head around to glare at him. It was just her bad luck that accompanying Madeline and Sister Bernadette was exactly what she wanted to do. “I still have to ask Geoffrey,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

  “Ask Geoffrey what?”

  Aubrey and Crispin looked up in tandem to see Geoffrey hobbling down the hall with one crutch, hand braced against the wall for support. When he saw Crispin standing by the door his face darkened. “Who invited you into my house?”

  “Your sister.” He refused to say more. Anger boiled off of him in waves that made Aubrey’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline.

  She stepped towards her brother. “He came to tell us about the murderer and to make sure we were safe.” She crossed her arms as she stood in front of him, not sure if she wanted to snap at him for his temper or warn him of the information she’d already given Crispin. “I told him the nuns arrive
d at our house late last night. He’s offered to let them stay at the castle until the murderer is caught and he’s invited us to stay as well.” Her words fell flat at the end.

  Geoffrey snorted. “I wouldn’t accept an invitation from that murdering thief if it were snowing and he had the only fire in the shire.”

  “Geoffrey!”

  Crispin bowed to Sister Bernadette, hiding his face. “I will take my leave of you,” he growled. Shock lined the woman’s otherwise placid face. “When you arrive at the castle rooms will be waiting for you.” He finished his sentence by looking not at the nuns but at Aubrey. Then he nodded to her and turned to leave.

  Fury and panic attacked Aubrey from all sides. She rounded on her brother. “You are such an ass sometimes,” she snapped and dashed to the door.

  Crispin was halfway across the yard by the time she ran to catch up with him.

  “I’ll thank you not to set me up like that,” she shouted as he reached his horse.

  “It was not my intention to set you up, Aubrey.” He took hold of his saddle and mounted in one swift, graceful motion, glaring at the house. When he was settled he finished with, “It is my intention to protect you. I don’t trust him to do it.”

  She turned to the house to see Geoffrey perched in the doorway. She balled her hands into fists at her sides and swung back to Crispin, mouth opened to reply. He kicked his horse forward, leaving her standing there fuming.

  Aubrey saw red as she watched him ride off. Why was it that all men were so frustrating? Bickering like children, treating old rumors as fact, and for what? She could protect herself. Why couldn’t any of them see that? She let out a sharp breath when he was out of sight and turned to the house. Geoffrey was gone but Ethan stood a few yards from her, hands on his hips and a dark scowl on his face as he watched the space where Crispin had disappeared. He turned his scowl to Aubrey and didn’t soften an inch.

  “You were engaged to Huntingdon?”

  Aubrey threw up her hands. “I already told you that.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  “Yes. I did.” She tried to march past him to the house.

  He caught her by the arm. “You told me that you were almost married off after your father died and that Geoffrey stopped it when he came home. You did not tell me who you were engaged to.”

  “Well it was Crispin.” She shook off his grip and walked on to the house.

  “He’s dangerous, Aubrey!” Ethan chased after her. “He killed my father! You need to stay far, far away from him.”

  “So you’ve told me,” she snapped over her shoulder.

  “And I will continue to tell you until you believe it.” He grabbed her again and swung her around. “Aubrey!”

  “Why don’t you go polish your sword or something,” she spat and ran up the steps into the house. “That’s what you really care about, isn’t it.”

  “Aubrey!”

  She slammed the door in his face, refusing to weep with frustration. Damn Ethan and Crispin both. She had to pack for the castle.

  Chapter Six

  “Nuns?” Buxton choked in disgust. He stood on a block with his arms held straight out to his sides while his tailor draped a bolt of blue and green brocade over his shoulders and pinned it. “In my castle? Crispy, you idiot!”

  “My lord.” Crispin stared ahead as he stood at Buxton’s side holding a bowl of sliced apples. “They were attacked on the road. Showing them hospitality makes you appear gracious.”

  “I don’t need a bunch of nuns talking about my graciousness,” Buxton growled, then followed with, “Bite!”

  Crispin clenched his jaw as he put an apple slice in Buxton’s mouth, keeping his fingers clear when the man bit down and started chewing. “Your reputation for a crime-free shire has suffered from this attack.” Crispin grimaced as the half-eaten apple slice dripped juice over his fingers.

  “Your guards are incompetent boobs!” Buxton spit bits of apple. The tailor dodged to his back to work from a safer angle. Buxton swallowed and continued. “If they had been better trained none of this would have happened! Bite!”

  Crispin shoved the rest of the slice of apple into his master’s mouth and snatched his fingers away. “The men were well-trained. They were taken by surprise in the rain by four armed men.”

  “Windale!” Buxton growled as he chewed. “I want him caught and I want him hanged.”

  “I agree,” Crispin ground on, frustrated, “but he is not easy to keep track of. One day he is spotted in Derbywood, the next he is reported to be south in Burton or north in Collingswood. He moves.”

  “Then move with him,” Buxton sneered. “Bite! And tell-” He paused when Crispin fed him another apple slice. “Tell the master-at-arms to increase training. Hire more guards if you have to.”

  “I already have, my lord.” Crispin clenched his jaw. “And I have doubled the patrols through the forest to catch the escaped prisoner.”

  “Ah yes!” Buxton smiled. “Our little lord-killer!”

  Crispin’s stomach twisted at the glee in his master’s voice. “My lord, I have invited Lady Aubrey to stay in the castle while the murderer is on the loose.”

  “What?” Buxton’s flat question caused sweat to break out on Crispin’s back.

  “She has little protection in Morley.”

  Buxton snorted, jerking the fabric around his shoulders and sending pins flying. “Really, Crispy. If you wanted a whore I’m sure that Derby has a wide selection.” Cold rage twisted Crispin’s stomach. “Oh that’s right,” Buxton continued with a sickening sneer. “The whores of Derby don’t want you darkening their doorsteps.”

  In fact, Buxton had forbidden any of them from entertaining him on pain of death. Not that Crispin could stomach the thought with Aubrey so close. “She is here for protection, my lord, nothing more.”

  Buxton’s low, sensual laughter underscored his point. “Bite.”

  He put the second half of the apple slice in Buxton’s mouth. Buxton clamped his mouth over Crispin’s fingers and sucked on them, running his tongue along the tips as he pulled them out. Crispin swallowed and fought the chill that slithered down his spine. The tailor cleared his throat and nudged him out of the way. Crispin was more than happy to oblige.

  “My lord, I will take my leave.” Crispin bowed to hide his grimace, setting the bowl on a side table.

  “Why?” Buxton snapped. “Where are you going?”

  “To visit our guests.”

  “Lady Aubrey?” His eyes burned.

  “The nuns, my lord. They arrived last night and I have not yet had a chance to interview them about the incident in the forest.”

  “Why would you want to hear the travelogue of a pair of nuns?” He smacked his lips when Crispin tried to reply. “Whatever. I don’t care. Just get them out of here as soon as possible. All of them.”

  “My lord.” Crispin nodded and turned to leave.

  He walked until he was out in the hall with the door closed then darted to his own room at the far end of the hall. He crossed the bare room in two steps and plunged his hand into the half-empty pitcher of water on the table under the room’s single small window, sighing with relief and revulsion. He withdrew his hand and shook the water off, drying it with a towel folded on the table.

  If he could have Aubrey he would in a heartbeat. He glanced to his bed, the image in his mind of her lithe, naked body sprawled across his coverlet making him hard.

  He cleared his throat and threw the towel on the table, leaning against the wall. As if she ever would. It had been so long since he had bedded anyone that he couldn’t control his body or his thoughts anymore. A deliberate manipulation on Buxton’s part to keep him in line and hungry for violence. He pummeled the wall with his fist and stood straight, breathing deeply until he was composed. At least Aubrey had come to the castle. That was something to be thankful for.

  He was halfway across the room to the door before hesitating and returning to the table to wash his face. He took up
his brush and ran it through his hair, feeling like a complete idiot, before discarding the whole toilet and walking with doubled energy out into the hall.

  Aubrey had been given a room in the castle’s other tower and he had to walk all the way down one flight of stairs, across the main hall, up a second flight before reaching her room. The journey left him flushed and out of breath. He cleared his throat and stood straighter before knocking on her door. He waited, listening to silence, then knocked again. There was no answer. A busy servant missed a step as she passed him waiting and rushed off with concealing a grin.

  Crispin sighed. What was he thinking? He scowled and slammed his fist on the door before storming back along the hall and the long staircase. He had wanted Aubrey at the castle so that he could protect her, not so he could turn into a slack-jawed git. She hadn’t been there a full day and he already had servants laughing at him. He was a fool for inviting her, a fool for hoping she had come to be closer to him.

  By the time he reached the main floor his face wore a scowl so dark that people jumped out of his way as he walked. He was a fool to hope. The most affection he would ever see would be from Buxton.

  When he turned the corner into the castle’s main hallway, eyes full of fire and head full of steam, he ran smack into Aubrey as she came the other direction. She was followed by the two sisters and their ginger-bearded manservant. The impact would have knocked Aubrey off her feet if he hadn’t caught her. She was too stunned to react at first and rested her weight against him.

  “Crispin!” she gasped. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest and glared at her with all of the anger and annoyance he felt for himself. Her face melted from shock to indignation. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Crispin felt her body pressed against his, felt his blood rush to his groin. He wanted to tell her about the frustration of his position, the indignity of Buxton, and the boiling emotions that wouldn’t let him rest. He wanted to hold her tighter and slide his hands along her curves, feel her mouth against his.