by Merry Farmer
She tried to distract herself by imagining the look on Jack’s face as he rescued Madeline. If he rescued Madeline. “Did Jack get Madeline and Sister Bernadette out?”
Tom finished tying her bandage before answering. “I don’t know.”
She swallowed and dragged the coverlet up to her neck, cursing her shaking hands.
Harder memories assaulted her. Ethan had abandoned her when she needed him most. He’d been angry with her for putting him at risk. As if she didn’t risk everything every day of her life. She raised a trembling hand to her forehead, wiping away the sweat and the threat of tears. If Jack had failed there was only one thing she could do to save her friends now.
“I’m getting married tomorrow.”
“You should not move from this bed for a week at least, my lady.”
It was sweet of him to show so much concern. “What other choice do I have?”
“Lord Ethan will save you like … like he planned.”
She shook her head. “No he won’t.”
A knock at the door stopped Tom from contradicting her. She widened her eyes as Tom flinched. Crispin’s voice called, “Aubrey.”
Tom dove for the floor and rolled under the bed. She didn’t have the energy to panic. “Come in.”
Crispin opened the door and stepped into the room. His vexed frown transformed into deep concern when he saw her still in bed. “Aubrey, are you ill?” He rushed to her bedside.
She nodded, trying to make her fuzzy mind work. “I don’t feel well.”
“What’s wrong?”
She fought not to blanch with pain as he sat on the side of the bed by her hips. “My stomach. Something I ate.”
“Do you have any idea what it was?”
Sweat beaded on her forehead. It was little relief that he was buying her story. “I feel better than I did last night at least.” White flecks flared at the corners of her vision as his weight jostled the bed.
He lifted a hand to stroke her forehead but hesitated. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
She shook her head, swimming through the pain to find a way of learning what she needed to know from him. “I just need to rest. I’ll be fine. Are Madeline and Sister Bernadette ready to go home?” Her arm shifted towards him under the covers and connected with his thigh.
He spent a long, silent moment staring at the lump of her hand touching him. His black hair tumbled across his forehead, hiding his eyes. She squeezed her own eyes shut to fight the fire in her side. He cleared his throat. “The servants are packing their things as we speak.”
She breathed out. They hadn’t made it. Her fate was sealed.
“Aubrey?” The tremor in Crispin’s deep voice made her writhe with guilt. “Do you think you’ll be well by tomorrow?”
She didn’t answer. There was no way to go but forward. She nodded against her pillow. “I just need rest.”
Crispin nodded and rose. He turned to go but didn’t move. She pried her eyes open and glanced up at him in question. He wavered, face pale, eyes tormented, then turned back to her and opened his mouth but shut it again. If she had had the strength she would have forced him to spill whatever she knew was eating at him. All she could do was close her eyes and pray he would leave before she passed out and he discovered her secret.
Several long seconds ticked by before she heard the sound of his footsteps pacing to the door and leaving. Tom crawled out from under the bed and lifted the coverlet to check her bandage.
“Tom?” she whimpered before blackness could envelope her.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Do me a favor?”
“Anything.” He crouched beside her bed and lay his hand over hers.
She drew in a deep breath. “Go find Ethan. Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I can’t spend my life waiting for him. Tell him I’m marrying Crispin.” Hot tears rolled down the side of her face.
“I….” His eyes implored her not to make him the messenger. She hiccupped with tears then winced at the pain the small jerk caused. Tom melted. “Alright, I will.”
She closed her eyes, spilling more tears across her swollen face. The cool touch of Tom’s lips on her forehead only made the weeping worse. It was the sweetest gesture anyone had ever made to her. She listened as he stood and left the room, then let herself fall into heavy, dreamless sleep.
By the time Tom rode into Morley he was exhausted and his nerves were frayed. He had never seen bravery of the kind Lady Aubrey possessed. Ethan was a noble and a man to be admired, but he had made a mistake by putting his personal agenda ahead of the woman who loved him. He cursed himself for not taking him aside and pointing out what was right in front of the man’s eyes. It was too late now.
He was surprised to find Jack slumped on a bench in front of the house, working something between his fingers. His brother’s grim face lit up in relief and he jumped up to meet him as he dismounted. “Oy!” he called back to the house, “It’s Tom!” He threw his arms around him. “We were beginning to worry about you, mate.”
Ethan shot out the door, throwing questions without greeting. “Do you know what happened to Aubrey? Where is she? Is she coming?”
Toby spilled out the door followed by Sir Geoffrey on his crutches. He wrung his hands and addressed Ethan. “She was injured. I carried her to her room. She has a deep gash. I cleaned the wound and stitched it.”
“Will she be alright?” Geoffrey staggered in his haste and Toby caught him.
“Um, yeah.” Tom kicked the dirt and ran a hand through his hair.
“What?” Ethan narrowed his eyes.
“She sent a message.”
“What message?”
Tom’s gut writhed. “She says that she’s sorry,” he mumbled. “She says she’s going to marry Huntingdon tomorrow because … because she can’t spend the rest of her life waiting for you.”
Ethan paced halfway across the yard, jaw clenched. “She’s only doing it to save her friends.”
“She’s not only doing it to save her friends, mate,” Jack shot back in anger.
Ethan spun on him. “How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true! You let her down. You seriously let her down.”
Without warning Ethan cocked his arm and punched Jack across the face.
“Oy!” Jack grabbed his jaw. “Don’t go after me for tellin’ you somethin’ you don’t wanna hear.” Tom stepped between his brother and Ethan before Jack could get a punch in. “Oh, defend him why don’t you,” Jack exploded, dabbing at the trickle of blood from his lip. “He’s the one who should be sorry.”
Geoffrey interrupted the pending fight. “Does Aubrey know her friends escaped?”
“No!”
“She might!” Jack countered.
Ethan squirmed on his spot and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Does anyone know what time the wedding is?”
“Ethan, no.” Geoffrey hobbled towards him. “Let my sister make her own decisions.”
“I will not let Aubrey marry the man who killed my father and took my land!”
“Ethan, you need to let go!”
“She doesn’t love him!” Ethan shouted and glared at Jack when he laughed.
“Lots of people marry for reasons other than love,” Geoffrey argued.
“She loves me!”
Geoffrey shook his head and looked away.
“What about the Council of Nobles, my lord?” Tom asked.
Ethan’s only response was to growl and grind his foot into the dirt, teeth clenched.
Toby stepped forward and reached out to lay a hand on his master’s arm. “What do you really want, my lord? What does your heart tell you?”
“My heart is in Windale. It’s my home,” Ethan replied. “But Aubrey….”
Toby raised his hand to cradle Ethan’s face. He smiled. There was something about the submissive affection in the mousy man’s eyes that made Tom glance away as if he’d interrupted lovers. “Then you must go after your heart’s desire, my lord
. You must stop this wedding.”
“But … the Council,” he spoke to his man as a friend.
“Do you love her?”
“Yes, but-”
“That’s all I need to know.” Toby’s tragic eyes held Ethan’s eyes for another moment. His thumb traced over Ethan’s cheek. Then with a nod he left them and walked back into the house through the servant’s door.
Windale village brimmed with life as Crispin paced in front of the manor house. He had done everything he could think of to make the village, the church, the house itself welcoming to Aubrey. He had enlisted the help of every female servant in his household to gather wildflowers and arrange them in that way women had. He had charged the men with setting up canopies and bowers and even a platform for a troupe of musicians. Tempting displays of food covered half a dozen tables as villagers and their children ran merrily through the buzz, faces happy, moods high.
Crispin was the only one who wore a worried frown. He had been pacing for hours, planning for days, and dreaming for years about this day, this wedding. His mind and heart still battled over telling Aubrey that her friends had escaped. It had kept him up through the night and had prevented him from eating all day. He still considered it an even chance that she wouldn’t show. She had seemed so ill when he had looked in on her. He didn’t think that food poisoning could make someone look so pale, seem so listless. He should have sent a physician to her instead of leaving her to herself. And try as he might, he couldn’t leave his suspicions behind. Something wasn’t right.
He didn’t have time to puzzle it out. The growing rumble of a carriage jerked his attention away from his thoughts and as it drew to a stop in front of Windale’s tiny church. His heart warred between hammering and stopping altogether. She had come. A moan of relief escaped him and he strode towards her.
The carriage stopped, its driver jumping down to open the door, and Aubrey alighted. He slowed his steps, heart fluttering from his throat to his groin at the beauty of her. She seemed bathed in sunlight in her gold and red brocade kirtle and veil. It was all he could do not to run to her and sweep her into his arms. Only the certain knowledge that she would reject his affection stopped him.
“Aubrey.” He let himself do nothing more than smile at her as he approached. He glanced past her to see if Geoffrey Morley needed help out of the carriage. It was empty. “Have you come alone?”
“There is no one to come with me.” Her voice was weak.
“Your brother?” Concern vied with anger in his gut.
She shook her head. “What about you?”
He stared at the ground. “We’re both alone.” For him it was a given, but for Aubrey to be abandoned in what should have been the happiest moment of her life was an unforgivable sin. He let out a breath. He was a fool to think she would greet this day with happiness.
As if hearing his thoughts she asked. “Have my friends been released?”
He hesitated. No one had told her they had escaped. It was his moment to come clean, to win her honestly. “I’m sure Buxton has released them by now,” he lied instead.
She nodded and tried to smile. He held out his arm and she took it.
As soon as they began walking towards the church the itching suspicion he had felt on finding the Bandit’s sword returned. She was weak, far weaker than she should have been. As weak as someone would be if they had been wounded in a clash of swords.
No, he shook his head, hoping she didn’t notice the gesture, no one with a wound that deep would be on their feet two days later. Buxton’s never-ending hatred of women was rubbing off on him. He refused to let it. Aubrey was simply ill with food poisoning.
The suspicion didn’t leave him once they entered the church. It flared a hundred times hotter as she gripped his arm with strange desperation. She felt heavier and heavier against his side. By the time they reached the chancel he was certain he was the only thing keeping her from collapsing.
When they paused in front of the priest as he began the ceremony he cheated his eyes to watch her. The veil hid more than just her face. Instinct screamed at him that she did not have food poisoning. When the priest gave the word he had to help her kneel. His gut twisted and his hands began to shake. The nuns were free. She would find out. Soon. He had decided that it was worth the risk to secure her in marriage first and beg forgiveness later. Now that she knelt by his side, shoulder sagging against his as she sought his support, he second-guessed that decision. She would hate him and that would kill him.
He opened his mouth to confess everything, to lay his heart and soul at her feet, when the priest asked them to rise. He turned to her. Behind the veil she was so pale, so beautiful. Her lips were rosy, as if begging to be kissed. Her eyes implored his help and his heart came undone. He slid his arm around her back, ignoring her wince, and lifted her to her feet. She steadied herself, keeping her weight on his arms. His heart pounded into his throat and he felt an inexplicable stinging at his eyes.
The priest’s Latin chant broke into the simple English wedding vow, “Do you Crispin Wulfric Huntingdon take this woman Aubrey Katherine Morley…” His heart squeezed the breath from his chest and the priest’s words blurred together. “…‘til death do you part?” He would have her in spite of death, in spite of lies, in spite of Buxton and a thousand potent forces working against them, if she would just have him.
“I do.”
“And do you Aubrey…” She couldn’t pay attention to what was being asked of her. Pain made her light-headed. But it was the shock of the tears coming into Crispin’s eyes that undid her.
He loved her. Powerful, terrible Sir Crispin of Huntingdon stood in front of her, eyes welling with tears as the priest asked her to pledge her life to him, to love, honor, obey. She didn’t want to do any of those things. She wanted to tear off her veil and run as fast as she could from the church. But his arm around her, steadying her and holding her against him, the intensity in his eyes, spread a warmth through her that she had never known.
“… ‘til death do you part?”
Her breath came in shallow gasps. The pain in her side was unbearable. Her heart pounded in her throat, in her ears. White sparks glittered in her vision and blackness threatened. Then she felt the slightest brush near her hands. Blinking she glanced down to see Crispin’s hand trembling towards hers.
Crispin would always love her. Always. All of the promises he had made to her, to protect her, to provide for her; he would keep all of those promises. He was the only one who had ever kept his promises. She drew in another sharp breath and reached her hand out to take his, looking to his eyes. The tears that had been waiting to flow now raced two trails down his pale face.
“I do,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion she didn’t want to feel.
“Then by the power invested in me by God and by the Holy Church, I now pronounce you man and wife. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.”
As Aubrey heard the pronouncement the room began to spin.
Chapter Thirteen
Crispin gasped out the breath he had been holding. He squeezed Aubrey’s hand, trying to see her eyes through the veil. She was his, joined by God, his for all Eternity. For that moment all there was in the world was Aubrey and him. Buxton was gone, Windale was gone, every black deed he had ever committed was wiped away. She gazed into his eyes with something close to a smile.
Her eyes were so wide, her skin so pale. He released her hand and reached into his pocket to retrieve the ring he had had made with the Huntingdon crest. As he raised her hand to slide the ring onto her delicate finger he had to grit his teeth and concentrate to keep from shaking. Once the ring was in place he raised her veil and lay his hands on the sides of her face, leaning close to press his mouth to hers, sealing their union with a kiss.
Elation crackled into fear. Her face was far paler than he had expected beneath the veil and her cheeks and lips were hot to the touch. When he pulled away from the kiss he saw that her eyes were not g
listening with excitement but glazed with pain. “Aubrey, you are unwell.”
“I….” She couldn’t finish her sentence. Her weight sagged against him.
“You need fresh air.”
As carefully as his fear and suspicion would let him, he scooped her into his arms and rushed out of the church and into the blinding sunshine. The villagers had assembled on the lawn in front of the church and cheered when they emerged. “Someone fetch Lady Huntingdon a doctor!” His shout and pale face stilled their celebration.
“No, Crispin, I’m fine.” Her voice was feeble.
“Aubrey, you are not fine,” he told her, a hard edge in his voice as he turned to the villagers. “Fetch a wise woman, anyone with skill in healing. My wife is unwell.”
A murmur went up from the villagers as the search began for their healer. Aubrey rested her head against Crispin’s shoulder. “I just need to rest.”
He wanted to stroke the damp hair from her face but both arms were holding her. Instead he brushed his lips against her forehead as he carried her to the shade of a large oak tree, half the village of Windale following them. They muttered in concern, but it was another sound that captured his attention. It was the sound of one man shouting as he ran up the road.
“No! Stop the wedding!”
Crispin recognized Windale’s man Toby and his gut lurched. Aubrey tensed in his arms. No. He breathed, in and out. No. He would let no one rob him of the one thing he lived for. He glared at Toby as the man skidded to a halt in front of them.
“What do you want?”
Aubrey raised her head in question. Toby panted, wild-eyed, disheveled. He tried to speak several times without success before he found words. “The nuns escaped, Lady Aubrey! You don’t have to marry Huntingdon.”
The bottom dropped out of Crispin’s stomach when Aubrey glanced up at him and asked, “Is… is this true?”
“It is true.”
Aubrey struggled against Crispin’s arms. He only tried to hold onto her for a moment before letting her to her feet. “They escaped … and you knew it?” The world tipped around her.
