by Merry Farmer
“Has she?” She broke into a smile and he matched it before he could stop himself. “How did you hear this?”
“I sent a man to Coventry.”
Her smile faded as she contemplated the admission. “And what about the Council of Nobles? Did Ethan make his stand?”
Crispin cursed himself for getting his hopes up only to have her crush them. “No.” He didn’t care if he sounded cruel. “He never showed.”
Aubrey dropped his arm. “You’re lying.”
Her words crackled but her eyes were dull. His throat constricted. “I told you I would never lie to you again.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lip as she stared across the village instead of at him. “I hope you’re satisfied.”
Yes. He was. Immensely. “Aubrey.” He stepped into her line of vision so that she was forced to look up at him.
“What.”
Part of him wanted to throttle her for her petulance. He stared at his ring on her hand as she gripped her arm. “I have a wedding present for you.”
“A wedding present?” She relaxed her arms.
His heart pounded in his throat but he ignore it. He had been weighing this move all week. “Windale.”
She shook her head in confusion. “Windale?”
“Yes.” He spoke faster when he saw that she was disarmed. “I want you to run Windale.”
Her eyes widened and her arms dropped. “What, Windale Manor?”
He shook his head and glanced out over the common for a moment before looking back to her. “I want you to administrate the manor and the village for me.”
She started to say something that came out as a strangled grunt then gave up as she looked out over the buildings and people. “What do you mean?”
He wanted to reach for her, to take her in his arms and beg for her forgiveness for his past wrongs. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. Standing in the sunlight with her wavy brown hair loose on her back and a pink flush to her cheeks he could hardly resist the impulse. She would accept none of that from him, but there was a chance she would accept this.
“I want you to be lord of Windale. That means you would manage the farms, settle disputes, make sure people have enough to eat when winter sets in.”
“I know how to run an estate, Crispin.” She rolled her eyes at him. “I ran Morley for years.”
“Windale is ten times bigger.” He saw no reason to feign modesty. “It’s a much bigger job. The people would look to you as their master and protector.” He paused and watched her eyes flash as she absorbed what he was saying. “It would mean you would be responsible for collecting their taxes.”
She flicked her glance to him to see if he was teasing her. “Collecting their taxes?” Her saucy grin made his heart hammer.
“In whatever way you see fit, so long as Buxton gets what he asks for.”
“Buxton,” she scoffed. “What will you do while I’m running your land?”
He shrugged, folded his arms, and glanced out over the village in tandem with her. “What I always do. Serve Buxton.”
He wasn’t surprised when she exploded. “I should have known! Serve Buxton. Who are you going to kill for him next?” He winced as she brought up old shame, but he deserved the jab. “You continue to serve an evil man, you know,” she railed on.
“Yes I do!” Her words only made his true feelings about Buxton burn hotter. “But with a difference.”
“What difference?”
“The difference,” he turned to face her again and drew her eyes to his, “is that I will not break a law or kill again while in his service.” He had planned this gift to her in the days he had sat by her bedside, knotted with fear and guilt. “Unless it is to save your life or mine.”
For a moment she worked her jaw in stunned silence, then she squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her forehead. “You’re not serious.”
“I am absolutely serious,” he snapped back. “I promise you that I will never kill another man unless it is to defend you or myself.”
She met his eyes with delving fierceness. Crispin was reminded of the duels he had had with the Bandit. She could crush him with the force of her will alone if she had a mind to. When she sighed and dropped her shoulders a thrill of victory pulsed through him. “You are serious.”
“I am.”
She continued to rub her forehead as if she had a headache. He was on the verge of asking what was wrong when she growled in frustration and dropped her hands. She sighed. “I … I accept your offer.”
“It wasn’t an offer, Aubrey, it was a promise. I would have stuck by it even if you had told me to go to hell.” He forced himself not to smile at the feeling of satisfaction that poured through him. “I have work to do.”
He wanted to lean over and kiss her before striding off towards the house again, but he didn’t. Instead he nodded to her, let his arms drop, and left her to sort through the promises he had given her.
Chapter Sixteen
Crispin paced the length of the Great Hall, face expressionless. Buxton sat in his high-backed chair at the end of the table barking orders to one of his guards, “I want eight men at least guarding all caravans through Derbywood, no matter which direction they’re going. Windale and his men have been making far too big of a nuisance of themselves.”
“Yes, my lord,” the haggard guard nodded and shifted in his spot in front of the table.
“Just because he couldn’t be bothered to show up at the Council of Nobles is not an excuse for him to go playing highwayman.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And why are there so many men with him all of a sudden?” Buxton whined. “I thought he only had two or three, but the last report said that there were a dozen or more. What’s going on!”
“I don’t know, my lord.”
“If hide or hair of him is seen anywhere near Derby Castle I’ll skin you like the dog you are and use your hide to polish my boots!” Buxton banged his fist on the table and chastised the poor man.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Windale hasn’t been seen outside of the forest in three weeks, my lord,” Crispin reminded him in a low voice as he paced past the chair. Buxton shooed the guard, who bowed and fled from his presence.
“Ha! That’s right. Another unexpected benefit of your recent nuptials, I’m sure.” Buxton glared at him. “Poor little Windale, heartbroken at the thought of his beloved Aubrey wriggling in Crispy’s passionate embrace.” He punctuated his comment by making pained grunting noises and thrusting his hips in his chair. Crispin hid his grimace of disgust but clenched his fists at his sides. “Well he can stay heartbroken forever as far as I’m concerned. Prince John’s visit is less than a month away. I don’t want some moony ex-noble lousing things up.”
Crispin froze. “Prince John? Visiting?”
“What? Upset that you’re not in the loop on this one, Crispy?” Buxton launched himself to his feet. His dark eyes glowed with malice as they raked Crispin from head to toe. “You’d have heard if you’d been spending more time at the castle lately.”
Crispin pushed through the danger that prickled his skin. “Preparations need to be made. Preparations for the Prince’s safety. One month is hardly-”
“It serves you right!” Buxton smashed him across the jaw before he knew the blow was coming. He stumbled backwards, eyes wide. “So what if I don’t tell you everything. You’re the one who betrayed me!”
“My lord, I have not betrayed you.” His stomach churned.
“You and that … that whore!”
“You go too far.” There was no mistaking the threat in his voice as he pulled himself to his full height before his master.
Buxton swayed in his spot, watching him through narrowed eyes. He held perfectly still, waiting for the inevitable melt in Buxton’s eyes, the sickening affection that always followed.
It didn’t come. “Prince John is coming here for a very quick, very specific visit, Huntingdon.” Ice crackled
in his voice. “I told you to kill Windale once and you failed. Do not fail me again.”
His promise to Aubrey, never to kill again, stuck hard in his throat. “No, my lord.” He lowered his head so that Buxton wouldn’t see his double meaning.
“John’s visit must go smoothly.” Buxton brushed on. “I want celebrations, a week of celebrations leading up to it.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I want games, competitions, ribbons and bells. I want the people distracted.”
The hard lump of suspicion spread from Crispin’s throat to his gut. “Yes, my lord.”
“Ah!” The coo in his master’s tone made him glance up at last. “Is Crispy upset at being kept in the dark?” Buxton slid forward and stroked the angry bruise that throbbed on his jaw. “Crispy should know by now that he has nothing to fear so long as he does – what – I – say!” He tapped the bruise harder with each word, punctuating his statement with a stinging slap. “Get out of my sight!”
“Yes, my lord.” He rubbed his forehead in an unconscious imitation of the gesture Aubrey used as he strode to the door. He had no choice but to put Buxton’s dangerous antics out of his mind. A royal visitor was on his way to Derby, Windale was marauding in the forest, and he had a week-long festival to plan in less than a month.
As he passed through the castle’s front doors and along the long stone stairway into the courtyard and out into the city his thoughts turned to Aubrey. Prince or no prince, she was his first priority.
For weeks he had shared a bed with her, unable to sleep for listening to her breathe. Her scent was everywhere around him. Her face stared back at him across the supper table every night. But he couldn’t have her the way he wanted to. He couldn’t touch her and love her and make her his. And even though she was shaking off the initial gloom of their marriage she was still distant. He had to find a way to bridge that distance, to be with her.
He passed Jack leaning casually against the side of a shop without noticing and was equally oblivious as Jack followed half a step behind him for a dozen yards.
“Oy! I’ve got half a mind to pick your pocket, mate.” Jack startled him out of this thoughts. He reached for his sword but Jack had a dagger pointed at him before he could grip the hilt. “A child could take the shirt off your back and you’d never notice it.”
“What are you doing here?”
Jack slipped his dagger into his belt. “Thought you might be interested in a little forest news.”
“You’ve come to collect your allowance.” Crispin crossed his arms.
“Yeah, well, that too,” Jack admitted with a rakish grin. Crispin scanned the area for a quiet corner and strode towards it. Jack followed on cue, eyes darting to be sure they weren’t observed. They ducked into a barn with a low roof.
“What’s he doing?”
“Buildin’ an army.”
Crispin shifted his weight and stared at the man with new eyes. “Windale is building an army?”
Jack shrugged. “Sorta. He’s been goin’ through the forest, talkin’ to all the vagabonds, miscreants, and criminals. He’s tryin’ to get them to join up.”
Several pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. “That’s why he’s been attacking our shipments of money and merchandise,” he spoke his thoughts aloud. “He needs to feed people.”
“Right you are.” Jack smiled. “It’s why I’m in town today.” Crispin glanced up at him. “On a grocery run, mate. We got a cart and everythin’.” He motioned over his shoulder towards the road that lead to the marketplace.
“You’re not alone?”
“I got this young bloke, Roderick, with me.” He shrugged. “Creepy little bugger.”
The information shifted into place and set Crispin’s nerves on edge. “Does Windale know about Prince John?”
“Yeah, mate, he does.”
Crispin’s eyes darkened. “Is he going to try something when the prince is here?”
Jack shifted his weight and scratched his goatee. “See, now that’s hard to say.” When Crispin raised an eyebrow at him he went on. “I don’t think the prince is his first concern. He’s too busy pining for Aubrey.”
“What?”
“He thinks that Aubrey is gonna change her mind, that she’ll want to bolt at some point.”
Anger and worry clouded Crispin’s eyes. “Does Aubrey know about this?”
“No.” Jack met Crispin’s eyes with absolute seriousness. Crispin wanted to still the pounding of his heart but it wouldn’t listen. “She hasn’t had a lick of contact with Ethan since the day you were married. And if you ask me, she’s far better off that way.”
Crispin narrowed his eyes, judging the man. He was being honest. He was a fool for letting the words of a cocky peasant soothe his suspicion, but he liked the man. “Let me know if you hear anything else.” He untied the purse from his belt and tossed to Jack without counting it before continuing on his way.
Jack watched Crispin go, wondering if the man believed him. He felt sorry for him in a way. It was one thing to be separated by miles and vows to God and things. It was something else to have the woman you loved right there, still holding a torch for someone else.
He kicked the dirt on Crispin’s behalf as he turned and headed back to the marketplace where he’d left Roderick. The streets were crowded and the noise alone was enough to drive a man to distraction. There was no rhyme or reason to the hodge-podge of carts and vendors coming in now that harvest had started. He smirked to himself and mused that if it were up to him he would whip the place into shape in no time. He’d start by rearranging the merchant’s stalls in straight lines.
When he rounded the corner where he had left the cart Roderick was making a show of inspecting the sacks and barrels in the cart’s bed. His face was red and sweat dampened his hair. “Oy.” Jack called to him. Roderick’s eyes darted up and to the side at Jack. Jumpier than a frog in a bog that one. “Keepin’ outta trouble?”
Roderick stared at him, dark eyes narrowed. He looked much better now than he had when Ethan had first picked him up. Better than he had when they had rescued him the first time. He was clean now, but still pale with scrubby colorless hair and mean eyes. Jack still didn’t trust him as far as he could spit. He had yet to deny that he had killed anybody. Even a boy could stick a dagger in a man’s heart.
“You been playin’ with the other kiddies, mate?”
Roderick shook his head, glancing away from Jack.
“’S fine with me.” He glanced past the carriage to a tavern several houses down on the main road. “Oy, you want a drink before we go back?”
The young man turned to look at him again, his eyes vicious. “You paying?”
He grinned to the boy’s face as a chill went down his back. “Because you asked so nicely, yeah.”
Roderick bolted for the nearest tavern without waiting for him. Jack rubbed his goatee and started after him. Crispin wasn’t the only one who wanted to know what Ethan was up to. Giving safe harbor to murderers was well outside of the bounds of what he considered normal behavior. He shuffled the purse Crispin had given him between his hands and stared at the rosary around his wrist. If it wasn’t for Tom and the weird sense of duty that he was developing towards Crispin he would have been five shires away setting up a new life with Madeline by now.
Aubrey marched from the mill towards the house, sheaf of papers in hand. She mulled over the figures for production and distribution that the miller and a representative from the farmers had discussed with her, livid at both of them. Why anyone would think that charging exorbitant fees and not helping their neighbor was the best way to feed everyone’s children was beyond her. She stomped into the house, threw her papers on the table by the door, and let out a frustrated sigh.
“Is something the matter?” Crispin’s deep, smooth voice made her jump and squeak in shock.
“Crispin!” She slammed a hand to her racing heart and closing her eyes to fight off yet another wave of annoyance. “You surpr
ised me.”
“Something is bothering you.” He stepped towards her from the sideboard where he had deposited his sword on coming home. “Can I help?”
She deliberately misunderstood his look of concern. “That’s what you’d like, isn’t it? You only asked me to administrate Windale because you wanted to watch me fail, so that you could laugh at me, didn’t you?”
“Governing is not as easy as playing the Bandit, is it.” That one rebellious lock of hair slid across his forehead, making her want to touch it. Damn him to hell.
“You’re not going to let me live those days down, are you.” She balled her fists in frustration.
“No.” He crossed his arms. “Not when you bested me in combat on several occasions.” The light in his eyes was fiery but not angry. It quivered its way to her core.
She latched on to the irritation caused by the business of the village to fight the slipping sensation in her soul. “You knew this would happen.”
“Knew what would happen?”
“The villagers,” she spit half a lie at him.
The way his eyes danced with hesitant affection made her heart beat faster. “They’re just testing you.” He shrugged and strode to the sideboard to pour himself a goblet of wine. He poured one for her as well. “They did the same to me. Once they see that you are more than capable of running Windale, they’ll stop being such a nuisance.”
“They’re not a nuisance.” It didn’t count as lying if she wanted to believe it.
Crispin walked back to her and extended a goblet. If she hadn’t been so thirsty she would have thrown it in his face. Damn him for looking at her like that and for being so … so intoxicating. She snatched the goblet and drank a gulp.
“Aubrey…,” he began in the tone that made her blood race through her veins. It was too vulnerable, pried at her heart.
“Whatever justifications for your actions you’re about to sell me, I’m not buying.” She downed the rest of her wine in one gulp and stomped past him to return her goblet to the sideboard.
