The Loyal Heart

by Merry Farmer

  “That’s better.” Buxton laughed as if coming inches from making Jack soil himself was funny. He slipped towards Crispin. “Here’s the plan. We lure Windale out into public with a contest at arms. Nobles only, of course. I’d be willing to bet that Windale won’t be able to resist a good contest. We draw him in, spring a trap, and arrest him. We can even have him hung at the feast ending the Faire as the highlight of the whole grand event. Ooo! That’s good! Prince John would love that!”

  Crispin shifted. “My lord, if Windale didn’t show up for the competitions at the end of the Council of Nobles how can we assume he would be present for the competitions at this faire?”

  “He didn’t show up because you were busy marrying his woman!” Buxton glared fire at Crispin, temper swinging like an axe on a rope. He planted a hand on Crispin’s chest for a moment before it balled into a fist and pounded him hard enough to make Crispin lose his breath. Buxton’s eyes glittered with inspiration. “Ah, but this time we can dangle his woman in front of him. Good idea, Crispy.” He spread his hand across Crispin’s collar then slid his fingers into the neckline of Crispin’s shirt and across his bare chest.

  “My lord….” No words followed as Crispin caught his breath and glanced at Buxton’s hand at work. It was all Jack could do not to lose his lunch as he realized Buxton’s intent. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the teasing motion of Buxton’s fingers across Crispin’s nipple.

  “You will bring Lady Aubrey here for the Faire. And if she’s not enough….” He glanced up to Jack with a sick smile. “You say that one knows Windale’s ways.” The blood drained from Jack’s face. “I should probably kill him.” He shrugged, pulling his hand out of Crispin’s shirt, glancing up into his eyes. “He should be able to tell us just what sort of thing would appeal to Windale’s massive ego.” Buxton glanced to Jack with questioning eyebrows raised.

  “I, yeah, uh, I think it’s a grand idea, my lord,” Jack choked. “Yeah, uh, Windale. If he thinks that he’s protectin’ Aubrey….” He trailed off, glancing up to Crispin to see if he’d said the right thing or if he was making it worse. Crispin wouldn’t acknowledge him.

  Buxton’s grin widened and he walked over to slap Jack’s shoulder. “Not bad for a first try, Crisboy.” He slid his hand up Jack’s shoulder to flick his earlobe.

  “Oy!” Jack slapped at his ear, and jumped away from Buxton as if he’d held a torch to his head.

  Buxton ignored the reaction. “We have this faire, an armed combat competition, and if we fail to catch Windale then we’ll just kill this one at the feast instead.”

  “My lord, no,” Crispin defended him, stepping forward.

  “No?” Buxton whipped around to glower at Crispin. “No?” He smashed Crispin across the face with his ring-filled hand. “You do not tell me no, Huntingdon!” He struck out again, punching Crispin in the gut and doubling him over. “What do you care about that one anyhow?” He grabbed Crispin’s jaw in his tight grip and brought his face to Crispin’s, ignoring the blood that was beginning to drip from Crispin’s nose and onto his hand. “Things were so much nicer when it was just the two of us,” he purred. “First you let her get between us, now him.” Gently he kissed Crispin’s jaw where it met his ear. Then he bit his earlobe.

  Crispin jerked. Buxton let him go with a laugh. He forced himself to stand straight and wiped at his bleeding nose with the back of his hand. “Do you want me to proceed with the preparations, my lord?”

  Buxton remained still for a few moments, watching as the blood from Crispin’s nose trickled across his hand. His tongue flickered out to taste it, then he sniffed and wiped his hand on his chausses, pacing across the room. “Yes, I think so.”

  “Then I will take my leave, my lord.” Buxton waved them off as he leaned out the window.

  Crispin glared acid at his back and turned to leave, motioning with his head for Jack to follow. His nose was still bleeding. Jack was on his heels in a heartbeat, eager to get as far from Buxton’s madness as he could.

  “Oy, I got an idea, mate.” He was surprised that his voice shook. “Why don’t you, me, an’ Aubrey pack up our stuff and high-tail it outta here. I hear Coventry’s nice this time of year and Buxton’d never-”

  “I don’t want Aubrey anywhere near this Faire.” Crispin ignored Jack’s babbling.

  “I hear ya, mate.” Jack shook his head as they started down the stairs. “I wouldn’t want a dog I didn’t like near this place ever again.” Crispin glanced sideways at him as they descended, his face hard and pale. “And what about Ethan? You really gonna kill him?”

  They reached the main floor and Crispin burst through the hall and out the front door. “No.”

  Jack froze. He hadn’t even thought about the answer before blurting it. And here he was sure that Crispin would be more than happy to do Ethan in. He felt a surge of protectiveness for the glowering man. “Oy, you gotta do somethin’ about your nose, mate.” He jogged down the stairs to catch up.

  “It’s fine.” He dismissed Jack without looking at him.

  “And … and your ear’s bleedin’ too.”

  Crispin stopped and raised a hand to his ear only to bring it away bloodied. He sighed and stared at Jack, daring him to say anything.

  Jack held up his hands, crucifix from his rosary dangling. He wasn’t about to breathe a word of what he’d just witnessed. “Look, mate, I think you should go home to Aubrey.”

  “I have work to do.” He started marching for the stables again

  “Let me do the work.” Jack wasn’t sure where his offer was coming from, only that he didn’t like feeling sorry for someone he respected. He didn’t like respecting anyone in the first place.

  Crispin wavered. He took a good long look at Jack, barely able to meet his eyes. Jack suspected he now knew something about the man that no one else knew, not even Aubrey, and he hated it.

  “Well? Oy, neither of us is getting’ anythin’ done just standin’ here like bloody trees, mate.”

  Crispin softened. A light of understanding passed between them. He sighed. “Deal with Pennington first,” he gave in. “If he squawks take him to talk to the master-at-arms. Once that’s done have the guards spread the word about this bloody competition.”

  “On it.” Jack nodded, turning and heading off towards the gate. He glanced over his shoulder to see Crispin striding on to the stable, shaking his head.

  Aubrey sat on the low wall that ran in front of Windale Manor with a warm cloak around her shoulders watching the village at work. She fanned her flushed face with the letter in her hands. It was from Geoffrey. She had received one just like it every couple of days since the wedding. He was lonely without her but she couldn’t bring herself to visit or to invite him over. Her dear brother would never understand the confusion that had had her in an iron grip for weeks. He would lecture her about her duties as a wife, not realizing it was her rebellious longing for those duties that kept her up nights listening to Crispin breathe.

  Crispin! She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her hands to her lap. Rivers of liquid heat pooled between her legs at the very thought of Sir Crispin of Huntingdon. It was so wrong in so many ways.

  “Look at that,” Joanna’s cheerful voice made her eyes snap open. Her surprise tripled at the bundled baby in her maid’s arms. “Think our lady has something delicate on her mind, hmm?”

  “I do not.” Aubrey knew her reply was too quick and sullen and that Joanna could see right through her. She’d been seeing right through her for weeks, but at least she had the good sense to keep her mouth shut, even if her brown eyes sparkled. Aubrey changed the subject. “Where did you get the baby?”

  The glitter in Joanna’s eyes told Aubrey she was only getting a momentary reprieve. “It’s Billy Ferris. His mum and da are helping with the harvest.” She lifted the giggling baby to her face and rubbed her nose against his with a silly cooing noise. “Here, my lady, you take him.”

  “Oh no!” Aubrey tried to protest, but it was too
late. She dropped the letter from Geoffrey as Joanna piled Billy into her arms. He fussed as she clamped him like a sack of eggshells she might break. “Joanna, no. I don’t know anything about babies. Take him.”

  “Nonsense, my lady. Consider this good practice.”

  “Practice for what?”

  “For when you have your own babies.” The impish grin that touched the corners of Joanna’s mouth made Aubrey swallow hard.

  She bit her lip and focused on Billy’s tiny face. The butterflies in her stomach swelled. This was the end result of all the restlessness she had bottled up about Crispin. She imagined the dark-haired baby in her arms was his. The liquid pleasure pulsing through her body surged harder.

  “Oh this is wrong,” she whispered to the yawning baby. “This is all very, very wrong!”

  “If I may, my lady, you are full of shite.” Aubrey gasped with indignation even as she shriveled with sheepishness. “And I mean that with all due respect.”

  “Yes, I can tell,” she scowled.

  Joanna sighed and leaned forward, fixing her mistress with a flat stare. “Do you have any idea how many women here in Windale would give their eye teeth to have Sir Crispin in their bed?” Aubrey’s jaw dropped and her cheeks flared. “For God’s sake, my lady! You need to buck up and put the both of you out of your misery and let the rest of us have some peace!” Her eyes shone with mischief as she stood and stepped away from the wall. “Watching the two of you play games has made this entire village randier than a cat in heat. And I am sadly without a man at the moment. Just you think about that for a while.” With that she nodded and marched back to the garden.

  Aubrey stared at Billy, still gaping. The anxious feeling that things were moving too fast rushed to her ten time stronger. Billy squirmed as he settled in sleep and she raised a hand and stroked his back.

  When had everything changed so much? For half a second her thoughts drifted to Ethan. She hadn’t seen him since her wedding day. She tried to feel the river of heat in her gut for him. It was hopeless. She missed him. Maybe. Or not. She didn’t have time to miss much of anyone with all that had been going on in the village.

  Billy made a short squeaking noise against her shoulder and drew her attention. She smiled at him as he yawned and then made sucking motions as he settled into sleep. She laughed. Ethan Windale slipped her mind.

  Even though his nose had stopped bleeding by the time he rode up the path to Windale Manor, Crispin knew that he looked a mess. He had been forced to come home looking a mess more times than he cared to count. Aubrey was sitting on the wall in front of the house with something in her arms as he approached. He dismounted and handed his horse off to the surprised groom, then stopped when he realized what he was seeing. Aubrey was holding a baby. She smiled at it as the tiny thing flailed its pink arms and grabbed her finger in a tight grip. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. It made the marrow in his bones sing. When she glanced up, the happy bubble she and baby had been in burst and her face dropped.

  “Again?” Her voice crackled with anger.

  Crispin’s heart didn’t know how it should feel; joyful, ashamed, broken, hopeful. He didn’t speak. He walked to the wall and sat beside her, tilting his head to stare at the babe in her arms. “Where did you get the baby?”

  “I’m just watching him.” She stood and transferred Billy into Crispin’s arms. “Here.”

  Crispin fumbled the bundle. “No, Aubrey, I don’t know anything about babies.”

  “Well neither do I.” She frowned in irritation and raised her hands to study the scratches and bruises on his face so that he couldn’t hand Billy back. Her hand traced across to the half-moon row of cuts on his ear. “What happened here?”

  Crispin thought in silence about what to tell her. He didn’t want to tell her anything. He wanted to lie and say it was something else. “Buxton bit it,” he admitted, barely audible.

  “What?” Crispin didn’t repeat his words so she went on. “He bit you?” He stared at the baby in his arms without answering. It blinked at him and squirmed as if getting ready to fuss in earnest. Aubrey lowered her hands and shouted, “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s jealous.” Crispin kept his eyes on the baby. He had never said those words before, never admitted them. There was something about saying them to a baby, Aubrey standing over him, that took the horror out of it.

  “Jealous?” She blinked. “Of what?”

  He had hoped that she would understand right away and not ever speak of it again. “Of you.”

  “Why would Buxton be jealous of me?” Aubrey laughed as if the idea were ridiculous. He raised his eyes to her and when she saw that he was serious her expression twisted to understanding.

  “He … he fancies me.” Crispin confirmed her thoughts even as the truth crushed him. “It’s why he gave me Windale, why he made me his bailiff. After my father lost our land I would have starved in the streets if he hadn’t … taken notice of me.”

  Aubrey’s jaw clenched. She paced away from him then spun back and strode along the wall past him, raising a hand to run it through her loose hair. His heart sunk. She couldn’t flee from him fast enough. He continued to stare at the baby, burying all of his thoughts and emotions. It was the only way to survive.

  Aubrey finally settled her path and stormed to the edge of the wall where the herb garden stood.

  “Joanna!” Her voice cracked. Joanna dropped what she was doing and stood in alarm. “Come and take the baby!” She stormed back to where Crispin sat on the wall and wrenched the baby out of his arms.

  Crispin gasped and watched, emptiness flooding him, as she marched over to hand the tiny thing to her maid. When she had deposited the baby in Joanna’s arms she turned and stormed back to him. He hardened himself, ready to mount a defense, argue his position, swear to her that Buxton’s affections had never been willingly returned.

  Aubrey took one look at him, at the sorrow in his eyes, and threw herself into his arms, burying her head against the side of his neck. He felt her stiffen and jerk as his arms closed around her and realized she was weeping. Weeping for him. His own eyes stung as wave after wave of emotion rolled him.

  He held her close and let out the breath he had been holding. Relief like nothing he had ever known enfolded him. He closed his eyes, resting the side of his wounded face against the top of her head.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her words were muffled against his neck.

  “How could I?” He stroked the side of her head and wiped a tear with his thumb when she straightened.

  She shook her head. “If I had known….”

  “Aubrey,” he rushed to change the topic, “Buxton’s demanded your presence at the Harvest Faire.”

  Aubrey stood back. “So?”

  Crispin’s head was still tilted to the ground but he glanced up at her with his eyes. “You’re to be bait. To draw out Ethan of Windale.”

  She flushed crimson and clutched at her stomach. “Oh no. No, no, no, no, no!”

  “Buxton demands it.”

  “But….” She gaped and swayed on her spot before her eyes fixed on his. “Do you really think Ethan is stupid enough to show up someplace just because I’m there?”

  Crispin shook his head and stopped his body’s impulse to go to her and take her in his arms when she started pacing. “No, I don’t. But Buxton is convinced he is. He wants Ethan dead. It’s become his obsession.” She exhaled a sharp laugh and rolled her eyes. “Would it help if I mentioned that if he doesn’t capture Ethan he’ll hang Jack instead?”

  She paused her pacing and stared at him, open mouthed. “He’s mad.”

  “He’s not mad, he’s ambitious.” He’d spent more than a decade defending his master and now it felt more wrong than ever. “Aubrey, I … I have to know if you will be alright with this.”

  She froze, back stiff, eyes focused on the horizon. A swirl of emotions crossed her beautiful face. He wanted to take her in his arms and wipe away
the worry lines on her brow, kiss her mouth into softness. He refused to believe that after the last two months, after the way she had responded to his embrace, that she would still choose Ethan Windale above him. Still, he held his breath when her eyes flickered to his.

  “Aubrey?” Panic coursed through him. “Will you be alright with this?”

  She turned her body to him. “Are you going to kill Ethan?”

  “No.” His heart plummeted into his gut. “You’re not answering my question.”

  “Why not? Your master wants him dead.” Her body was rigid and her eyes flashed with challenge.

  She was testing him. In two long strides he was toe-to-toe with her. “Because I made a promise to you.”

  Her body swayed towards him but she pulled herself back. “How do I know you will keep that promise?”

  One hint of Ethan Windale and it was as if the past two months had never happened. He felt sick. “Aubrey, I will never break a single promise that I have made to you. I would rather die than let you down.”

  She glanced up at him as if he had insulted her instead of renewed his pledge. Her lips quivered and her face twisted with pain. He wanted to hold her, to crush her against him and tell her everything would be alright, but he didn’t dare. She glanced over the hills and fields of Windale and nodded, biting her lip to keep her tears from falling. His heart shattered at the sight.

  She sucked in a deep breath, turning to him. “Yes, Crispin. I will be alright with this.” She rested her left hand on his chest and stared at her ring. He was certain she could feel the hammering of his heart. He just wished he knew if it was from relief or disaster. “But,” her forceful follow-up made his eyes snap to hers, “I am not going into this without a plan.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Toby couldn’t remember ever attending a faire so huge, so noisy, or so nerve-wracking. His heart raced as he flicked his gaze from one face to another, waiting for the one that would recognize them in spite of their disguises and sound the alarm. He wasn’t cut out for the life of a highwayman and things had only gotten worse since Lady Aubrey’s wedding and Jack’s betrayal. It had become Ethan’s mission to get them into as much trouble as possible. Toby had been dragged along on more heists and midnight raids than he had ever hoped to suffer through. The rabble that his master chose to surround himself with made him break out in hives, especially Roderick.