by C. J. Archer
"Why?" Nick's lips were white from pressing them together. "What does it matter if the whole county knows I'm here?"
"It was simply a friendly gesture." Orlando shrugged and rose.
Lucy didn't believe him for a moment. He'd been genuinely worried when she told him Milner knew about Nick staying at the farm.
"I have to go," he said, glancing out the window. "It's growing late. Lucy, would you be so kind as to inform the lad to bring my horse around?"
"Of course." She left but not before glancing back at the two men standing on either side of the fireplace like two sentinels. Orlando smiled at her. Nick did not. He was watching the other man with deep distrust.
She couldn't blame him. Orlando had not only avoided answering important questions, but he'd just sent Lucy out of the room. Cold dread settled in her belly where it formed a knot.
When she met the men out the front again, they hadn't changed, except perhaps Nick looked even more troubled. His dark gaze bored into Orlando's as if he could dig out some answers from him.
Orlando kissed the back of Lucy's hand. "Come and see me if you need anything."
"Give Susanna my love."
He held his hand out to Nick. Nick regarded it for a long time then clasped Orlando's forearm. They nodded once and sported the most curious expressions that Lucy suspected she'd just witnessed a silent conversation between them. Unfortunately she couldn't interpret it.
Orlando mounted and rode fast down the drive. Gravel flicked out from under the hooves as he urged the horse onward. Was he in a hurry to get back to Susanna or to send his man to find Lord Oxley?
"What did he say to you after he sent me out of the parlor?" she asked Nick.
"Nothing." He turned to go inside. "Nothing that I believe anyway."
***
Eleven years earlier
They said the witch lived deep in Bowen Wood at the edge of Coleclough land. They said she was old and bent with a hawk's beak for a nose and hands like a raven's claws. Her long, gray hair tumbled down past her waist in a matted tangle, and her eyes were as black as a moonless night. So they said.
Nick didn't believe them. "There are no witches in the wood," he told the two village lads. "My father would have told me if there was."
Billy and Sidney were the sons of the blacksmith and tanner, respectively. Nick had met them the first time he'd been to the village a month earlier but hadn't seen them since. He'd not been able to sneak away from the house again, not with his father home.
But now, with his father gone for two nights to check on his tenant farms, Nick was left alone with the servants. It was easier to escape them than his father because they were too busy to keep an eye on him. Carter the house steward was the only one Nick needed to avoid. He was loyal to Nick's father and followed orders precisely. He also had fists like cannonballs and, at his master's orders, would wield them against Nick and Thomas if they disobeyed the baron.
And the baron's orders were to make sure Nick stayed in the house and immediate grounds.
"He can't be trusted not to go into the village again," Nick heard his father tell Carter before he left. "I don't want him anywhere near that place."
When he was younger, Nick used to think the village was where bad things happened to children. He imagined giants scooping small boys up off the street and taking them to their lairs. His imagination never got beyond that point because he couldn't imagine what giants would want with weak children. Nevertheless, he was sure that the village should be avoided. His father had told him so.
As he grew older, he began to doubt the existence of giants. None of his books spoke of them. He and Thomas asked their tutors about the world beyond Coleclough Hall and were told about village and city life. It didn't sound frightening at all. Indeed, it sounded interesting and Nick needed to experience something interesting. Coleclough Hall had become achingly dull.
So when their father went away to court, Nick took the opportunity to go into the village and see for himself. Thomas refused to join him, but that was to be expected. Thomas never disobeyed their father, never questioned his word. Nick on the other hand was beginning to think their father was lying to them, and he wanted to know why.
The village turned out to be quite safe. There were no giants, and no one tried to take him away or hurt him. The adults stared and whispered behind their hands when they saw him walking down the main street. The young children ran away and most of the youths gave him challenging glares. Only two lads, Billy and Sidney, hailed him.
Nick soon discovered they were both apprenticed to their fathers but had the afternoon off along with some other village youths, including two girls who giggled more than they talked. The tanner's son reeked from his work, but he was the more amiable of the two. It was he who first mentioned the witch in Bowen Wood. He'd heard stories about a wild woman living in a crooked cottage and he asked Nick if he'd seen her since the wood was on his father's property and not too distant from the house. Nick scoffed and told them no one could live in the wood and not come out for supplies. Someone would have seen her.
The others insisted she lived there, but the discussion was never finished because Carter found Nick and hauled him back to the house. He gave Nick four lashings for disobedience.
Nick's back had felt like it was on fire for days. He had to lie on his stomach in bed, and even the touch of his linen shirt stung. Now, a month later, the skin had healed enough that he sometimes forgot the scars altogether.
He was reminded of them, however, when he met up with Billy and Sidney in the village again. With his father away at the outlying farms, it was the first chance he'd had to sneak off. All he had to do was to keep one step ahead of Carter. That shouldn't be too difficult. Thomas had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to tell Carter that Nick was staying abed because he felt unwell. That gave Nick all day to find the lads and prove to them that nobody lived in Bowen Wood.
"I asked my Pa about her again," Billy said. He carried a small knife in his hand, and his eyes darted from tree to tree. He spoke softly, but his voice sounded loud in the still air of the densely wooded forest. Of the two lads, he seemed the most frightened. Sidney didn't seem the least bit scared. He was treating the outing as an adventure and a chance to tease his friend. He made Billy jump more than once by tapping his shoulder.
"Pa said the witch put a spell on him that made him get lost in this wood," Billy said. "He couldn't find his way out after getting too close to her cottage and if he hadn't been a good tracker, he'd have been lost in here forever."
"What was your Pa doing in here anyways?" Sidney asked. "This is Coleclough land. Hmmm?"
"Shut it," Billy hissed with a quick glance at Nick.
Nick ignored them both. He suspected Billy's father had been poaching, but he wasn't going to say so. He wouldn't jeopardize their fledgling friendship over a few birds.
"Did he say in which part of the wood he saw the cottage?" Nick asked. "We can't wander around all day." He doubted Thomas could fool Carter for more than a few hours, and Nick didn't want to get his brother in any trouble.
"There's only one path in and out," Billy said. "This must be it." Leaves rustled off to their right and he stopped dead. His wild eyes scanned the trees and undergrowth.
"It's just a bird or fox," Sidney said. "God's blood, but you're more skittish than a little girl."
"Shut yer mouth, or I'll shut it for you." But Billy didn't look in the least like he would thump anyone. He might stab them, however. His hand gripped the knife so tight his knuckles were white. A drip of sweat slipped out from beneath his cap down past his ear. "We must be in the middle of the wood by now. It's dark enough."
The canopy was so thick overhead that little light got through. Creatures scuttled about in the fallen leaves that covered the path and deadened their footsteps. If they stopped talking, no one would hear their approach, but getting Sidney to stay quiet wouldn't be easy.
"They say she lives with her familiar," the tanner's s
on said.
"What's a familiar?" Nick asked.
"A cat. You don't know much about witches, do you?"
"I couldn't find any books on them in our library, and my tutors didn't want to talk about the subject."
"Then what does yer Pa pay 'em for?" Sidney scoffed. "Waste of money if you ask me."
"Nobody's asking you, Sid. Now shut it or she'll hear us coming." Billy forged on, knife poised to strike.
The path was no longer straight as it had been in the outer part of the wood. It twisted to avoid larger trees and fallen logs, and cut through small clearings littered with the fat heads of mushrooms only to turn suddenly to left or right without reason.
The air was cool and damp on Nick's skin, despite the dry summer day. Leaves and twigs clawed at his clothes as if trying to stop him going further. He glanced at Sidney, expecting to see a sparkle of humor in the mischievous eyes, but there was none. He walked beside his friend, vigilant, tense.
The path suddenly narrowed, and they had to follow it in single file. Neither Sidney nor Billy seemed to want to go first so Nick took the lead. With the trees all around them, above them, it was like entering a tunnel to another world, a forgotten place.
The path wound past a large oak tree and Nick sucked in a breath. Stopped.
"What is it?" Sidney hissed behind him. "Let me see." He pushed Nick aside. "God's blood," he muttered.
The path led to a clearing in the middle of which stood a house. It was small but not crooked as the boys had claimed. In fact it appeared to be well cared for. The plaster between the wooden frame was free of gaps, and the windows had glass panes in them, which not even all of the village houses could claim. There were no outbuildings that Nick could see and only a small herb garden. The woods came up close on all sides as if it were about to swallow the cottage whole. If left untended, it probably would.
Behind Nick, one of the lads began to whimper. Billy, if he had to guess.
"Told you," Sidney said, a slight tremor in his voice. "We seen it. Now, let's go."
"Wait." Nick wasn't going to let the opportunity pass. He may not have another chance to come back. "I was wrong and you were right. Somebody does live in here. Don't you want to see who?"
"No!" Billy whispered.
"You're mad," Sidney said. "Let's go before she comes out."
"She?"
"Witches are always women. Christ, don't you know anything?"
"I know there's someone living in there. See the smoke coming out of the chimney? And I know whoever lives here must get their supplies somehow. They're not growing anything except a few herbs, and I don't see a single goat, pig or even a hen." The entire scene was like a painting, very still except for the slow drift of smoke from the chimney. "Come on."
Billy grabbed his arm and pulled back hard. "You are mad! I'm leaving. I don't want no witch to put a spell on me. Might never find me way out of here. Come on, Sid."
But Sidney didn't seem to hear him. He stared at the cottage. His breaths came short and fast and he made a noise in the back of his throat like he was choking. "Someone's watching."
Nick squinted at the cottage and his stomach flipped. A face stared back at them from the window, framed by gray, wavy hair.
"We should speak to her," he said. But neither lad heard him. Sidney and Billy had fled back along the path.
The woman in the cottage pressed her palms to the windowpanes. She stared back at him, her lips slightly apart, her dark eyes unblinking. She was no beauty but nor was she a wrinkled crone with a beak nose and talons for fingers. She was just an ordinary old woman.
He lifted a hand and waved. She jerked back from the window.
Nick took a step toward the house but stopped. Something crashed along the path behind him. Twigs snapped, and the swat of leaves meant the creature was big and close. Nick felt for the knife tucked into his belt, but he was too late. Carter emerged from the trees, his massive frame like an ancient trunk itself. He grabbed Nick's arm and hauled him back the way he'd come. He didn't speak, just growled and grunted like a wild animal.
"Stop!" Nick shouted. "There's someone living in there! Let me go!"
But Carter stormed back along the path to where it widened, and his horse was tethered to a tree. "Get up," he ordered.
When Nick didn't move, Carter slammed his fist into Nick's jaw. He stumbled, but Carter caught him by the front of his jerkin and lifted him onto the horse.
"No!" Nick shouted, struggling to right himself. Carter's arm clamped over his back and held him down. The steward mounted and the horse took off. "Let me go! Stop! NO!"
CHAPTER 9
Lucy ran across the landing to the guest bedchamber but paused outside the door. She pressed her ear to the wood and heard the bed creak and Nick groan "No." He was having another nightmare. He would be in need of comfort, and she saw no point in waking Henry for that. Her brother must get his sleep, or he'd be unbearable in the morning. Of course he would be angry if he found out she'd been in Nick's bedchamber alone—so she simply wouldn't tell him. She was in no danger from Nick, and she would not let him suffer on his own.
She pushed open the door. The room was dark but she could just make out the shapes of the furniture. "Nick, wake up."
He sat up in the bed. His gasping breaths filled the silence. "Lucy?" His voice was rough, almost concealing the slight tremor, but not quite.
Lucy knelt on the floor beside him and touched his arm. A shudder rippled through him. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," he said and leaned back into the pillows. She could not see his face in the darkness, only his silhouette.
"Let me light a candle," she said.
"No. No light." He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and drew in another heavy breath. "Stay here. Please."
She entwined her fingers with his and waited until his breathing returned to normal. The rush matting pressed into her knees through the linen of her nightgown, and she shifted her weight from one knee to the other.
"It's more comfortable on the bed," he said, gently tugging her up.
She sat beside him, hip to hip with the covers between them. She could feel the tension crackling through him via their linked hands but his face was still hidden in shadow. Despite the darkness, she could feel his gaze on her, watching, as if he could see her.
"Tell me about the nightmare," she said.
"I'd rather not."
"I understand, but if you want your memory back, it might help to talk about it."
The fingers grasping her hand tightened. "I can't make complete sense of it yet."
"How do you mean?"
"The dream is incomplete, and…"
"And what?"
"It's only a dream, Lucy. It may have been vivid, but until my memory returns, I'll treat it as nothing more than that."
"Then you should have no qualms telling me about it."
He grunted a laugh. "Is that female logic?"
"It's the logic of someone who cares for you and wants to help."
He pressed her knuckles to his lips, and she shifted closer. Her arm brushed his bare chest and her stomach fluttered. A few more inches and her nipples would press against all that hard muscle. It would be so easy to do it, and she desperately wanted to. The fluttering became a somersault.
She felt him smile against her knuckles. "With logic like that, how can I deny you anything?"
She waited for him to begin, but he did not. Every passing moment stretched her nerves tighter until she thought they might snap.
Finally, he lowered her hand to the bed. "Do you remember that I told you I defied my father and went into the village? Well, in my dream, I did it again a month later and met up with two lads. I wanted to prove them wrong about a witch they said lived in Bowen Wood. No one could live there without anyone seeing her. Or so I thought. When Father left for two days, I took the lads into the wood. We came across a cottage. It was small but well kept."
"Someone was living there?"
Lucy gasped. "Man or woman?"
"Woman. She was old and looked as surprised to see us as we were to see her."
"What did you do?"
"Billy and Sidney fled, but I wanted to speak to her. Only I didn't. Carter, my father's steward, found me and… took me home."
She waited but he said no more. "Took you? What do you mean?" It was impossible to think that anyone could make Nick go where he didn't want to go. He may have been barely a man at eighteen, but he must have been taller than most, even then. "Tell me," she said when he didn't answer. "Tell me what he did."
"I was too slow and distracted by the sight of the woman in the cottage, and he is a big man. I didn't see his fist coming."
"He hit you? Not your father?"
"Carter was given free reign when Father was absent. He was allowed to discipline us as he saw fit. Carter's fists belonged to my father."
"Good lord," she said on a breath. "Was he the one who whipped you?"
"That first time, yes. The second time…I don't know. I was dazed after that punch. I think I blacked out because the dream fades and starts again back at the house. Father was there, waiting. He'd returned early because he'd forgotten something." He shook his head and pressed his fingers into his eyes. "The dream is faint at best from that point. All I remember is Father ranting. He was furious. The next thing I recall is being whipped, over and over. I struggled, but… I couldn't get away." He swallowed loudly. "I still wore my shirt. It felt like the linen was being driven into my skin." He leaned forward as if he could feel the sting of the lashes against his back and needed to get away from them.
It brought him into Lucy's arms, open and waiting for him. He buried his face into the hollow where her shoulder met her throat. His hot, ragged breaths warmed her skin. His heart pounded against her breast, and he could not fail to have felt hers beating equally fast. She wiped her cheeks lest her tears drip onto him. He didn't need the burden of her sadness on top of his own.
"Then I woke up and you were here," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist.
