It took about an hour of riding to reach the place where they would meet Lady Margaret’s party as they returned from Carlisle. William slowed his mount and directed her to a shady spot under some covering where they could not be seen from the approaching road. He lifted a water skin from next to his saddle and held it out to Isabel before taking a drink himself.
His mount sidestepped, moving his leg and hers together. When he would have edged his horse away, she stopped him with a stroke of her hand on his thigh. Her eyes met his and she offered him a smile as well as the soft touch.
“I would thank you for all you have done for me, Royce. Somehow my words do not seem enough for all of your kindnesses.”
He could say nothing in reply for his throat tightened and burned. A simple touch and soft words of thanks from her and a rip began in his core that threatened his very existence. He could not let this happen and yet his hand moved on its own to claim hers. Did his flesh hunger so much for the touch of another?
He covered her hand with his, lifted it from his leg and brought it to his mouth, turning it as he did. Without releasing her gaze, he placed a kiss on the soft inside of her wrist. ’Twas as much of a touch and a taste that he could allow for himself, though his body clearly wanted more. He noticed that she held her breath but she did not pull away or object. Only the sound of horses interrupted the moment.
William remembered himself and the role that had been designated for Isabel. With more regret than he thought possible, he placed her hand on her own lap and guided his mount a few steps aside.
She blinked a few times and then reacted to the impending arrival of Lady Margaret and the others by turning away from him. The loss twisted in his gut, but it was made worse as he watched her steel herself for the meeting.
The group, with two of Orrick’s men-at-arms in the lead and with Richard riding next to Lady Margaret, came around the bend in the road and William touched his horse’s sides to move forward. Hailing them, he raised his arm in greeting and motioned Isabel to move with him.
If he could get through the next few minutes, he could turn her over to Lady Margaret’s attentions and begin to resurrect the life he wanted. He would go back to the routine he set for himself, back to the safety of being solitary. Away from the temptations of life.
Away from her.
Away from the constant wanting her presence had encouraged in him.
He never looked back. She waited and watched his face, but he did not meet her eyes once the others joined them.
The ache and wanting caused by his kiss were strong within her when Lady Margaret arrived. With few words, Royce greeted the traveling party, introduced her to her new hostess and rode off alone. His haste to rid himself of her was unseemly and noticed by those around her.
Isabel didn’t trust herself to say more than was required of her and the rest of the ride to Orrick’s keep was accomplished in silence. After days of anticipation of seeing the village and the keep and meeting those about whom she’d heard so much from Royce and Wenda and the others, her enthusiasm dimmed as she faced them without him.
With little explanation or hesitation, Lady Margaret gave orders to the servants about her care. Prompt and efficient, the servants carried out her instructions and placed Isabel in a small room of her own, delivered trays of food at appropriate intervals and presented her with a young maidservant to see to her other needs. The next days sped by without her even noticing.
On the morning of her fourth day there, she received a summons, or invitation, to join Lady Margaret in her solar. Isabel, now well rested and ready to seek out clues to her previous life, followed her maid down a hall to a corner room in the tower keep.
Upon knocking, the door opened and she stepped into a well-appointed room, complete with a table, four chairs and a hearth that filled half of one wall. Lady Margaret occupied the grandest and most comfortable of the chairs and worked on a large tapestry to her right. Isabel drew nearer, careful not to block the light that streamed in through an impressive window set high in the wall. Lord Orrick was quite wealthy to have such expensive features in his keep. The image that Lady Margaret embroidered was a garden scene, with two lovers seated on a bench.
“Good day, Isabel. Are you well?”
“I am, my lady.” She dipped into a polite curtsy and rose again. Lady Margaret nodded and, with a wave of her hand, dismissed both servants. Once alone, Isabel waited for the true subject to be raised. She was more startled by the manner in which it was raised.
Lady Margaret began speaking to her in the language of the Plantagenets—Norman French! Unsure at first whether she should respond to her question in it, Isabel waited.
“Royce told me of your knowledge of the Norman dialect. Do you know Latin as well?” She had switched into Latin with the question and Isabel understood her.
“’Twould seem that I have learned Latin as well, my lady,” Isabel answered in that tongue. “I can read both and write them fairly well.” She only just remembered those abilities.
“Your use and skills in these bespeaks of education, Isabel. I think that either your family is well-favored with wealth or you were in a convent, perhaps? Or both?” Lady Margaret raised an eyebrow at her question.
“I do not believe my education came from a convent.”
“Pray, be seated and tell me why.” Guided by the lady’s motion to one of the other chairs, Isabel sat down and tried to explain.
“’Tis more of a feeling than certain knowledge, my lady. I do not believe my temperament is suitable for a convent.”
“Many noblewomen retire to the convent after they have completed their duties to family. ’Tis not so uncommon, Isabel.” Lady Margaret shifted in her chair and her eyes became unfocused. “My sister is one such lady.”
“I meant no disrespect, my lady.” Isabel stood, worried that her words had caused an insult.
“None was taken, my dear.” She smiled with a look of true compassion. “Besides, a woman would not be beaten near to death in a convent. No matter how unsuitable her temperament was.”
“Royce thinks it was someone I knew.”
“I know of his suspicions and my lord and I share them. That is why we moved you here rather than leaving you in his cottage.”
Isabel had not spoken of him or heard his name in the four days since she’d arrived here and did not know until this moment how much she missed him. Nay, that was not true. She had not admitted even to herself how much she missed him.
“He is a difficult man to fathom, Isabel. Think you not that his manner was in some way caused by your presence or behavior.”
She must wear her thoughts on her face, for Lady Margaret had spoken them back to her. Isabel decided to take advantage of the lady’s knowledge to find out more about her protector.
“Has he been here for many years, my lady?”
“What makes you think he has not lived here his whole life?”
“You two must be related,” Isabel mumbled under her breath. Realizing that Lady Margaret was listening, she answered louder. “You and he handle questions in the same manner, my lady, with evasion and deflection.”
The lady laughed at her comment and pushed the embroidery frame away. “Isabel, a man’s past is his own business and he will tell what he wants known.”
“And a woman’s past, my lady? Whose concern is that?”
“Everyone’s concern, my dear, whether it ought to be or not. And you were correct, for your temperament would not be suitable for a convent, unless you were in charge.”
Isabel knew not how to respond so she looked at the lady. The twinkle in her eyes and the smile that threatened on her mouth told Isabel all she needed to know. It would take much to anger Lady Margaret.
“’Tis time for you to leave your chamber and mingle with our people. Look about you, see and feel the life of the keep. Surely something will assist you in remembering your life before. Edlyn will be a fine guide to show you around my lord’s keep and village.�
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“My lady? I would like to do something in return for your hospitality and care. Is there something to which I can apply myself? Some tasks or errands I can do for you? This idleness does not feel right to me and I would earn my place here.”
Isabel looked at the frame of the tapestry. “The only thing familiar to me is working with threads. Mayhap I could help you on this?” She walked over to it and examined it more closely. The work was skillfully done and the results would be a spectacular image to grace the wall of some hall or room. “Or mayhap not since I doubt my skills are as good as yours in this work.”
“Although my lord’s hospitality is freely given and no payment is expected for it, I would welcome the help for I fear I am beginning to lose interest in this one. Let us plan to sit after dinner for a short while and work on it together. We can review your day and determine if any progress is being made. What think you of this?”
“I am pleased by your invitation, my lady. I can see that I will learn much from you.”
“Eat the evening meal in the hall with us, then, and we shall begin your adventure.”
Lady Margaret stood and nodded. After curtsying, Isabel walked to the door of the solar.
“Please send Jehane in to me,” Lady Margaret requested. “And tell no one of the Norman French we spoke between us.”
Surprised, Isabel could only nod. Leaving the room, she found both maidservants in the hallway and sent Jehane into the solar as requested. Edlyn waited for her instructions.
“Lady Margaret has given me leave to move about the keep and village now. Would you accompany me around the grounds now?”
With a curtsy and a nod and a small bit of encouragement, Edlyn took the lead but set a slow pace through the buildings that were Silloth Keep. Isabel found her commentary to be enlightening about the history of the families of the surrounding areas as this part of England moved back and forth from English to Scottish and back to English control over the last century. Edlyn’s family had served the noble family who held this land for decades.
Not overly picturesque, the square-tower keep provided stout protection for the lord and his family from the weather and from any intruders, as well. With four floors, the top floor housed the family, the great hall took over the third floor, the second held the kitchens, storerooms and some small sleeping chambers, and the lower floor, built partially under the ground, was where the lord’s fighting men were housed. Even more important to the safety and security of those living here was the freshwater well that Edlyn told her lay on that lower level, protected from attack by its very location.
She did not go to the lower floors, but instead relied on Edlyn’s very clear descriptions to familiarize her with them. There would be plenty of time in the next weeks to visit all the places within the keep that the young girl mentioned. And although a visit to the kitchen and storerooms would be acceptable, Isabel knew she would never go where the men were housed.
Growing tired after walking so much, Isabel decided there would be time enough to see the village on the morrow, and the two women made their way back to her chamber to rest. ’Twas as she turned into the hallway outside the solar that she saw him. He stood leaning close to the door of the lady’s room, as though listening to someone inside. Her steps, with the clicking of the wooden stick on the stone floor, drew his attention.
Royce looked at her, stared for a moment and turned back to the person he spoke with at the partially open door. Then without any acknowledgment of her presence, he pulled the door closed and walked away down the corridor.
Although she had no claim to him or his attentions, Royce was the only constant in her unstable life, the only one she knew she could depend on. And he was walking away as though she was nothing, without even acknowledging her, without saying a word. She’d thought the world must be a cruel place, if someone could destroy her life and not be held accountable for it. Now, as she felt her heart break, she knew it was true.
Chapter Eleven
Trapped between Lady Margaret and Sir Richard, Isabel fought to remain calm and prayed for a swift end to this torturous meal. Noises and smells threatened to overwhelm her as the hall filled with Lord Orrick’s people. Surprised at how accustomed she’d become to the simple fare and fresh air at Royce’s cottage, she struggled with the many choices of food and drink and the attentions of so many at the high table.
The pain and tightness in her head increased with each course until Isabel knew she could not remain in the company of so many. Richard’s polite comments and questions swirled around her, making no sense to her. She smiled and nodded as much as she could. Finally she closed her eyes and tried to block it all out.
“Isabel?”
She blinked several times trying to regain her focus and turned to face the lady.
“You look pale and tired. A breath of air before retiring may aid you in resting better this night. My lord,” she said looking at her husband, “with your permission, I would ask Richard to escort our guest for a short walk before bringing her to my solar?”
“My lady, I thank you for your consideration, but I would like to retire now. By your leave, of course?”
Isabel stood and gathered her skirts, moving around the bench on which she sat and bowing to the lord and lady. The commander rose as she did and waited on his orders.
“’Tis a warm night. I would favor a walk after this supper as well, my lady.” Lord Orrick smiled warmly at his wife as he spoke. True affection shone in his gaze as he considered Margaret’s request. “Richard, to the chapel and back should not tax our guest too much on her first night out of her chambers.”
Accepting that this was a command, Isabel returned their smiles with less enthusiasm and knew she was walking outside with Sir Richard whether or not she wanted to. Placing her hand on Richard’s proffered arm, she allowed him to lead her down from the table and out through one of the side doors to the stairway. Without her voicing it, he seemed to know that she could not walk far or fast, and he slowed his pace even more on the steps.
It took hardly any time to reach the door to the courtyard and Isabel breathed in the cooler night air as they did. Using the walking stick and leaning little on his arm, they strolled between the keep and the smaller outbuildings. She could estimate the chapel’s location from Edlyn’s description earlier today, but her explorations had been limited to the inside of the keep and not out here. Soon they approached the stone chapel and Richard guided her through a gate in the fence surrounding it and to a bench next to the door.
“I know of your recent infirmity, um…”
“Please, call me Isabel,” she said, sitting down on the seat. She knew of Lady Margaret’s practice of familiarity, but she offered him her given, or taken, name since she knew not what else he should use.
“You must call me Richard, then.” His pleasant smile and soft eyes made being in his company easier. Completely the opposite of Royce, he was personable and friendlier at the start. No, that wasn’t quite a fair description of Royce.
“You cannot call me Richard?”
Isabel did not even realize she’d been shaking her head until he asked her. She bumbled through a reply.
“You have worked many hard hours to earn yourself the right to be called ‘sir.’ I would dishonor your accomplishments to call you less.” Sir Richard warmed to her compliments and Isabel decided she was not above plying him with more of them to find out about those who lived at Silloth Keep. “Pray sit by me and tell me of your duties here in service to Lord Orrick.”
Richard’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm and in but a few minutes, she learned much about how things worked here. Richard and Royce shared the duties of overseeing keep and village and men for Lord Orrick. Richard’s talents lay in provisions and provender, storehouses and salt production. Royce oversaw the safety of the family and the security of the keep and the training of the men-at-arms. They each led their own small company of men, hand selected, to guard or escort the lord or his lady whe
n traveling, although Richard confided to her that Royce stayed much closer to Silloth while Richard himself preferred the longer journeys when necessary.
“And how did you come to serve Lord Orrick, Sir Richard? I have not heard you mention a connection by family.” Isabel wanted to learn more about Royce and this would be her chance.
“I am the second son of one of Lord Orrick’s vassals. My lord was pleased with my abilities when I fostered here and I pledged to him once I’d earned my spurs.”
“And Royce? Did he foster here with you? You seem to be of an age…” She waited and hoped he would continue to share his knowledge with her.
“Royce has five more years than I, Isabel, but I have been here longer. Two years more than he.” She heard a hint of something under his words. Anger? Jealousy? Something indiscernible to her right now, but it was there.
“Sir Royce is family, then?” Isabel offered the most reasonable explanation for favoring one man over another. “Or his wife is?” She nearly choked on the word, but it was an acceptable means of advancement.
“He wishes not to be called ‘sir’ although I am quite sure he has been knighted.” Richard rose and held out his arm to her. Mayhap she had pried too much with her questions? “And he is not married.”
Isabel stood and positioned her walking stick, preparing herself for the walk back. Planning a retreat so as to not draw attention to her interest, she changed the topic and sought a safer one than Royce.
“I have heard that the lord and lady have a son?”
Richard nodded as he guided her steps back toward the keep. “Aye, little Alain is fostering with Lord Orrick’s cousin near Chester.”
“So far?”
“’Tis the only issue on which Lord Orrick has remained firm when it comes to indulging his ladywife.” Richard lowered his voice in offering this confidence.
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