Lucia Symington. As Bane pulled the tunic over his head, his focus was on the boy who seemed to be a wealth of information.
“Tell me everything ye know about her.”
Tynan did.
Chapter Four
The slap had sent her reeling.
Lucia stumbled into the wall, catching herself from falling, as Lady Currie’s nurse went in for another blow. Lady Currie had kept her nurse from childhood, a bully of a woman who liked to slap around all of Lady Currie’s servants, but as she came in for another strike, Lucia lashed out a foot and caught the woman in the knee.
She went down like a rock.
“Enough!” Lady Currie cried. “Stop fighting! I will not tolerate it!”
The nurse, old and heavy as she was, was sitting on the floor struggling to breathe as Lucia stood against the wall, preparing to kick the woman again if she came at her.
“I willna let her beat me, m’lady,” she said, angry and fearful. “I’m sorry for the sausages. I beg yer forgiveness that they were stolen. But there were three men against me, and I couldna stop them. I willna let Colly strike me for something I couldna help.”
The former Lady Blanche Ireby, now Lady Currie, rose from her dressing table to stand between her nurse and Lucia, holding out her hands to prevent them from moving against each other. She was only a few years older than Lucia, plump and pretty, married to a man who was old enough to be her grandfather. She was also English and spoke in the Sassenach fashion.
“I am sorry you were set upon,” she said. “Were you injured in the attack?”
Lucia was still against the wall in a defensive position. “Nay, m’lady,” she said. “They pushed and grabbed, but I was not injured. I am very sorry for yer sausages. If ye wish for me tae go back and get more, I will.”
Lady Currie shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “It would take too long. Next time, I will send a male servant.”
“That is wise, m’lady. I am sorry tae have failed ye.”
Lady Currie looked Lucia over before dropping her hands and turning back to her dressing table. “You did not, not really,” she said, picking up the cup of wine on the table. “I should not have sent you so far away for the sausages without an escort.”
“May I work off the cost, m’lady?”
“That is not necessary,” Lady Currie said, draining the cup and licking her lips. “But please do not kick Colly again. She will understand not to strike you again, but I do not wish to see her injured. She is old and damages easily.”
Lucia almost laughed. Colly was as tough as a horse. Lucia knew it wouldn’t be the last time she and Colly had a go-around, because it certainly wasn’t the first.
“If she willna strike me, I willna fight back, m’lady,” she said, but before Lady Currie could reply, she quickly changed the subject. “May I fetch yer riding clothes? ’Tis a good morning tae ride in the hills.”
Lady Currie sat down at her dressing table, and a maid resumed dressing her pale-red hair. “I think not,” she said, pouring herself more wine from a fine crystal decanter. Wine was her constant companion. “And I want you to dress well today, Lucia. We are going to the Ludus Caledonia again tonight. It seems that they have new novice warriors to look over. I am eager to see their stock.”
The Ludus Caledonia. That was a name spoken frequently at Meadowbank and mostly by Lady Currie. It wasn’t a place for singing or for a fanciful dinner, nor was it a merchant who sold exotic things from across the sea. It was a secretive place where the wealthy of England and Scotland gathered for gladiatorial games of the most brutal and entertaining nature.
The Ludus Caledonia, simply put, was a fight guild.
It was also a place where Lady Currie found men to do things to her that her old husband no longer had the energy or wherewithal to do. Lucia had been introduced to the place the very first week she had come to Meadowbank when Lady Currie took her along to the mysterious arena hidden in the hills south of Edinburgh. There, she sat with Lady Currie in the lists, watching men beat each other bloody while bets were placed on the winner.
The Ludus Caledonia was not only a fight guild; it was also a school where men were trained to fight in the ancient ways. The candidates were chosen well, and treated well, and expected to fight for money or honor, or both.
On Lucia’s very first visit, Lady Currie had paid for the company of a gladiator who had won one of the many battles that night, and Lucia had waited outside the warrior’s cottage as Lady Currie went inside to visit him. She stood there, listening to Lady Currie’s gasps of passion as the man pleasured her.
That was Lucia’s experience with the Ludus Caledonia. She had no use for it, to be truthful, but Lady Currie was fond of the place and Lucia could look forward to another cold, late night of bloody fights, screaming crowds, and a mistress who drowned herself in wine before she sought the companionship of a champion warrior.
“Of course, m’lady,” she said, feigning interest. “What will ye have me wear?”
Lady Currie was looking at herself in the mirror, turning her head slightly as her maid put pins into an elaborate hairstyle. “The gown of blue satin that I gave to you. Wait…not that one. I do not want you to outshine me. Wear the gown the color of amber.”
“Aye, m’lady.”
“You may go now. Make sure the horses are prepared to take us to the Cal. I should like to leave an hour before sunset.”
“Aye, m’lady.”
With that, Lucia fled the manse, making her way out into the kitchen yard and then into the stable yard beyond. She considered herself fortunate that she hadn’t been punished for the sausages, at least not truly punished. It could have been so much worse.
Thank God it wasn’t.
On her way back to Bane’s cottage, she paused to tell the old stable master about Lady Currie’s plans, to which the old man simply shook his head reproachfully. Lady Currie’s activities at the Ludus Caledonia were an open secret to all at Meadowbank but her husband. The older servants in particular, like the old stable master, resented her for it. She was off to fornicate while her husband sat with his books.
It was a sad state, indeed.
But thoughts of Lady Currie faded as Lucia reached Bane’s cottage. Her heart was racing just a little, making her realize she was eager to see him. He was something new, and God only knew there was never anything new or exciting at Meadowbank. Remembering what happened the last time she entered without knocking, however, she rapped softly on the door.
Or perhaps I should have just opened it…
“Bane?” she called, realizing she’d ruined her chance for another glimpse of naked buttocks. “May I come in?”
The panel flew open and Tynan was standing there, his eyes wide. “Bane needs a razor!” he said, bolting past her. “I’ll find him one!”
Lucia watched the boy dart across the stable yard. “Has he been in here since I left ye?” she asked.
Bane came to stand next to her, watching the child run off. “The entire time,” he said. “He likes tae talk.”
Lucia smiled faintly, knowing that to be true. “He’s a good lad,” she said. “He is a hard worker.”
“He’s a bit young for such hard work. His hands tell the tale.”
Lucia turned to reply to him, but the words caught in her throat. Bane was dressed in the smithy’s tunic and breeches, in clean clothes for the first time since they met. The breeches were a little snug, and the tunic a little roomy, but he looked clean and handsome.
Quite handsome.
She nodded her head in approval.
“It would seem that a bath and clean clothes have done wonders for ye,” she said.
Bane folded his big arms across his chest and leaned against the doorjamb. “More than ye know,” he said, rubbing the hair on his face. “I havena shaved in a very long time. It’s quite possible that my beard ha
s become a nest for rodents.”
Lucia laughed softly, flashing straight and white teeth. “How cruel ye are tae destroy their home.”
“It was yer idea that I should bathe.”
“Are ye complaining?”
His eyes lingered on her, glittering. “Nay.”
As he looked at her, Lucia felt something she’d never felt before—a charge, like a bolt of lightning coursing through her body. The longer she looked at the man, the stronger the feeling became.
“Now ye might be able tae secure a position somewhere,” she said, trying to ignore that trembling feeling. “Ye said ye could shoe horses or build something. Now that ye dunna smell like piss, someone might give ye a job.”
He looked out into the yard. “What about here?”
“What do ye mean?”
“I’m good for many things,” he said. “Surely there’s something I can do around here?”
She looked at him in surprise because that idea had never crossed her mind. “Ye want tae stay here?”
“Why not? Ye’re here.”
There was something in his tone as he said it. Coupled with that glimmer in his dark eyes, Lucia was feeling quite…giddy. Men didn’t flirt with her; she was strong and independent, and perhaps never gave them the chance.
Therefore, this was quite new to her.
Truth be told, she didn’t know how to flirt. She was terrible when it came to the games that men and women played. She so wanted to respond in a way that would suggest she found him a wee bit attractive, too.
But she had no idea where to begin.
“I…I’m not here by choice,” she finally said. “I’m here because I must be here.”
“Is it such a terrible place, then?”
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said honestly. “Laird Currie is a good man. He’s very old and hard of hearing, and mayhap a bit mad because he keeps a family of pet rats, but he’s very kind. And Lady Currie…”
“That is the lady ye serve, is it?”
“Aye,” she said. “Lady Currie is young and pretty and full of life.”
He cocked his head curiously. “Laird Currie is very old and his wife is very young?”
Lucia nodded, thinking of the sad marriage of Laird and Lady Currie. “She is his second wife,” she said. “He wants a son very badly, enough that he married a young English woman after his wife died. But if she bears a son, it will not be his.”
“Why would you say that?”
Lucia leaned back against the wall. Perhaps she was about to say things that she shouldn’t, but Bane seemed easy to talk to. God knew she didn’t have many people to talk to in this prison of a place. Standing in close proximity to a man who made her feel strange and wonderful things had her tongue loosening.
“Because Lady Currie wants nothing tae do with her husband,” she said quietly. “Can ye imagine marrying someone and not even being friendly with him?”
Bane shook his head. “Nay,” he said honestly. “My parents were affectionate tae one another. That was the example set for me. I always hoped I would know the same, someday.”
“Ye’ve never been married?”
He shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Ye?”
She grinned. “Do ye think I’d bring a stranger back tae my home if I was?”
He smiled because she was. “Nay,” he said. Then he sighed heavily, looking out over the rainy yard. “But I’m glad ye did. God knows, ye took a man ye dinna know and helped him. Mayhap it was just a bath, and just a basket with some bread and cheese, but ye dinna have tae do it. It is a kindness I can never repay ye.”
She looked at him seriously. “Ye said ye’ve been in Edinburgh for months,” she said. “Did ye ever have a position or a way tae make money? Or have ye been living in the alleys all this time?”
He looked at her, the glimmer in his eye dull. “I never had a position,” he said quietly. “I never even tried. I came tae Edinburgh… That’s not right. I dinna come. I ran. I ran tae Edinburgh.”
“Why did ye run?”
“Tae escape.”
“What were ye escaping?”
He exhaled softly. “Myself.”
It didn’t make much sense to Lucia. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to. A man had a right to his secrets, after all, and it wasn’t her place to pry. But it seemed to explain why she sensed sorrow and defeat from the man. She had since the moment they’d met, and she felt a good deal of pity for him. Even if she didn’t know the root of his problems, she felt as if she wanted to help him.
This man who made lightning course through her veins every time he looked at her.
“Mayhap ye’ll stop running sometime,” she said quietly. “Until then, I’ll see what I can do about securing ye a position here. ’Tis better than living in the alleys of Edinburgh.”
He nodded, looking at the clean clothing he was dressed in, before turning his attention to her. “I’d be grateful,” he said. “Ye’ve been an angel, Lucia. I suppose we all need guardian angels, and right now ye’re mine.”
She smiled bashfully. “I’ve been called many things, but never an angel.”
“That’s what ye are tae me. My angel.”
She was both flattered and embarrassed. They were still standing in the doorway together, but it seemed to Lucia that he was moving closer to her somehow. He unfolded his arms, and his fingers casually brushed against hers.
Heart pounding, she was attempting to figure out how she should respond when a shout broke the spell. They both looked up to see Tynan running in their direction.
“I’ve got it!” he shouted, waving something in his hand. “I’ve got a razor for ye!”
Bane stepped back as the boy ran between them. “Stop waving that razor around, lad,” he said, grabbing the child by the wrist and plucking the sharp razor out of his hand. “Ye’re going tae slash people tae ribbons running about like that.”
“Can I watch ye shave?” Tynan asked. “I can help ye!”
Bane lifted an eyebrow, glancing at a flushed Lucia, as he turned back into the cottage. “I’m sure ye can,” he said. “But I think I can manage by myself.”
Tynan wriggled about as if incapable of sitting still as Bane lathered up the savon d’Alep and thoroughly saturated his beard. Using the reflection in the cold bathwater as a mirror, he began to carefully shave away at the bush on his face, with Tynan giving him expert advice from a young man with no beard at all.
But it was an endearing moment. Bane had compassion and patience, something that Lucia could see in just those few brief moments. In fact, as she watched, she decided to speak to the stable master or the smithy to see if they could use Bane’s help. She’d offered to help him find a position and find one she would.
She decided at that moment that Bane Morgan was not leaving Meadowbank.
He was here to stay.
Chapter Five
One week.
Bane had been at Meadowbank exactly one week, and in that week, it seemed to him that he’d never known another life. Something about hard work and a pretty lass who came to visit him daily had him believing that his fortunes might have finally turned around.
The old stable master’s name was Angus Peele, and Bane had quickly made himself indispensable to the old man. He only had two grooms working under him, men who were so lowborn that they could barely speak intelligently, but they were hard workers and did all the cleaning and feeding of the horses.
There were fourteen horses, in fact, mostly belonging to the small group of soldiers that Laird Currie kept for protection. Bane didn’t interact much with the men, but he saw them as they made their periodic rounds. Rumor had it they spent most of their time at the gatehouse, drinking. But they were well-armed, and the horses fat and expensive, to protect all that Meadowbank had to offer.
Bane had been taking care of
grooming the horses himself and repairing their tack, which Angus tried to keep in good repair, but his fingers were twisted with a painful affliction that involved his joints and made it difficult. Bane had therefore taken over the chore and spent his days repairing the worn harnesses and saddles, listening to Angus chatter nonstop while he chewed pieces of fat, green grass. He’d chew up one and start on another, which had turned his teeth a nice shade of green over the years.
They’d sit in the open door of the stable, watching the rain fall and speaking on any subject that struck their fancies. Angus would tell Bane such stories as having invented the horseshoe or being personally responsible for the creation of whisky, and Bane would listen as if he believed every foolish story out of the stable keeper’s green mouth.
He was coming to like the quirky old man.
But his focus wasn’t only on his duty. It was on Lucia, hoping for a glimpse of her as she went about her duties for Lady Currie. No one from the house seemed to make it back into the stable block except for Lucia, and it was always with requests from Lady Currie. The woman liked to ride her snow-white palfrey through the woods, and every night she also demanded her carriage, which was prepared and then driven up to the house to collect her.
Bane had never met Laird or Lady Currie in the week he’d spent in his new position, the first week in months that he hadn’t been sleeping off too much drink in an alley and wallowing with the dregs of society. These days, he was clean, he was fed, he had a place to sleep.
And he owed it all to Lucia.
Truthfully, he was coming to feel the least bit guilty for tricking her into taking him to Meadowbank in the first place. He’d seen an opportunity to play on her pity and he took it. He had a better life now than he’d had before, but his intention to take advantage of Lucia had quickly turned into something else the very first day he knew her. He was still trying to figure it all out, but he knew one thing—she was a lady he was growing increasingly fond of.
Even now at the dawn of a surprisingly bright morning, he was looking forward to seeing her. She always seemed to make it back to the stable yard at some point every morning, and he was planning on that. He’d even shaved with the razor Tynan had brought him and washed his hands and hair with the remains of the savon d’Alep. It was ironic that he hadn’t felt like cleaning up since he’d arrived in Edinburgh, since leaving his shame behind.
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