by Lynn Kurland
“But where will we go?” she asked.
“Where I am most accustomed to sleeping.”
“In a tent?” Joanna asked, aghast.
“Aye,” Robin said, satisfied by the prospect. “Anne loves the shore, and I am very fond of my life. We’ll stay out in the open, well beyond the range of any bows, and see if our assailant has the spine to come against us in a fair fight.”
Joanna sighed. “I would say it isn’t safe, but if anyone has the skill to protect Anne, it would be you, love.” She patted his cheek. “Off with you, then. Unless,” she said, with a calculating look, “unless you would like me to prepare the marriage bed—”
“Nay,” Robin exclaimed, only to realize Anne had done the same thing. He wondered if he was as red in the face as his wife had suddenly become.
Joanna pursed her lips. “Robin, should you not send for your sire?”
He shook his head. “I want him and the children safely out of the way. This is a personal attack on me, not him. I’ll see to it.” He paused and looked at her. “Be careful, Grandmère.”
“I always am.”
“And you, my lady,” Robin said, turning to Anne and pulling her to her feet, “will remain with me and I apologize in advance for the tedium you will endure.”
“I’ll be with you. How tedious could that possibly be?”
He only smiled grimly and hoped she wouldn’t do him bodily harm when she realized the truth of the matter.
It was barely past noon when Robin found himself standing in the courtyard, watching his gear be packed into a wagon. He looked at the men doing it. They were all sworn to his service, those lads, and there wasn’t a one of them he wouldn’t trust with his life.
I know where you sleep.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the note. He could scarce believe what he’d read, but as he still held the blighted scrap of paper in his hand, he couldn’t deny that it was true.
And to think he’d believed Maude behind it all.
What a fool he’d been.
He gave more thought to what he’d just discussed with his grandmother. Was it possible it could have been one of her servants? He couldn’t believe that. This all had begun long before they’d arrived.
I know where you’ll sleep, and you’ll die there.
All the more reason not to retreat to the safety of the keep. ’Twas obvious that someone inside had his death on his mind. All the more reason not to bolt himself inside his chamber and remain there. What would that serve him? To remain a virtual prisoner there?
Nay, he would sit idle. And he would not spend another day looking over his shoulder as he walked down a passageway.
I’ll not rest until the keep is mine.
Not if he could help it. He had no choice but to draw out the fiend, face him on his own terms, then slay him.
For he would not give up anything that was his, not Anne, not the keep, nor his own life.
Which was why he was watching his gear be loaded into a wagon. He had given the matter quick, hard thought, and come to a decision. He would take Anne far from the keep, surround her with his men, and see if their assailant had the bollocks to come against them.
For Robin was itching for a fight.
And his lads were equally as eager.
He looked about him and wondered if Baldwin had returned. Was it possible his cousin was behind this? No doubt Baldwin wouldn’t scorn Artane were it offered to him. But to obtain it by murder?
He seriously doubted his cousin had the imagination for such a thing. Nay, Baldwin’s means of obtaining anything would be to lower his head and charge Robin. A note would likely be beyond the lout’s capabilities.
But if not Baldwin, then who?
Robin shook his head. He wasn’t sure how well he could investigate inside the keep if he were out of it, but he couldn’t see any other option. The safest place for Anne was outside the keep. Perhaps then he could scrutinize whoever tried to come near them.
He dragged his hand through his hair. Someone wanted the keep. Someone wanted him dead. He could scarce believe it.
At least the latter was something he was accustomed to, for he certainly had made his share of enemies over the years. But he was wary and deft with a blade, so the ending of his life never concerned him much. Now, he had begun to feel differently. He had souls depending on him.
One soul, he corrected himself. He looked behind him to see her standing at the top of the steps up to the great hall. She’d come and gone a time or two, always accompanied by a pair of his lads, of course. He was relieved to see her coming outside again.
The weak autumn sunlight fell down upon her pale hair and upon the deep green of her cloak. Robin shook his head in wonder. Was it possible that she had grown more beautiful because he loved her, or had his love made her more beautiful? He surely didn’t know.
With any luck he’d have a lifetime in which to come to a conclusion about it.
He turned back to supervising his packing.
39
Anne stood in the courtyard, heartily regretting her rash words about being happy with Robin wherever he was and whatever he was doing. The task of packing up enough gear and seeing to the keep in his absence, albeit a not very distant absence, was chafing to say the very least. Packing themselves up hadn’t taken very long, but then had come preparations for meals, the gathering of documents for Robin to study, and the grilling of each of his men. He took none but his own lads, and they were apparently accustomed to moving on in a hurry.
He had left his father’s steward in charge and Anne watched the man carefully as Robin laid out for him what his duties would be. And when he’d warned the man that there was trouble afoot in the keep, he hadn’t blinked. A glance at his scribblings left her in no doubt that this was not the assassin.
Even the priest had not escaped Robin’s scrutiny. His hand was passing fair, but not the neat, precise characters in the note. Anne had begun to wonder if it might not be a woman’s hand they were looking at. Though few women of her acquaintance could write, she certainly could, as could all Gwen’s family.
And what of Gwen’s ladies?
But that thought was so ridiculous, she immediately pushed it aside. She’d never sat in the same solar with anyone who would have wanted Artane for their own. Even Edith couldn’t possibly be interested. Edith would likely rather wed with Robin than slay him.
Wouldn’t she?
Anne shook her head as she stood waiting for Robin in the courtyard. Perhaps it was a passing nobleman whom Robin had recently offended. That was entirely possible. Perhaps, given the time, they would find out who it was.
Then they could retreat to a warm bedchamber, for much as Anne loved the sea, she suspected it would be a bloody cold fortnight spent there.
It was late afternoon before Robin’s great tent was pitched. A fire had been lit before it and Anne found herself huddled next to it, shivering. They had already eaten, which should have warmed her, but the bitter wind from the north had stolen all her heat. She looked up as Robin threw himself down next to her.
“By the saints,” he said with a scowl, “you wouldn’t think a simple removal half a league from the hall would be this much trouble, would you?”
She shook her head with a smile. “I fear I’ve never done the like, so I’ve nothing to compare it to.”
“Trust me,” he said grimly, “’tis usually far simpler than this. But at least we’ll be safe.” He looked at her. “Your lips are blue, lady.”
“I’m nigh onto freezing.”
He frowned. “I vow, Anne, I hadn’t thought on that overmuch. I fear I was far too worried that we have a safe place to sleep.”
“I’ll manage,” she said. “I would rather wake numb from cold than numb from lack of life.”
He reached for her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “Truly this wasn’t how I would have had any of this proceed.”
“And how would you have had
it proceed, my lord?” she asked with a smile. “In a commonplace fashion with no death, destruction, or keep-snatching hanging over us?”
“It would have been passing pleasant to have a quiet little Mass said over our heads, then retire to our quiet little bedchamber for a pair of weeks where meals could have been delivered to us without us worrying about dying from ingesting them.”
She shrugged. “Dull.”
“Pleasant,” Robin insisted.
“I suppose we’ll have to make do with what we have, then,” she said, “since the other is not an option.”
“I promise, my lady, that there will come a time when our lives are quite peaceful.”
Anne only hoped they both lived that long. She looked at Robin and found him staring thoughtfully out at the sea. She followed suit, and it wasn’t long before the ceaseless roar of the waves coming into shore had lulled her into a half sleep. It was not without alarm that she came to herself. Would Robin’s men be just as soothed, and neglect what they were supposed to be seeing to?
And then another gust of arctic wind blew across the sand and Anne blinked. Perhaps they would be safe, as long as the wind blew. For all she knew, their assailant wouldn’t have the courage to venture out in such weather.
A pity they themselves had been driven to the like.
“Anne?”
She looked at him and smiled reflexively at the sight. She suspected she would be hard-pressed to ever accustom herself to the fact that Robin was hers. Even harder still would be to realize that he was hers and apparently was content with that fact.
“I have something for you,” he said, reaching inside his cloak and pulling forth a box.
His box.
Anne recognized it immediately and prayed she would have the skill for a goodly bit of subterfuge. It wouldn’t do for Robin to think she had ransacked his things while he’d been about his business.
She watched him lift the lid, then shield the contents from the wind. But she didn’t miss the ribbons he carefully held onto, as if he treasured them in truth. He dug about for a moment or two, then pulled forth something wrapped in a bit of cloth.
And Anne forced herself not to decide beforehand what it all might mean.
Robin replaced his ribbons, shut the lid, and tucked the box inside the tent. Then he carefully unwrapped the ring and held it to the firelight. Anne bit her lip. ’Twas still the same ring she had seen before and wondered about its purpose.
Robin buffed it for a moment with the cloth, then looked at her and smiled gravely.
“I wanted to give this to you in the chapel, but I would have had to cross swords with my father for the chance to fetch it from my chamber.” He looked at the ring and his smile turned wistful. “Hard as it might be to believe, I’ve had this almost five years.”
“As a token for some fair maid?” she asked before she could bite her tongue.
He looked at her, amused. “’Tis your wedding ring, Anne, and it was ever meant to be such. Why else would the stone match your eyes, or the gold match your hair?”
“Oh,” she said, but very little sound came out.
“You remember I told you about that first little skirmish in Spain?”
She didn’t dare answer nay, so she nodded.
“I walked Nick through one of the worst rainstorms I’ve ever seen simply because I’d heard tell of a goldsmith whose skill was unsurpassed living near Madrid. The gem he had as well, though I would have searched for that had he not had something to suit.”
“Indeed,” she managed.
“It may be too large,” he said, frowning down at it. “I vow I could not remember what size might suit you, so I used my smallest finger for a model, then had the man decrease the size even more.” He looked up at her and smiled. “Will you have it?”
Her hand was shaking as she held it out. Ah, how she had misjudged him. She watched as he took her hand and tried the ring on several fingers. The only place with which it met any success was on her thumb. Robin frowned.
“That won’t do,” he said, looking at her hand as if he could will her fingers to plumpen.
Anne curled her fingers into her palm. “It will suit for the moment.”
“I could bind a bit of cloth to it, to make it fit elsewhere.”
Anne hesitated to let him have it back, but she supposed he wasn’t going to change his mind about giving it to her. After all, he’d had it fashioned with her in mind.
As amazing a thing as that was.
She heard a rip and groaned silently as she watched him continue to take his dagger to the hem of his tunic. He looked up at her from under his eyebrows and smiled.
“Sorry,” he said. “I vow I’ll mend it myself.”
She pursed her lips. “That I doubt.”
“I’m capable.”
“You’re also wed,” she said dryly.
He laughed. “You would think you’d just sentenced yourself to a lifetime of mending my clothing.”
“I have.”
“I’ll be more careful.”
She’d seen Robin’s clothing and she suspected a little more care wouldn’t be enough to save her from hours of mending. But somehow, when he’d adjusted her ring to his liking, a bit of mending didn’t sound like such an onerous task when she would have his ring on her finger to look at as she did the like.
He slipped his ring onto her finger, then took her hand in his and ran his finger over her ring.
And then he looked at her.
And she wondered if it was the fire to have warmed her so suddenly.
“There is,” he said slowly, “other business we might see to as well this night.”
“By the saints, Robin,” she said with half a laugh, “you make it sound as if you’re preparing for a clandestine conflict with some band of mercenaries.”
He scowled at her. “I’ve never had a wife before. I’m not exactly certain how one goes about this . . . um—”
“Business?” she supplied.
He shut his mouth and scowled a bit more.
“Deflowering?” she offered.
He pursed his lips. “You’ve passed too much time with my sister, I can see that.”
She only smiled. “If my father could see us now, he might think again about his assumptions.”
Robin shook his head with a short laugh. “Saints, Anne, but our lives have been a tangle thus far.”
She watched him rub his thumb over the back of her hand and smiled at the sight. It was all the more miraculous because she wore his ring. “How would you have had it go, my lord? If you had had the ordering of the day’s events?”
“First,” he said, looking at her with a dry smile, “I wouldn’t have found myself in your bed before I wed you. A maid should never be subjected to a man’s snores before she’s already wed with him and ’tis too late to change her mind.”
“I doubt I would have done that,” she said,
“I was, frankly, astonished you came to the chapel at all,” he continued. “Given the circumstances.”
“It wasn’t fully under my own sails,” she admitted.
“And it should have been you and I there with the only sword bared mine as I laid it at your feet and pledged to protect you with my name and my body,” he said, his smile turning grave. “I would change it if I could, my lady.”
“But you cannot, so do not try. But you can entertain me with how things could have proceeded from there.”
“A fine meal,” he said, taking her hand in both his own. “A bit of dancing, perhaps.”
“Which you are remarkably skilled at,” she said with a smile.
“For a warrior with cloddish feet,” he agreed. “And such compliments would have been met with ones of my own in which I praised your beauty and your own skill with the steps. And whilst all the rest of our family danced and made merry, we would have escaped to a tent made ready by the sea, surrounded by my guards that we might have had a great amount of privacy to be about our—”
“Business,” she finished.
“Of course.”
She looked behind them. “The tent is here, I see. And such a sturdy one.”
He smiled. “I had it fetched once I arrived here. I had left much gear behind at Nick’s hall in France, but subsequently saw that I might have a need for it.”
“Then you planned to stay,” she said softly.
“How could I leave?” he asked. “You were here.”
She could only look at him, silently. He returned her look, but a corner of his mouth twitched.
“We have our tent,” he said, with a little nod in its direction.
“So we do.”
“It might be warmer inside,” he offered. “Buried under blankets and furs and such.”
She could hardly argue with that. Besides, the thought of being warm distracted her from the thought that she was surely on the verge of becoming Robin’s wife in truth and that was a thought she had so often denied herself, it was almost painful to allow herself to entertain it.
Robin produced a candle, lit it in the fire, then entered the tent, pulling her inside with him. He set the candle on a stool, then straightened and looked at her.
“Does it suit?”
“’Tis passing large, this tent of yours,” she said, looking around her in surprise. “Luxurious, even.”
“You didn’t think I would shelter you in anything less, did you?”
She reached out and fingered one of the heavy cloth walls. “Substantial.”
He smiled. “No one will see inside, my lady. We have our privacy.”
“And our furs and blankets as well,” she said. She looked at him and wondered just what she was supposed to do next. And then she looked at Robin and saw him truly. The gentleness in his expression was almost her undoing. She reached up and touched his cheek. “I can scarce believe I am here with you,” she whispered. “That you have wed me.”
“And who else could I have wed?” he asked, just as softly. He reached out and touched her cheek in return. “I loved you the moment I first clapped eyes on you—”
“When you put a worm down my gown—”
“And every moment since,” he finished with a smile.
