Grainne bustled around Anna’s chamber, efficiently setting out a breakfast of fruit and baked goods. It was Grainne’s habit to remain quiet on the mornings after Anna had spent time with Lord Roger, helping her to dress in silence. But Anna was already garbed for the day. Truth be told, she’d been up for hours. After securing Will’s promise to see Tullian outside the wall, she’d gone to find Cellach. For if she were to act against Roger, she had to at least try to help her family. Doing so meant finding someone she could count on to warn them. Cellach had surprised her by suggesting that he himself go to Chevring, for he trusted none other with the task. An unexpected bit of luck, Anna thought, seeing the benefit of his absence, for he would be clear of any suspected involvement in her deed.
She greeted Grainne warmly, having decided in the minutes it took to return from the stable that, as this day was possibly her last, she would make every moment count. Who knew when she would ever again have the benefit of the company of her friend? When Grainne went to the hearth, Anna saw her puzzlement. The tray that had held her repast from the night before was empty. Anna had never eaten a bite, not in three years, either before or after a night with Lord Roger.
She turned back to the view, breathing the sweet air that flowed through the open shutter. The dawn sky was painted deep magenta, and Anna waited for the sun to spill its light over the hills. Mere heartbeats passed, and the firmament transformed into a sky of roses. At the point where the sun would rise, the blooming pinks melded with soft orange, only to change to fiery yellow a moment later.
Behind her, the embers in the hearth had been rekindled but had yet to chase away the early morning chill. Anna molded her hands around the warm mug of tea Grainne had given her, and her mind wandered to Cellach. If he could warn her father in time, her actions might not cost them their lives. For years, she had kept them safe by acquiescing to Roger’s demands. But Roger had made it clear that her usefulness was at an end. What then of her family? She shuddered to think of Claire in Roger’s grip.
And there was her new family to think of as well. She looked at Grainne. Her success this evening would secure her maid’s safety. And that of Doreen, Gilles, and Will. Will was the brother she’d never had, for that was how Anna thought of him. When he gave her his promise earlier, even before knowing what she would ask, her heart broke at his trust. She took comfort in the fact that her beautiful horses would be left in Will’s capable and caring hands.
Grainne was straightening the bedclothes when Anna spoke. “I can’t remember if I ever thanked you for the saltpeter, Grainne. It has been quite effective.”
Grainne regarded her mistress, straight-faced and serious, and tried to find a suitable response.
Anna’s lips curved as she turned back to the window. Outside, the spectacular colors of the sunrise gave way to blinding light as the sun rose above the wooded hills. Its warmth kissed her cheeks, and she breathed in deeply as if the radiance could bolster her strength.
As she gazed again at the hills in the distance, her eyes almost missed the movement in their sweep of the panorama, barely catching the shifting of silhouettes against the sky. On one bare hill to the east, moving boldly over the apex, were six riders. Anna stepped back, ridiculously afraid they could see her.
In the shadows of her deeply set window, Anna tracked them as they cantered down the slope, losing them in the shadow of the hill. Even at a fast pace, she calculated, their arrival to the gate would take at least an hour. Her heart pounded. She searched her chamber, unsure of what to do next.
“Grainne, it is imperative that we are in the courtyard within an hour! No, halve that. There are riders, from the east,” Anna explained breathlessly. “Find Doreen, spread the word. I’ll warn Will.” Anna realized what the riders might mean, and she grinned. “I do not think Lord Roger is expecting these visitors. Be sure that he is not awakened.”
“King’s men?” Grainne asked excitedly.
“Perhaps. Either way, we’ll want to see for ourselves, won’t we?” Grainne hastened from the room to find Doreen, and Anna wasn’t far behind. Throwing her cloak over her riding clothes, she ran to the stable. She had to be near the courtyard when the riders arrived, if only to know how and if her plan was to be affected.
Chapter Twenty-Eight—Gate and Courtyard
Lark turned to study the man leading them. The coming days would be dangerous, for Baldric most of all; he was King Godwin’s right arm. Lark would keep a steady eye on him.
They had held their position on the crest of the hill, awaiting Baldric’s signal to advance. He suspected his mentor anticipated trouble as they moved forward and down the slope, but there was no way of guessing Baldric’s thoughts. If he wished it, he could be as unreadable as Lark. And this was not a social visit. Whatever Lord Roger was up to was sure to be harmful to Aurelia. He’d not take lightly Godwin sending Baldric to investigate.
They approached the bridge, crossed over, and still were unmet by Roger’s men. No warning call could be heard from the wall. The few workers in the fields and pastures kept to their business. Those people who lifted their heads nodded in greeting only, eyeing the riders with anticipation.
“I’m quite looking forward to this,” Baldric said cheerfully. “Lord Roger has always been a bit of a prick in my side. If he’s up to no good, well, even better!” They angled and turned their way through the patchwork of fields and pastures, riding steadily to the curtain wall.
• • •
Preoccupied, Roger had been unable to sleep. He had planned on wasting the morning away in his bed, Maggie nestled against him. A loud banging interrupted his thoughts. “What the devil?” Roger muttered and sat up. Over the pounding on his door, he recognized Gorman’s voice. He whipped off the blankets, annoyed that Maggie had been able to sleep through the commotion, and scrambled out of bed. “This had better be important, Gorman!” he growled, throwing open the door.
“Riders, m’lord,” Gorman began without preamble. “Six men, most riding Chevring steeds.”
“King’s men.” Roger swore. “When will they arrive?”
“They’re already at the gate, m’lord.”
Roger wanted to strike someone, so black was his anger. Gorman must have sensed it, for he took a wary step back. “Who was on watch?” Roger bellowed. “Never mind, I don’t care. Make sure they don’t live another day to miss something so important again. Damn!” As he pulled on his breeches and tunic, he instructed Gorman to stall the riders. He wanted to be in the courtyard when they came through. Roger rubbed his face and grimaced at the stubble grazing his palm. Worse, he thought, he probably still had sleep lines etched across his cheek from where it had rested on the cushion.
Once in the courtyard, he stood facing the gate and surveyed his surroundings. His assembled men looked as haggard as he felt. There was nothing left to be done save signal his men to open the gate. He waited impatiently as five riders halted in front of him; the sixth rider had broken away from the main group, continuing to ride some twenty paces off to the side. “What brings you to Stolweg on such a fine spring day, Baldric?” Roger all but seethed.
Baldric didn’t answer him, but at least he dismounted. When Will rushed forward to take the steed, Baldric’s men alighted from their horses as well, all save one. He continued to sit his horse, infuriatingly out of Roger’s view. If he wanted to see the man, Roger was forced to turn his head.
“Now, Roger,” Lord Baldric reproached him, “I realize it’s early, but surely you can offer a better welcome, not to mention being more hospitable to an envoy from King’s Glen.”
Roger scanned the area. Aubrianne and Will had led the five horses into the stable. “You’re probably hungry,” he grumbled. “We’ll take some breakfast and then speak civilly. I myself am not a pleasant man when hungry, and I’ve yet to eat this morning.”
• • •
Larkin sat his horse, taking in the scene. He didn’t miss the frustrated glances thrown in his direction by Lord Roger. He
studied the man, and the ruffian next to him. The soldier had a malicious gleam in his eye.
He next cast a curious eye at the stable hand’s partner. She was covered neck to toe in a long, worn cape. But she handled the horses expertly, taking three to the stable hand’s two and confidently leading them away. Strange—why did she hide her face? Her thick brown hair was caught up in a braid and stray tendrils escaped and curled forward. The loose wisps only added to the mystery, concealing her visage better than any mask could. Even Rabbit was distracted by her, pricking his ears in her direction and tracking her every move.
• • •
When Will had left the stable to retrieve Lord Baldric’s mount and that of another guard, Anna studied the rider sitting off to the side. She fought an unshakable urge to retreat into the shadows of the stable, the same instinct that had had her backing away from her window upon first spotting the riders. She’d thought his attention was fixed on Roger, but then he’d homed in on her. For once, she was grateful for her untamable hair; he made her nervous.
From between her loosed tendrils, she dared a quick glance his way. He sat his horse in a way that displayed his long form, slightly slouched to demonstrate how at ease he felt. His hair was coal black, and with a loose curl that caused the length to fall forward onto his forehead in chunky locks. He had a closely shaved mustache that framed the sides of a broad mouth before trailing down to a trim beard on the lower half of his chin. His bottom lip was weighted by a small triangle of whiskers.
Returning to the stable, Anna could feel his eyes upon her again, and she risked another peek to confirm her suspicions once in the embrace of the shadows. Yes, he was staring in her direction.
“Who’s the fellow still ahorse, m’lady?” Will asked, following her gaze.
“I’m not sure. He is making an impression, though. Look at Lord Roger. He keeps checking on the man. I would say yon brooding guard is purposely antagonizing my husband.”
She tore her eyes away. “The older man is Lord Baldric,” Anna pointed out. “From Carrick’s description, I would guess that the man to Baldric’s left is the guard Trian.”
Roger swept his arm toward the area under the oak tree. Food and drink, Anna guessed. Unbeknownst to Roger, Grainne was with Doreen, putting the final touches on an impromptu feast. They had been working on it for the past hour. Roger would be ill-put when he saw Doreen’s famous pasties served to his unwelcome guests. Anna retreated deeper into the coolness of the stable to finish tending to the horses as Baldric and the other guards followed her husband toward the keep.
Over the back of Lord Baldric’s horse, Anna called excitedly, “Five of these horses are Chevring bred, born, and trained. The stallion in the courtyard—I named him. Rabbit, he’s called.”
Anna regarded Will. “I need to speak with Roger before he settles in with Lord Baldric. With Cellach gone, it’ll be important to have Gilles here, especially if trouble is brewing.”
She sneaked a look out of the stable’s entrance in time to see that the group was dispersing. There was but one obstacle to her leaving. “I’ll go now. You can follow a moment later and distract the man still waiting on his horse.”
“Is there something wrong, m’lady?” Will asked, concern etched across his brow.
“Not at all,” she replied easily. “But it’s better if Lord Baldric’s men are not involved.”
Anna left the stable with lowered head. No sooner had she walked five paces when she felt Rabbit’s rider studying her. She peered through her masking tresses and at the man on the horse. Something about him set her on edge. Best not pique his interest, she thought.
But her color rose upon realizing that she was certainly interested in him. She couldn’t help it. In fact, as soon as the riders had entered the courtyard, her gaze had been drawn to him. She hoped he was a true friend to Rabbit. The stallion, now five years old, had been a superb colt, one of the best to ever come out of the Chevring stable.
She remembered how Rabbit had earned his name and smiled wistfully. As a baby, he would hunker down and then dart quickly from side to side. They would play a game of catch the colt. But the young horse was too fast, as impossible to catch as a wild rabbit. Her father had made a gift of Rabbit to King Godwin, as was Chevring tradition. The man riding him must be held in high esteem indeed for the King to give him such a treasure.
• • •
The woman exited the stable again. She inserted herself between Roger and his soldier, and Lark could have sworn Roger’s man smirked appreciatively. The woman turned and faced the sneering brute.
Lark listened as she skewered the oaf with a voice that held no fear. “Should you not be doing some other task for your lord, Gorman? Perhaps watching for more surprise guests.”
Lord Roger glared at the woman, clearly exasperated. “Gorman, I want a full sweep of the outlying fields and hills. Do it. Now! After, I want you to…” He stopped, aware again that one of Baldric’s men continued to observe him. He whispered to the man named Gorman, walking away from the woman so that she also would be unable to hear his orders. Lark strained to better see her face.
Roger was walking to the castle and Baldric when he stopped abruptly and turned to the woman. His words brooked no patience, and he spoke harshly, “What is it, Aubrianne?”
So this was Baldric’s Little Aubrianna, Lark realized, and leaned forward in his saddle.
“Sir? Excuse me, sir? May I take your horse, sir?” The voice came from behind him. He glowered at the stable hand addressing him. “Can I take him for you? He looks as if he’s itching for a good rubdown.”
“Yes, of course, one minute,” Lark answered impatiently, turning back to the scene unfolding in the courtyard. The woman was already walking back to the stable. With a beleaguered sigh, he dismounted and handed the reins over. “Mind his teeth and hooves. He’s a mite puckish, today more so than usual.”
Lark wanted nothing more than to go into the stable, if only to see the face of the Lady of Stolweg. Something about her captured his attention, and he disliked unknown variables. But Baldric would want him present when he expressed the King’s concerns to Lord Roger.
Chapter Twenty-Nine—Trouble in the Stable
Lord Baldric was seated at a long trestle table under a great oak tree. Its leaves, not yet fully unfurled, offered no shade from the steadily rising sun. It was just as well, Lark thought—the air still carried a chill. Lord Roger was returning, followed by several servants carrying baskets of bread and jugs of what had better be cider or beer.
“Our cook is preparing a meal for you, Baldric,” Roger announced with false courtesy as one of the servants filled the mugs that had been placed on the table. “In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what brings you so far from Whitmarsh?”
“Let us eat first,” Baldric replied. “We’ll have time to discuss the reasons for our visit after.” Another servant came to the table bearing a tray. “Ah, perfect. Pasties and”—lifting his mug to his nose and sighing in appreciation—“cider.”
Baldric raised his drink and, managing to keep the sarcasm from his voice, gave a toast. “To our gracious host, Lord Roger of Stolweg.” But before Lark could raise his cup, a loud crashing noise came from the stable, followed by a high whinny.
“You’d better see to that beast of yours, Larkin,” Baldric ordered.
Roger whipped his head around, but Lark ignored him. Instead, he strode to the stable. He should have tended to Rabbit himself, knowing how mulish the beast had been all morning. When he walked into the structure, the stable hand was off to one side, calming the other horses. Unbelievably, he’d left the woman, Lady Aubrianne, to settle his stallion. Lark started forward but paused when he heard her speak.
She was doing her best to calm his horse. Rabbit let out a pained whinny and reared. Aubrianne continued soothingly, clucking her tongue and whispering, “Shhh. Hush now, friend.”
Upon hearing her voice, the destrier stopped bucking, but his head and neck con
tinued to dip up and down violently. “So you do remember me, boy. I was beginning to feel slighted.”
His horse calmed even more. She placed her hands on each side of Rabbit’s head and touched her forehead to his. “That’s it, good lad. I’ll fix whatever ails you.”
Larkin cleared his throat. “His name is—”
“Rabbit,” she supplied tersely, cutting him short.
“How do you know his name?” he demanded. The stable hand glared at him and moved closer to protect the woman. Brave lad, Lark thought.
With her forehead still pressed to Rabbit’s, she answered, “I’d better know his name. I gave it to him. How’ve you been, Bunny? Do you still like to be scratched here?” She inserted her fingers under the bridle strap that fit along and behind Rabbit’s cheekbones. When Rabbit snorted in pleasure, she laughed. “What’s hurting you, boy?”
She gestured to Will to approach, and Rabbit gave a threatening nicker. “Come now, Rabbit. He’s a good friend. Say hello to Will. Will, this is Rabbit.” Will reached out his hand to the horse’s neck. Rabbit nickered again, this time without the warning. “What were you doing before our Rabbit caused the ruckus, Will?”
“I pulled the cinch tighter, to loosen it, m’lady. He jumped sideways, crashing into the other horses. Lucky he didn’t jump my way.”
“You’re too smart for that, aren’t you, boy?” she said, patting Rabbit’s neck.
Lark had yet to see the face of Roger’s wife, the Lady of Stolweg, but she’d removed her cloak. The breeches she wore left little to his imagination. Baldric might be interested to know that Little Aubrianna was no longer. She was a grown woman. Something inside him tensed; he felt like a bow string pulled too far and not released.
She was running her fingers down Rabbit’s neck, along his withers, and over his barrel, never once lifting her touch, tracing lazy circles over his ash-colored coat. She stepped closer to Rabbit’s side and carefully lifted the stirrup, fixing it over the pommel of the saddle. Lark took a position in front of Rabbit where he could observe Lady Aubrianne. Her fingers trailed delicately along the cinch, and Rabbit turned his head to nudge her. She shushed him again, murmuring something under her breath. Her hands had made the trek about three-quarters of the way down when they stopped. She sighed heavily.
Wild Lavender: The Aurelian Guard - Book One Page 14
