by Ana Seymour
He nodded, then crouched next to the sick woman. “Are you better, mistress?” he asked gently.
Her eyes had regained their sharpness. “Don’t worry about me, Master Brand. You have more im portant things to concern you.”
He turned to Ellen. “Bring Mistress Cooper’s cloak,” he said curtly. “The night air is chill.”
Ellen looked at Agnes, who smiled and said, “Run along, child. ‘Tis well to undo this thing that should never have been done.”
Ellen handed the mug of soup to Sarah, who took her place at her mother’s side and said, “Godspeed, milady.”
“Hurry,” Connor urged.
Ellen looked around the cave. Most of the men had settled down to their nightly drinking around the fires. Without further argument she followed Connor’s lead around the edge of the cave walls and out to the mouth.
They were almost to the outside when Humbert White stepped in front of them, swaying, obviously the worse for drink. “Where are you taking her, Brand?” he asked in slurred tones.
Connor shoved him aside and continued toward the entrance, but Humbert grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “You’re not going anywhere. The girl’s our hostage.”
Connor gave a deep sigh, then pulled back his fist and slammed it into Humbert’s midsection. The man crumpled to the floor at once and lay without moving. Ellen stood gaping at him.
“Come on,” Connor said, beginning to move.
“But.” Ellen gestured to the fallen man.
“He’ll be all right. Let’s get out of here before I
have to do the same to a half dozen of his comrades.”
Ellen was still sputtering, “He’s not moving—” when Connor grabbed her arm and whisked her out of the cave.
“Thunder is just down the beach,” he told her.
He held her arm to keep her walking along beside him, and it was all she could do to keep up, but finally they reached his horse. While he saddled his mount, she had a moment to catch her breath and ask him, “Are you truly taking me back to the castle? Why the sudden change in plans?”
He finished tightening the saddle, then leaped on the horse’s back and reached down to pull her up behind him. “I’m trying to save lives, milady, including yours.”
“Has something happened at Lyonsbridge?”
“Your father’s there and fighting furious, from the sound of it. Unless something’s done, we’re going to set off another war.”
“I thought you were worried that I’d reveal this place to my father.”
“I am. But I’m going to take your pledge not to do so.” He twisted in the saddle to look at her. “You’ll give it?”
“I’ve told you so, horse master. Though it’s not really horse master, is it?”
She’d been waiting all day to question him further about his morning revelation. His family had been lords of Lyonsbridge before the arrival of the Normans. The discovery had both relieved and confused her.
She’d been relieved to think that she had not, after all, been attracted to a mere servant. She’d been confused because for reasons she couldn’t fully understand, the knowledge had somehow saddened her.
He hesitated awhile before answering her. “My position is master of your father’s stables, milady, or it was before John Cooper’s troubles.”
“But you are not really a servant.”
Thunder was making his way up the sharp incline to the top of the cliff, and Ellen had to hold tight to Connor’s waist to keep from slipping off.
“Would you have let me make love to you last night if you’d known I had noble blood in my veins?”
The remark was cruel, and it cut more deeply because she’d been wondering the very same thing. Stung, she replied in the same caustic vein. “No Saxon blood is noble in Norman eyes.”
Connor gave a humorless chuckle. “Then ‘tis well I did not contaminate you with more than a few Saxon kisses.”
“Aye. ‘Tis well.”
They rode in silence for several minutes, then Connor said, reluctantly, “I need to make peace with you, milady.”
“It must gall you to admit it. I have no quarrel with you, horse master,” she replied.
“Your father has threatened to whip the men of the village unless John Cooper is turned over to him.”
Ellen drew in a sharp breath. “’Tis not like him,” she said.
“That may be, but Martin brought the word this afternoon.”
“Your brother was here?”
“Aye, but I’ll have to ask your pledge not to reveal that, either.”
“I’m not heartless, horse master, nor dimwitted. I’ll say nothing about this place.”
“We’ll be in your debt. And you will speak to your father about the floggings?”
“Aye,” she said, her voice subdued.
“Sometimes a flogging can kill even a strong man,” he told her. “Lyonsbridge village needs no more widows and orphans.”
Ellen shivered and pulled the widow’s cloak more securely around her. “I’ll speak to him,” she said.
Connor nodded, then urged Thunder ahead into the night.
Chapter Thirteen
Brian, Baron of Wakelin, shook his head sadly at his only child. “The shock of your capture has unbalanced you, child. I’ll never forgive myself for exposing you to the rough treatment of these outlaws. You’d best keep to your room for a few days and leave this matter to me and your cousin.”
Ellen clasped her hands in front of her and tried to remain calm. It was true that she was not recovered from her ordeal of the past few days, but her exhaustion was from lack of sleep, not rough treatment. “In general, I was treated well, Father,” she explained for the tenth time.
They sat in the great hall after breaking the morning fast with a rich meal of stuffed capons, thick bacon and almond cakes her father had brought from Normandy. As she sat down to the table, Ellen had thought of the Coopers, still back in the gloomy cave, dining on bread and grease.
“We’ll not ask for details of your treatment, Cousin,” Sebastian said, leaning toward her across the table. “We can only imagine the horrors a beautiful woman like yourself would be subjected to at the hands of these Saxon barbarians.” His oily smile made Ellen feel as if she hadn’t bathed.
“I was subjected to no horrors, Sebastian,” she said again. “And remember, the outlaws, as you call them, returned me safely to my home.”
“After four days,” her father pointed out. His tawny eyes, so like her own, were grave with concern. “And only after they realized that their acts would have serious recriminations among their people. Now we must continue on the same course to bring Sir William’s murderer to justice.”
“Sir William wasn’t murdered The boy was acting in defense of his sister and of himself.”
“Nonsense,” Sebastian snapped, with a sniff of disdain. “This is a story they’ve concocted to cover the crime. William Booth was no lecher.”
“I myself saw his eyes on the girl at the examination of the horses,” she argued.
Lord Wakelin stood and walked over to her chair. “Go to your quarters, my daughter. I’m going to send Sylvianne to give you a tonic and sit by you while you sleep.”
Her father had brought one of her attendants from Normandy, a robust woman who was utterly loyal to her master and had never had much time for Ellen’s girlish whims.
Ellen pushed back her chair and stood, facing her father. “If you do this thing,” she said, “if you flog that man in the village today, I’ll leave your household and not return.”
Wakelin’s smile faded. “You know not what you say, child. You’ve been altered—”
She interrupted him. “I know exactly what I’m saying. Mayhap I’ve been altered, but ‘tis not in the way you think. Call off this punishment today, or you’ll see me no more. I’ll join a holy sisterhood, if needs be. Do not doubt me on this.”
Her father’s face had gone white, but before he could argue further, Ellen
pushed by him and fled from the hall.
“The girl is addled,” Sebastian said, rising to his feet as well.
Lord Wakelin continued to stare after his departing daughter. “I’m not entirely certain.”
“She’ll be better on the morrow, and the sooner we capture this boy and see him hanged for William’s murder, the sooner Ellen will return to normal.”
After a long pause, Wakelin said slowly, “Postpone the flogging for the nonce.”
“But, my lord—” Sebastian began.
“Postpone it,” Wakelin barked. “Make another round of questioning among the villagers. Offer a reward for information, but don’t hurt anyone.”
Sebastian gave a little bow, his face a mask. “As you will, milord,” he said. He waited stiffly until Lord Wakelin had left the room, then he picked up the carcass of a half-eaten capon and smashed it against the wall behind him, narrowly missing a kitchen boy who had come scurrying up to clear, the table.
The rich breakfast rolled around like a great lump in her stomach as Ellen returned to her chambers, and her mind was equally agitated. Her final words to her father had not been planned. In truth, she couldn’t imagine leaving his household forever, nor did she feel herself destined for a life of sacrifice and contemplation in holy orders. But she’d been able to think of no other way to stop his abuse of the villagers, and time had run out.
Her old nursemaid, Sylvianne, tried to offer her a sleeping potion, but she refused and snapped at the woman when she insisted on remaining at Ellen’s side.
“Lord Wakelin’s orders,” the woman pleaded, until Ellen shrugged with exasperation and let her stay. The dour-looking woman sat in the corner of the room, watching her charge, her hands in her lap.
“Have you not some stitching to accomplish?” Ellen asked finally.
“Nay, milady. I’m only to attend to your needs.”
Ellen had worked hard since arriving at Lyonsbridge, and she’d forgotten how much of the time she as well as her attendants back home had idled away without productive activity. “I have no needs, Sylvianne, as you can see. My father wants me to sleep, and I trow I can do so without anyone’s assistance.”
“But if your ladyship should awaken and require something—”
“If I require something, I’m capable of raising my voice to call, or mayhap I could even use my legs to get it myself.”
The woman. looked as if she thought her mistress had lost her mind.
“Go on,” Ellen said to her with a sigh. “Go find something to do.”
Obviously reluctant, the woman stood and started to leave the room, but Ellen called her back. “First I want you to find me a page boy. His name is Rolf, and he was out in the bailey a few minutes ago.”
“Rolf, milady?”
“Aye. Send him to me.”
Sylvianne left the room, shaking her head, but in a few minutes there was a soft knock at the door, and Ellen opened it to admit Rolf.
He tugged at his forelock and bowed several times, waiting for her to speak.
“Come in, Rolf,” she said, holding the door.
His eyes opened wide, but he did as she bade him.
When she’d closed the door behind him, she turned to face him and said, “Don’t be afraid, Rolf. I wanted to know if you had word of Sarah Cooper.”
It was as if a shutter had clapped down over the boy’s face. “Nay, milady,” he answered, a little too quickly.
Ellen smiled. “Sarah’s my friend, Rolf,” she told him, surprised to realize as she said it that it was the truth. She no longer thought of the Coopers as tenants, but as friends. “I was with her and her family until last night, and I’ve not revealed their hiding place, nor will L”
She could see Rolfs shoulders relax. “She’s safe from that bastard,” he said bitterly. “’Tis all that matters.”
“From Sir William?”
“Aye, he been after ‘er for months.”
“She’s told you this?”
“Aye, and I’ve seen it. Nearly everyone in Lyonsbridge has.”
Ellen tucked the information away in her head, but she had more pressing matters to deal with first. “Do you know about the flogging in the village?”
“Aye, milady, but they say ‘tis not to happen, after all.”
“Who said?”
“Everyone’s saying it. By order of Lord Wakelin, they say.”
“Thank God,” Ellen said with a deep breath of relief.
“Aye, milady.”
She studied the page for a moment, tapping her finger against her mouth. He appeared to be a bright lad, and comely, as Sarah had blushingly confided to her. The two young people would make a good match, if the Coopers were ever allowed to resume a normal life.
“So you know where the Coopers are hiding?” she asked him.
He looked at the floor and appeared reluctant to answer.
“I’m not asking you to reveal anything, Rolf. But I want you to go to them and let them know that the floggings have been called off.”
He lifted his head. “My duties—”
“I’ll cover for you here at the castle, if need be. Stay with her as long as you like. But be sure you tell Master Brand about the floggings. And tell him.” She hesitated.
What exactly did she want the boy to tell Connor? What message could communicate the jumble of feelings that had been inside her since the Saxon had left her the previous evening at the gates of the castle? Aye, and if she could somehow let Connor know her feelings, what would be the sense of it? He was being sought as an outlaw along with John Cooper. It was likely that she would never see him again.
“Just tell him that I arrived safely,” she said finally.
Rolfs face had brightened in anticipation of seeing his sweetheart. He gave an eager nod of agreement. “Aye, milady. I’ll give Master Brand your message.”
She let him out of the room, then walked slowly back to her bed and sat. The boy was eager and reliable. Connor would no doubt receive her message. The only problem, she decided as she flopped backward on the bed, was that it hadn’t been the message she really wanted to send.
She’d stayed in her chambers all day. Sylvianne had brought her food at midday and in the early evening, and Ellen had tried to eat, but her thoughts were too much on the Coopers, still in the clammy cave by the sea. Was little Karyn getting used to the dark shadows at night? Was Agnes coughing again?
Ellen had sent the maid away each time with a nearly full tray, certain that her lack of appetite would be reported to her father. It was probably just as well. It would let him know that she was serious about her vow to stake her own welfare against that of the Lyonsbridge villagers.
On the morrow she would ride to the village herself, she resolved. She wanted to let the people know that the days of abuse by Normans were over. She’d not stand for it. If they could only get the matter of William Booth’s death resolved, they could work together to return peace to this place.
On that optimistic hope, she changed to her night rail without summoning Sylvianne to help her. She’d had enough of the woman’s obsequious company for one day.
A fire was laid. The chamber’s small fireplace was a luxury she’d been delighted to discover at Lyonsbridge. In Normandy only the great hall and the kitchen had hearths. For the first time in her life, she took the tinder box to light the fire by herself and gave a smile of satisfaction at her independence when the shavings ignited.
When the thicker branches began to catch, she crossed the room, hopped up onto the high bed, tucked her bare feet up under the skirts of her nightgown and stared at the flames.
The licks of gold reminded her of the color of Connor’s hair in the rays of the setting sun.
“I’ve come to thank you, milady,” came a voice out of the shadows.
It was his voice, and for the briefest moment she thought she’d conjured him from the fire by some strange witchcraft, but then she realized that he was indeed here, in this very room, standing by the
far wall, watching her.
“How did you get here?” she asked with a gasp, drawing the covers up against her thin dress.
“’Tis my bedchamber,” he answered, stepping into the light. “Or it was. I slipped in through the casement as I did countless times in my youth after the castle was shut tight for the night.” His grin held vestiges of that long lost boy.
“You climbed up the wall?” she asked, amazed.
“Aye.” He discounted the feat with a wave of his hand and walked toward her. “Circumstances forced me to leave you at the gate last night instead of escorting you to your door as would a true gentleman. ‘Twas not the way my mother raised her sons.”
“But you knew I was safely arrived. Did not Rolf go to the cave? I sent him—”
“The boy came this morning,” he interrupted. “He brought your message that the floggings had been cancelled, which I trow was your accomplishment. I came to see you safe with my own eyes and also to thank you.”
“I need no thanks. I couldn’t believe my father had ordered such a thing in the first place. Sebastian sometimes holds ill influence over him.”
Connor walked a step closer to the bed. “But his daughter holds good influence.”
She thought for a moment. “I’m not sure I’ve ever tried much before today.”
“How did you get him to change his mind about the floggings? John Cooper is still at large.”
“’Tis not important,” she said. “The important thing is that they’re stopped.” She gave a little shudder.
The covers had slipped down from around her as they spoke, and Connor reached to lift a blanket over her shoulders. “I should not keep you sitting up,” he said. “You’ll take a chill.”
“I’m not cold,” she said. Her voice came out a whisper.
He looked down at her a long moment, and she felt the now familiar closing of her throat, the plunge in her midsection. His blue eyes burned more brightly than the fire.
His knee slipped onto the bed beside her, then his arms went around her, and without conscious thought, she encircled his neck with her own arms and offered up her lips.
