“Enter.”
“My lord.” Daffydd walked into the room, situating himself before Royce.
Royce shook his head. “There is no need for formality while we are alone. We have been through too much together.” Daffydd dropped to the chair and relaxed, and Royce nodded. “My wife is late in returning. What have you learned?”
“Nothing new. Her routine is much the same from week to week.” A grin broke out on Daffydd’s face. “She is a busy woman.”
Royce scowled. “Where was she that she missed the evening meal?”
“She went to the old couple’s house and brought them a basket of food, same as every Tuesday and Friday.”
Royce began his pacing again. “Have you met the grandson yet?”
Daffydd turned and followed Royce’s progress. “He is as the townsmen said. I would say about sixteen but with the mind of a young child.”
“You are sure?” Skepticism laced Royce’s words.
“Aye, there is no doubt. He was sent outside to gather wood for the fire, and he spent most of his time talking to the wind.”
“Then she has met no one with whom she could have conspired?” Relief swept over Royce.
Daffydd folded his arms in front of him. “No, and if you were to ask me, I would say she is innocent of the charge.” He cleared his throat. “She has a heart for her people. She is always giving but never takes.”
Royce swung around in his pacing. “You admire her?”
“I do. You are a fortunate man, my friend. Very fortunate, indeed.”
“’Tis my hope. You can go, and get Marjory to fix you something from the kitchen.”
“I think I’ll do that.” Daffydd walked to the portal and pulled open the door.
Royce stopped him. “Daffydd, you never answered me. Why was she so late tonight?”
He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “She seems happy when she is there. Perhaps she is enjoying herself and doesn’t want to return.”
Royce massaged the tense muscles in his neck. “You won’t need to continue to follow her. If she were going to meet with someone, she’d have done so by now.”
“Glad to hear that.” Daffydd swiveled to look Royce in the eyes. “Not to complain, but I’m tired of skulking around like a criminal.”
Royce returned to pacing. He would soon wear a visible path on the floor if he kept this up. How could he prove her innocent if no one had seen the real murderers?
Ever since he held her in his arms on their wedding night, he’d worked like there was no tomorrow to drive her from his mind, yet she was a sickness to him—a siren with blue eyes, who wrenched his soul every time he laid eyes on her.
This couldn’t continue! Proof was what he needed. He would gather a few of his men and make an excursion to Rosen Craig. Yes, he needed to talk to Lyndle again. Find out if he remembered anything else.
With his family gone, the memories of Rosen Craig were precious—more precious, yes, but more painful, too. Wasn’t that why he’d chosen to stay at Hawkwood—to avoid those painful recollections? Besides, the trip would get him away from Brithwin’s hold without his having to work himself to death.
†††
The unsettling sensation someone had been watching her on the road stayed with Brithwin. Since her husband seemed insensible to her safety, the least she could do was retrieve the knife she’d left in his chamber before they were married. She lay tense on her bed until she heard Royce’s door close. The covers hugged her body, and she threw them off before she swung her feet to the floor. She tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear against the smooth wood surface. She bit her bottom lip—Royce paced the floor.
“Wonderful,” she whispered in disgust. "He didn’t leave."
The pacing stopped and she held her breath. What if he had heard her? The sound of a creaking chair and a sigh came from the room. She exhaled. Well, there was no reason to stand here the entire night. He apparently was settling in for the evening. Brithwin walked to her bed and threw herself on her covers. Her bed squeaked. That was annoying. She really needed to have someone fix that.
What to do now? She needed the knife. Someone had been watching her on the way home tonight—she could feel it. If she told Royce or Thomas, they might think she imagined things.
Her eating tool remained in her possession, but small, and of no real use if attacked. Sleep would come much easier if she had a real knife under her pillow. But she would have to wait until morning to retrieve one when he was off doing whatever he could to avoid her.
Brithwin stretched out on the bed with her head pillowed on her hands. Her mind would take no respite. Who had watched her tonight? It wasn’t Royce—the man couldn’t get far enough away from her.
Maybe she would lock her door tonight. If Elspeth needed her, she would just have to knock. Brithwin padded to the door and bolted it. As she returned to her bed, Royce’s door shut.
Remaining motionless for several minutes, she trod softly back to the door and listened for sounds coming from his solar. She cracked the door and peeked in. The room stood empty. The mistress’s chamber door stood feet away from the master’s, causing each to walk across the solar to reach the other's room. She slipped through her door into the solar and into her husband’s chamber.
The fire lit his room with a soft glow. She glanced around. Nearly a month had passed since she had entered her old room. He had changed little in it. The wall hanging and rug she had put in the chamber remained. She hadn’t the courage to ask for it. His trunk sat at the end of his bed and his hauberk and coif lay on top, looking newly oiled. In the corner, his armor lay propped against the wall, his large shield beside it. Tiptoeing around the bed, Brithwin headed for the table. The knife remained where she had left it, undisturbed. She picked it up in her hand and gently ran her thumb over it, welcoming the familiar feel. This was the one thing she had of her mother’s and only because Thomas had seen to it. The knife, she’d always cherished, was finely crafted, with an engraved hawk on the handle and two small emeralds embedded for eyes.
Voices in the hallway caused her to jump. Footfalls sounded.
Brithwin’s heart thundered. She had to cross the solar to get to her chamber and the footsteps came from the solar. Her heart crashed in her chest, echoing in her ears. She swung around looking for an area to hide—not a good place close by and not enough time to make it across the room. The door creaked opened. She dropped herself flat on the floor and scooted under the bed.
†††
Royce brought his goblet of ale to his room. He went and sat in front of the fire. This had become a nightly ritual, sitting and staring into the flames. Tonight was no different.
He dreaded this time because his mind would always wander to Brithwin.
He had talked to Thomas, what good that did. The man was loyal to a fault and gave him little information about her relationship with her father. Royce had merely learned her father had nothing to do with her unless it be punishment for some minor infraction. When he asked Thomas what the punishments were or why they were handed out, the man told him he had said enough and to talk to his wife if he wanted to know more. Well, she was no more cooperative than Thomas. He’d even sought out Elspeth, but she’d fled the room at a run, claiming she had forgotten her lady needed her.
Royce stretched his legs before him. Just thinking about Brithwin made his mind play tricks on him. He could swear he smelled her rose fragrance.
Tipping his cup, he finished his drink and set it down. He stood and grabbed the bottom of his tunic, hauled it over his head, folded it, and laid it on the end of the bed. The mattress sank as he let himself down. A muffled squeak came from beneath. He’d have to get that annoying dog in here to find the rodent and earn his keep. Boots and stockings removed, he tossed them to the floor. After drawing the sword from its scabbard, he placed it on the bed beside him and lay down, wishing for sleep to come swiftly.
By the rood! He must be losing his mind. The scent of Brithwin
wafted around him as if she were in the room. Could he never get the blasted woman off his mind? It was too late, and he was too tired to go out and find work to keep his thoughts off her. He jerked the coverlet over him. How could he let her affect his senses this way? Never had he wanted someone to be innocent as he did her.
Getting out of Hawkwood and visiting Rosen Craig proved more important than he’d thought. He clamped his eyes shut and willed himself to sleep.
Royce woke with a start, not really sure what had disturbed his sleep, but knowing something had—a sound, a movement, something. His gut told him someone was in the room. Experience told him to continue breathing as if he were still sleeping. He silently moved his hand over the hilt of his sword. Remaining motionless, he opened his eyes and scanned the room.
A movement to his right caught his attention. He tensed, waiting for the intruder to lunge toward him. Instead, the person stepped away, rounding the end of his bed. Royce threw off the covers and lunged. His body met with a soft, womanly form. As they tumbled to the floor, the scent of roses and Brithwin filled his nostrils. His senses reeled. What was she doing in his room? Her struggle to free herself was in vain. He tightened his hold on her. She felt good in his arms. It was sweet to hold—
All thoughts fled Royce’s mind as Brithwin lifted her knee into his groin. He rolled back in pain, releasing his hold, and watched as she scrambled to her feet and scampered out the door. He lifted his head to get up and let it drop back to the floor as another pain seized him. Why hadn’t he remembered that knee of hers? It was a lesson he really needed to learn.
Chapter 10
Royce locked the door, staggered to the bed, and collapsed. What reason did Brithwin have to sneak into his room? He was in no condition now to chase her and find out. And it was hard to know where she would run to. She wasn’t in her bed, that much he knew. Before he’d had her moved into the adjoining chamber, he’d instructed Philip to find a squeaky board and place it under her feather mattress. He heard her every time she got in or out of her bed. Not that it had done him much good tonight. She obviously had been in his room when he entered.
He’d have a look around in the morning and see if he could find what had drawn her to his chamber. Then he’d have a talk with her.
After a fitful sleep, Royce examined his room the next morning, trying to determine what had brought Brithwin within. He scanned the contents of his trunk, but nothing looked to be missing. He crouched down to peer under the bed where she must have hidden but found naught there. With his hand on the table beside the bed, he pushed himself up and glanced at where his hand rested. A vision of a knife lying there flashed through his mind. The weapon that had lain there since he began occupying the chamber had vanished. If the knife hadn’t had a hawk with emerald eyes uniquely carved in its handle, he probably never would have noticed it.
Why had she not just asked him for it? Unless, of course, she still harbored anger over being locked in her room. A chill swept down his spine. The knife’s blade could do serious damage to a man.
He would delay breaking his fast so he could give her the opportunity to tell him the truth. He sat in his chair while he waited. When he heard her chamber door open, he intercepted her near the stairs.
“May I escort you to the morning meal, my lady?” Royce bit back a smile at her jumpiness—well he knew that she would rather eat alone.
Brithwin recoiled and spun to face him. “You! You are always about your duties at this time of morning.”
He offered his arm. “Nay, not always, for I am here today. I thought to wait for you. We have much to talk about. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Brithwin stiffened and raised her chin. “I am quite busy this day.”
Royce started down the corridor beside her and spoke quietly in her ear. “Surely you’re not too busy to spend time with your husband. I thought we might discuss yesternight.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs and strolled into the hall, moving to the dais, where they took their seats. The servants rushed forward and set a bread trencher between them.
Royce stabbed a piece of meat. “Shall I serve you, my lady?”
Brithwin glowered at him. “I thank you, but I am capable of taking care of myself.”
“I never doubted that.” Royce popped the meat into his mouth. Her shaking hands belied the scowl on her face. Perchance it was because he was here next to her. He swallowed his food. “Is there anything you would like to do today?”
Brithwin's gaze went to her food and she began shuffling it around her trencher.
Royce raised his brows. “Is something wrong?”
“Why would you ask that?” Her voice rose on the last word.
“You haven’t answered my question nor have you taken a bite of your food. You sit there shifting it around. If it does not appeal to you, I am sure the cook would be happy to get you something else.”
Brithwin frowned. “I told you, I am busy this day, and you would not know my eating habits as you are never here in the morning when I break my fast.”
He grinned. That had gotten her hackles up. “Yes, I have had much to do since coming here. However, I have decided to spend today with you. Therefore, you can unbusy your day. We will spend it together.”
Brithwin sniffed. “Then you had better hurry and eat. Pater frowns on lateness.”
Brithwin’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. She tested him. Aye, well, she knew he avoided anything to do with God.
“We will meet when you get out.” He turned back to his food and continued to eat.
“You want to spend time together, yet you will not come to prayer with me?”
“That is what I said.” He placed his knife down.
The muscle in her jaw twitched, as it always did when she was agitated. “Why will you not go? If I am to spend the day going wherever you would like, I expect you at least to explain yourself.”
He admired the way she stood up to him. His wife was no coward. But that did not change anything. “’Tis none of your concern. We will leave after you finish.”
Brithwin slammed the cup down that she held and shoved her chair back. It teetered on its back legs before thumping down on all four. She sashayed out of the hall without a rearward glance.
An hour after prayer had ended and Pater had left, Royce still leaned against the outer wall of the church, impatiently tapping his shoe. How many prayers could one person think of? He considered himself a patient man but she’d used his up.
Tired of waiting, he bounded up the steps and slowly pulled the heavy, ornate oak door. Peeking in, he allowed his eyes to adjust. She sat with head bowed in prayer. Or maybe she slept? He closed the door and returned to his place against the wall.
Another hour later, Royce was ready to go in and haul her out, regardless of what she prayed. As he shoved away from the wall, the door opened and Brithwin stepped out.
He grunted. “Be in front of the stables in fifteen minutes. And don’t keep me waiting this time.”
Brithwin’s blue gaze turned icy. She swung around abruptly and marched away.
Royce strode to the mews and put on the leather glove. When he held out his hand, the falcon hopped on. Lucas approached, drawing both the hawk’s attention and Royce’s.
“It looks like Talon is ready to go hunting.” He smiled at the boy. “Do you have my lady’s falcon ready?”
“Yes, sir!”
Lucas’s enthusiasm made Royce chuckle. He reached out and messed the boy’s hair. “Go get Lioness and bring her out for my lady.”
Lucas turned and ran to the end of the building. He picked up a glove and ran back to where Brithwin’s bird sat. With a grin as wide as his face, he lifted his gloved hand, and Lioness gingerly hopped on.
Lucas followed him out of the mews and strode toward the stable. “Be sure to hold tight to the tethers. I would not want her flying to my lady when she has nothing to protect her hand or arm.”
Lucas nodded and ran his hand down the bir
d’s slick feathers.
“Have you made any friends here?” Royce checked the tethers in Lucas’s hand.
Lucas nodded then shook his head and began petting the bird again.
“Well, which is it? Aye or nay? It can’t be both,” Royce teased.
Lucas looked up, his face pinched. “How much longer will my punishment last, milord?”
Royce’s chest tightened. He knelt on one knee and rested his hand with the falcon on his leg. He searched the boy’s face. “You are not happy here?”
“I am, milord.”
“Then why do you concern yourself with how long you must stay?”
Lucas stared at the shoes Royce had found for him and shuffled his feet. “Old Saran from the village told me I should not make friends—that you will send me away as soon as my punishment is over.”
Royce lifted the boy’s chin with his fingers. “Saran is wrong. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like. I told you our falconer needed help. He has come to rely on you. You would not want to disappoint him, would you?”
A smile spread across the boy’s face as Royce finished speaking. Talon raised his wings and began to flap. Royce turned to calm the bird and caught a glimpse of Brithwin scurrying away.
He sighed. She was trying to sneak away unnoticed. “Good boy,” he whispered. He held his hand over the falcon’s head to keep him calm. “Lady Brithwin!” he bellowed.
Brithwin froze. A threatening growl came from nearby. Royce scowled at the hound.
“You have made me wait two times for you this morn. I would not try for three.” She did not disappoint him with the tilt of her chin. “And lock the dog up. He can stay here.”
†††
Oh, the arrogant cad! He could send her emotions rising and falling like the waves of the sea. His obstinacy this morning left her no choice but to ride with him. Having just made up her mind of what a scoundrel she had married, what did he do? He redeemed himself by kneeling before the lad to be less intimidating and making a lowly orphan feel as if Royce needed him.
Sword of Forgiveness (Winds of Change Book 1) Page 8
