“Did you have to answer to his lordship?”
“I did. When I told him about the bullying, he confided that he had been aware of it, and had spoken to the squires about it, but the lads obviously had ignored his order to stop. He asked if I was unhappy, and when I said I was, he offered to send me to his brother’s fortress. ’Twas closer to my parents’ keep, and so I was glad to move. William was one of the first friends I made there. He was also a page. We have been close friends ever since.”
Her gaze had once again turned wary.
“How did you meet William?” Cyn asked. “Through Edwina?”
Magdalen set the stag down in her lap and then nodded. “I met her at Drandwick Keep, not long after Aislinn left to wed her first husband; she became a widow, so her marriage to Hugh, you see, was her second. Edwina and I became good friends, and after she married William, she asked me to move with her to Glemstow to be her lady-in-waiting.” A flush stained Magdalen’s cheekbones. “Truth be told, I was very pleased to receive her offer. A betrothal had been arranged for me, to a lord I did not love, but my fiancé died after being wounded in a duel he’d foolishly provoked. I had continued to live with the Falderstons since my fiancé’s demise, and while I appreciated her ladyship’s constant efforts to find me a husband, I refused to marry unless I was in love. I was glad in the end to leave Drandwick and begin anew.”
“A beginning I assume you got,” Cyn added, “and which was working out well until a couple of days ago.”
“Exactly,” Magdalen said, looking down at the stag.
“What happened?” He covered her hand still touching the ornament, her smaller, more delicate fingers enveloped by his. She shivered in his grasp. “Tell me. You must. William will likely come for you today, and while I may be sheriff, there are limits to what I can do to stop him.”
The crackle and hiss of the fire filled the silence as he waited. If she stubbornly refused to answer him yet again—
She raised her gaze from their joined hands. “I will not just tell you,” she said quietly. “I will show you.”
***
Her heartbeat loud in her ears, Magdalen pointed to her gown. “Can you bring it to me, please?”
Astonishment flared in Cyn’s eyes. “Do you mean to put it on?”
“Nay. As I said, I will show you what William wants.”
Cyn appeared puzzled, but nodded briskly and pushed to his feet.
She prayed she wasn’t making a grave error in judgment. Yet, if her mother had placed her faith in Cyn—and from what Magdalen remembered, her mother had always been an excellent judge of character—then Magdalen would trust him, too. She had to trust someone, and Cyn was right: William would arrive to take her back to the castle as soon as he could. She couldn’t be the only one who knew his vile secret.
Cyn strode to the rope to pull her gown free. Sunlight swept over him, gilding some parts of his body with bright golden light, others in inviting, grayed shadow. With his attention on his task, and not on her, she let her gaze slide down his broad back, down to where his tunic brushed against his dark-colored hose; the curves of his muscular buttocks were defined by the drape of the woolen cloth.
A flush warmed her face, and she snapped her gaze away. She would simply die if he caught her staring at his bottom. Still, she couldn’t deny he was as handsome as the lords and knights lauded in the chansons she loved so much. If she weren’t in such a predicament, she might have enjoyed being cared for by such a man. ’Twas rather romantic that she’d swooned in the forest and he’d swept her up into his arms and carried her to his home to protect her. Years ago, she and Aislinn would have shrieked in delight and spent most of an afternoon huddled together in a secluded part of Drandwick Keep’s garden, discussing such a tantalizing tale; yet, Magdalen didn’t dare indulge in daydreaming now.
Returning to her, Cyn set the shimmering gown in her lap.
“I will need a knife.”
His dark brows rose. “I am even more curious now.” He reached into his right boot, drew out the leather-sheathed dagger, and handed it to her.
The costly silk, more torn than she’d thought from her frantic dash through the woods, rustled as she shifted the garment to locate the left sleeve. With the blade of the knife, Magdalen cut through the row of stitches, eased her fingers inside the hem, and withdrew the flattened parchment wrapped in the extra cloth she’d used to protect it. As the small parcel came into view, Cyn laughed, a sound of surprise.
“I would never have thought to look in your sleeve.”
“As I had hoped.”
She set aside the cloth and unfolded the document. Desperately hoping she was making the right decision, she handed it to him.
“Thank you for finally trusting me.”
Pleasure and regret battled inside her. “You will not be grateful after you read what is written there.”
His attention shifted to the sparse lines of black ink, slightly smudged from the parchment getting damp.
Fighting a bone-deep chill, Magdalen tugged the blanket more closely around her.
Cyn’s eyes narrowed as he read, and his breath expelled on a hiss. “No wonder you are so afraid. Do you have the vial mentioned in this missive?”
“Unfortunately, I do not. I looked in William’s linen chest, where I found the letter. I also searched the rest of the solar, but could not find the vial. Mayhap I should have searched longer, but after reading the missive, I felt I must get away as quickly as possible.”
Cyn’s expression was a gut-wrenching mix of disbelief and rage. “William is a loyal and honorable man. I cannot believe he is involved in such treachery.”
“The proof is in your hand.”
“The letter does seem damning. There may be more to it, though, than we realize.”
A ghastly coldness crawled through Magdalen. Cyn didn’t want to believe William was guilty of wrongdoing. Would Cyn destroy the letter? The fire was easily within reach, if he chose to toss the missive into the flames.
If he intended to burn the letter, she’d have to wrest it from him. Her gaze dropped to the knife, lying atop her gown, and the coldness within her settled deeper. She’d never used such a weapon before. Without doubt, he was the superior fighter, but she’d do what she must to get the letter back and flee.
Still, the thought of threatening Cyn after he’d been so kind to her, of possibly having to stab him, made her feel queasy.
“You are very quiet,” Cyn said, studying the letter.
“We must get that missive to one of the King’s men,” Magdalen said firmly.
“I want to ask William about it first,” Cyn replied, his tone equally firm.
Still, he refused to acknowledge his friend’s guilt. Anger simmered along with her fear. “While I respect you are friends with William, he is not the only one to consider. The plot might endanger Edwina and Timothy.”
“True,” Cyn said. “Believe me, I would never wish harm upon William’s wife and child. However—”
A loud bang echoed, followed by shuffled footfalls. Carrying a wicker basket, Borden hurried into the room, preceded by the three wolfhounds. “His lordship is approaching,” he said, out of breath. “He has four men-at-arms with him.”
Panic whipped through Magdalen, and she struggled to rise from the chair. The stag slipped from her grasp and fell on the planks.
“Easy,” Cyn said, setting a hand on her shoulder to stay her. He took the knife and shoved it back into his boot, the movement so neat and fast, he’d obviously done it a hundred times before. Oh, God, now she had no chance of saving the letter.
“Do not fret,” Cyn said, as gently as he’d spoken earlier to Perceval.
“William is coming here!”
“You do not have to face him.”
“W-what do you mean? How—?”
“Trust me.” He glanced at Borden. “You know what to do.”
“Aye, milord.” The steward set aside his basket, crossed to the rope, and began
taking down Magdalen’s garments.
Cyn shoved the letter down the front of his tunic and then carefully guided her leg down from the wooden stool. With a swift precision that suggested the activity had been rehearsed before, Cyn cleared all of the nearby furnishings out of the way—all except the large patterned rug covering the floorboards. As he dropped to a crouch beside it, Borden set aside the coiled rope and folded clothes and hurried to help roll up the rug, to reveal bare planks, some bearing knots in the wood.
Cyn pushed his finger into one of the knots and she heard a metallic click. Several more clicks, and with a grunt of effort, he and Borden pulled out a rectangular section of the floor, revealing a dark opening beneath.
She gaped.
Crossing to her, Cyn said, “When the poachers built this home, they included a place to hide their most precious bounty. ’Tis a little dirty and cramped, but large enough for you to lie down inside.” He helped her to her feet, ensuring the blanket stayed wrapped around her.
“Does William know of that hiding place?” she asked.
“Nay. Once you are safely inside it, we will return the room to the way it looked before. He will never know you are nearby, listening to his every word.”
Part of her rebelled at the thought of being closed into the floor; she’d never liked cramped spaces, and she’d be stuck in there until Cyn or Borden let her out. Yet, ’twas better than confronting William, and Cyn was right; she’d be able to hear what William said about the missive.
She hobbled a step forward, but then Cyn swept her into his arms. He carried her to the opening and, dropping to his knees on the planks, guided her to sit on the edge of the cavity and lower herself in. The inside walls of the cavity were wrought from stone, and a damp, musty smell clung to the air.
Borden handed down her bag, shoes, and her garments to use as a pillow, and she lay down. As the men hauled over the rectangular section of planks, she said, “Please. Do not leave me in here for long.”
“As soon as William’s gone, I will let you out,” Cyn said from above her.
“Promise?” She spoke so softly, she didn’t think he’d heard, but he met her gaze and nodded. “I promise.”
They lowered the planks into place, and she was plunged into darkness.
Chapter Nine
With Borden’s help, Cyn quickly restored the room to the way it had been moments ago. Voices sounded outside, along with hoof beats and the jangle of tack. Just as Cyn put the stag back on its shelf, a brisk knock pounded on the door.
“I will greet his lordship,” Borden said, collecting his basket on the way out of the room.
Cyn ordered the dogs to lie down at the hearth, as if they had lounged there all morning—and where William would expect to see them. Then, setting his hands on his hips, Cyn exhaled a harsh breath. He needed to be patient, to keep under control the fury that seemed to grow hotter within him with each passing moment: a rage entangled with his feelings for Magdalen.
He’d vowed not to care for her, but he couldn’t deny that he did. Never would he allow her out of his protection, even if that meant standing between her and William. Even—God help him—if it meant jeopardizing that old friendship and exposing the terrible secret William had kept for Cyn since that fateful day on Crusade.
The front door creaked open. “Good day, Lord Langston,” Borden said.
“Where is Cyn?” William spoke politely enough, but Cyn sensed the steel threading through the words.
“He is in the main part of the house, milord.”
Tension gathered between Cyn’s shoulders as William entered the room, his brown woolen mantle drifting as he walked. His fashionably-cut, wavy blond hair, tailored garments, and fine leather boots all added to the impression that he was a respectable nobleman of the realm, and yet, he likely was involved in a scheme to kill a crown official.
Cyn balled his hands into fists; he would have all of the details of that plot by the end of this meeting; if he couldn’t get them as William’s friend, he’d demand them as sheriff.
“Good morning, Cyn.”
“William.”
William’s assessing gaze took in the cot and the items on the table near it before returning to Cyn. Gesturing to the bed, William asked, “Is that where you tended Magdalen?”
“I did.”
“How is she? My men told me she was injured yesterday.”
“Her leg wound is healing well,” Cyn said, keeping his tone carefully neutral, “although ’twill be many days before she is fully recovered.”
Regret tautened William’s features, bronzed from days riding on his estate. “I am sorry she was hurt. If only she had not run from me and my men. Then she would not have come to harm.”
Cyn suppressed a rough laugh. Did William really expect him to believe that all would have been well if Magdalen had surrendered? In his years working as a sheriff, Cyn had investigated the slayings of men who’d died for far less damning information than she’d discovered. “Hellfire, William—”
“Edwina is very worried about her, as am I. I have come to take her back—”
“Nay.”
“Nay?” William’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean she is not leaving with you.”
William’s chest rose and fell on an irritated breath. “Look, Cyn—”
“Tell me what is going on.” Cyn held his friend’s stare. “I want the truth.”
William laughed, a sound devoid of mirth. “There is no need to be confrontational. There has obviously been some kind of misunderstanding. I do not know what Magdalen told you—”
“A misunderstanding? Shall we discuss what she showed me, then, that she found yesterday in your chamber? Borden would be interested to hear. No doubt so would your men-at-arms; I can call them in from outside.”
Anger flashed in William’s eyes. “Do not dare to threaten me.”
“If ’tis the only way to get you to tell me what is going on—”
“I do not have to explain my actions to you.”
Cyn didn’t flinch at the biting words. “In this instance, my friend, you do.”
Hissing air between his teeth, William scowled. “Where is Magdalen? As lord of these lands, I demand that you release her to me so I can be on my way.”
A hard smile tilted Cyn’s lips. “She is safe, and will remain safe, in my care. Now, are you going to be honest with me? In all fairness, you should know that I have written a letter about the matter in question and am prepared to send it to London.”
William’s face paled. His right hand pushed aside the folds of his cloak and settled on his hip, near the hilt of his dagger—a gesture Cyn recognized, after years of knowing his friend, to mean William was uneasy.
“God’s blood, William. You are my closest friend. I want to help you,” Cyn said, his tone a low rasp. “However, I need to know—”
“You asked me once, a couple of weeks ago, what was weighing upon my mind,” William said quietly. “I could not tell you then. I still cannot tell you.”
“Then our conversation is done.” Turning on his heel, Cyn strode for the doorway, pausing a moment to reach up to a shelf and snatch a folded parchment out of a pewter tankard. Reaching the doorway, Cyn yelled, “Borden!”
The steward appeared. “Aye, milord?”
Cyn handed over the parchment. “This is to be sent to London. Without delay.”
“All right,” William snapped. “Send your steward outside. No one else will hear what I have to say.”
No one except Magdalen, Cyn silently added.
Once Borden had left the home, William sank into the chair Magdalen had occupied a short while ago. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and plowed his hands into his hair, while he stared down at the rug.
How ironic, that William was staring almost at the spot where Magdalen was hidden.
Cyn dropped down into his carved chair and waited for his friend to speak.
“Is that the mi
ssive, then?” William pointed to the document Cyn still held.
“The missive you are referring to is safely hidden. This”—Cyn tossed the parchment on the nearby table—”is a list of herbs Borden purchased at a market three months ago.”
William lifted his head, fury in his eyes. “You tricked me.”
“I had to. If you do not tell me the truth here and now, though, I will send a letter to the King.”
“Damnation, Cyn. I swore an oath not to discuss what I am to tell you,” William said, his voice a low growl. “I am not a man who breaks a vow.”
He’d sworn an oath? Cyn frowned. Keeping his tone hushed, he said, “The missive Magdalen found had instructions for committing a murder.”
William sighed. “Of course it did.”
“Of course?” Cyn choked back a shocked cry. “You had best explain, before—”
“Hold.” William raised his hand, palm up. “I understand your concern regarding the letter. Yet, ’twas my goal to get such missives.”
“Goal?” Disquiet skittered through Cyn, even as William nodded.
“It has taken me months of painstaking work, all of it done in secret, because I did not want to endanger my family. Finally, a few sennights ago, I was accepted into the circle of men in these lands who are determined to overthrow King John.”
Cyn had no doubt the King was corrupt. He was well aware of the discontent among local lords caused by the sovereign’s high taxes, his determination to keep a firm grip on his French holdings, and his confiscation of lands and castles for no justifiable reason. Cyn had arrested brigands who’d robbed officials returning to London with collected tax money; from the staggering amounts of coin that the officials had reported stolen, ’twas clear to Cyn that more than just taxes had gone missing. Sometimes, the more efficient officials even carried records noting just how much had been received in bribes, from whom, and for what purpose.
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