by Shea,Lisa
Storm shook her head. “You never can tell what life has in store for you,” she commented somberly. “Sometimes I suppose it is best to choose your battles, and to wait it out until the moment is right to act. He was far too young to understand that.”
Heather’s soft voice spoke into the silence. “My father was hurt during action against the bandits,” she stated with a tone of pride. “He is one of the soldiers here. He does his best to help keep the villages safe. I am sure that soon the outlaws will be rounded up and brought to justice.”
Molly patted her hand, her eyes dark with worry. “The sooner, the better,” she agreed, bringing the wooden crucifix around her neck to her lips for a kiss. “The bandits seem better equipped each year, and I am nervous each time he heads out after them.”
Storm thought again of the scar on her leg. Was she the victim of a past attack as well? She hoped fervently that she was not a bandit herself, part of a group that brought nothing but pain.
She focused on her cloth making small circles on the bowled side of a silver pitcher. “Do you think someone can change, mid-life, and become a different person?” she asked, keeping her tone light.
Heather looked confused, but Mary’s shrewd eyes met with Molly’s. Mary reached over to put her hand over Storm’s, causing her to look up.
“Now see here, Storm,” instructed Mary with gentle firmness. “Each of us has a type of character deep within us. We might go through rough times and we might have awful situations inflicted on us. I am sure if you talk to any person in this building, you will find they have faced pain and heartache. It is part of life. Sometimes you end up in situations you never could have imagined.”
Mary gave Storm’s hand a squeeze, then went back to polishing the platter before her. “Whatever life you had, before you came here, it is clear that your nature is an honest and good hearted one. Whatever environment you were in before does not matter. What matters is how you act, now that you are in our world. You must never move backwards – you must always move forwards.”
Storm lapsed into quiet, and spent the afternoon in somber reflection. Sensing her mood, the other three began to talk of casual goings-on about the village, keeping the conversation open for her to join, but allowing her to reflect inwardly, lost in her own thoughts.
Eventually the silver was buffed and gleaming, and Storm thanked the women for their company. Worn, she headed back up to her room to rest. She thought of how content and well cared for the staff at the keep was, and reflected that this was directly due to Falcon’s gentle and heart-felt attention.
Despite her best intentions, Storm knew she was growing even fonder of her host. She prayed that Thom brought news of her home soon, before she fell completely in love. Before she was wholly lost.
Chapter 9
Storm was delighted to find golden shafts of sunshine drifting into her room when she woke the next morning. The world glowed with fresh brilliance, and her spirit buoyed. She slid her stool over to the window, resting there for a while, relishing the block and strike of the guards’ practice. Falcon moved amongst them, steady, sure. Warmth spiraled within her, drawing itself around her in a tender embrace.
Her thoughts moved again to the wall hangings - the visual tale of his life. She decided to head down early, while the hall was deserted, to take a closer look at what they portrayed.
Apparently someone else had also thought of early rising. As she descended, Storm spotted Jessica lurking in the hall.
Storm paused on the stairway, torn. She knew she should continue down and attempt to be polite, to spend time getting to know Jessica. However, she admitted to herself that she would much rather head back to her room, biding the next hour in quiet thought rather than facing Jessica’s double-edged barbs.
Sighing, Storm scolded herself for her uncharitable attitude and began to move down the stairs.
She suddenly spotted movement to her left, and Falcon came striding into the room, pulling up short when he saw Jessica standing there. He seemed almost ready to turn when the blonde woman spotted him, coming forward in an enthusiastic rush.
“Oh, Falcon, I am so glad I caught you,” she purred in thrilled glee. “It is critical that we have a talk. Alone.”
Falcon glanced around the empty hall, and Storm pulled even further back into the shadows, making sure she was shielded from their view. She could hear Falcon’s low voice come up in a murmur. “Well, here we are, then. What did you want to talk with me about?”
Jessica dropped her voice down to a lower pitch, and Storm had to slide down a few steps to hear what she said. “It is about ... that woman,” stated Jessica with concern.
Falcon’s response was short. “You mean Storm,” he sharply clarified. “What about her?”
Storm peeked around the corner and saw that he was standing a few feet away from Jessica, staring at her coldly.
Jessica was nonplussed by this chilly reception, and pushed forward with her suit. “I have been asking my customers,” she divulged with a conspiratorial whisper, “and none of the reputable families have heard of a missing girl. Not. One. Word.”
Falcon’s face did not change. “We found her on the border. She could be from one of Walker’s villages, not one of mine.”
Jessica was shaking her head before he finished. Her voice gained a harsh edge. “Have you gone completely daft; completely forgotten the lessons you learned the last time a stray woman appeared on your doorstep?”
Falcon’s eyes flashed with a sharpness that Storm had not seen before, and Jessica took a half step back before regaining her composure.
“I am only looking out for you, Falcon,” she insisted, moving toward him again. “Someone needs to take care of you, to watch for danger. You are simply too trusting.” She waved a hand toward the front of the keep. “Look at how you divulged every little detail about our defenses to that stranger. She wanted to know about arrow slits. What kind of a woman is fascinated by arrow slits?”
A look of doubt flickered across Falcon’s brow. “We cannot assume -”
Jessica launched into the breach. “Can we afford not to assume?” she pressed, her eyes shining. “The bandits were barely thwarted the last time they tried this tactic. Here we are again, and it seems you are missing the clear warning signs.” Her eyes flicked toward the stairs, then back to hold Falcon’s eyes with focused attention. “I have no doubt in my mind. She is in full control of her memories, she is one of the bandit’s leaders, and she is playing you for a fool. You not only allow her free access to your home, but you enthusiastically provide her exactly the details she needs in order to invade and destroy it!”
Falcon’s voice was low. “You have no proof,” he pointed out.
Jessica’s voice rang with certainty. “You cannot prove I am wrong,” she retorted. “You have a solemn obligation to protect the lives of the innocent people in your home. What about your maid, what’s-her-name, the one you like so much? Would you want her brutally murdered in her sleep by a bandit whore?”
Falcon made to speak, but Jessica was not done. “A fanged viper is loose in your home. You owe it to the people who rely on you for their very lives. She needs to be sent away. Now. Immediately. Before it is too late.”
Falcon took in a long, deep breath, his face becoming a mask. “I have heard your opinion, and I understand your concerns,” he stated at last, his shoulders tense. “I am not ignorant of the potential danger here. She is being watched, and I have taken precautions.” His face became steely. “As to the rest, she stays where she is. That is not open to discussion.”
Jessica’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Do not be blind to the warning signs this time,” she urged him. “Consider what she says. Evaluate what she does. Be ever vigilant for even the slightest indication that she is deceiving you.”
“I am,” he answered sharply, then turned and stalked out of the room. Jessica stared after him for a long moment, her eyes brightening with a glow of triumph. Then she spun and str
ode out a side door, leaving the room in empty silence.
Storm staggered back against the wall. She knew that her current lack of memories was authentic, but so much else of what they had said had echoed her own fears. Why had she been so taken with the defensive fortifications of the keep? How was she so adept at catching the spinning blade? Was she indeed a member of the bandit group; had they been planning to use her as a way to seduce and deceive him? It seemed that Falcon had considered this possibility – he said he had her under watch.
She glanced around, her heart thumping. Watched? By who?
Her eyes lit on Zach. He was dusting cobwebs out of the corner of one of the hallway windows. He caught her eye and shyly smiled, then went back to his work.
Storm eyed the lad in consideration, realizing that she had never thought about him before; he had simply blended in with the servants moving about the grounds. The lad seemed about fourteen and was in admirable shape. He had said he was a relative of one of the soldiers; he certainly seemed as if he would be fleet of foot. One wrong step by her and a group of guards would be after her in moments.
Storm sat back against the wall, her mind whirling. Could she be a threat to Mary, Molly, and Heather? As much as she hated to agree with Jessica, she knew she could not deny that she might be.
The knife, the scabbard, the defenses of the keep - the interests she possessed were none that a farm girl would enjoy. The way she had grabbed the whirling scythe had surprised her. Her build belied the thought that she was a quiet noblewoman. What else could she be?
Her mind skipped forward with lightning speed. What if she were indeed a bandit leader, responsible for a trail of death and destruction? What if this plan had been her own idea, a way to finally bring down Falcon’s resistance?
She shook her head, but she could not prove the charge was false. Falcon could easily be forced to lock her up once he discovered her true nature. Perhaps that is why he wished to keep her here, where she would be easy to move from bedroom to dungeon as soon as that news was revealed.
Storm sighed as she began to accept the bandit link as a possibility. She wondered if her personality would change once her memory returned. Mary had been so kind and sweet to her. Storm wondered if she would suddenly be capable of bringing harm to the gentle maid if it became necessary in order to escape.
She sharply shook her head, praying that would not happen. She knew her mind. She knew how much she wanted to protect people from harm.
Desolation wrapped around her. Maybe that strong sensation was solely because her memory was currently blank? When the pieces were filled in, would she feel differently? Could she become a different person? If she had been raised to despise the noble folk, would that way of life settle over her as easily as a cloak settles around a chill body?
Storm stumbled back to her room, sick to her stomach at the thought. She resolved to do her best to heal quickly, to give her mind every possible chance to recover.
She also swore to herself not to betray the trust of those who had cared for her. No matter what happened, she would find some way to keep that much of her current self intact.
* * *
Storm barely heard the conversations swirling around her. She forced herself to pick at her chicken pie. The meal was delicious, but she just could not bring herself to eat.
She looked down again at the ring on her finger, at the delicate blue flowers. She wished fervently that she could have some glimmer of her memory back. Something – anything - to help her know for certain that she was not part of the bandit crew.
Jessica’s voice suddenly sliced into her musings. It sounded honestly curious. “What an interesting ring! Perhaps if I took a look at it, I could help figure out where you are from, so we could return you there promptly!”
Storm found her heart lifting, and she looked at the item in surprise. It had never occurred to her to enlist Jessica’s help. The woman was interested in jewelry and apparently knew many of the local craftsmen. Why had she not thought of this earlier?
She gave a few tugs on the ring before convincing it to slide from her finger. The dent left behind seemed to indicate that she had rarely removed the band. She rotated it around once or twice in her hand before turning to place it into Jessica’s outstretched palm.
Jessica examined the ring, her eyes aglow with interest, taking a careful look at the shape of the flowers and the construction of the ring. Storm noticed that Falcon had turned and was watching the proceedings attentively.
Jessica nodded. “Fine craftsmanship,” she murmured, “and the forget-me-not, certainly a sign of a loved one. Probably a husband, I would guess,” she added sweetly, looking up at Falcon. “This means it is even more important that we return her to her home as quickly as possible. Think of the agonizing torment the poor man is going through, with his wife missing!”
Falcon’s eyes were shuttered, and he quietly nodded.
Jessica turned the ring around in her fingers again, her voice brightening. “Her husband will certainly be appreciative of your honor, Falcon, that you ensured Storm was treated with the utmost respect while under your protective care!”
Tightness wrapped at Storm’s chest. “I have tried remembering any loved one,” she pointed out, “but I do not get any sense at all that -”
“Of course you do not,” interrupted Jessica with a laugh. “Your mind has been completely wiped clean! I am sure your husband will forgive you. He will be quite happy to begin his courtship anew once you are safely home again.”
Falcon’s voice was low when he spoke. “Jessica, do you recognize the ring?”
Jessica pursed her lips, looking back at the ring with focus, apparently enjoying being the center of attention. “As I said, forget-me-nots are a sign of remembering a vow.” She chuckled. “A little ironic, in this case.” She gave a final look, then nodded in triumph. “I have seen work like this done in Mundesley. That is a port town fairly near to North Walsham, the Walker stronghold.”
She smiled in satisfaction. “So I would have to guess that our lost soul is indeed from the Walker area, and that you, Lord Falcon, have done quite well to send your messenger there. I am sure he will return soon with news of Storm’s family, and we can send her back into her husband’s loving embrace.” Her grin widened, and her eyes twinkled. “Who knows, maybe she has a litter of young ones waiting for her as well!”
Storm flushed crimson, looking down, It had never occurred to her that she might have borne children, and the thought felt utterly alien to her. Had she forgotten so completely her intimate encounters with a man, forgotten the long nights of him holding her?
She found her eyes moving up to meet Falcon’s, and they also held a sense of shock. He pressed his lips into a tight line. “We will find out soon enough,” he commented in a low voice. “In the meantime, I imagine Storm would want her ring back.”
Jessica’s eyes brightened. “Of course! We would not want her to be parted from her token of love for a moment longer than necessary!” She turned and placed the ring on the table back in front of Storm.
Storm stared at the ring, focusing on its shape, searching for even the hint of a memory. Surely she should have some faint recollection about the man who had given this to her. Even a tiny emotion or feeling should bubble up.
But there was nothing at all.
She lifted the ring up with a sigh, then closed her eyes. She slowly, carefully slid the ring on her finger. She settled it down into its groove, placing it back where it obviously belonged.
A crystal clear vision suddenly came to her. She was young, perhaps twelve, and sitting by a window overlooking a treed landscape from somewhere high up. She was completely alone. She had a blue shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and she was sliding the ring on her finger, gently spinning it, transfixed by it, repeating a vow to herself.
She tried to focus on the words, to hear what was being said. But the more she tried, the more the vision slipped away from her, dissolving, evaporating lik
e birds scattering from the tree in which they’d sheltered.
Frustration welled up within her, and her voice was rough as the words slipped out. “What was the vow?”
Jessica’s bright, bubbling laughter caused Storm to open her eyes, to remember where she was. Jessica was nudging Falcon in the side, her mirth spilling over. “She cannot even remember the vow she gave to him,” she chortled.
Storm found herself shaking her head. “Not to him,” she absently stated, still grabbing desperately at the tails of the visions, finding each one eluded her with ease. “It was me. I gave myself the ring. It was when I was younger, and it signified something extremely important.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “I cannot remember why, though.”
Falcon’s voice was low and steady. “So you do remember something?”
Storm looked down at the ring on her finger. “I thought I did,” she quietly responded. “I could sense a window, a shawl, and a feeling … but it is all gone now.”
Jessica gave her a gentle nudge. “I am sure your husband will be disappointed when he hears he did not even make a small appearance in your memory,” she chuckled.
Falcon’s voice came smoothly across to Storm. “In any case, we should know soon enough when Thom returns if Storm’s memory is a true one.” He gave an encouraging smile. “In the meantime, let us enjoy this delicious meal while it is still warm.”
Storm gave herself a shake, refocusing her attention on the food before her, taking a bite of the chicken pie. In a short while she had finished it, and any remnants of her memory had drifted far from reach. A melancholy fog settled over her afresh. If she were not a part of a family, then maybe this was proof that she was a loner amidst the bandits. Perhaps when her memory returned to her fully she would find the vow was simply one to stay away from all men, to focus solely on herself and her own self-interest.
