by Julia Latham
“I cannot help you there. I would have thought Paul would feel that toward us, but he’s been gone many long months, and we’ve heard nothing from him.”
Robert’s voice was sad, and it surprised her that he had such feelings within him. Not a fortnight ago, she would have thought he never took anything seriously. Everyone hid their truths beneath a mask, it seemed. She’d never thought that of herself, but now she wasn’t so sure.
“Though I think going to Christina is our best plan,” she said softly, “I admit that I fear asking for her help. What will I do if she refuses? What will happen to Adam?”
“Florrie, I have no doubt in you whatsoever.” He gave her his cheerful smile. “Look how you’ve manipulated us, your kidnappers. You’re practically in command now. And you have Adam doing whatever he can for you.”
Blinking in astonishment, she gave him a slow nod of thanks for the encouragement.
But in command? How could that be possible?
By late afternoon, Standon Castle reared above the trees of the surrounding woodlands. It had towering curtain walls, with a gatehouse, and a drawbridge over an old-fashioned moat. The moat was mostly marsh and reeds, but the fortress was impressive nonetheless. And inside, the main keep rose above it all, crenellated with battlements along the top.
They found a wooded copse nearby, where the three men would await Florrie.
Adam sat on a wet log, his hands braced on his knees. His eyes looked bleary, but lucid, his face ruddy with fever. “I like this not.”
Florrie put her fists on her hips as she confronted him. “You know it will be best if I go in alone. I shall be as any other villager, especially now that my gowns no longer look refined.” She spread her skirt. “The hems are ragged and the fabric stained. Who would think me otherwise?”
“But—”
“And if I have a strange man looming over me, will not my sister think I’m being coerced or threatened?” She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “This is Christina, older than me by a year, closest to me of all my family.”
“That is not necessarily comforting.”
“She will help us,” Florrie insisted. “And then I will return for you all.”
She stared at his flushed face, and the way he kept his hand on his wound, and felt a flood of worry and tenderness overwhelm her. She could no longer deny that she cared for him, that he mattered deeply to her. How did a temporary adventure dissolve into something that could change her life? If she fell in love with him, how would she ever be able to resign herself to her old life—or the one in the convent she was destined for?
She stepped away and pulled up her hood, then was shocked when Adam reached to grab her arm. She stared down at him in surprise, seeing the urgency in his gaze.
“Be very careful,” he said quietly. “Flee if you feel even one bit of suspicion.”
“I promise I will. But you need not fear. This will work.”
She put her hand over his and held it there for a moment, suddenly wanting to kiss him. But she did not have the right, and would not embarrass herself before Robert and Michael. She prayed to God that Adam’s illness would not worsen while she was gone.
She turned away, tugging the hood even lower over her forehead as she moved swiftly through the trees. The wet ferns lashed at her legs, and dripping branches splashed her face. But at last she left the line of trees, and was able to fall in line behind two men pulling a cart of hay toward the castle.
She was tense crossing the drawbridge, but the guards on duty only let their gazes slide right over her, as if she were of no consequence.
Following the muddy road up through the inner ward, she passed the tiltyard in use by the soldiers even as it rained. There were wooden structures built against the curtain walls, housing everything from the garrison of soldiers to the dairy to the blacksmith’s shop.
But it was the great keep that drew her attention, rising up to overpower every other structure. She wondered about the people inside, the people now ruled by her sister. It was a strange thought.
Then an even more daunting thought occurred to her. What if her sister were not in residence? She looked up and saw that the earl’s banner was not flying over the battlements, so he was gone. Her heart began to race. If Christina had traveled with her husband, who would help Adam?
But no sooner had she entered the great hall of the castle, than she saw her sister speaking to a servant. All around her valets dismantled the trestle tables used during dinner. And Florrie’s stomach growled, as she realized she’d eaten nothing since that morn.
Florrie stood beside a tapestried wall, waiting for her sister to be alone. Christina was unchanged, which wasn’t surprising since she’d only been married less than a year. Her sandy blond hair was piled high beneath a flattering head-dress, and she wore an expression that could only be called…mature. She was four and twenty, after all, finally married to the man—and his title—that their father had wanted for her. Florrie prayed that she was content.
At last, Christina was alone, but to Florrie’s dismay, she turned immediately and started through an arched doorway. Florrie hurried after her, but she’d never been as fast as her sister. Once she was in the torchlit corridor, she saw her sister turn the far corner, and she tried to increase her speed before Christina could disappear.
Florrie caught the edge of the wall as she took the turn, and there was Christina, opening a door latch.
Her sister looked up in surprise, then frowned, ducking her head as if to see beneath the stranger’s hood. Florrie let the hood drop.
“Florrie?” her sister cried, gaping.
Florrie put a finger to her lips, limping forward. “I must speak with you,” she whispered. “’Tis urgent and requires the utmost secrecy!”
“But…how did you get here? Who else is with you?”
Florrie motioned to their door. “Can we speak privately in there?”
Christina slowly shook her head. “Nay, ’tis the sewing chamber. Follow me.”
They continued down the corridor, going up a circular staircase built into the corner of the keep.
On the next floor, Christina hurried past several doors, then opened one, drawing Florrie in before closing it quickly. “This is the bedchamber I share with my husband.”
For the first time, Florrie let some of the stiffness leave her frame. Christina had been surprised—but not dismayed—to see her, and so far Florrie was undiscovered by anyone else. She let herself study the impressive bedchamber, with its whitewashed walls between wooden panels. There were woven mats on the wooden floor, and a wide bed hung with luxurious curtains. Several coffers lined the walls, as well as cupboards displaying a collection of glass bottles.
And then suddenly Christina hugged her. Surprised, Florrie patted her back.
Christina looked almost embarrassed as she stepped away. “Forgive me for such a display, but you cannot imagine how good it is to see you. It can be rather lonely here.”
“You need ask no forgiveness,” Florrie said, smiling. “’Tis good to see you, too.”
Her sister smoothed a hand down her gown. “Did you notice anything different?”
Florrie shook her head, feeling guilty that her thoughts were too filled with Adam.
“I am with child! The babe will not come until the end of the year, so perhaps that is why you did not notice.”
“Oh, Christina, I am so happy for you!” Florrie said with honest enthusiasm—and guilt over her own preoccupation. “Your husband must be proud.”
“And relieved. His mother is relentless about the future succession, and his heir right now is a cousin no one likes who…” She trailed off, studying Florrie at last. “You seem…different. And you said you need to speak with me in secret.”
Florrie nodded, feeling uneasy again now that the moment was at hand.
“Whom are you traveling with?” Christina asked.
“I have come to you alone,” Florrie said, moving closer to take her
sister’s hands in her own.
Christina’s eyes widened. “Alone? How is that possible? Father never even permitted you…” Sudden comprehension lit her eyes, which were as green as Florrie’s. “He does not know that you have come to me.”
“Nay, nor does anyone else know.” She took a deep breath, ready to repeat the lies she’d concocted—and feeling surprisingly guilty about it. “I am having an adventure the likes of which I had never imagined. There is a man who—”
“What?” Christina cried, then quieted when Florrie winced and glanced at the door. “A man? A strange man?”
Florrie nodded. “He is one of the guards escorting me to London.”
Christina smiled with relief. “Father allowed you to visit at last?”
“Aye, he did, as long as I promised to enter the convent when I return.”
Christina’s happiness faded. “I had so hoped he would change his mind.”
“You know he will not,” Florrie said. Her usual optimism and contentment was suddenly hard to fake.
“Surely there would be a man somewhere who wants you.”
Florrie winced, though she knew her sister meant well. “Not without a dowry, Christina.” She did not need to say that most of the money had gone to her sisters’ marriages. She saw the awareness and guilt in Christina’s eyes. But it wasn’t Christina’s fault, so Florrie hurried to say, “Right now it matters not. Allow me to tell you my tale.”
With excitement, Christina led her to a cushioned bench near the bare hearth. “I’m listening—and I will not breathe a word!”
Florrie hesitated before sitting down. “I do not want to ruin your furniture.”
Christina at last took in Florrie’s wet cloak, filthy hemline, and shoes. Florrie removed the cloak, and Christina gaped at the rest.
“What has happened to you?”
“I told you—an adventure that I will never regret.” She sat down on the edge of the bench. “I am being escorted by three knights. They carry a missive for Father, which must be delivered with all speed. But yesterday, we were attacked.”
Christina gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, ’tis so dangerous to travel! And the thieves so bold!”
“These weren’t thieves. They wanted that missive, but Father’s men defeated them. One of our soldiers, Sir Edmund, was injured in the battle, and the men fear we are yet being followed. I brought them to you, because I knew not what else to do.” Florrie wrung her hands together as if at a loss. “Sir Edmund needs healing, but we cannot let anyone know we’re here. I would not want to bring notice of you to our enemies. Can you help us?”
Florrie hated to even say so much, but she needed her sister to understand the danger—and see the need for silence. She waited, holding her breath.
Christina didn’t hesitate. “How can you even think you need to ask? Of course I will help you! And though ’tis dangerous, the adventure must still be so exciting for you!”
Florrie was surprised—and touched—that her sister understood even that much of her. She smiled warmly. “Aye, it is. ’Twill give me wonderful memories for the rest of my life.” She sobered. “But I can delay no longer. I need to bring Sir Edmund inside before his injury worsens. Let me tell you my plan.”
Chapter 17
Adam had never in his life felt so weak. Even riding through the countryside had taxed everything within him, and he was mortified by how much he slept, propped up against the backs of his men. He’d always been the oldest, the strongest, and now watching Robert—and Florrie—make all the decisions was frustrating.
Robert was certainly competent enough, Adam knew, from having been involved in his training. But Robert did not take life seriously, and there was a deep part of Adam that worried about trusting him. It was just…this illness that made Adam feel so strange. His body was hot one minute, dripping with sweat, then cold enough to shiver the next. Though Michael took care of the horses while they waited for Florrie, Robert had little to amuse himself but the wood he was carving. So he watched Adam too much, making Adam feel like an invalid everyone had to tiptoe around.
“She should be back by now,” Adam said, for what had to be the fifth time. Even feeling bleary, he knew he was repeating himself.
Robert sighed. “I understand your concern for her, but this is her sister’s home. Nothing will happen to Florrie. It might happen to us, of course,” he added nonchalantly.
“Florrie will be able to convince her sister,” Adam insisted.
Robert grinned. “See? There is nothing to fear.”
Adam wanted to pace his frustration, but the last time he’d tried that, he’d found himself staggering into a tree trunk. It was humiliating to be so humbled.
He suddenly heard Michael’s birdcall, the sign that all was well. And then Florrie came from between the trees, and Adam remembered how to breathe. She was smiling with such belief in herself that he was jolted. How had she become this magnificent woman, raised as she’d been?
She came right to him, and instead of hugging him or taking his hand, as she would a man she’d shared intimacies with, she felt his forehead.
He ducked away in annoyance. The world seemed to tilt, and then both Florrie and Robert had his arms. Feeling shaky, Adam let them help him sit, then shook off their concern. “How did you fare?” he asked Florrie tersely.
“Christina will help us. She believed my story of the three of you as Father’s men, escorting me to London. But I was still worried about drawing attention, so I told her I would only bring you in, Adam.”
Robert heaved a good-natured sigh.
“We will not be long,” Adam said.
“You need at least a full day’s rest,” Florrie scoffed. “Robert, we will contact you by the day after tomorrow at the latest.”
Michael had approached silently, and now spoke. “Until then, we will keep watch.”
“What excitement,” Robert said dryly. “If I would have known I would miss all the good things, I would have stayed home.”
“And what good things will you miss?” Florrie demanded. “The part where I keep your brother in bed?”
Adam joined the others in staring at her, trying to hide his amusement.
Her face flushed, and she rounded on Adam. “You are too ill to be up and about. You know what I meant.”
Robert chuckled. “I will miss seeing the women of your sister’s home. Perhaps she has beautiful ladies-in-waiting.”
Florrie folded her arms over her chest. “My sister likes to be the most beautiful one, so I doubt it.” Then she glanced at Adam. “Have you removed your spurs? We cannot walk in there looking like we suspiciously left our horses.”
He wanted to rise to his feet, to use his height to intimidate, but his illness didn’t allow it. She was growing bold, and though he liked it, right now it irritated him.
“Aye, my lady,” he said with sarcasm. “Is there anything else you command, that I might be too foolish to realize?”
He saw the hurt pass over her face, but it was gone quickly. She was too used to hiding her feelings. He felt like a monster. Not caring that his brother and servant watched, Adam caught her arm and pulled until she was sitting on his knee.
“Forgive me,” he said softly. “My temper seems uncontrollable, and I say things without thinking.”
“’Tis the fever,” she murmured, her expression once more concerned and tender.
“You have done a wonderful deed, braving an unknown castle for me.”
“’Tis my sister’s home,” she demurred, eyes downcast.
But he’d pleased her, restored her spirits, and that was all that mattered. He let her go, then rose to his feet, putting a hand on her shoulder when the weakness overtook him again.
He glanced at his men. “I will return soon, and we will finish what we started.”
Both men nodded, but Adam noticed that Florrie looked away.
Though he wanted to walk unassisted, Florrie slid beneath his arm and took it across her shoulders.
“Let me help you through the trees,” she said. “Because once we reach the road, it will look too suspicious for you to be seen in such a weakened state. The guards might think we bring the plague to them.”
“You are getting very good at disguises,” Adam said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. He had to think about that, rather than the way the entire length of her body was pressed to his. Even ill, he couldn’t stop wanting her.
Before she could answer, Robert called, “I have been teaching her much while you’ve been unconscious.”
Adam rolled his eyes while Florrie giggled. At last they began to walk through the trees. They had to skirt low-growing brush and step over tree roots, and he found himself reluctantly thankful for her sturdy support. He really must be weaker than he thought. Surely time should have assisted his recovery, but it had not. He had accepted Florrie’s suggestion for medicine and healing, because he could not allow himself to fail. He kept telling himself that, but inside he felt growing doubts that he did not want to heed.
When they approached the main road to the castle, Adam stepped away from her and had to pause while weakness made him unsteady. The road to the drawbridge and gatehouse seemed interminable, and with every step he took, he felt ever slower. Florrie kept looking at him with worry, and finally, he stopped glancing at her. It was like seeing his weakness in her eyes. He wanted to be strong for her, to protect her from danger. But she was the one protecting him now, and that confused him.
Or perhaps it was the fever.
As they passed beneath the gatehouse, where darkness briefly descended, he imagined the portcullis concealed in the ceiling above them. With one cry of alarm, the guards would lower it, and the sharp metal points would plummet.
But no one seemed suspicious. Several guards were standing together as he and Florrie passed. With her hood down, she even gave the men a smile, and one guard elbowed the other.
Adam gritted his teeth and kept moving, his legs as heavy as if he walked through water. Surely they were being watched the whole way across the inner ward, for his back felt as hot as a target.
