by Shea,Lisa
The last thing Constance wanted was a fight, not here, not with Gabriel a few seats down. She dropped her eyes submissively. “I do not understand,” she answered truthfully. “I have spent most of the time with the children, attempting to heal.”
“You have spent far too much time with Gabriel,” shot out Barnard with heat. “You will have no further contact with him.”
Constance’s face flushed, but she did not raise her eyes. Had she been spending time with Gabriel? She would have said she was avoiding him, trying to keep herself clear of temptation. And yet, she could remember clearly every moment they had been together, every phrase from his lips, every look in his eye. Her hand went absently to where the medallion had hung, feeling the hollow spot at her chest. She let out a long sigh. She had to convince Barnard that Gabriel was no threat, to ease the remainder of their stay here. The people of Beadnell depended on it.
Her mind skipped back to that evening, long ago, where she sat with Gabriel. The words she had said then remained burned in her memory, etched as if in stone. She pitched her voice to hold the same dismissive coldness.
“Gabriel was my guard, nothing more. Yes, we had an amusing few years. However, now you and I are together. You are a real noble; we will have a title for our children. We have a fine house to raise them in.” She raised her eyes to meet Barnard’s squarely. “Surely you know this.”
Barnard appeared mollified. “Of course, you are right,” he agreed after a moment. “I am perhaps overly possessive of your charms, and I rarely see you with other people. After all, just because I like fine bread, I would certainly not marry a lowly baker!” He laughed in amusement at his own joke.
“You are very right,” agreed Constance, keeping her tone light, soothing him. “Only a fool would do such a thing.”
Barnard finished the last of his drink, his face relaxing slightly. “Certainly you are far better behaved than the other two women in our company.” He leaned back, eyes searching for a maid. “In any case, we will be home soon, and things will be back to normal.”
He spotted one of the servants behind him and called for another mead. Constance glanced down the table, hopeful that none of their soft conversation had been overheard. Alison and Gaynor were turned in their chairs, answering a question from Lucia. Charles was taking a long drink from his mead. Gabriel …
Gabriel was staring at her, a stricken look on his face, of surprise and dawning understanding. She looked away quickly. She could not tell if he believed her indifferent now, and was upset by that – or if he realized how she had deceived him so many years ago. She did not want to know. Either one would undoubtedly cause trouble.
As soon as breakfast was finished, she walked quickly out into the front yard, looking for Ralph. If she could focus on her evening activities, she might keep herself occupied for the day. She found him in the stables, and pulled him aside.
“Ralph, do you think you could get your hands on one of those straw training dummies for tonight?”
His seamed face split into a smile. “That is a wonderful idea, My Lady,” he agreed. “I think the women are quite ready for that step, and it will help with their training.”
“So you can do it?” asked Constance, her face brightening.
“Consider it done,” he agreed readily.
He glanced up over her shoulder, frowning, and Constance turned at once. Gabriel was bearing down on them, his face set.
The moment he had reached them, he fixed Constance with his gaze, his voice low and firm.
“I need to talk with you. Alone.”
Constance shook her head at once. “You know that would be highly improper.” Visions of Barnard catching them together – of his explosive rage – spun through her head. She glanced sideways at Ralph. “Say what you have to say now, or hold your peace.”
Gabriel hesitated for a long moment, and Constance moved to turn away. Then, to her surprise, his voice burst from him, low but forceful.
“You would never believe what you told Barnard earlier. You were proud of Vera marrying her baker, the man she loved.”
Constance flushed, her loyalty to Vera overwhelming her. “I am proud, very proud of Vera for many reasons,” she retorted hotly. “She is an amazing woman. I wish I had one tenth of her strength.”
“What about the rest?” pressed Gabriel immediately, his voice hoarse. “The remainder of what you said? Your need for a title? Noble blood?”
Constance knew she had to maintain her story, to keep a shield between her and Gabriel. She opened her mouth … and could not do it. She could not force herself to say the words to him. Once had been difficult enough, all those years ago. She could not bring herself to do it a second time. Slowly, she closed her mouth again, letting out a deep breath. She lowered her eyes, looking away in shame.
Gabriel’s eyes widened in shock, and he took a step back. “Good God, Connie …” he gasped, awareness flooding his face. He looked at her for a long moment, then his eyes sharpened with anger.
“You had no right to lie to me!” he growled, a wealth of emotion resonating in those few words. “I was ever truthful with you, completely open and honest! I put your life before mine, I pledged my honor to you. I thought you would give me that same respect. You betrayed my honor, betrayed my trust!”
Constance whirled, her mouth open in shock. “I betrayed you?” she repeated in shocked confusion. “You threatened that you would love no other! That you would spend your life alone. I could not let that happen! I sacrificed myself for you!”
Gabriel shook his head, his eyes fierce. “You sacrificed yourself for your brother, for these villages around you. They, at least, you treated with respect. How did you treat me? You drove me to believe in lies, to believe all we had was a sham. How could you do that?”
Constance gestured at the keep. “You had healed as a result! You were courting Gaynor, were finding joy -”
Gabriel’s face twisted in anguish. “I tried, believe me I tried. No matter what I did, at night it was only your face which I saw, in my dreams it was only you at my side. I thought you had turned from me, that none of it had been real. If at least we had loved and lost, I would have had those memories to keep me warm. You stole even those from me.”
Constance turned away, haunted by the look in his eyes. She took in several deep breaths, fighting to control her racing heart. “This will not do either of us any good,” she finally whispered softly. She did not mean to say any more, but the words slipped out of their own accord. “The loss of your presence has already hurt me more than I can bear. Please, I cannot shoulder much more.” Her hand moved to press against her chest, against the absent medallion.
Gabriel saw her movement and his eyes narrowed. “You abandoned the amulet rather quickly, I noticed,” he bit out in anger. “Perhaps women do not feel the loss of a soulmate as strongly as men do.”
Constance spun at this, stung by the injustice. “I never let that pendant leave my body – not for one day – since you placed it around my neck,” she swore with fierce heat. “That pendant was my life’s blood!”
Gabriel ran his eyes down to her chest, then back up again, his eyes burning. “Another lie. I saw you by the river, when your chemise outlined your form. There was no pendant at your neck.”
Constance took a step to stand right in front of him. She ran her hand around behind her neck, sweeping her hair up and on top of her head in a swirl, revealing her marked neck. “That is because the kidnappers ripped it from my body,” she hissed out in a furious snarl. “They stole it from me, and threw me into a windowless cell, and I was lost … I was lost …”
Sobs racked her body, the overwhelming sense of loss hitting her as a physical blow. Staggering, she closed her eyes, shutting out the world, swept up by her torment. A gentle hand touched her neck, tracing the outline of the scars, and then she was being folded in against his chest, wrapped in his arms, rocked against his body with a soothing murmur.
Constance could not he
lp it; she collapsed against him, crying, letting him take on her weight, letting him support her as he always had. She brought her arms up around Gabriel’s back, holding him close. She neither knew nor cared where Barnard was. Let him find them.
Time stopped …
After a long while, Constance’s sobs diminished, then ceased. Complete exhaustion overtook her. She knew she needed to get back to her room before she said or did something she would regret later.
She pulled herself back, eased her hair forward over her shoulders again to hide the scars. She turned away from Gabriel, unwilling to meet his eyes, and walked back toward the keep.
Gabriel did not say a word, nor did he follow her in.
Constance returned to her room, again leaving word with Audrey to turn away any visitors. She lay on her bed, willing herself to fall asleep. No matter how hard she tried, all she could see was Gabriel’s eyes, all she could feel was Gabriel’s arms wrapped around her. She knew she had been weak – she should have denied her feelings, should have kept up the charade.
She could not. Gabriel’s charge about her honor had driven deep into her heart. They had sworn to always be truthful to each other, and she had betrayed that trust. She had thought it justified, but she realized now that she had no right to make that decision for him. It was not her place to tell him how to feel. It was wrong for her to try.
Where did this leave her now? She could not abandon the Beadnell lands. Without Barnard acting as her husband, those villages would become lost to the bandits. The women would be raped, the children slain. She could not live with that on her conscience.
If she must stay with Barnard, was knowing that Gabriel was out there, loving her, caring for her, a good thing?
A sense of peace washed over her.
Yes. It would be enough.
Chapter 14
Constance was alert and ready to go long before dusk, but she bided her time, allowing the others to believe she had gone to bed. She waited until the appointed hour before dressing and slipping out the door to join Ralph. True to his word, he had a straw dummy tied to the back of his horse. They made the trip to the church in record time, the brightness of a full moon lighting their way.
Vera’s face lit up with delight when she saw the new toy Constance had brought for her to play with. There were twenty women in the group tonight, so Ralph and Constance each took five women, while Vera and Colette felt comfortable enough with the basic moves to take four women each under their wing. They worked through the thrusts and parries, then began practicing with the dummy. Constance was delighted with how quickly the women became used to the moves, how much they improved each session.
She sat back once the lesson was in full swing, taking a moment to watch Vera and Colette lead their groups through the exercises. The two women were good, and the students followed their example with focused attention. Vera’s bruise was all but gone now, and her face was bright with energy.
Constance realized with surprise that the women would be able to continue their practices even after she had to return home; they would be far better able to defend themselves as a result of the one seed she had planted. The thought made her proud, and humble at the same time. If only someone else had made this effort, years ago, who knows how many lives might have been saved …
It was much later than usual when Constance and Ralph finally bid farewell to the last students and began packing up their gear. The women were long gone by the time they put on their heavy cloaks. Ralph slung the straw dummy over his shoulder and they headed out toward their horses.
Ralph had just tossed the target over the back of his steed when a trio of shapes separated themselves from the nearby woods. Ralph and Constance drew their swords as one, moving in close to one another. They watched the figures with a careful eye, not saying a word.
Constance pulled her scarf more closely around her face and ears with her left hand, hiding her identity more carefully. If they realized who she was …
The three intruders came to a halt about ten paces away, still hidden in the shadows. The taller one in the center – apparently the leader - took another step forward. He glanced over his shoulder at the stocky man to his right. The subordinate nodded, then called out in a low, decisive voice. His voice seemed muffled and odd through her swaddling, but she could not risk pulling it loose.
“Turn her over to us, and we can resolve this peacefully,” the junior man ordered.
A sense of dream-like unreality settled over Constance. The bandits were nothing like the men who abducted her from the tavern; something buzzed in her head about the way they moved. They had not charged in and attacked; they were being almost cautious. What was going on?
Ralph protectively took a step in front of Constance, holding his sword out at an angle to further shield her.
“No,” he called out in challenge, his voice firm and unyielding.
The trio facing them drew swords in unison, and began walking forward. “Well then, we will do this the hard way,” offered the heavy man.
The leader put his sword through a rotation, shrugging his shoulders loose, and Constance’s world tilted even further. It was as if her dreams were melding with her realities … but she had no time to think. Without another word the three charged, and the fight was on.
Ralph strove to keep Constance behind him, but Constance refused to allow him to attempt a three-way battle. She rushed in at his side, keeping his flank clear of trouble as he blocked with both sword and dagger. Constance used her smaller size against her opponent, tucking and weaving with expert skill against the blade which came down at her.
It only took a few blows for her to realize that the man she faced was attempting to disarm her, not to harm her. The knowledge made her bolder, but at the same time more cautious about attempting lethal blows on her enemy. She tried one disarming move, then a second. Her opponent seemed surprised at her attempts to disarm rather than wound, but slipped the actions deftly. He was good … very good.
Constance spared a glance to her side, and saw that Ralph did not have the luxury she did. He was being pushed back by the two men, their combined attack proving more than he could hold off at once. As she watched, his dagger flew from his hand, and without its protective action, his sword was out of his grasp only moments later. Constance dove before him, but she knew it was hopeless. A sharp rap on the side of her arm forced her to drop the sword, her forearm ringing with pain.
The men brought their swords up to point at her neck, and at Ralph’s. There was a long pause.
The taller man nodded with his head. “Get her,” he ordered his partners in a low, gutteral voice.
Ralph’s voice rang with desperation. “No!” He swept the attackers with his eyes, and then without further hesitation dove toward the blades, seeking to muscle his way through by force, to take them down in hand to hand combat.
The leader pulled his sword to the side to keep Ralph free of the blade, then brought the hilt sharply across to smash into Ralph’s head.
Ralph went down like a stone. His body sprawled against the dirt, and lay there, still.
Constance’s heart stopped. “Ralph!” She flung herself to the ground at his side, running her fingers to his neck to seek out a pulse. “Ralph, please speak to me!”
Ralph fluttered his eyes open at her voice, looking up groggily. “My Lady,” he rasped out hoarsely. “I have failed you.”
Constance exhaled in relief, sitting back on her heels. “You did not fail me,” she promised softly, her eyes shining in gratitude. “That was the most valiant -”
“God’s Blood!” swore the tall man above her, looking in startled surprise between the two. She winced at the strength of his shout, instantly throwing herself across Ralph, shielding him with her body.
To her surprise, he did not make a move toward them. Instead he crossed the distance to the horses in three long strides. He examined the bundle on the back of Ralph’s horse, then turned in shock, holding it high so his
comrades could see the shape.
The stocky man standing above Constance looked down at her in bafflement. “Straw? It was a straw woman?”
Constance shook her head in confusion. “Not a woman, a dummy,” she retorted, standing up protectively over Ralph. “For our training.”
The man standing by the horse took a step forward into the moonlight, and Constance finally got a better look at him. He wore dark leggings and a matching tunic. His head was hidden, as were all the bandits’, by a full helmet, although with his the faceplate seemed to shimmer more than the others. On his chest …
She gasped in surprise, recognizing the emblem in an instant. “You are with the Angelus?” she called out in confusion. “We thought you were bandits!”
The man shook his head, and all three slowly lowered their swords. His voice was pitched low when he spoke. “We took you for kidnappers, stealing off with one of the women from the prayer circle.”
“Prayer circle?” echoed Constance, her voice faint.
The man waved a hand in the direction of the church. “Why else would women be congregating at a church at night?”
“Perhaps learning to defend themselves from the likes of you!” shot back Constance in heated retort, leaning down to help Ralph struggle to his feet. “Do you never ask questions first, and attack later?”
She thought she heard a hint of amusement in the man’s quiet response. “We thought a woman’s life was in danger,” he pointed out calmly.
“Well there was. Mine,” bit out Constance shortly.
That seemed to silence the mercenary for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was somber. “We never would have hurt you. We were hoping to take you in unharmed, to learn more about who you were working for.”
“Well go then and seek some real bandits,” retorted Constance, helping her injured friend over to his horse. “I have a wounded man to tend to, and we have to get home.”
