by Alexa Aston
She forced herself to breathe as his hand lingered. “Whatever you think is best, my lord.”
His hand slid to her neck as his thumb brushed slowly against her bottom lip. “Ancel. Remember? At least when we are alone.”
“Ancel.” The word came out a whisper. She longed for his lips to touch hers once again but, without warning, his hand fell to his side.
He closed the chest and pushed it back into its hiding place. “When we return, mayhap even after the evening meal tonight, I want you to show me the whole of this secret passage. Where it goes. Where it ends.”
“All right,” she agreed reluctantly, not favoring being in the small space again.
Ancel led her to the stables and the stall where Storm resided. She watched as he saddled the horse and walked alongside the beast as he led Storm outside.
“I will teach you to ride soon, Margery. But for now, you can ride with me.” He placed her on Storm’s back and climbed behind her. His arms encircled her and she leaned back, a feeling of contentment filling her.
June was near its end and the weather was glorious, sunny with a slight breeze. The ride to Kirkby didn’t take long, thanks to the giant strides of the warhorse they rode. Ancel lifted her from Storm and asked her about everything she needed. Margery ran through her list, naming all the goods and livestock she thought would be required to get Highfield up and running so they could feed the soldiers.
“What about parchment and ink?” Ancel asked. “I must keep the king informed of the progress at Highfield and I would also like to write to my parents at Kinwick and let them know I am safe despite the recent uprisings.”
Margery thought it considerate of him to write to his parents. The notion of Thurstan or Gervase writing to Lord Umfrey was laughable. It only showed her how different Ancel de Montfort was from most men.
“Our steward had some but I haven’t checked to see if any remains. I doubt any of the serfs took it.” The steward’s body had been one of many she had passed yesterday. He’d been a quiet, efficient man. It was hard to think he’d lost his life merely because he worked tirelessly for the nobility.
Ancel must have caught the expression on her face and figured out no one at Highfield held that position because he said, “A steward will also be someone we must hire to help run the estate.” He took her hand and placed it atop his arm. “Come, my lady.”
Margery was interested in everything they saw at Kirkby. She couldn’t recollect ever having been in a village or town in the past. Very few memories remained from her early childhood before she and her mother had come to live at Highfield.
They passed a blacksmith’s shop and she paused.
“We will need a blacksmith,” she told Ancel.
“Did yours join the rebellion? Or mayhap was he one of the bodies buried yesterday?”
Margery shivered. “He was one of the men who came to Mother’s bedchamber. I recognized his voice. If he dares show himself at Highfield, I will hang him myself.” Anger coursed through her at the memory.
Ancel squeezed her hand. “Then let’s speak to this smithy and see if he might be available.”
He led her inside the open shed. Margery felt the intense heat from the blazing fire and saw a stout man with a heavy, black beard remove something from the flames before he pounded away at it.
“Good day,” Ancel called out loudly as he looked around. Margery could tell Ancel assessed the work on display.
The smithy turned. “The same to you, my lord. I am Matthew Cheyne. And who might you be?”
“I am Sir Ancel de Montfort, sent by the king to secure Highfield from the rebels. We are in need of a blacksmith. I don’t know how occupied the villagers keep you but you would be busy and well paid if you decide to come live and work at Highfield, Matthew.”
The man stroked his beard thoughtfully. “My two daughters are married and gone but I have a wife and my son, who is six and ten. John works with me and his skill already surpasses mine. Could I bring them with me?”
“Agreed.” Ancel offered the smithy his hand. “Might your wife be interested in working inside the keep? We could use some extra hands.”
An eager smile sprang up on Matthew’s face. “That would be most welcomed, my lord, though Eua is gone for a few weeks visiting our daughter in Billericay. My wife will assist with the birth of our first grandchild and stay on for a bit but John and I could start as soon as you’d like.”
Ancel turned to Margery. “Is there a cottage that comes with the position?”
“Nay, but there is living space behind where Matthew and John will work.”
“Then John and I will finish up our obligations here and come to the castle tomorrow morning,” Matthew promised. “Thank you again, my lord, my lady. I look forward to being at Highfield.”
They went to the few places of business and purchased what they could but Margery realized it would take a trip to Billericay to fulfill all their needs, especially finding enough livestock. At least they’d been able to buy plenty of tallow, so she could start making candles and soap immediately. Ancel arranged for one of the villagers to load the goods on a cart and bring everything to Highfield, along with several chickens and a few sheep.
As they returned to Storm in order to leave Kirkby, Margery heard her name. Joy filled her heart as she spied Sarah running toward them. She met her friend and hugged her tightly.
“I’m so glad to see you, Sarah. I was worried about what happened to you after I left.”
Sarah beamed at her. “Oh, my lady, I felt the same way. ‘Tis so good to know you are alive. But what are you doing in Kirkby?”
Ancel had come to stand next to them. Margery introduced the knight and explained how they’d come for goods to replenish the keep.
“We also need servants,” Ancel said. “Would you be willing to return to work at Highfield, Sarah?”
“Of course, my lord,” Sarah said with enthusiasm. “Lady Margery and I work well together.”
“Lady Margery won’t be doing as much of the heavy work as before,” Ancel cautioned. “In fact, we are in need of several more servants to help with the cleaning and a cook, as well. Might you know anyone we could hire?”
Sarah looked at Margery. “More servants? Truly?”
“Aye. Sir Ancel believes Highfield needs more than we’ve had in the past.”
Sarah nodded in understanding. “Then I would ask my mother and sister to come along. Mother would be perfect as the manor’s cook, while Agatha could work with me. She just lost her husband and didn’t know what she would do, especially with all the recent troubles. This is a godsend. When would you need us, my lady?”
“Come today if you can.” Margery laughed. “There is plenty to be done.”
“Then you will see us by sundown,” Sarah said. She looked to Ancel. “And thank you, my lord. I promise we three will work hard.”
“I don’t doubt that, Sarah. And pass along the word that Highfield also needs farmers for the harvest, ones who can remain as tenants. Good day to you.”
Ancel helped Margery onto Storm and they returned to the estate.
“I’m sorry we weren’t as successful as I’d hoped,” he told her. “Kirkby didn’t have much to offer.”
“Still, we have a new blacksmith and cook. I would not have expected hiring both so soon.”
“And servants to help you,” he reminded her. “I will go to Billericay soon and see about the rest, including finding a new steward to help manage the estate. We also need to go out and see what tenants remain and seek others to replenish the labor force. The harvest won’t wait much longer.”
They parted ways. Margery went to check the blacksmith’s quarters and did her best to ready it for the Cheynes’ arrival tomorrow. The cart arrived with the supplies they’d bought and two of the soldiers unloaded it for her as she directed them where to place everything. Sarah and her relatives came after that and Margery showed Maud the kitchen, promising to spend more time with the older woma
n tomorrow as they baked bread together with the new flour. By then, the soldiers appeared for their evening meal. Bartram and his crew provided amply and there were even leftovers for the next day’s meals.
After the meal ended, Ancel drew her aside.
“Will you return with me to the solar?” he asked. “I would like to explore the passageway now since I have much to do tomorrow.”
The thought of entering and walking deeply into the narrow space again caused panic to flare inside Margery. Still, Ancel would be with her. No one would be chasing her, ready to kill her if she were discovered.
“If you like,” she replied neutrally, trying not to show her fear.
“Bartram found an oil lamp. I’ll retrieve it to light our way,” he told her. He did so and accompanied her to the solar.
“Let me try to figure out how to open it this time,” Ancel said.
Margery stepped back and allowed the knight to poke and prod until the stone sprang open. He urged it forward and picked up the lantern.
Though her mouth was suddenly dry, Margery gave him a small smile as he ducked inside the narrow passage. Steeling herself, she followed him.
Chapter 10
Ancel crouched low, thinking his back would be stiff tomorrow from bending over so much. The path hidden in the walls of the keep proved narrow and confining. His broad shoulders came close to rubbing against the walls in the tight space. Even holding the lantern out to see what lay ahead, the way was murky—and eerie.
“You traveled through this in the dark when you made your escape?” he asked Margery.
“Aye.”
Her voice seemed small and quiet. He couldn’t imagine the terror she’d experienced. Fleeing an angry mob wanting to murder you was nerve-racking enough. But to do it in the dark in an unknown place? And as a woman? Once again, he admired Margery’s bravery and quick thinking as she sequestered herself inside this hidden pathway.
They reached a point where the corridor widened and Ancel saw it forked in two directions. He asked, “Which path should we take?”
“I went to the left the first time I reached this point,” she replied. “It will lead to the opposite side of the keep and come out at . . . my former bedchamber.”
Ancel realized that was when she had been forced to listen to her mother’s death. He shouldn’t ask her to relive such a painful time.
“Mayhap this wasn’t a good idea to have you accompany me,” he said. “I know it brings back unpleasant memories.”
“We can go on,” she said, a catch in her voice.
“Give me your hand,” he instructed.
She held it out and his engulfed her tiny one. He’d hoped to bring her strength and reassurance yet, for him, a feeling of peace descended. Holding Margery Ormond’s hand had come to be his favorite thing in life.
Except for that brief kiss.
He pushed that thought aside and focused on the business at hand. Leading her to the left, it took some minutes before they came to a dead end.
“Are we there?”
“Aye.” Margery moved forward and slid a bolt that secured the opening before pushing the half-door. She exited the hidden tunnel and he followed, still keeping her hand in his.
“A tapestry used to hang here,” she indicated. “That’s one reason I never suspected the entrance being here, though you’ve seen how difficult it is to open even if you know it exists.”
“How did you know about the one in the solar?”
She explained how her stepbrothers had allowed her into the solar to show her the hidden way but refused to let her play with them or use it since she wasn’t a true Vivers. Ancel knew that was only part of the story. Boys could be cruel to girls and he knew no friendliness existed between Margery and her stepbrothers. He could only imagine their brutal taunts.
“I truly had forgotten about it until the pressing danger somehow forced me to remember.”
“You know it saved your life.”
“Aye,” she said softly. “If only I could have gotten Mother inside.”
His thumb rubbed across her knuckles. “She is with God now and no longer suffering.”
Margery’s eyes dropped to the floor and she nodded. Ancel gave her a moment and then said, “Come. Show me the rest,” and they reentered the passageway.
He led the way again, holding fast to her hand, somehow needing to do so as much as he hoped she needed him, as well. They arrived back at the fork and followed the new path until it ended. Ancel pushed open the secreted door and they stepped out into the cool night air, looking around to see exactly where he was. Though he doubted he would ever need to make use of the hidden passageway, he’d wanted to learn everything about it. Being prepared had served him well in the past.
“If you like, we can return to the keep from the outside,” he suggested, knowing she might dread taking the darkened pathway again. “I hold you in high regard, Margery. I can’t imagine navigating something unknown such as this narrow passage as you did, much less in total darkness. Though you feared for your life, you pressed on and even tried to rescue your mother. Even the bravest of knights would have seen this as a formidable challenge.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip and desire shot through him. His hand tightened on hers.
“I didn’t feel very brave. Most of the time I was paralyzed with fear,” she admitted.
“But you continued on,” he pointed out. “That’s courage, Margery. Being afraid and not letting it stop you from what you have to do.” He paused. “When I ride into battle? I feel terrified. But I press on because I must.”
“You know fear?” she asked, disbelief on her face.
“I think most men who ride into battle are terrified. Very few men enjoy war. But as a knight of the realm, I fight for king and country and will do it every time I’m asked to defend England.”
“I hope I am never that scared again, Ancel,” she confessed. “I don’t ever want to be so afraid. I want a quiet, simple life.”
He studied her a moment. “Have you thought on the king’s words, Margery?” he asked softly. “On staying here, at Highfield, as my wife?”
Her mouth trembled. “I’ve wanted to. But I haven’t. Part of me wishes for it desperately. A husband. Children. Making Highfield into a home that’s full of happiness—and love.” A single tear cascaded down her cheek. “But a part of me is terrified that Thurstan will ride back through the gates and I will, once again, be a prisoner with no choice.”
Ancel set the lantern down and cupped her face. “Even if your stepbrother returns, you don’t have to stay here.”
Her sad eyes gazed at him. “But where would I go?”
“Wherever I go,” he said simply.
With that, he pressed his lips against hers, feeling their softness. Her hands clutched his gypon, bunching it as she kneaded him.
He broke the kiss and saw disappointment in her eyes.
“Come.” Ancel retrieved the lantern and quickly brought her back inside the hidden tunnel. He slid the bolt against the door and sat, tugging her down and placing her in his lap, one arm going about her waist. Soldiers patrolled not only the wall walk but the grounds of the castle. He didn’t want anyone coming across them. What he needed was privacy.
Margery felt warm against him. Her hands rested on his shoulders. His hand cupped the nape of her neck.
“I have thought of nothing else but kissing you,” he revealed, then covered her mouth with his.
Ancel began slowly, not wanting to frighten her, knowing she was inexperienced. He kissed her lips. Her temples. Her brow. Her eyelids. Slowly, he ventured back to her mouth and let the tip of his tongue outline her lips before it ran along the seam. She opened to him and his tongue entered her mouth, leisurely exploring it, enjoying her taste, her scent, the feel of her in his arms.
Tentatively, her tongue touched his. He sighed his pleasure and Margery grew bolder. Soon, she matched him as their tongues warred with one another, mating. His ran along the roof o
f her mouth and she shuddered, a moan escaping from her.
Then darkness surrounded them, the oil in the lamp exhausted. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders.
“I’m here,” he told her. “I won’t leave you. I’ll never leave you.”
Ancel’s mouth found hers again and plundered its sweetness. His fingers caressed her throat, brushing against a slender chain. They moved lower, touching the swell of her breasts as he kissed her hungrily. Margery pushed closer to him, her fingers now locked behind his neck. He palmed a breast and squeezed it gently. It swelled, filling his hand. He found her nipple and dragged a fingernail across it slowly, over and over, feeling it pebble in need against the cloth of her cotehardie.
Margery wriggled against him, causing his manhood to rise. Ancel knew he had to put a stop to things. He brought his hand back to the nape of her neck and stroked it as he pulled his mouth from hers.
“Oh my.”
He heard the wonder in her voice.
Ancel kissed her softly and said, “We will spend a lifetime exploring one another, my love, but we must wait to be wed before we go further into love play.”
Her head fell against his chest. “You truly want to marry me?”
“I do.”
Her fingers playfully tickled his neck. “Is it me you want, or is it Highfield you desire?”
“Highfield would be a nice reward but you are the one that I wish to warm my bed and bear my children. An estate cannot do that.”
“But if Thurstan does come back?”
“Then I will offer for you. I will tell him the king thought of it first.”
“Thurstan is obstinate and might say no, drunk on the power of being the new baron. What if he refuses?”
“No one refuses Ancel de Montfort,” he teased and kissed her again.
This time, she broke their kiss. “Actually, Thurstan is not my closest relative. He would have no say over who I wed. Only my father would.”
Her words puzzled him. “But didn’t your mother wed Lord Umfrey after your father’s death?”
Margery snuggled against him. “Mother married Lord Umfrey after Lord Joseph Ormond’s death.”
