The maidservant he’d sent away earlier re-entered the hall: a most welcome distraction. “At last, our wine has arrived. Will you two ladies join me in a toast?”
***
Seated by the fire, Ryder half-listened to Nanette’s tale about a shopping expedition gone awry. Honor, his head on his front paws, was sleeping beside Amelia’s chair. The fire snapped and hissed as it burned, the sounds soothing, but Ryder’s restless mind taunted him with questions about the outlaw attack.
If Amelia knew of the Templar treasure, who else did? Had the men who’d attacked the carriage known that she wore a ring that was part of the hoard? If so, was she likely to be attacked again? What troubling thoughts.
Mayhap he should write again to the Templars in London. Since Gladwin and Stephen were still members of the Order, they should also be informed—
“Ryder,” Amelia said.
He blinked. “Mmm?”
“Would that be all right with you?”
He had no earthly idea what had been proposed. “My apologies. What did you say?”
Her fingers tightened on her wine goblet. “I would like to send a letter home to tell them what has happened.”
“Of course.” Word of the outlaw attack would be spreading quickly; the families of the injured men would be worried. “My steward can pen the missive, if you like.” The letter should say what Ryder wanted it to, after all.
When Amelia looked about to protest, Ryder coaxed: “He enjoys such responsibilities. I am sure he would be delighted to be able to help you.”
Amelia smiled. “All right.”
“Good.” Ryder rose, his chair scraping on the plank floor. “Please, enjoy the fire and the wine. If there is aught else you need or desire, just ask a servant.”
***
“I think Ryder would be a wonderful husband,” Nanette said after he’d disappeared from the hall. “Not only is he a hero, but he is attentive. Intelligent. Kind.”
Amelia stifled a groan. She didn’t want to discuss Ryder’s remarkable qualities yet again.
Mischief in her eyes, Nanette said, “I want you to know…I have reached a decision.”
Rather ominous words. Amelia sensed, though, where the conversation was leading. As sparks soared up from the blackening logs in the fire, she said, “You are too young for him, Nanette.”
“I am not. We both know ladies who were wed at twelve or thirteen, and a few who were married at an even younger age.”
Amelia sighed. “I cannot claim to know Ryder’s desires, but from all I learned about him years ago…I just do not think you would be happy together.”
“Why not?” The young woman sounded hurt.
“Well, for a start, a successful marriage is founded on love.”
Nanette snorted and drank more wine. “My parents did not wed for love. They had no choice in their union, for ’twas arranged by King Henry the Second in order to consolidate lands. Their feelings for one another grew from their marriage, not the other way around.”
A hint of desperation tinged Nanette’s voice. Remorse poked at Amelia, for she knew the strain that Nanette’s parents had placed upon her with their expectations of a good union. One of the reasons Amelia had taken her on as her lady-in-waiting was to give her a measure of independence, so mayhap she’d find love with a man of her own choosing.
“I cannot fathom marrying for any reason other than true love.” Amelia rubbed her thumb over the raised decoration on the stem of her goblet. “Tilden supported me in my wish to marry only when I had found a man I wanted to wed. Unfortunately, with him gone, I may well find myself betrothed to a lord I barely know.”
“If I can avoid an arranged union, I will,” the young woman said firmly. “’Tis why I am going to pursue Ryder.”
Unwelcome jealousy stirred within Amelia. “Nanette—”
“’Tis not as though you want him.”
She didn’t. Of course she didn’t. And yet, as Honor stirred, and Amelia leaned down to scratch the hound’s ear, her heart ached at the thought of Ryder drawing the younger woman into his arms, of him tilting up her chin so he could claim her mouth with his.
Amelia gnawed her bottom lip. What would it be like to yield to temptation and kiss Ryder the way she’d done in her daydreams? To touch his face and feel his skin against her fingertips? And to—
“Miladies.”
Glancing up, Amelia found a maidservant hovering nearby.
“’Is lordship asked me ta show ye to yer chambers.”
“Chambers?” Amelia glanced at Nanette. “We are not staying the night.”
“’E thought ye might like somewhere ta rest, after yer scare earlier.”
“How considerate.” Nanette’s eyes gleamed.
“’E also ’ad me arrange ’ot baths for ye both.”
“Baths?” The younger woman gasped and swatted Amelia’s arm. “I am in love already.”
Misgiving flickered inside Amelia. Why was Ryder being so kind? “The bath sounds lovely,” she began, “but—”
“Please tell your lordship that we are grateful for his concern,” Nanette cut in as she stood. “I will thank him myself at the earliest opportunity.”
Chapter Five
“I wrote it as you asked, milord.”
Standing in the belowground chamber the steward had claimed as his private quarters, Ryder reviewed the missive, written in black ink in precise, swooping penmanship. As he’d instructed, the letter confirmed Amelia and the others were safe, but avoided saying when they’d be returning home.
Ryder handed the parchment back. “Excellent work. Have it sent right away.”
The infirmary was close by, and Ryder headed there next. The healer, assisted by several young women, was still tending to the injured. Seated on a wooden stool, the captain-of-the-guard looked wan as the healer applied a pungent-smelling poultice to his wound.
“The bastards who attacked us,” the captain-of-the-guard said.
“They will be captured,” Ryder vowed.
“Indeed, they will.” The man glowered. “Once the healer is finished with me, I will gather reports from my men. If there is more I can do to help, do not hesitate to call upon me, milord.”
Ryder nodded. “Very well.”
Regret shadowed the captain-of-the-guard’s features. “I promised Lord Bainbridge that I would keep her ladyship safe. I failed in that vow today, but I will not do so again.”
Ryder’s sympathy for the man increased tenfold, for he also knew the torment of not living up to one’s promises. Soon, though, Ryder would resolve his failure to protect the ring.
Setting a hand on the warrior’s shoulder, Ryder said: “I will keep you informed. In the meantime, rest and recover.”
As the healer prepared to bind the poultice in place, Ryder quit the infirmary. Outside in the bailey, servants were returning from the keep with empty water buckets. Ryder smiled, for he hoped the ladies enjoyed their baths. If pampering Amelia helped him get what he wanted from her, ’twas well worth the effort.
As he started for the forebuilding, shouts carried from the gatehouse. “Riders,” the guards called. Ryder loped up the outside stairwell to reach the battlement. Three riders approached at a thundering gallop, one of them wearing Templar garments.
Ryder recognized the blond knight in the lead: Gladwin.
“Let them in,” Ryder shouted, taking the stairs back down to the bailey.
Moments later, the riders raced over the drawbridge. Gladwin’s lathered mount hadn’t even come to a halt in the bailey before he slid down to the ground. “Ryder.” Gladwin swiftly embraced him, before stepping back. “Your men told me of the attack.”
“I am glad they found you,” Ryder said.
“Amelia. Is she—?”
“She is fine. A little shaken, but otherwise unharmed.”
A ragged sigh broke from Gladwin. “Thank God. What did the outlaws want? Did they rob her or…?” His expression became pained, as though he couldn’t
bear to consider the violations she might have endured.
“Thankfully I was able to stop the attackers before they stole aught from her,” Ryder said. “Exactly what they intended, we do not know.”
Resting his hand on his sword’s hilt, Gladwin said, “I caught up with the sheriff while riding here. He said there are more and more attacks every day. Not just in this area, but all across England.”
Ryder shook his head. “A damned shame.”
“Aye, well, the sheriff intends to crush the low-born whoresons who—”
“Not just low-born,” Ryder said evenly.
Gladwin frowned. “What do you mean? The outlaws—”
“—include noblemen.”
“God’s bones! Are you certain?”
“Amelia was quite sure.”
Gladwin’s gaze sharpened. “What convinced her?”
Ryder’s protective instincts roused, no doubt because he knew Gladwin would want to wrest every bit of information from Amelia. There would be time for such questions once she’d had a chance to recover from the day’s fright. “She can tell you herself, when she is ready.”
“Of course.” Gladwin glanced at the carriage, parked near the stable; the horses had been removed from their harnesses and led to a field to graze. “I was going to offer to escort her home, but it seems other arrangements have been made.”
“Some of her men are wounded. ’Tis safest, for now, for her to remain here.”
“You are probably right.” Gladwin’s mouth ticked up at one corner. “I should have known you would handle the situation in a most capable manner.”
“You would have done the same. We did, after all, commit our lives to upholding chivalry and cherishing the fairer sex.”
“We did indeed.” Gladwin hesitated, as though weighing his next words. “Since Tilden’s passing, I have done my utmost to be a loyal friend to Amelia. I know she and Tilden were extremely close, and that his death came as a shock to her.”
“I am sure your friendship has been a tremendous help to her.”
“I just hope she knows she can trust me with aught that is of concern to her, regardless of what that concern might be.”
Curious words. Did Gladwin know of a particular concern Amelia might share? While Ryder was resigning from the Order, and thus wasn’t entitled to Templar business, the concern still might be important for him to know. Before Ryder could inquire, though, his fellow knight asked, “May I see her before I leave?”
“I am afraid not. She is having a bath.”
“Ah.”
“I will tell her you stopped by, though.”
Gladwin smiled. “All right. Wish her well for me, and I hope to see her soon.”
Ryder waited until Gladwin and his men had ridden off before entering the forebuilding. In the dank stairwell, mayhap because he’d just spoken with his Templar friend, Ryder’s thoughts slipped back to the building on the outskirts of Acre, to the night he’d acquired the ring.
Sadness gripped him, for he remembered days later finding the bearded knight and other Templars who’d attended the meeting dead on the battlefield.
The list Tilden had made, though.
Whatever had happened to the list?
***
Lying back in the water dotted with dried rose petals, her braided hair pinned up and her head supported by a rolled towel, Amelia sighed. What bliss. She’d been reluctant to indulge in the bath, but as Nanette had pointed out before disappearing into her chamber a couple of doors down, the water had already been heated and poured. ’Twouldn’t do at all to let the baths go to waste.
“Ye’ll feel much better after a good soak, milady,” coaxed the plump maidservant who’d been assigned to help Amelia. “I do not mean ta be bold, but I dare say, if ye refuse yer bath, ye might risk offending ’is lordship.”
Amelia hadn’t wanted to offend Ryder. Moreover, once she’d seen the tub—twice the size of the one she normally used—she’d been eager to undress and get in. After scrubbing her from head to toe with soap that smelled of rosemary and thyme, the maidservant had left, encouraging Amelia to stay in the water as long as she liked.
Sighing again, Amelia shut her eyes, the quietude of the chamber underscored by the hiss of the burning fire and the rhythm of her own breathing. Oh, but she did feel better. Almost cozy enough to fall asleep.
As she gently trailed her right hand underwater, her thoughts drifted to Ryder. A large man, he’d need a large tub in which to bathe…and yet, the one in which she soaked seemed big enough for two people. A most wicked image came to mind, of her and Ryder reclining together in the tub; his back pressed against the wooden side, and his bent legs rested on either side of her body, while she lay back against his broad torso and water enveloped their touching lower bodies.
The startling daydream sent a shiver racing through her, and her eyes flew open. Why did she indulge in such idiocy? She and Ryder could never be romantically involved, for he, like all Templars, would have taken vows of celibacy.
Deciding she’d soaked long enough, she got out of the tub. Instead of summoning a servant to help, Amelia dried off and dressed on her own. As she pulled on her shoes, a knock sounded on the door. Not a gentle or timid one, but a rap of authority and purpose.
Ryder.
Again, the vision of him lying bold, wet, and glistening in the tub flitted into her mind; she mentally shoved the image aside and opened the door.
He stood alone outside. With his hair tousled, and torchlight playing over his features, he reminded her of the rogue he’d been at Merringstow.
Their gazes locked, and heat raced through her. Her face tingled.
Don’t blush. Find a distraction, and focus on it.
“Ryder.” She reached up to pull out the silver hairpins.
His gaze rose to her moving fingers. “Did I rush you out of the tub?”
“Nay, I had finished.” She turned away to put the hairpins on the table. “Thank you, by the way, for the bath.”
He stepped over the threshold, his leather boots creaking. He glanced over at the tub and then the towel she’d draped on the chair near the fire to dry, before his attention returned to her. The air suddenly felt thick, heavy. Somehow, every part of her seemed aware of his nearness, of the lingering herbal scent of the soap with which she’d washed, of the coolness of the hairpins in her palm. Of him.
She dropped the last of the pins onto the table. They landed with a clink, clink, clink. Her braid slipped down to rest between her shoulder blades.
Such simple, familiar things, and yet, with him watching, they seemed intimate.
Do not be foolish.
“’Twas enjoyable?” he murmured.
“Enjoyable?”
“The bath.”
Of course, the bath. “’Twas lovely. Just what I needed.”
Smiling, he dipped his head. “Would you care to join me now for a walk in the garden?”
“As pleasant as that sounds, I should see my men who are wounded.”
“No need. I visited the infirmary a while ago. All of the injured are doing well under the healer’s care. The captain-of-the-guard was going to begin questioning your men to compile a report for the sheriff and is likely busy with that now.”
“I see. Mayhap I should visit later.”
“’Twould be best. At that time, you can provide your account of the attack.”
That sounded reasonable. “All right,” Amelia said with a smile. “I will join you on that walk.”
“Good.” As she went with him out into the passageway, he added, “Gladwin visited a short while ago. He was concerned about you, but I assured him you were fine.”
“Gladwin is here? I did not realize—”
“I sent him on his way.”
With a cry of surprise, Amelia halted. “Why did you not invite him to stay?”
“Would that really have been best for you? We both know he would have questioned you relentlessly about the attack.” Before she co
uld say a word, Ryder winked. “Besides, after not seeing you for years, I wanted you all to myself.”
He grinned with such boyish mischief, she couldn’t help but giggle.
At a leisurely pace, Ryder escorted her across the bailey, while pointing out the renovations he’d recently made to the keep. In the garden, servants were dismantling rotten wooden borders around the vegetable beds and replacing them with ones of mortared stone. The rock borders around the extensive herb garden looked to have been recently done. As Ryder led her down the dirt path running through the tidy herb beds, she plucked a sprig of rosemary and brought it to her nose, the scent again reminding her of her sinful imaginings.
Ryder pointed to a bench, set near a stone building. “Shall we sit?”
“All right. Does the healer use that building?”
“Aye, to dry herbs and make her ointments and infusions. And, of course, soap.”
“You seem to be managing this estate well,” she said, sitting on the sun-warmed bench. Tilden had also taken great pride in caring for the fortress that had become his and the folk who had owed fealty to him. Knowing that many of his servants had relatives living in the nearby town, he’d donated money to restore the old church in Lynborn that had been damaged during a storm.
“I suppose I am managing well.” Ryder sat beside her then leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees and link his hands together. “There are matters, though, that I still must resolve.”
Amelia caught self-reproach in his tone. “Matters?”
Nodding, he glanced at her. “For years, I have owed you an apology.”
She inhaled a sharp breath. She hadn’t expected him to ever apologize to her.
Ryder looked down at his entwined fingers. “Tilden was right. I was an ass that day at Merringstow when I wanted you to kiss me.”
Her heart constricted.
“I was even more of an ass when I embarrassed you that evening. I.….” He shook his head, regret etched into his features. “To this day, I do not know why I spoke out as I did. I am truly sorry that I hurt you.”
She swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the surprise and gratitude welling up inside her.
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