A sudden realization glimmered in her mind. “Do you intend to hunt for the riches?”
He chuckled, but the sound held no mirth. “To be honest, if there is a hoard nearby, I hope it remains hidden. ’Tis best for all of us if ’tis never found.”
A distinct sense of danger threaded through his words, a caution that hinted at far more than the greed and squabbling that might accompany a discovery of lost riches. “What do you mean, best for all?”
He picked up another rock and threw it; it landed in the water with a plonk. “Do you follow any of the London politics?”
“Not really. I am aware, though, that with King Richard fighting in the East, England is being governed by men who are loyal to him.”
Ash’s attention shifted to her. “Some of them are loyal. Others would much rather see his brother, John Lackland, take control of the English throne.”
She gasped. “You speak of treason.”
“Aye, although the traitors lack one important element: funding. However, if they were to come into possession of ancient riches, and use the gold to pay for weapons and mercenaries—”
“They could seize the throne.”
“Exactly.”
Oh, mercy! Her pulse hammered. “With King Richard so far away—”
“—he would not be able to stop the takeover. ’Tis why we are doing what we can to keep John Lackland from power.”
She sat very still. Her head reeled with the implications of what he’d told her. “You said ‘we are doing what we can.’ Obviously, that includes you. Does it also include the lords named on that parchment in your linen chest?”
“Regrettably, nay.” Ash brushed dirt from his fingers. “Those men are known to be supporters of Lackland.”
Chapter Eight
Ash held Rosetta’s stare, refusing to look away, while her eyes filled with dismay. He yearned to take her in his arms, to hold her, to whisper words of comfort while she wrestled with the knowledge that Edric had forsaken their King.
“Ash…” Her fingers curled on the edge of the stone bench, as if she tried to keep herself from toppling to the ground. “Are you certain?”
“If a lord’s name is on the list, he is a traitor.”
“But Edric—”
“Including Edric,” Ash said.
She shook her head, her skin suddenly ashen. “You both fought alongside King Richard on Crusade. If Edric had not supported the King, he would not have gone.”
“He was loyal when he left England. Men change, though, after going to war. He…” Ah, God, but the damning words clogged Ash’s throat, refused to be voiced. He’d already shocked her enough for one day, and he didn’t want her to grow to hate him.
She had gone rigid beside him, though, her demeanor clearly one of stubborn denial.
“What proof do you—or the person who wrote that list—have against Edric?” she asked, her words crisp.
“My informant who lives nearby—”
“Informant? You are a spy?”
“Aye. King Richard visited me while I was recovering from my wounds and told me what would be required of me. I agreed, and confirmed my appointment to his group of spies with a solemn oath.”
“That explains your garments, then. I had wondered why so many were plain and rather ordinary for a nobleman.”
Ash chuckled. “I had not realized you had examined my clothing so carefully. I am flattered you cared enough to notice.”
“Believe me, there are a great many things I have noticed about you,” she murmured.
He winked. “Good things, I hope.”
Rosetta glanced down the path winding through the rose beds, as if such a thought weren’t even worth considering. He tamped down a flare of remorse, refusing to let his emotions complicate their important conversation.
“I asked about proof,” she reminded him. “What do you have that incriminates Edric?”
“I would like to tell you, even show you, but I cannot.”
Her gaze sharpened. “I remember there were dates and places mentioned on the list, along with the names.”
“Mmm.” Ash brushed away a bit of straw clinging to his hose, a reminder of his earlier conversation with Justin.
The weight of her stare bored into him. “Ash, why will you not tell me? You have confided to me other information that you considered to be highly secret.”
He met her gaze. “I have, but only because you broke into my linen chest and left me no other choice. The knowledge you have now is dangerous enough. I will not increase the risk of peril to you by telling you more.”
She studied him, both hurt and astonishment glimmering in her eyes. “Without proof, ’tis difficult for me to believe that Edric—”
“I know. You must trust me, though.”
“Must I? All I have to go by is your word.”
“What I have told you is the truth.”
Her white-knuckled fingers tightened further on the bench. He longed to capture her closest hand, bring it to his lips, and kiss it, for he hated to see her so distressed. After a silence, she asked, “Is that why you kidnapped me? Because you did not want me to become the wife of a traitor?”
Ribbons of regret and rage wrapped around Ash’s heart. “’Tis one of the reasons.”
“And the others?”
The others. He exhaled a sharp breath, and his gut twisted. She already doubted what he’d told her about Edric. To tell her the most wretched of the revelations now—
The gritty sound of someone walking on the path carried on the breeze. Ash straightened, to see Herta hurrying toward them.
“Milord,” she called. “You have a visitor. He said the matter is urgent.”
***
Rosetta strolled down the paths between the vegetable and herb beds. After promising that she wouldn’t try to escape—fleeing wasn’t possible, Ash had warned her, with the number of guards he had stationed at the gatehouse and on the battlements—he’d allowed her to stay in the garden while he met with his visitor. Herta had gone to finish an errand, leaving Rosetta to wander on her own.
Truth be told, Rosetta was glad of the chance to be alone. Troubling thoughts crowded her mind; they jostled and shoved, demanding to be acknowledged. As she walked, rubbing her aching brow, starlings twittered from atop the tied posts to her left that had supported beans earlier in the season. In the vegetable bed to her right, rows of leeks and onions grew alongside lettuces that had gone to seed. A sense of order prevailed in the neat rows and tidy, stone-bordered beds—such a contrast to the chaos in her mind.
How could Edric be a traitor? She simply couldn’t believe that of him. While he had his faults—a quick temper among them—she couldn’t recall any instances when she’d ever had reason to doubt his loyalty to the crown. Aye, he was gone from Wallensford Keep for days at a time now and again, but that was true of most lords. She remembered her father being away often when she was young; he’d inspected different parts of his estate and visited other noblemen and even traveled to London for important meetings with crown officials.
She also recalled that as a young lad, Edric had trained for long days to become worthy of knighthood. He’d been proud to serve his King in faraway lands. Ash had said that men changed after being in battle—and Ash himself was proof that men did—but what could have happened to make Edric forsake his pledge to the crown and support a rebellion?
The breeze stirred the boughs of the nearby fruit trees, the sound akin to a hiss. She hugged herself and shivered. Her jumbled mind must be playing tricks on her, for she would swear someone was watching her. Yet, she hadn’t seen anyone else in the garden.
Rosetta walked on through shadows splintered by the sunshine slanting down through the trees. She picked a sprig of rosemary and rubbed the fragrant herb between her fingers to savor the smell—
A twig snapped to her left. She spun, her gaze searching beneath the trees. “Is someone there?” Ash had loved to creep up on her and startle her when they were yo
unger; was he up to such mischief now? “Ash?” she called. “Is that you?”
The tree leaves rustled in the breeze. No one answered.
Shaking her head, she continued her walk. Again, she felt someone watching her. Either she was losing her mind or whoever was spying on her was hiding. She smiled, for if ’twas Ash, she would best him at his own game.
Rosetta walked on a few more leisurely paces, and then swiftly turned. With a startled squawk, a young boy darted behind the trunk of a tree.
So she had been spied upon. Not by Ash, though.
She remained where she was until the lad peeked around the tree. Their gazes met, and he retreated again. He must be very shy…or mayhap he wasn’t supposed to be in the garden? Either way, she was intrigued.
“You, behind the tree,” she said. “I do hope you asked the garden sprites if ’tis all right for you to hide there.”
The boy, clearly curious, peered out from behind the trunk.
“If you did not ask…” She whistled. “They can be very grumpy, and if they get upset, they get hungry for children.”
Wide-eyed, the boy stepped out from his hiding place. He must be a son of one of the servants. His dark blond hair was overly long and unkempt, his face was dotted with freckles, and his pewter gray tunic was filthy. His hose were also too short and covered with bits of straw. “I have never heard of garden sprites before,” he said.
“They are secretive creatures. Few folk ever see them.”
“Do they really eat children?”
“They do. Those stories you might have heard about boys going outside to play and then vanishing, never to be seen again? They were gobbled up by garden sprites.”
Concern lit the lad’s gaze. “I had no idea.”
“They especially like boys with dark blond hair, for they taste especially delicious.”
Shock etched his features, and then he grinned. “You are teasing me.”
She laughed. “I am. At least I get to talk to you now.”
He moved closer, his eyes bright with interest. “Are you the lady?”
“The lady?” she asked.
“The special guest who is staying in the solar.”
She smothered the urge to say that she was not a guest, but had been brought to the castle against her will.
“My uncle said you are very beautiful. He was right.”
She blushed. Whoever his relative was—one of the guards outside the solar, mayhap?—she’d obviously made an impression upon him. “’Twas most kind of your uncle. I am indeed the lady from the solar. My name is Rosetta Montgomery. And you are?”
“Justin.” He bowed, almost losing his balance. Wrinkling his freckled nose, he said, “I hope my uncle does not find out that I have trouble bowing. He will make me practice until I get it right.”
“Does your uncle live at the keep?”
Justin nodded before glancing over his shoulder, as though worried he might find his dreaded relative drawing near. “I am supposed to be practicing my archery, but I do not feel like it. I would rather do what I want to do.”
A pang of sympathy trailed through her. While she understood the boy’s reluctance, it sounded as though his uncle was encouraging him to become a soldier, an honorable way of life for any young man. There was a demand for skilled fighters at every castle; he would earn a good living.
Mayhap, in her own small way, she could help his uncle. “Can I see your bow?” she asked.
Justin frowned. “Why, milady?”
“My father has one made from yew. ’Twas given to him by his sire, and ’tis one of his prized weapons.”
His shoulders hunched, Justin walked to a tree several paces away and returned with a bow and quiver of arrows. The small bow was of fine quality and appeared to have been made just for him. What a shame, that his uncle had spent hard-earned coin on a weapon the boy didn’t want to use.
She took one of the arrows from Justin’s quiver and tried to fit the feathered end to the string. She’d attempted to use a bow before—Ash and Edric had offered to teach her one autumn afternoon—but she hadn’t been any good at it. They’d collapsed on the ground laughing, and she had promptly given up. Fumbling, she said, “How does it—?”
“I will show you.” Justin took the bow and nocked the arrow.
“Oh, I see.” She tapped her chin with a finger. “That looks right, but how do you shoot it?”
“Like this.” The boy sighted down the arrow, drew it back along with the string, and fired. The arrow landed in the grass a fair distance away.
“Well done,” she said, clapping.
Justin shrugged, but seemed pleased by her praise. “I did not hit a target.”
“Nay, but I did not ask you do. Can you fire another arrow, so I can be sure to remember what you did?”
“I can.” Suspicion crept into his gaze. “Do noblewomen ever use bows? I thought knights protected ladies, as is their duty.”
“Usually chivalrous knights do protect ladies,” Rosetta agreed. “However, in the middle of a siege, knights are usually busy defending the castle or battling enemy warriors. That means ladies sometimes have to protect themselves. I certainly would rather know how to use a weapon than be trapped and helpless.”
The boy nodded. He suddenly seemed to grow a little taller, for he pushed back his shoulders and drew another arrow from his quiver. “Fear not, milady. I will do my best to teach you all I know.”
***
“Lord Sherborne’s men have gone through every building in Clipston from roof to cellar,” Niles said, his voice hushed as he leaned forward in his chair by the great hall’s hearth. “He is searching for his bride who disappeared on her way to the church, as well as a rider wearing a black helm and cloak. So far, neither has been found.”
Lounging in the other chair by the fire, Ash brushed his hand over his mouth to hide a smile. He’d thrown the helm and cloak into a river on the ride back to Damsley Keep with Rosetta. Even if Edric suspected that Ash had abducted her, the bastard would never find solid proof.
“Is Sherborne still searching?” Ash asked. How he’d love to be able to witness Edric’s rage and frustration.
“His lordship has returned to Wallensford Keep, but his men-at-arms continue to walk the town streets. A considerable reward has been posted for information on the horseman that will lead to his capture. There are rumors, you see, that he kidnapped Lady Montgomery to keep the wedding from taking place.”
“Who would dare to do such a thing?” Ash did his very best to appear shocked.
Niles shook his head. “The man must have ballocks of steel.”
Ballocks of steel? Ash fought a grin.
“He has offended both the lady’s sire and Lord Sherborne,” Niles continued. “Her de Wolfe kin are not people a man would want to cross either.”
A log shifted in the hearth, sending up a swirl of red sparks. “Do they have any leads on the abductor?” Ash asked, watching the blaze.
“A few, but the reward has created even more havoc. Townsfolk are pointing fingers at neighbors and friends alike.” His gaze narrowing, Niles said, “You would not know the whereabouts of the missing lady, would you?”
Ash kept his expression neutral. “What makes you ask such a question?”
“You and Sherborne were once good friends, were you not? Lady Montgomery knew both of you, and, so I have heard, was especially close to you?”
“Your point?” Ash asked, careful to neither deny nor confirm Niles’ words.
“Well, I thought with you returning to England, she might have contacted you—”
“I did receive a few letters from her,” Ash said with a shrug, “but I never replied to them. ’Tis as much written communication as she and I have shared. Now, what is this urgent matter that brought you here? Surely ’tis more than the search for Lady Montgomery?”
Niles studied Ash for a long moment, and then his focus shifted back to the fire. “I have news of more gold.”
As
h’s heart kicked against his ribs. “Dug up in the same area?”
“I am not certain where ’twas discovered, milord. I was in a tavern on the outskirts of Clipston, waiting for a friend to meet me for a drink, when I heard two men at the table behind me talk about the gold coin that the peasant had found. They seemed to have heard of it through local gossip. Then the men mentioned a gold belt buckle that had been dug up in a field. The farmer who found it vanished a day later. All of his possessions were still in his home, and his wife reported him missing, so he had not moved away. His corpse was found in the forest a couple of days later. The men believed he was killed for the gold.”
“When was the belt buckle found?”Ash asked, anticipation running hot in his blood.
“From what I could gather, mayhap a few months ago, although the men did not say exactly when. My friend arrived and, while I wanted to hear more, the men soon rose and left.”
A ring, a coin, and a belt buckle. There could be no doubt about lost treasure nearby.
“I am right about that gold from the Kingdom of Mercia,” Niles said, his eyes glinting in the fire glow. “We must find it before the King’s enemies.”
“I agree,” Ash said. “I pray we are not already too late.”
Chapter Nine
“I still cannot believe that I am betrothed.” Herta held out her left hand yet again to admire the plain silver band set with a small blue bead. “I feel as if I am in a dream.”
Rosetta smiled. “You are not dreaming, I promise you.”
“Oh, milady.” The young woman’s eyes shone. “I am so excited. I am not going to be able to sleep tonight. My mind will be whirling with all of the arrangements that must be made.”
While Herta had been finishing her errand that afternoon, her suitor, one of the stable hands, had found her, taken her to a quiet spot by the tiltyards, and asked her to marry him. She’d said aye. Thrilled and completely in love, Herta had talked of nothing but her betrothal as soon as she’d entered the solar.
Herta now gestured to the chair near the hearth, and Rosetta sat so that the young woman could take out her braid. Rosetta had spent most of the afternoon in the garden, staying there long after Justin had grown tired of his archery and left. She’d only returned to the keep a short while ago and had declined Ash’s invitation to dine with him. She simply didn’t feel up to the noise and activity of the great hall while she was still struggling to accept all that he had told her earlier. Herta had brought her a plate of bread, cheese, and cold meats that Rosetta hadn’t yet eaten. The young woman had also ordered Rosetta a bath that would arrive once the water had been heated.
A Knight's Desire--World of de Wolfe Pack Page 8
