Trusting in Faith - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 5)

by Shea,Lisa

  Reynald found his footsteps slowing as he approached Sarah’s door, and gave half a thought to knocking on her door, if only to tell her where he had put her embroidery. He scolded himself and moved past. It would be highly inappropriate for him to wake her; he could certainly let her know tomorrow.

  Reaching his room, he entered and let out a deep breath. Only a few days remained before he saw his sister, and after that? There would be no more excuse to intrude on the hospitality of his hosts and every reason to move on in pursuit of his missing comrades. Time was slipping away from him.

  He unbuckled his sword belt with practiced ease, laying it against the bed from long years of habit. He placed his dagger alongside it. He sat at the end of the bed, pulling off one leather boot with a tug, then the second. Then it was time for the leather tunic, which he slowly pulled over his head.

  A quiet knock sounded on his door, and Reynald’s heart quickened. Maybe it was Sarah, coming to ask after her sewing. He had thought she had seen him standing there. He quickly glanced down his clothing. He still wore his pants and socks, and his white linen shirt, while not neatly pressed, was still clean and proper. He moved to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

  It was not Sarah who returned the smile with an even wider grin. Instead, Rachel stood before him, her eyes shining, a glass of mead still in her hand. She took a quick step toward him, tripping as she came, and he automatically put out a hand to steady her. She wrapped herself around it, pressing herself up against him.

  Her voice was a soft purr. “Finally, I have you alone, all to myself.” She put the glass down on a nearby table. Her hands moved along his wrists, drawing them down toward her.

  Reynald strained his ears for any sound of motion in the hallway. If he was seen in this position … he gently tried to extricate himself from her embrace.

  Rachel frowned at the motion, then wriggled herself even more closely against him, her actions insistent.

  Reynald’s patience with Rachel’s behavior snapped. Done with niceties, he pushed her away, and she fell hard against the door jam. He felt something snap on his wrist, but his concern was quickly directed to Rachel, who looked as if her surprised shock might move to full outcry.

  He quickly stepped forward, speaking in a low voice.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in a hush. “I did not mean to hurt you.”

  Rachel looked down in her hand. Reynald followed her gaze, and saw that she held his silver bracelet there. Her eyes gleamed through their muddled haze, then looked up into his, hopeful. “Maybe I can keep this?” she asked with delight.

  Reynald sighed in relief. Perhaps this situation would end peacefully after all. “Yes, of course,” he responded more gently. She was probably just drunk and would be more reasonable when she had slept it off.

  He pitched his voice to be reassuring. “You look exhausted. Go get some rest; we can talk all you wish in the morning.”

  He exhaled in relief as she turned out into the hall and staggered in the direction of her bedroom. He closed his door and bolted it shut.

  He sat down wearily on the bed, dropping his head into his hands. Thank all that was Holy that she had not woken anybody up with her shenanigans.

  * * *

  Sarah heard a bumping noise outside her room and was half tempted to get up to see what her sister was up to now. She had no doubt that Rachel was out there. Instead, she rolled over, pulling the blankets closer around her. If only she could fall asleep …

  There was a faint knocking on her door, and she sat bolt upright. It was Reynald. She knew it must be him. He had come to return her embroidery, perhaps. If it had been an emergency with one of her patients, Polly would not be so gentle.

  She hurriedly climbed out of bed, wrapping her robe around her. She gave herself a final look-over before pulling open the door.

  It was not Reynald. Rachel stood there, a wide grin on her face. She pushed past Sarah into the room, waving one hand in the air.

  “I just came from Reynald’s room,” she boasted. “The man has such strong hands. It makes me shiver just to think of them. Look what he has given me!” She held her arm out for Sarah to see.

  Sarah knew in a glance what it was. She had seen that bracelet on his wrist when he was helping her with Cecily’s birth. It had been there when he rode with her, talking about his past.

  And now it adorned her sister.

  “It is … very nice,” she was able to croak out, her throat closing up.

  “Yes, it is beautiful, is it not?” agreed her sister, raising it up to admire it. “I had best get to bed now; he wants to spend more time with me tomorrow.” She winked at her sister, then sashayed out of the room and toward her own.

  Sarah closed the door slowly, leaning against the back side of it once it latched. It was one thing for her sister to chase after men in their own home – but to come by and boast about it afterwards?

  She knew she was being uncharitable. Her sister had been happy and had wanted to share her happiness. That did not make the news any easier to bear …

  Sarah flung herself onto her bed, the tears streaming from her eyes. It was no use denying her feelings any further. She cried as her heart broke in two.

  Chapter 16

  Sarah went through the motions of dressing for church the following morning. She spent a long while sitting on her bed, holding the cross in her hands and running her fingers along its smooth, wooden edges. She had so much already in life to be grateful for. It seemed petty to complain that her emotions had been sorely abused. Others had borne so much more without complaint.

  Still, she waited until the hour of mass was nearly upon her before heading downstairs. She nodded in greeting to her family, avoiding Reynald and Rachel as she moved forward to the chapel.

  As the sermon sounded around her, she struggled to focus her attentions on the ceremony. She kept her gaze fixedly away from the sight of Reynald’s dark curls, his strong shoulders alongside Rachel’s long, blonde waves. Soon he would be gone … soon he would be gone. This would all be a distant memory.

  She gave a heartfelt “amen” when the sermon was over and waited patiently as her parents moved their way out of the chapel. Rachel trailed after them, chatting animatedly with her father, answering some question about the afternoon. To her chagrin, Reynald waited at the end of her pew. She set her face firmly and slid down the pew without looking up. When she reached the end, she stood and turned to walk past him.

  He reached out and gently took a hold of her arm. “Sarah, please wait a moment,” he asked softly, his voice almost hesitant.

  Sarah whirled in anger, yanking her arm away from him as if his grasp was red hot. “Do not touch me,” she hissed at him, her anger leaping to the fore.

  His face flashed between guilt and shame, and her fury grew.

  Her voice was cutting when she spoke again, fighting to keep her tone low. “Should you not be with my sister, rather than me?”

  Reynald’s face went pale, and he murmured, “she told you, of course.”

  Sarah flared. “Of course she did,” she snapped. “Were you hoping for her silence to protect you, or perhaps her lies?”

  Reynald went even paler and he shook his head. “I take full responsibility for my actions,” he insisted. “I only wanted to explain -”

  Sarah took a step toward him, her eyes blazing. “I am sick and tired of having revelations pushed on me,” she growled. “Whatever is between you and my sister should stay that way. I wish to hear no more of it.”

  She turned on her heel and stalked out, moving past her surprised family and heading into the keep. She stopped in the main hall for a moment, taking in a series of deep breaths. She had to get control of herself.

  She heard footsteps coming up behind her, and whirled in anger. If Reynald thought to press the issue …

  It was her mother, whose mouth opened in surprise at the look on Sarah’s face. “My dear, what is it? What is wrong?”

  “It is
nothing,” insisted Sarah, her voice hoarse. “Nothing at all.” She turned and strode up the stairs to her room.

  She stalked around her bedroom, tinged with guilt for snapping at her mother. Surely her mother did not believe her evasions for an instant, but Sarah did not have any desire to explain the situation. Long minutes passed as she breathed in deeply, fighting to slow the wild beating of her heart.

  She finally calmed down enough to sit by the window, looking out into the courtyard. Her emotions slowly came under control.

  An hour passed, then two.

  Hoofbeat sounded from far off, and she looked out, drawn from her thoughts. Her interest turned to concern when she saw it was Milo riding in on a strange brown steed. She immediately ran from the window, tripping down the stairs and heading toward the main door at a half run. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the family gathered in the sitting room, looking up at her hurried flight.

  “Milo, what is it?” she called out in alarm as she ran across the cobblestones toward her friend. “Is Cecily all right? Is it Chilton?”

  Milo’s face was a wreath of smiles as he dismounted. “I did not mean to frighten you!” he warmly called out. “A friend of mine lent this horse so I could come out and bring you a present of proper thanks.”

  Sarah’s heart slowly calmed, and she put her hand to her chest. “Thank God,” she vowed fervently. “You did not need to do that,” she added with relief. “Why not just wait until I next visited?”

  Milo shook his head. “You have done so much for us, I could not wait,” he insisted. “After all, Sunday is for visiting those you care for.”

  Reynald and Rachel came up behind Sarah, and she turned automatically, feeling the weight of social convention bear down on her. It would not do for her to act churlish in front of a guest.

  “Rachel, this is Milo,” she introduced with a sweep of her hand. “Milo, this is my sister, Rachel.”

  Rachel gave Milo a dismissive once-over with her eyes. “Why bother to learn your boyfriend’s name?” She turned to shrug to Reynald. “She goes through them so quickly, she will be on to the next in no time.”

  Sarah’s mouth opened in shock, and she closed it again with a resolute snap. She would not allow her sister to drawn Milo into trouble. She immediately strode forward and took Milo’s arm, steering him into the stables. Once safely inside, she took in a deep breath, then let it out again.

  “Never you mind her,” she instructed Milo with a wry grin. “It is simply my sister’s way.”

  Milo shook his head, then chuckled. “If you say so,” he agreed with a smile. He opened the leather belt pouch hanging at his hip and withdrew a small ivory figurine. With a bashful smile he handed it to Sarah. “Here, I carved it for you from bone.”

  Sarah took the carving and ran her fingers over its smooth form. It was an image of a mother wolf, standing protectively over her young pup. The little ears, the twist of the tail, every detail was just perfect. Even the steady focus of the wolf’s eyes, the strength in her form, was tangible.

  Sarah’s eyes misted. “Why, Milo, this is beautiful,” she whispered, turning the image over in her hands.

  Milo beamed. “I am so glad you like it,” he enthused. “I put a lot of work into that. I thought it was perfect for you. The way you cared so determinedly for my wife and child, how you watched over them, was awe inspiring.”

  Sarah wrapped her fingers around the small figure, pressing it to her heart. “I will treasure it forever,” she vowed, stepping forward to give her friend a tender hug.

  Milo’s face burnished crimson. “I have one for Reynald too,” he added. “I know he was not nearly as much help as you were over the months, but he did do his part in the final hours, and we want him to know we appreciate it.”

  Sarah flushed. Her mind skipped back to those hours of work, of Reynald’s sure hands beside hers, of his steady, calm demeanor. A sharp pang twisted in her heart, and she resolutely pushed it aside.

  A deep voice came from the doorway. “Thank you; it was my honor to assist.”

  Sarah turned, her heart pounding. Reynald was framed in the wide doors, the sun shining past his shoulders. He stepped forward as Milo retrieved another figure and passed it into his hands.

  Reynald turned the male wolf figurine in his fingers. “Your carving skills are exceptional,” he praised with a smile. “The detail on this is quite impressive, Milo.”

  “I figured it was well suited to you,” explained Milo, blushing even further. “Loyal, protective, and intelligent. It seems to fit you perfectly.”

  Sarah looked away, her heart racing. The stables seemed to close in on her. She had to get out of there … “Would you care to come in for a drink, Milo?” she asked hopefully. “Maybe something to eat?”

  Milo shook his head, moving back out toward the horse. “I only borrowed the steed for a short while, and I need to get back to Cecily.” He mounted up, then gave a friendly wave. “Thank you both so much!” he called out. He turned the steed, and in a moment he was riding back out through the main gates.

  In the same moment, Rachel came running into the courtyard from the main keep, leather bag at her hip. “He is gone? Oh good. Now we can go for that ride, Reynald. Come on, time is wasting!” She grabbed him by the hand, dragging him eagerly back into the stables.

  Sarah took in a deep breath, then turned and walked slowly up the stairs into the keep, returning to her room. She placed her wolf figurine at the center of her dresser, then sat at the end of the bed, staring at it, lost in thought.

  When Sally hesitantly poked her head into the room to ask if she would like a meal brought up to her, Sarah gratefully agreed. She spent the rest of the day holed up in her bedroom, the weight of her emotions nearly smothering her.

  * * *

  Sarah awoke Monday morning with a new firmness in her heart. She only needed to last until Thursday, until his meeting with Abigail, and then he would be gone. Surely she could last three more days in her own home. She would consider it a test of her patience and strive to be civil.

  Still, she was overcome with relief when she came down for food and found that Reynald had left already for his meeting. Rachel was off on some adventure. Her parents were atypically quiet and she felt rather than saw the worried glances they sent in her direction.

  She ate quickly, retreating to her gardens as soon as she was able. She spent the day tending to her plants, focusing on the daily routine she had followed for so many years. Once Reynald was gone, everything would return to normal.

  Tears welled as she thought the words, and she pushed them harshly away with her fingertips. He was not worth the sorrow. She would get over him and move on.

  * * *

  Tuesday morning dawned with Sarah more secure in her strength. She would be out talking with Melissa during the day, enjoying the sunshine. She only needed to get through morning and dinner with Reynald.

  She dressed in a rich, burgundy tunic, laying the cross over the top as usual. She willed herself to feel no emotion, but even so her foot paused for a moment as she stepped into the hall. Rachel was not there, but Reynald turned to look at her as she entered the room. She steeled herself and pressed on, keeping her gaze on her parents who sat across from him.

  The table was silent while Sally moved amongst them, setting down bowls of steaming oatmeal. Sarah eagerly dug into hers, losing herself in the rich, fragrant steam which wafted from her bowl.

  Her mother leant across her father, her voice casual and light. “So, my dear, what do you have planned for today?”

  Sarah heard the underlying concern in her mother’s voice and made an effort to respond pleasantly. “I am heading west for a visit,” Sarah replied in between spoonfuls. “I imagine I will be gone for the full day.”

  Reynald looked up, his eyes shadowed and distant. “Please allow me to escort you,” he insisted in a low voice.

  Sarah’s voice shot out of her in tight directness. “No.”

  Her parents bo
th glanced up to stare at her in surprise, then turned their gaze questioningly toward Reynald.

  A sharp bite of remorse hit Sarah. There was no call for her to bring censure from her parents. Reynald had done nothing wrong. He and Rachel were consenting adults, and whatever they chose to do together …

  Her throat closed up.

  She took a long drink of mead. She coughed once or twice, as if to clear her throat, and then strove to speak in a more normal tone.

  “What I mean is, I am not going far. I will be back before nightfall. There is no need to take you from your duties to chaperone me.”

  Reynald held her gaze with his own. “My research is done; I know where the men are holed up.” He glanced at Christopher before continuing. “They are not far, and it is becoming less safe for you and your sister. Apparently someone has been asking after you both, learning your schedules. My guess is that you are considered high value hostages. You really should not go out alone.”

  Sarah blanched. She had always considered Reynald’s task as a distant one, something he would move on to once he had talked with Abigail. She had not seriously thought that it might pose an immediate threat to her region or to her personally.

  She looked down to her meal, re-steeling her resolve. “I will go with Cedric, then,” she quietly insisted.

  Her father’s brow creased in confusion. “But why -”

  Her mother put her hand gently but firmly on her father’s arm. Her father turned to glance at her mother, then nodded.

  “As you wish,” he conceded. “I will have him ready shortly.”

  Sarah focused on finishing her food, ignoring the man across from her. When she was done, she nodded to her parents, then headed straight for the stables.

  Cedric met her there in a few minutes. He smiled with gentle familiarity at Sarah as he came up alongside her. He was perhaps ten years her senior and had grown up at the keep. She had known him her entire life. She trusted him intimately.