by Shea,Lisa
Still, riding along the road with Cedric was nothing like her travels with Reynald. Cedric was courteous when spoken to, but quiet, without thought or insight otherwise. His stolid attention remained focused on the path ahead, on the shadows in the woods. Nothing else held any importance.
Cedric waited outside while Sarah spent several hours with Melissa, relaxing with her, answering her questions and sharing advice. Melissa appreciated the extra time, but Sarah knew that she was delaying her return home as long as she could.
Eventually the sunlight tinged with dusky shadows, and Sarah realized it was long past the hour to head back. It was one thing to stay away from home to give herself time alone. It was quite another to risk Cedric’s life for her own personal pleasure.
Cedric waited patiently as she mounted and gave her farewells to Melanie. Then the two were riding back toward the keep. Sarah found she did not mind Cedric’s vigilance this time. Reynald’s caution had transmitted to her how serious he had been, and she kept her own hand on the hilt of her sword as they rode. She watched every tree, every shadow for movement.
She sighed in relief when they reached the main gate, riding over to the stables. Cedric dismounted first and held her reins while she climbed down. He walked the two horses over to Lou to be unsaddled.
She stood against the stable wall, lost in thought. She felt the contrast again with how Reynald had been. Where Cedric was brisk and efficient, Reynald had been considerate … caring …
She looked up in surprise as Reynald rode quietly into the stables. His movements with the reins seemed weary, and he looked up in surprise when he saw her step away from the stable wall.
He drew to an uncertain halt. “I … I thought you had gone in already,” he stated slowly. He paused for a moment, then dismounted and turned to loosen the saddle straps.
Sarah took a step toward him. “You followed me …?” Fury flared up within her. He had no right!
Reynald quickly shook his head. “No,” he stated. “Well, yes,” he amended after a moment. “But only to the village. I stopped where we had met on our previous trip. I figured that since I already knew that part of the trip, it would not cause you any harm to have me ride that length.” He took a deep breath, removing the saddle and placing it down on a nearby support. “I had to hope that Cedric would do a good enough job while you were out of my sight.”
Sarah watched the tightness of Reynald’s shoulders as he moved through his task. Slowly the heat of anger eased from her. When she gave it objective thought, he had respected her wishes and done his best to abide by her request for privacy.
“Was it really necessary?” she asked in a quieter tone. “Surely the danger is not that imminent?”
Reynald tugged at his horse’s bridle and tack, moving to hang it on a hook behind him. When he turned back to face Sarah, his face was haggard.
“A young woman was raped and murdered two nights ago, about five miles from here.”
Sarah’s world went still. “Who was she?”
“Her name was Carrie Brown; she was only sixteen. Her family farmed land around Pewsey.” He looked down for a moment. “The funeral is being held tomorrow.”
Sarah was touched by the pain in his eyes. She took a step forward to stand before him. “It is not your fault,” she consoled him. “These men are responsible for their own actions. With your help, they will soon be brought to justice.”
Reynald looked up to meet her gaze, and his eyes held infinite sadness. Her heart went out to him. When he spoke, his voice was distant, lost. “I let myself get distracted by my sister,” he insisted. “If I had spent those extra days searching for the trio of men, just one or two more days, Carrie might be alive now.”
Sarah reached out to take his hand - and then stopped. She gazed at his bare wrist. That silver bracelet now adorned the arm of her sister.
She turned, forcing herself to walk into the keep. If Reynald needed support, she was certain that her sister would be there to provide it.
She brought a bowl of venison stew upstairs with her, spending the evening working on her mother’s pillowcase. As night fell, she changed into a fresh chemise and climbed resolutely into bed. She knew what her plans would be in the morning.
Chapter 17
Sarah dressed somberly, laying her cross down on the front of her dark brown tunic. She strapped on her sword and dagger, then stood for a while, looking out the window. A woman had been slain, and the men responsible were still out there. She had to do her part to support the bereaved family, but she was also aware that she could not afford to make the situation worse. She could not provide them with another target.
Resolute, she opened her bedroom door and moved down toward the main hall. She steeled herself for an argument. Whatever terms her father and Reynald might insist on, she would comply. That being said, she would go to the funeral.
The table was full as she entered the hall. Reynald and Rachel sat opposite her parents, and a meal of fried eggs and spiced sausage was laid out. Her parents were quiet as she approached, and Reynald did not turn.
Rachel, however, was bubbling with bright energy. “Make sure you tell Helga to serve that beef stew this afternoon,” she instructed Sally merrily as Sarah took her seat. “Seamus will be coming by to spend some time with me, and he says he loves that dish.” She flashed a wide grin at her sister.
Sarah glanced between Reynald and her sister, sure she was missing something. “Seamus? As in Seamus, the Irish friend I met two years ago who played the bodhran?”
Rachel chuckled with delight. “I knew you would remember him! Yes, the very one. I ran into him yesterday at the market; he was passing through on the way to some festival or another in London. I flirted with him for a while and invited him over for dinner. When he heard we had a real, true-to-life Templar staying with us, he was fascinated and wanted to meet him.”
Sarah cut into her sausage, confusion sweeping over her. She had not seen Seamus in a year; not since her friendship with him had been tainted. She had been fond of him – and had thought he appreciated her as well. Then during one visit she had brought her sister along. The next thing she knew, her sister was curling up close to him. That was upsetting enough, but to her disappointment Seamus did not resist; he spent his time with Rachel, leaving Sarah alone on the couch for the evening. It had been part of what had stretched the distance between her and her sister.
Rachel had not been serious about the relationship, of course – she discarded Seamus without a second thought once Sarah had separated herself from him. So what was going on now? Why would Rachel wish to bring Seamus in to the mix, when she already had Reynald? Why would she want the two men meeting each other?
Sarah’s mind spun through the possibilities. Was Rachel trying to make Reynald jealous and more interested in her? Was she tiring of Reynald and happened across Seamus as a new man-of-the-moment? Was she not really interested in either and simply was curious how each man would compete for her attention in the presence of a rival?
A surge of anger poured through her. It was bad enough that Rachel was playing these games, but to do it on the day of Carrie’s funeral?
She took a few deep breaths, seeking a way to divert Rachel’s aims without sounding hostile.
To her relief, Reynald spoke up with a somber voice, handling the situation for her. “I am sorry, Rachel, but I will not be here to meet your friend. I will be going to Pewsey for a funeral.”
Sarah looked up at that. She had thought it would be a challenge to request a guard to go with her to the funeral. She had not dreamt that Reynald had meant to go himself. Her gaze met his.
“As am I,” she stated quietly. She waited for a rebuttal or argument from him, but he merely held her gaze for a few moments, then nodded. “I will see you there safely,” he vowed, turning to speak to her father. “You have my word on that, Sir.”
Rachel stopped with a link of sausage halfway to her mouth, looking between the men. “What is this about a
funeral? Has someone we know died?”
Sarah’s mother glanced at her father, then leant forward to put her hand on Rachel’s wrist. “It was Carrie Brown, from the village of Pewsey,” she quietly advised her daughter. “She was murdered by outlaws two days ago.”
“Oh, yes, I heard about that,” agreed Rachel, finishing her bite. “Seamus told me all about that.”
Sarah looked in confusion between Reynald’s tormented face and Rachel’s look of blithe contentment. “You do not intend on going … with Reynald?” she finally asked.
Rachel glanced up at her as if she had lost her mind. “I just told you, Seamus is coming over. Did you forget already? I have plans, and it is a shame that Reynald cannot make time for them.” Her voice held a light, teasing tone.
Sarah’s world swirled around her. It was too much. Was Rachel truly that uncaring? She pushed herself to a standing position, staring at her sister. “But …” she was at a loss for words. At last she motioned toward her sister’s wrist. “But the bracelet!” she called out in confusion.
Rachel sniffed haughtily, her face aglow with self-assurance. “What, do you think one small present means I am at this man’s beck and call for the rest of his life?” she shot back, her head held high. “I do not think so!” She spun the bracelet on her wrist absently. “Plus, the clasp was broken. I had to repair that myself.”
Sarah’s voice shut tight with pain. “But that bracelet is …it is -”
Reynald interrupted her, standing as well. “It was a mere trinket,” he interjected quietly, his gaze locked on hers. “A keepsake I should have stopped wearing long ago.”
Rachel shot hotly to her feet, staring at her sister with open jealousy. “It is mine, I tell you,” she insisted, her voice sharp. “You always try to take the things I have. You will not get this. It is my present.”
Sarah’s throat grew hoarse, and her anger surged. “I am not fond of your method of acquiring … presents,” she bit out.
Rachel’s face colored crimson, and her voice rose in pitch “I shall have you know that Reynald gave this to me in apology after he hit me.”
Sarah rounded immediately on Reynald, her fury transferring in a lightning flash. Her parents stood alongside her as one. “You hit her?” she screamed, anger turning her shoulders into steel. The thinnest thread of self-control held her from drawing her dagger and launching herself at him, Templar training be damned.
Reynald threw his hands out to his sides, clearing them of his weapons in one smooth motion. “I swear to you, I did not,” he called out to Sarah and her parents, his face pale and serious. His voice came out in a quick staccato. “Rachel came to my room, drunk, and I pushed her away from me. She hit against the door jam, and she pulled loose my bracelet as she did so. I swear to you, this is the truth of the matter.”
Rachel smiled brightly, all cheerfulness. “See, he admits to it! He threw me into the side of the door. All I got in return was this one measly bracelet. Now you expect me to do penance by going with him to the funeral of someone I have never met?”
Sarah’s world spun around her. She pushed away from the table, walking blindly out the main door, out to the stables. She had reached her horse’s stall when she heard the footsteps, heard the stride as Reynald caught up, then stopped behind her.
She turned and looked up into his eyes, so full of pain and guilt. When he spoke, his voice rasped.
“Sarah, I am so sorry,” he apologized, his voice haunted. “I did not mean to encourage your sister in any way. When she appeared at my door, my only thought was to get her away safely. I never meant to hurt her.”
Sarah could only stare at him as if she was seeing him afresh for the first time.
“You did not give her the bracelet as some sort of … token?”
Reynald’s features twisted in confusion. “A token?” he repeated, looking at Sarah in bewilderment. “Do you mean … of affection?”
Lou hurried in from a side door, and Sarah turned away from Reynald, her heart pounding. She moved to her horse’s stall, focusing her attention on preparing him for the ride. She had no desire to learn more about Rachel’s dalliances with Reynald. A girl lay dead, and today she was to respect the loss. With well worn skill she put all thoughts of her sister and the past away.
She led her horse into the central area. In a moment she had settled the saddle onto his back, snugging the girth. Alongside her, Reynald moved with practiced ease to get his own mount ready for the road.
In short order, the pair was moving quietly along the main road, heading toward the village of Pewsey.
Reynald’s demeanor had changed greatly since the last time Sarah had ridden with him. He seemed to be watching in every direction, and his body radiated a primed alertness which made it seem that he would be at her defense in an instant. She felt both reassured and unnerved by his behavior. If things had gotten this bad … she kept her own hand by the hilt of her sword. She knew she was no match for his skills, but she could provide what help she was able if it came to that.
They did not speak until they reached the small village. Mourning ribbons were hung on many of the doors, and a crowd was gathered by the stone church on the common. Sarah and Reynald tied up their horses, then moved in to join the group. Sarah spotted Bethany and Jack standing to one side, and moved over to join them.
Sarah drew Bethany into a tender embrace. “How are the children?”
“They are with my mother,” responded Bethany, her eyes somber. “It is a tragic thing,” she added in a moment. “Carrie was a sweet child. It is hard to believe something like this would happen in our area.”
Reynald flushed, and his eyes became hard. “I swear to you, it will be stopped.”
Lily moved over to join the group, her normally cheerful face a mask of sadness. “Oh, my friends, to meet on such an occasion,” she offered in sorrow, exchanging hugs with Bethany and Sarah in turn. “Such a bright spirit, taken from us far too soon.”
They heard a clearing of a throat, and all turned to face the priest. He stood in a somber, black robe, motioning that he was ready to begin. The group followed him into the church, settling into the pews. Reynald slid down the wooden bench to sit at her side, his thigh pressed lightly against hers. She could feel every contact point with searing heat, and soaked in the strength of the man at her side. She held off the longings with effort, focusing on the words of the priest.
The sermon was lovely, and Sarah was touched by the words offered by several of Carrie’s family and friends. When the eulogy was finished the group moved out into the summer sunshine.
Looking at the bright sky and white clouds, it seemed to Sarah an unsuitable day for a burial. She sighed, recognizing that nature knew no change in its cycle. People would be born and die on every day, at every hour. Life rolled on in its continual circle.
Sarah stood beside Reynald as the family members lowered Carrie’s body into the ground. After several intercessory prayers, Sarah was blanketed by an immense sense of sadness as the young woman was covered with earth. Carrie had been so young, barely starting out in life. All of her hopes and dreams had been snuffed out in one violent act.
Sarah looked over at Reynald, and saw a new sense of resolution settle into his face, into the set of his shoulders. She knew that he still felt responsible for this death, and imagined that he would do everything he could to prevent its repetition.
Together they walked over to the grieving family. Sarah waited patiently for her turn, and then approached the couple and their children.
“Dear friends, I am so sorry for your troubles,” she offered quietly. “I cannot even imagine how you are feeling right now. If I can help in any way, please let me know.”
“We appreciate your coming,” responded the mother, her face streaked with tears. “It means a lot to us that others will take note of her passing.” Her eyes traveled to the man at Sarah’s shoulder.
“My name is Sir Reynald, and I am visiting with Sarah’s family,”
he introduced himself somberly. “I also want to offer my assistance, in any way that I can.”
Carrie’s father took the offered hand and firmly shook it. “Your presence here is enough,” he commented. “That Carrie’s departure from life is so well marked, we can hope that she is somewhere far better off now.”
“I am sure of it,” replied Reynald with great seriousness. “I will pray for her daily.”
Sarah and Reynald moved aside, allowing others to step forward and offer their condolences. Lily gave her goodbyes, then Bethany and Jack left as well, and still the couple stood by the grave, lost in thought. Sarah felt it was the least she could do for the young woman who had been so ruthlessly slain.
Footsteps sounded, and Reynald tensed beside her. Looking up, she saw Ethan and Elijah closing in on them, their demeanor serious. They were dressed far more neatly than when they had met in the cemetery. Reynald’s hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, his gaze even on both men.
Ethan spoke up as the pair stopped before them. His voice was low but clear. “I want to apologize to you, Sarah, for my behavior the other day. It was unfair of me to take out my grief on you, when I know you did all within your power.” He turned to look up at Reynald. “You, Sir. You were drawn into a fight which you had no part in. I am glad you were not hurt because of my rashness.” He stood before them, humble and ready for any response.
Reynald turned to Sarah, allowing her to speak for them.
Sarah gave a somber smile. “I cannot imagine what it must be like to lose a sister. I know if my sister died I would be overwhelmed with grief for years. I am only sorry that I could not do more to help.”
Ethan turned crimson. “Speaking of … I mean … I am also sorry for my jibes about Rachel and about Dirk. My words have rung in my ears ever since that day. It was cruel for me to bring that up. I am sorry – very sorry – for causing you any pain.”
Sarah blushed deeply, but she nodded reassuringly. “You were upset, and that is in the past. All is forgiven.”
