‘Father!’ Alice burst through the door. Beatrice winced, her shoulders lifting in tension as her daughter bounded into the chamber. Alice threw her arms around Fabien, laughing, hugging him close, burying her head in his shoulder to savour the warm, familiar smell of him. Stepping back at last, her hands still linked with his, she scoured his face for any signs of mistreatment.
‘I am well, daughter.’ His kind face twinkled down at her, immediately reaasuring. ‘They treated me well.’
‘Just look at your muddy boots! And your braies!’ Concern brushed Alice’s bright face.
‘Since when has such a thing worried you?’ Beatrice interjected. She adjusted her weight on her heels, trying to assuage the painful prickling sensation in her feet, before clasping the edge of the coffer to lever herself into a standing position. ‘I’ll leave you two now; I have other work to do.’
Fabien nodded briefly in his wife’s direction by way of acknowledgement, but already the door was closing behind her.
‘Did they make you walk the whole way?’ Alice demanded.
‘Nay, I rode most of it, and only walked for the last little bit.’
‘On your own?’ Her voice held the sting of accusation. Oh, but she wanted to blame these Yorkists for something!
‘Not on my own, daughter,’ her father answered in his measured, level tone. ‘Bastien de la Roche came with me, most of the way, to be truthful.’
‘Him!’ The name sent unwelcome ripples of arousal piping through her slim frame. The memory of his skilful lips upon hers slashed into her brain; she caught her breath, shocked by the vivid image. How could a name affect her thus? Was she really so weak-willed that she couldn’t drive him from her thoughts?
‘Alice?’ Her father touched her hand.
Disorientated, she smiled weakly at him. ‘At least they had the decency to escort you.’
‘As they escorted you,’ her father reminded her, watching her closely. ‘As he escorted you. Alice…did something happen on the journey?’
‘Nay…nothing.’ Her words rang hollow, the treacherous memory of Bastien’s fingers sifting through her hair scorching her brain. Why did everything seem different since she had met him? It was if he had altered her internal perception, her way of looking at things.
‘Did the Queen suspect anything while he was here?’
‘She didn’t. He was all charm. In fact, I think she was quite taken with him.’
‘He’s a clever fellow, and far better company on a journey than a lowly foot soldier. Despite his support for the Duke, I liked him as a man.’
Alice frowned. She didn’t want her father to like Bastien, especially when she was doing everything in her power to not like him.
‘And Bastien definitely returned to Ludlow?’
‘Aye, I watched him gallop in that direction; I suppose that was his intention. The Duke of York means to have an audience with our young Queen. I think Bastien was going to meet up with them en route.’
‘How much time have we before they arrive here?’ Alice chewed at her bottom lip until it reddened.
Fabien shrugged his shoulders, rubbed a distracted hand through his shaggy blond hair. ‘I’d say at the earliest, tomorrow.’
‘Then Edmund and I must leave before they arrive.’ Alice smiled wanly. ‘I suppose Mother has told you?’
‘Aye…but, are you sure this is what you want?’
Alice stuck her chin into the air, pulled her spine straight. ‘Of course, Father. Edmund and I will suit each other very well.’ But inside, her stomach crawled with doubt.
Bastien folded his arms across the broad expanse of his chest, and leaned back against the stone wall of a cottage, looking up towards the gatehouse of Abberley Castle. All around him, people streamed towards the castle, the dun-coloured rags of the peasants contrasting strongly with the brighter colours of the nobles and soldiers on horseback. The wedding would make it easier for him to slip back into the castle. No one gave him a second glance. For a few gold coins he had managed to secure some rough working clothes in a nearby village; he carried his own garments in a cloth bag slung over his shoulder. A low wide-brimmed hat shadowed his face, and a voluminous tunic with its frayed hems effectively hid his muscle-bound frame, though did nothing to disguise his height.
He needed to check Alice was safe; she wouldn’t even have to know he was there. As he had ridden further and further away from Abberley after bidding adieu to her father, an uneasy feeling began to grow, hard and unwieldy, in his gut. He had tried to tell himself it was better not to become involved, that he was a fool for interfering, but every time he did, his mind bounced back to Edmund’s shifting brown eyes and Alice’s bright open features. With a bolt of amazement he realised that he was involved already. Involved with her. Levering the bulk of one shoulder against the wall, he joined the busy throng of people trailing their way up to the castle.
Once in the stands, squashed between a large lady who smelled of fish, and an old man who shouted to his companion through a couple of rotten teeth, Bastien scoured the high benches on the other side of the lists where the nobility sat. An embroidered canopy covered the stands, shading the Queen and her entourage beneath from the strong sunlight. Bastien screwed up his eyes in an effort to discern the individual features of the spectators; his perusal moving steadily along the row of nobles, the gossamer veils of the ladies fluttering like pale colourful moths in the faint breeze. Alice sat at the end of the row, the polished skin of her face shining out with a healthy glow, compared with the heavily rouged and powdered faces of the court ladies at her side. At the sight of her, the muscles in his neck and shoulders slackened, his body slumping fractionally with relief. At least she was safe, for now. And that weasel Edmund was nowhere to be seen.
A bugle sounded to the left, signalling the beginning of the tournament, swiftly followed by a rousing cheer from the spectators. The two knights on horseback, who faced each other from opposite ends of the lists, lowered their visors and their lances, their horses pawing the ground in excitement. And then with a roar from the crowd they were off, hooves throwing up great clods of grassy mud, as they raced towards each other at breakneck speed, meeting each other with a clash of metal upon metal. No one was thrown, so the contestants carried on to the end, to turn, and have another go. In that moment, Bastien raised his head to look up towards Alice once more. The spot where she had sat was empty.
Alice had seen him. Her mind, busy with the details of her imminent departure with Edmund, refused to settle on anything, her eyes roving over the crowds, the contestants, anything, but never still. But then her gaze had hooked on to a tall peasant weaving his way through the crowded stands opposite, the big bulk gently shouldering people aside in an effort to gain a seat, and she knew, from the distinctive set of the broad shoulders, to the lean contours of the shadowed face beneath the hat—she wasn’t certain which particular detail gave him away, but she knew. Her stomach flipped, then plummeted with the knowledge. If Bastien was here, then the Duke of York would not be far behind, and once he arrived, any thought of she and Edmund leaving would be out of the question. The castle would be seized, all movements in and out halted, whilst the Duke talked to the Queen. And as Edmund’s father’s life hung in the balance, they didn’t have a moment to waste.
Her shoulders hunched forwards, as if anticipating the imaginary steel bars of a cage dropping over her. She and Edmund had to leave, and leave now! As soon as the two contestants set off, hurtling towards each other in an impressive blur of flashing steel and vibrant colours, she slipped away, unnoticed.
Edmund was sprawling in an ornately carved oak chair in front of the fire in the great hall, enjoying a late breakfast. Chewing slowly on a bread roll, he lifted a pewter mug of mead to his mouth to wash it down, following Alice’s rapid strides across the hall towards him, her face stricken and pale.
‘What’s the matter?’ He set down the tankard on the scrubbed wooden trestle table before him.
She st
opped abruptly, skirts swishing over the flagstones and leaned down to him. ‘We need to leave, now!’
He sighed. Why did she always do this? Once a plan was set, why did she always try to change it, or alter it in some way? She was going to give him indigestion at this rate! ‘But…the plan was to leave later on today.’
‘It might be too late,’ she whispered. ‘My father tells me the Duke of York is on his way; we’ll never be able to leave if he seizes the castle.’
‘You’re worrying too much.’ Edmund placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘I’ve heard nothing about the Duke.’
Alice stepped back, chewing anxiously on a nail. Should she tell him about Bastien? ‘Edmund, please, it’s imperative that we leave today…or I don’t think it will happen.’ A pair of dragon-green eyes loomed before her.
Edmund spread his hands over his knees, studied his neat, tidy nails with admiration. Most of the plan was in place already—would it really make that much difference? Alice seemed jittery, out of sorts; it would be just like her to change her mind completely and refuse to go at all. And he wasn’t about to let a chunk of money that would set him up for life slide through his fingers for the sake of a handful of hours.
‘Very well—’ he nodded ‘—we’ll leave now.’
They rode in a northerly direction for most of the day, the wind behind them, helpfully nudging at their backs. No one had seen them ride out from the stables at Abberley, horses saddled and packed with leather satchels containing a few clothes.
‘Don’t take much,’ Edmund had said, as he watched her stuffing a couple of gowns into the bag. ‘Once we are married, I’ll be able to buy you anything you need.’
She nodded jerkily, eyes downcast.
Edmund frowned; Alice looked tired, her face white and drawn. He’d need to make sure she had some colour in her cheeks when she met his uncle. ‘Don’t look so worried.’ He smiled at her.
Alice tossed her head back, stretching her neck upwards towards the blue cerulean skies, the sunshine. Her cloak billowed out behind her, the material shifting and rippling over the horse’s rump. Above her, a buzzard wheeled in the warm air, its haunting cry circling. Normally she would delight in galloping through the huge rolling green hills, the wind in her hair, but somehow, she couldn’t help feeling she was riding towards her doom.
‘Alice…. A…l…ice, stop, will you!’ Edmund shouted at her back. Shifting around in the saddle, loose golden strands of hair fanning over her face, she was surprised to see how far behind he actually was. She slowed her horse to walking pace, and then to a halt.
‘What is it?’ The breeze threatened to whisk her question away.
‘Don’t go so fast,’ Edmund whined, bumping irregularly against the saddle as his horse approached hers. ‘We can’t all be expert riders like you.’
‘Sorry,’ Alice replied, quietly. ‘I thought we could make some good headway, across this open plain.’
‘You must remember,’ Edmund continued in a tight, fastidious tone, ‘that this is something you do every day, whereas I—’
‘Prefer the finer things in life. Aye, I know.’ Alice grinned. Edmund made no secret of the fact that he positively detested any activity that took place outdoors. ‘How much further is it?’ Alice lifted herself up in the saddle, stretching out the muscles in her legs.
‘We should be there by sunset, even going at my speed,’ Edmund surmised. ‘I wouldn’t mind stopping for a while, to rest the horses, and have something to eat.’
Alice looked about her. ‘We’d have to drop down into that valley to find water.’ She pointed over to her left, where a line of stunted hawthorns indicated land sloping down.
Edmund nodded and kicked his horse onwards.
They descended into a narrow wooded valley. There was a faint sheep track that the horses were able to pick their way along, but before long it became impossibly steep, and they had to dismount, walking before the animals, leading them by the reins. As they descended, rags of white cloud above their heads seemed to bunch together and darken. Alice shivered as she led the way down, gnarled fingers of the trees snaring at her clothes like human hands. Access to the river was difficult, but eventually they found a place where the land levelled off to shallow water, allowing the horses to drink.
‘I don’t like this place.’ Alice turned her wide blue eyes to Edmund. ‘It has a sense of foreboding.’ Her eyes flicked over the dense trees crowding the valley sides. ‘Let’s keep going.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Edmund said heartily. He had already spread his cloak over a dome-shaped rock and was proceeding to unwrap various packages of food. ‘Come, sit beside me and eat. You’ll feel better with a bit of food inside you.’
Alice wrapped her arms around her. ‘Nay, I think I’ll stretch my legs. I’ll see if I can find another track leading out of this place in the right direction.’
Edmund frowned. ‘Don’t go too far,’ he mumbled through a huge mouthful of bread. Crumbs spilled down over the front of his tunic; he brushed them away carefully.
‘Nay, I won’t.’ Alice began to pick her way over the smooth rocks, towards the point where the trees formed a boundary with the river. In the muddy bank at the edge of the expanse of stones, tree roots had been exposed by the sporadic flooding of the river cutting into the earthen sides. She used their sinewy strength to haul herself up into the forest.
Out of nowhere, a large hand grabbed her questing fingers, pulling her bodily up the slope, wrenching her right shoulder. She was spun around, an arm clamped around her waist pulling her swiftly backwards, out of sight. Disorientated, shaken, she tried to open her mouth, to shout, to squeak, anything, but strong fingers over her face prevented all sound. Her eyes closed involuntarily as her attacker pushed her backwards against a tree, his other hand spread across her stomach, holding her there.
‘Open your eyes.’
Fear turned to anger, hot blazing fury. Her eyes shot open.
Bastien stood before her—nay, towered over her, a wide-brimmed felt hat jammed at an angle on his head. Beneath the shadow of the brim, his eyes glittered, chips of green emerald. ‘Are you going to scream?’ His voice was low, a whisper on the breeze.
She shook her head violently, wanting to hit him. A thousand questions rippled through her mind. ‘What are you doing here?’ she hissed.
The warmth of his fingers dropped away from her cheek, her mouth. ‘I’m saving you from yourself,’ he replied enigmatically, lips twisting with a wry smile.
‘You followed us?’ she asked, astounded. ‘Why on earth would you do that?
Why on earth, indeed? He had asked himself the same question countless times as he tracked the couple. ‘Because there’s something in me that can’t seem to help pulling you out of tricky situations.’
‘It’s none of your business.’ She jabbed him in the chest sharply. Her mind worked furiously. Had he returned to Abberley for her? Beneath the pad of her pointed forefinger his skin was hard, unyielding.
‘You’re a fool if you think that man is going to do any good by you.’ He captured her hand against his tunic, lean powerful fingers around her delicate wrist.
‘Why do you persist in trying to turn him against me? I’ve known him all my life; he’d never do anything to hurt me. He is going to marry me.’ She lifted her chin up, challenging him. ‘It’s all planned out.’
But Bastien was already shaking his head. ‘Nay, Alice, I can’t be certain, but I think he has other plans for you, plans to marry a rich relative of his. I told you…I overheard a discussion between Edmund and your mother.’
Alice shook her head. ‘And I told you why the two of them would be talking. Why would my mother ever agree to such a preposterous plan? A rich relative, indeed!’ Her eyes glowed, lucent aquamarine. ‘You’re making all this up!’
‘Why would I do that?’ he replied mildly, shrugging his shoulders.
She didn’t hear him, caught in her own fiery tirade. ‘Why don’t you leave me alone? I di
d what you wanted, didn’t I? I got you in to see the King. What more do you want?’
I want you. The answer rushed into his head, stunning him. Her words hung in the air, shimmering between them. His eyes darkened, a brilliant jade, glowing over her with a simple promise.
A lone crow cackled above as he lowered his head down to hers, leaning his muscular frame into her. ‘Nay,’ she whispered, her voice shuddering under the closeness of his body against hers, her blood hurtling through her veins at the heightened sensations. She braced herself for the impact, the wide trunk at her back preventing any escape, but the moment his cool lips touched hers, her knees buckled.
‘Aye,’ he murmured, bracing her wilting frame with his big body, his hands cupping her neck, her jaw, as his lips roved over hers.
What in God’s name was she doing? Even as her mind screamed at her to flee, to fight, her traitorous lips roamed against his, seeking more, much more. The feel of his lips sent shards of excitement, of desire, shattering through her flesh. Her hands crept upwards, curling around his wide shoulders, pulling him closer to her. Bastien groaned, his tongue flicking along the seam of her lips, seeking, questing. She opened her mouth beneath his like a flower in the sunshine, eager for his warmth, his passion, yearning for his touch.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, his head jerked backwards, his eyes closing as he fell against her, a dead weight.
‘What…?’ she cried out in alarm, as his big body slumped against her. She managed to support him for a moment, but he was too heavy for her, and he crashed to the forest floor. Behind him, Edmund, smiling triumphantly, held a bloodied rock.
‘That should keep him quiet for a couple of hours.’ He nodded at Bastien’s prone form, spreadeagled amongst the brown, rotting beech nuts on the forest floor.
Captured by the Warrior Page 16
