by Merry Farmer
“Stop messing with the children and get moving!” Lydia barked above him.
He twisted to glare over his shoulder at her. “Oy! Give me a minute here!” He turned back to the girl.
“I don’t like her,” Kitty whispered.
“Neither do I,” Jack winked. Kitty giggled as if they’d shared a secret. He kissed his closed fist again and tucked the rosary into a pocket in his tunic. “Better not let her know you gave this back, eh?” He straightened, ruffling a hand through her hair and striding towards his horse.
He was aware of the eyes watching him, the curiosity and the hope. He exchanged a glance with Simon, who was back to being his old stoic self. Lydia tapped her fingers impatiently on her saddle. He took hold of his own saddle and muscled himself to mount. As he grabbed the reins he sat tall and surveyed the forest folk around him. There were dozens, more than just the blood-thirsty blockheads that did whatever Lydia told them. They were frightened, wayward people, nothing more. Ethan may have been a miserable sod, but he’d gathered these people because they had nowhere else to go.
“Any of you who wish to leave the forest and make a real home are welcome at Kedleridge.” He was surprised to hear the words leave his mouth in a nearly perfect noble accent. “If you come to me, we will find a place for you.”
A murmur went through the crowd. Simon glanced to the canopy of leaves, his jaw hard, shaking his head.
“Really, Jack?” Lydia scoffed.
“Really,” he answered to the people, not to her. His gaze fell on the old wise woman who had treated his back. “You especially,” he pointed at her, his accent slipping.
She laughed. “I’ll be right behind you, my lord.”
He nodded to her with a smirk then sought out the girl. “And you, Kitty, definitely,” he winked. “Bring your mama too.”
The girl, who was now standing at her mother’s side, buried her face in her mother’s skirts. Her mother nodded to Jack, tears in her eyes. It would be worth it, he told himself. If he could help these people, if he could secure Lydia’s hoard and use it to help these people and pay the king’s ransom it would be worth every personal sacrifice he made.
Almost.
Chapter Sixteen
Lydia leaned out of the window of the master bedroom of Kedleridge Hall and breathed a contented sigh. The orchard where she and Constance had played as girls, where she and Simon had kissed and planned for a glorious future, stretched off towards the hillside. Well, she had done most of the planning and he had done most of the kissing, no matter how viciously he denied it now. It didn’t matter anyhow. The spring blooms of the orchard were mostly gone but the haze of light green leaves reminded her of childhood fantasies.
“Lady Lydia of Kedleridge,” she whispered into the morning like a spell. She’d always played the lady in her childhood games, always made Constance act as her servant. She’d demanded her sister bring her tributes of flowers and fruit, even pretty stones she found. Those games were a reality now.
Two of the housemaids passed from the kitchen towards the house under the window, whispering to each other as they went. “Excuse me!” Lydia barked down to them. “If you want to keep your place here then you will remember to show manners to your betters.”
The two stopped and gaped at each other before bobbing curtsies. “Yes, my lady,” they mumbled and dashed on.
Their expressions were far too petulant for her liking. She would have to have a word with Simon about the pair.
A slick grin spread across her face as she turned and stepped away from the window. Simon. She had been back at Kedleridge for a month and far and away the most fun she’d had was forcing Simon to do her bidding. It was the most fitting revenge she could think of for the way he’d thrown her off all those years ago. She was in charge now.
“Fetch Simon,” she snapped at Macy, the latest of her old acquaintances whom she had picked to be her personal servant. “Send him to the hall to attend to me.”
She crossed the bedroom, ignoring Macy as the fat woman curtsied and mumbled, “Yes, my lady.” Macy would be sure to do as she was told right away if she wished to keep her place. The last two old friends she’d tried in the position had been a waste of her time. They just couldn’t get used to having a fellow village girl rise above them. They’d been punished for it too.
Lydia swept out into the hallway and down the stairs to the great room. The guard she kept near at all times left his place to trail after her. Kedleridge Hall was woefully inadequate as a manor house. She would make Jack build a new house, three times the size as soon as they were married. Her grin faltered into a grimace. Whenever that would be.
She’d fully intended for them to be married the day she let Jack and Simon go, or the next day at the very latest. Kedleridge was too small to have a church or a priest, but when she and Jack had ridden over the hill to Windale they discovered that the village priest who lived there was missing. She’d thought nothing of it until they had rode on to Allestree only to find their priest gone as well. It wasn’t until they’d ridden to Derby itself and searched the entire city without finding a single man of the cloth that Lydia had grown suspicious.
“Have you had any luck at all finding a priest,” she badgered Jack as she gestured for her guard to pull out a chair at the end of the table opposite him. She sat. Her bodyguard took a place near the front door, directly across the room from the goon she’d charged with tailing Jack wherever he went.
“No,” he replied without glancing up from the parchment in his hands. The kitchen maids she’d seen earlier were setting steaming dishes in front of him. He gave them a weak grin before frowning at his parchment again. The maids had the audacity to look like someone had drowned a sack full of kittens.
“What are you doing?” She settled back in her chair, watching the two maids that rushed to serve her like a cat waiting to pounce. They’d been threatened enough times to know what would happen if they didn’t live up to her standards.
“Reading a message from Crispin,” Jack mumbled in return.
Lydia laughed. “What a joke.” She sniffed and snatched the mug of plum wine one of the maids poured for her. “You can’t read.”
“I been practicing.” His frown darkened.
“Oh please.” She drank her wine and shooed the maids away once her plate was filled. “Stop wasting your time with that and get out there and find us a priest.”
He dropped his letter and sighed in irritation, finally glancing up to meet her eyes. “What’d’ya want me to do? Take a pack of dogs and go scouring the shire for them like a bloody fox?”
“If that’s what it takes,” she spat back. “You’re stalling. I don’t like stalling.” She flickered a glance across the room to the guards. They shifted in their places, clearing their throats and coughing to remind Jack of their presence. One spit on the floor. The kitchen maids scrambled over themselves to flee the room.
“Oy, I’m not stalling!” Jack made a show of not being intimidated. “I want to get this over with as fast as you do! The sooner that money is in Derby Castle’s treasury the better.”
“Oh sure, that’s all you care about.”
“Yes! That is all I care about! Least as far as you’re concerned,” he grumbled. She thought he would leave it there, but since returning to Kedleridge the slightest things set Jack off like Greek Fire. “Do you think I want to drag this whole process out? Believe me, I don’t. You’ll get your title and your fancy position up the ass of every nob in the shire. I hope then you can call off your watchdogs and send them back where they belong.”
“We’ll see.”
“So don’t you go accusing me of dragging my feet on this one!” he railed on.
“Well if you could control that bitch Madeline-”
“You leave her out of this!” he shouted, rising to his feet and scraping his chair back.
“You know she’s the one responsible for the priests.” Lydia poked at the eggs in front of her. “I never should
have let her out of the camp alive. She’s probably set up her own little harem of priests somewhere so she can screw them all. And your brother.”
“Don’t you dare-” Jack began, face and neck bright red. He stopped, finger stabbing the air at her, hand trembling. His gaze flickered past her.
She turned to see Simon enter the room. He was back to dressing in black. “You sent for me, my lady?” he clipped the words as if they were poison in his mouth.
“Yes,” she smiled, ignoring Jack’s tantrum. “Come here.” Simon exchanged a glance with Jack before walking to the side of her chair. The way he towered over her as she sat sent a familiar tingle through her gut. His eyes always had been ferocious. So had his embrace. He would eat her alive if she gave him half a chance. How delicious that would be! “Those awful kitchen maids need to be punished again,” she feigned indifference.
“For?” His eyebrow gave the barest of twitches.
“Impertinence. They failed to acknowledge me properly this morning.”
“Oy, give Alice and Imogene a rest already.” Jack snatched his letter from the table and stuffed it in his belt. “And Simon too while you’re at it.” Before she could scold him he told Simon, “I’m goin’ to Derby. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“Very good, my lord,” Simon nodded.
“Not very good!” Lydia rose in protest. “What about the priests? What about our wedding preparations?”
“Go prepare them yourself!”
He didn’t wait for her reply. Snatching a bun from the plate that had been set for him he scowled and stomped out through the front door. The guard she’d tasked with watching him jumped to follow. When he had left the room as well Lydia shrugged and went back to her breakfast.
“Once you’ve punished those girls I want you to do a thorough cleaning of my bedroom,” she went on to Simon as though nothing had happened. “The bedclothes are older than my grandmother. I want them replaced at once.”
“Is there anything else you want?” Simon drawled. His subservient act was gone. The Simon she once knew hovered before her.
She grinned up at him, studied the lines of his shoulders, the swell of his chest. It was too bad he wore a tunic that covered the more interesting parts of him. And those parts were very interesting. “Oh yes, Simon. There is so much more that I want.”
“Is that so?” He gripped the side of her chair and leaned closer.
Her heart raced. She could smell the rich masculine scent of him, feel the warmth radiating from his body. Her eyes dipped to the neck of his tunic but he had it done up too tightly to see much. Her memory filled in the blanks. Everything she’d ever wanted was within her reach, literally and figuratively. Her blood felt like fire in her veins. “Of course it is,” she hummed.
“And you think Jack is the key to all that?” his words pulsed with seduction.
He bent closer still. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. His lips were parted. She surged closer to him, heart pounding into her throat, her pussy aching. “Yes,” she whispered. She was so close she could taste victory.
She closed her eyes. His breath was warm against her mouth.
“Then you’re a bloody fool,” the words rolled up from his chest.
He stood abruptly and turned on his heel to walk out of the room.
The cool air that rushed in around her was harsher than a slap. She sucked in a breath, flushing red, stomach fluttering. Too late she recovered her wits and spun in her chair to call out, “Simon! Come back!” He disappeared around the corner into the servant’s quarters. “Simon!” A wave of panic at losing him again hit her. She crawled out of her chair and ran halfway across the hall before forcing herself to stop.
She snapped back towards the table, holding a hand over her chest to still her pounding heart. How dare he bait her like that! She balled her fists and glared up at the one remaining guard. He stood by the door, staring at the ceiling, pretending he wasn’t there. “Go have my horse saddled!” she ordered, fury replacing the raw longing she’d let the man see.
“Yes, my lady.” He bowed and tripped over himself rushing out of the house.
She huffed in indignation and glared at the passage to the servant’s quarters. Her anger flared hotter as it mixed with lust. If Simon thought he could play with her again he had another thing coming. This time Constance wasn’t there to get in her way.
Jack galloped into the courtyard of Derby Castle with the same sense of dread he’d carried for the last month. He pulled his horse to a skidding stop and jumped down before it could settle, his back still aching from the wounds of his ordeal in the forest. One of the stable boys rushed forward. He ignored the lad, eyes scanning the courtyard, the cloisters, the side buildings for any sign of Madeline. She was staying at the castle. Tom was too. Ever since Aubrey had told him he had gone out of his way to avoid them. There was no way he was going to be able to do what he had to do if Madeline was always a breath away.
He didn’t see her in his initial sweep. He couldn’t miss the bloody guard Lydia had sent to keep his noose tight.
“Oy, why don’t you go get yourself lost,” he called to the man as he marched towards the stairs up to the castle door.
“I got orders,” the man grunted, jogging to catch up with him.
“Yeah?” Jack paused and spun to face him. “Orders? I’ll tell you what.” He reached into his pocket and fished around for a few coins. His fingers tangled with the beads of his rosary. His stomach lurched its way to his heart. He ignored it and took out a few coins. “Why don’t you take this and go find a pretty girl to spend it on.”
The guard stared at the coins, scratching his head and wincing. “I can’t,” he pouted.
“Fine.” He fished in his pocket for a few more coins. “Will that do it?”
The man groaned as if sorely tempted. “It’s not that, my lord,” he cringed.
“What. What is it then?” Jack was in no mood to play games with the wanker.
“It’s me wife and little ‘uns, my lord.” Jack’s brow flew up. “She’s got Connor and the boy Roderick ‘watchin’ out for ‘em’.”
The familiar twist of despair that had become such a part of his life stung Jack again. If only the guard’s revelation made him like the man more. But no, he was still a miserable, wanking brute and acted like it every chance he got. Maybe his wife was better off where she was. Just like Madeline was better off wherever she was.
“Fine,” he shoved the coins back in his pocket, clutching the rosary as he turned and climbed the stairs.
It was small relief that he had an overwhelming amount of work to do. The castle was busier than usual as he strode across the main hall towards the stairway leading down to the War Room. Under normal circumstances he hated a busy castle. It meant too many problems, most of which were addressed at him in Crispin’s absence. But today it meant that there would be plenty of distractions to keep his mind off other things.
He wasn’t surprised when he found Aubrey seated in Crispin’s place at the table, pillows piled around her. She rubbed her bulging belly as she read a letter.
“Oy, you gonna up and have that baby already?” he tried to joke. It sounded more like a criticism in his current mood.
“Not for another month or so.” She sighed and put the letter down. He recognized the frown that creased her face and hurried to his end of the table to get away from it. Aubrey’s eyes flickered to the guard as he settled against a pillar and crossed his arms. “Your friend still following you around?”
He ignored the question. Aubrey knew better than to ask it. “I got a letter from Crispin this morning,” he sought to deflect her.
“So did I.” She strained forward to pick up a piece of parchment from the table. “What does yours say?”
He yanked the letter from his belt and arched an eyebrow at her. “Oy, you testin’ me, mate?”
She struggled not to grin at his comment. She’d been fighting not to laugh at him or smile at him at all since she’
d found out he was marrying Lydia. “He wrote to me that he’s on his way home. His letter came with another carriage full of strongboxes.”
“Yeah, he told me he sent two hundred or so marks from out west.” In spite of everything, it felt good to be able to report on what he’d read in a letter. A year ago he wouldn’t have been able to read his name if someone had spelled it out for him. Of course a year ago he was a carefree peasant dreaming of the day he would be reunited with a freckled nun. “Has the money been put in the treasury?” He blocked himself from daydreaming. If he had his way he would never dream again.
“It was,” Aubrey shifted, her frown returning. “And with the money Crispin has already sent and the amount he writes that he’s bringing with him when he comes home that takes us up to just about five thousand marks.”
“An’ Lydia’s hoard should be enough to get us to ten thousand,” he added in a grumble, studying his letter instead of meeting her eyes.
“We’re sure to be able to make a few hundred more marks at the joust and festival next month,” she raised her voice and ignored his statement, “and I’ve surveyed the guilds in the city to see if they would be interested in selling to neighboring shires to make up the difference.”
“Which is nice but unnecessary if you take Lydia’s hoard into consideration,” his own voice took on a harder edge.
“Plus I think we could ask a better price for our wool this year if we take it to some of the larger markets near the coast,” she rode over his statement.
“Or we could save the trouble of transportation costs by not ignoring me when I say that Lydia’s money will be more than enough to cover the rest of what Derbyshire owes!” He finally glanced up and met her eyes.
“You don’t have to do this, Jack!” Aubrey exploded. “You don’t have to and you’re a heartless ass for even considering it!”
“Derbyshire doesn’t have the money for me to consider any other options,” he surprised himself by sighing and backing away from her fight instead of arguing with her. “This is far and away the easiest solution to the problem we could possibly hope for.”
