Heart of Stone

by Quinn, Paula

  “How d’ye feel?” Rauf asked and touched the back of his hand to Nicholas’ cheek.

  “Better than I have in many days, old friend. Too many days.”

  “Aye,” Rauf agreed in a low voice.

  “Now tell me, how did you free me from DeAvoy’s men?”

  “They believed Rauf dead and left him at Lismoor,” Simon told him. “They had rounded Margaret and me up with some of the other prisoners and took us away. Our group was not far from where they were moving you.”

  “Just us?” he asked hesitantly. He didn’t want to hear bad news of Julianna or Elias.

  “Just ye,” Rauf told him. “I woke up a few days ago hangin’ over the battlement wall in Lismoor. I went through the castle but, Nicky, I didna find anyone. They may have been hidin’ because they are not among the prisoners. There are others I canna find,” he lamented. “Agnes…Lancaster. Some bastard ran me through with his sword.” He lifted his léine beneath his plaid to reveal a perfectly sewn gash on both sides.

  Nicholas’ gaze fell to Margaret and he smiled. She smiled and blushed back.

  “The blade narrowly missed anything vital,” she told him.

  “God smiles upon Rauf!” Simon declared with an easy grin.

  “I am glad,” Nicholas told him then tried to move. The pain was intense but it was over more quickly than before. “I have to find her.”

  “You need to be still, my lord,” Margaret said, putting a hand to his shoulder to stop him. “You are badly injured.”

  She was right. He felt worse when he moved. He needed to heal. He turned to Rauf. “How did you rescue us?”

  “I arrived a day ago,” his commander told him. “I brought horses and some weapons. I learned where people were. I found the bishop but not Lancaster. I waited fer the men to sleep and made my way quietly into the camp. I fought and killed a few of the men but it seemed they had no officer. They were easy to kill, even with my wound. Margaret sewed me and she and Simon aided me in gettin’ ye and the bishop oot of the camp. Margaret tended to both of ye. We removed the arrow from yer shoulder. ’Tis healin’ already.”

  “What happened to the bishop?” Nicholas asked, looking around and not finding him.

  “He didna make it,” Rauf told him sadly. We thought he was doin’ better until twelve hours ago when he perished from his wounds.”

  “Damn it,” Nicholas swore. The bishop was his friend. More for DeAvoy to pay for.

  “We must go back,” he commanded in his most authoritative tone. “We must find Julianna and my son before the Governor of Alnwick does.”

  “Why?” Rauf asked watching him struggle to sit up. “What does she have to do with him?”

  “She was married to him,” Nicholas told them. “She…he died. Or so everyone thought. He was buried alive and escaped his grave.”

  They both shivered in their skins. Rauf recovered first. “That is damned unnervin’, Nicky.”

  Nicholas nodded. “He accuses Julianna of conspiring to kill him. He has gone after her.”

  Rauf paled.

  “He will…” he ground his jaw and began again. “He will beat her.”

  Rauf leaped to his feet. “I will go get her!” he pledged loudly. “Simon and Margaret will remain here and see to ye. Aye?”

  “Aye,” they both said in agreement.

  “I will go back to Lismoor. They have to be there. What of Lancaster?”

  “Let the king deal with him,” Nicholas said. “He is the reason for all this.

  There is nothing more we can do.”

  Nicholas warned him about the Viscount of Bamburgh who had been sent to Lismoor to get her. He set out alone on his horse a short while later.

  Nicholas grimaced then smiled when Margaret caught him trying to rise. “I hate that he is alone.”

  “He is quite a capable man, my lord,” Margaret told him as if he didn’t already know. “He checked every cart until he found you. When he finally did, he rejoiced with Simon.” She smiled, remembering.

  Nicholas smiled, too.

  “But, of course, there are those who are not here that he wishes were. Julianna, Elias, Agnes.”

  Nicholas’ smile warmed on her blushed cheeks. “Does Agnes return his affection?”

  Margaret nodded emphatically. “She does!” Then, just as quickly, her smile faded and left a dark frown in its place. “But she could be dead. Many of Lismoor’s villagers are dead.” She stopped to weep a little, then apologized, vowing that it was beyond her ability to stop.

  He understood. The villagers were his responsibility. Many were dead. The bishop was dead. Who else? “I must get well.”

  “You will, lord,” she comforted. “But you are just over your fever and your ribs have not yet healed. You must rest now. ’Tis the best thing for you. Here, have a sip of tea.”

  He didn’t want to rest, and he didn’t want tea. He wanted to go to Alnwick in case Bamburgh was following his orders and taking her there.

  “You two must help me,” he pleaded.

  “We are going to, my lord. Here, just a bit. ’Twill help you feel less pain. Do you feel its effect already?” she asked when he drank some and stopped struggling.

  “Aye,” he answered drowsily.

  “Good,” she whispered. “You will heal and then we will go.”

  He closed his eyes, but he didn’t sleep. How could he rest? How could he wait, not knowing what was befalling Julianna and his son?

  His legs felt a bit like melted butter, which he guessed was an effect of the whisky, so he had to wait until it wore off. In the meantime, he watched Margaret and Simon prepare some dried meat and mushrooms for his breakfast, she informed him.

  He wolfed everything down like a man who hadn’t eaten in a sennight. He hadn’t. He felt better when he was done and insisted on Simon helping him to his horse.

  “You may have to secure me to my saddle, my young friend.”

  “Oh, my lord,” Margaret worried, trying to help. “No good can come out of this! You will fall and break your neck!”

  “I will not fall. Now use that rope to tie me on.”

  She grabbed for the rope that had bound him and with Simon’s help followed his instruction on how to secure him to his saddle. Unfortunately, he couldn’t lift any of the swords Rauf had brought back from the castle, so he couldn’t protect his two friends. He couldn’t leave them here alone. He was unsure if he could fight and was acting rash, thoughtless. His brothers warned him against it. He didn’t want to get Lismoor’s seamstress and brother killed, so he asked their aid in helping him down.

  He had to wait, for their sake.

  “I will use the time wisely,” he promised and walked for a bit around the camp.

  She went back to cleaning and Simon stayed close by his side while he practiced lifting his blade. At first, the pain was intense and he wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing. But then the pain ebbed and after another twenty hours, ten to work and ten to sleep, he carefully gained his mount. He lifted his blade and swung and a flash of pain shot through him and reminded him why he was doing this.

  He had to keep her from DeAvoy.

  “Gain your saddles,” he told them. “I am going to take you to safety.”

  “I want to stay with you, my lord.”

  “Now, Margaret—”

  “I will not separate from you,” Simon argued. “That was not part of the plan.”

  He could argue that he hadn’t agreed to any part of any plan, but what did it matter? He nodded, allowing them to stay with him. He reminded them of the dangers. He wasn’t sure he could fight.

  They nodded and they set off north. They rode hard throughout the morning, and then stopped to eat fruit and drink water. Margaret talked about her capture on her way to the village. She had seen what happened to Molly, and she ran. Nicholas was glad she had. She told him how Rauf had come for her as he promised and then they went to his cart. Rauf wouldn’t go without him.

  “He is brave and was par
t of Cain’s army for many years,” Nicholas assured her. “I will make certain that what he did today is acknowledged.”

  She nodded and then they rode toward Alnwick.

  Julianna sat by a window in a huge set of rooms shown to her two days ago by two happy, young maids named Lizbeth and Cicily. She pushed open the shutters and looked down into the inner bailey. She wasn’t at Alnwick. And she wasn’t at Bamburgh. The viscount had told her it was his cousin’s castle in Edlingham. It was more like a garrisoned manor house with a small keep and a tower than a castle. Bamburgh hadn’t taken her to Alnwick. That was all that mattered. He promised he would help her and she was beginning to believe him.

  She looked out over the yard and enjoyed the wind in her hair. She liked her time alone, when she could think about Elias and how he was sleeping. She thought of everything except for the one who mattered most to her.

  She couldn’t think of Nicholas without weeping and fighting off hopelessness. She wanted to see his face again, hear his voice again, feel his arms around her, his mouth upon her.

  The viscount had sent letters of request to rescue Lord Rothbury from the hands of Phillip DeAvoy to three former soldiers of King Edward, each with a small regiment of men at his command. He also wrote a letter to Kind Edward telling him all about Phillip’s crimes. All they could do now was wait for any word. Bamburgh had refused to go free Nicholas himself if she was anywhere near DeAvoy. He also refused to leave her here alone. So he hired men to do it.

  A knock came at her door.

  “Enter.” She turned as the door opened and smiled when she saw the viscount. “Any news?”

  “Nothing yet, but these things take time.”

  What things? Julianna thought fitfully. Finding out if the person you love more than life is dead or not? She turned back to the window.

  “You have not eaten,” he pointed out, looking down at her untouched breakfast tray.

  “I cannot eat when I do not know the fate of the man I love,” she murmured, staring at a stand of treetops in the distance.

  “From what you have told me, your earl sounds like a strong, resilient man. I am sure he still lives.”

  Julianna finally turned to him and smiled. He was kind for trying to reassure her. Kind for hiring men, which did not come freely, to find and rescue Nicholas. For hiding her here instead of taking her to Alnwick.

  “My lord,” she began. She wanted to tell him—

  “Louis.”

  “Louis,” she accepted with a slightly warmer smile. “I wish to thank you for all you are doing for Nicholas.”

  “I do it for you, Julianna.”

  Her breath faltered on her lips. His emerald, somber gaze fell to her mouth. She brought her hand there like a shield.

  He looked away.

  “For whatever reason you do it,” she continued, lifting her chin from her hand, “You have my gratitude.”

  He cared for her. Why else would he risk so much? She was sorry he could never win her heart.

  “May I sit?” he asked, motioning to the chair close by, before the hearth.

  “Of course.” She would deny him nothing but her body and her heart.

  She watched him settle in and began to braid her hair to keep it from flying into her face.

  He held up his hand to stop her. “Not all of it.”

  She stopped midway and tied it with a strip of cloth from the pocket of her léine.

  “You have told me much about your Nicholas,” he began. “I feel great compassion for him and—” he crooked his mouth to one side. “—a measure of jealousy for what he shares with you.”

  She smiled and shook her head at him. He was silver-tongued and full of charm and decadence. She pitied any woman who fell under his spell.

  “But you have told me little about you,” he continued. “How did you escape Alnwick and DeAvoy?”

  “With great planning and the clothes on my body,” she answered. “I drugged him one morning at breakfast and left the castle while he slept. None of the guards stopped me since I was often sent to search for fresh berries just outside the gate.”

  “Why did you drug him if nothing you did was suspicious?”

  “Because I needed a horse and I wanted the best. His. He sometimes went riding in the morning and I wanted to ensure that he would not call for it to be saddled since I had drugged all the guards’ ale the night before and while they thought they had slept on duty, I stole Phillip’s horse and led it outside the gate. I tied the beast to a tree, saddled it, and left it waiting for me until the morning.”

  The viscount’s smile widened on her and his gaze brightened with admiration.

  “I was very frightened,” she told him, stepping down from a place she didn’t want to be. “I ran away—abandoned my husband. I did it to survive.”

  He nodded and softened his smile. “I know.”

  “What about you, my lord?” she asked, wanting to veer away from the topic of her. “Tell me of your life in Bamburgh and what made you pick up your sword?”

  “My mother was a Scot,” he confessed quite bluntly, much to her astonishment. “Damnation, but that felt good to say to someone.” He grinned at her. “Graham. Sarah Graham she was called.”

  “Then why do you fight for King Edward and England?”

  “Because I was raised in Bamburgh as an English noble. You understand,” he said. “You were raised in an English house. The Scots killed your family.”

  “Aye, and the English killed Nicholas’.”

  “Aye,” he agreed softly. “Both sides are guilty.”

  “And here you are,” she reminded him with a curl of lips and a playful slant of her eyes, “trying to save the life of a Scottish nobleman.”

  He laughed at himself and shook his head. “Truly pitiful.”

  “Then all men should be as pitiful.”

  He looked at her and smiled. For a moment, he appeared as if he might spring from his chair and go to her. He didn’t. He left his chair with a quiet word or two of thanks and then left the chambers.

  Julianna was thankful he hadn’t tried to force himself on her. She felt safe enough with him to remove her rings and bracelets. That feeling of safety fled when a movement caught her eye outside, just beyond the trees.

  A rider on his horse. Her heart leaped. Nicholas?

  Please, let it be Nicholas.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rauf could not believe his eyes. Lismoor in the hands of the English! Cain would ride in and kill them all if he knew. Aleysia would likely do worse. The first Lady of Lismoor had traps all over the forest. Some were still set, waiting in the trees to be cut loose.

  He thought about luring some of the English soldiers patrolling the battlements into the woods. He wasn’t sure he could time the traps correctly. But killing wasn’t the main purpose. He needed a way to get inside and find any who remained.

  From the tree line, he set his eyes on a guardsman on the wall. He lifted his bow and nocked his arrow. He didn’t miss. The guardsman doubled over and fell off the wall. Rauf sprinted toward the western hill, where a tunnel had been erected years before by a village set on saving its lady from the Scots.

  He waited while the guards saddled up and left the outer gate. Less than half went out but it was now or never to get inside.

  He found the tunnel entrance and crossed himself as the wind whipped his hair in front of his face. He heard a sound on the wind. Faint enough to make him doubt the good of his ears.

  Crying. A babe crying. Elias! He turned right and took off, following the sound to a dark, narrow path. Elias’ wails grew a little louder as the path opened and a shaft of light poured through the canopy and a sheet of thin ice on the forest floor. He kept going, fighting overgrown bramble and bushes that tried to stop him on the path. Finally, he turned a bend, toward a small opening barely visible beyond the bramble.

  He stepped through and immediately spotted Agnes pacing in the patches of snow on the grass, trying to comfort Elias. R
auf’s heart rejoiced at seeing them. He had feared the worst. But Julianna was not with them. What happened to her to make her leave the babe? Was she already forcibly taken by the Viscount of Bamburgh? Was he too late?

  “Rauf?” Agnes sounded as happy to see him as he was to see her.

  She ran to him and squashed Elias between them. “Oh, Rauf! I thought I would never see you again! Or anyone else,” she cried, pressed against his cloak. “I was sure we would die here. How did you find us?”

  “The weepin’,” he said, smiling at Elias, thankful for the first time for the strength of the lad’s lungs.

  But right now, they needed him to keep silent. “Shh,” he whispered to Elias and pulled out his sword. “The noisy dragon sleeps beyond the hills. ’Tis called England. Let us not wake it.”

  Thankfully, the lad stopped crying and set his glittering eyes on the hills.

  “Agnes,” Rauf said, turning to them. “Where is Julianna?”

  Agnes told him everything that had happened with the viscount and the bargain Julianna had struck with him to release her and the babe. “I think she knew him.”

  Rauf wondered how she would.

  “He came here for something—”

  “Her,” Rauf said.

  Agnes dipped her brows and looked even more forlorn than just before she saw him.

  “Her husband,” he continued, “who she thought dead and buried is alive and responsible fer all this. He sent Bamburgh here fer her.”

  Rauf thought he saw a hint of a smile on Agnes’ lips when she opened them to speak. “For her. Still, he let her bargain for our lives. He could have refused, laughed in her face, for what could she have done against him? Though he did see the two men who appeared dead by her hand. He could have killed us easily, for their men killed almost everyone else. But he did not refuse. He gave in. Elias and I escaped through the tunnel but we could not go back to the castle, and the village—” She began to cry. “—many are dead on the road. I did not want Elias to see so I gathered what food I could carry and came here. Aleysia took me here once with Mattie. ’Tis difficult to find. I did not know where else to go. I did not know if you were alive.”