“But did you see this here woman come in with a baby?” The young man raised his voice to be heard over the crowd. He wasn’t happy about sharing the limelight. Once he had their attention again, he continued. “The stranger was huntin’ for Ox’s coins when that woman came running inside carrying a squawlin’ babe in a leather bag slung over her shoulder like a sack of corn. The wench screamed when she saw ole Ox dead on the floor.” The young man turned to face the crowd and vaulted upon a nearby table then back to the floor. “The robber leaped over the bar and stood in her path. He says, ‘give me that brat’, but the woman didn’t budge.” The youth’s voice lowered in a dramatic way and spoke to the crowd, ignoring Henry.
“Frozen with fear, me thinks.” Clyde interrupted again. “The stranger grabbed for the bag containing the child and the woman went wild, swinging her arms at the man.” Everyone backed up as he demonstrated the woman’s actions. “He drew his knife and stabbed her in the chest twice before she turned loose the bag.” The old seaman waved his crutch in the air then slammed the end against the wood floor with a loud thump to indicate the battle. “The babe’s howlin’ got loud enough a deaf man could hear it. Before the woman hit the floor, the murderer jerked the bag away from the woman and ran out.” Clyde pointed to the doorway and the crowd, caught up in the story, turned to look at the open doorway, as if they might see the brigand escaping. “He got on his horse and rode away like the king’s army was after him.”
“What did the child look like?” Henry’s tone had risen to near panic as he grabbed the old seaman’s filthy tunic, ripping the ancient fabric.
Evangeline could barely draw a breath. She was too late? Sarah was gone? The brigand had taken her?
“Only its head stuck out of the bag. It had light brown hair and a squall that could raise the dead.” His voice rose in desperation as he pointed to the floor next to the bodies. “That fell from the bag when the killer grabbed it from the dead woman.” The nearest person stooped and picked up the bit of cloth and held it up.
“Aye, that there came from the bag.”
“Sarah!” Henry loosed the man and grabbed the cloth. His eyes were wide with fear, the same fear that clawed at Evangeline when she recognize Sarah’s blanket. “Which way did he go?”
The seaman and the boy pointed out the direction at the same time. Henry turned for the exit pressing through the crowd of onlookers. Evangeline left out the back door with fewer obstacles in her escape and managed to beat him outside. She headed toward the front of the inn with the intent of taking the nearest mount. As she turned the corner, Helen was out back with a horse saddled and ready.
“Go. I filled a bag for you with milk and supplies for the bairn when you find her. I’ll stay here and deal with this mess.” She handed Evangeline the reins. “I’ll send someone to fetch the king’s guards to follow you.”
Helen must have slipped away to the stable while Evangeline had stayed to listen.
Evangeline gave her friend a quick hug and leapt onto the horse sending it into a gallop in the direction the men had pointed.
The crowd outside the inn jumped out of the way to let her pass.
“Wait.” Henry shouted.
Dread soured her empty stomach with the thought of what would happen once he caught up with her. She shoved the thought away. First, they must save their daughter from being sold. In her heart she knew, for as sure as the sun rose, Henry would not be far behind.
Why did that thought comfort her?
The crowd had cheered the rider on. But Henry knew only one person who rode with such reckless abandon. Evangeline. His Evangeline. But how could that be?
He mounted the bay and charged after the unknown rider. His thoughts ran through his mind at equal speed.
After the fire, only four bodies were recovered, those of the servants and guards. Evangeline’s body could not be found and was thought to have been burned to ashes. His grief, as well as his need to protect little Sarah, had stopped him from searching further. Another stupid mistake, one of many his pride had suffered him to make.
Every jolt of his mount’s pounding hooves upon the hard trail loosed more painful memories.
The nanny’s confession had revealed who had hired the brigands.
Millicent.
She had pursued him long before he met Evangeline. Millicent had been one of three young women his father had considered as a prudent union. He had pressured Henry to pick a bride at the king’s ball, then Henry saw Evangeline and no other would do.
That he had even for one moment considered Millicent as a potential wife sent a stab of repulsion at his gut.
Every murmur hinted of Evangeline’s infidelity had come directly from Millicent or one of her maidservants.
His grief over his brother’s death had kept him from seeing the truth.
Evangeline had tried to tell me.
Everything they’d suffered was his fault. He’d been so stupid.
His horse stumbled, almost going down bringing his attention back to the present. Caution warred against his urgency to reach the rider ahead of him and little Sarah. He pulled back on the reins to slow the tired animal to a walk. If the horse fell, Henry’s already injured body would not fare well. There would be no second chance to find the truth or make things right.
Chapter 16
Evangeline urged the horse faster, though she knew the gelding was giving his all. She would have to slow their pace soon or risk both her and the horse collapsing from exhaustion.
Only prayer and a stubborn determination to reach her daughter kept her in the saddle. After battling brigands, then helping an injured Helen make it to the inn, with no time to rest, she was near the end of her endurance.
“Please, God, give me strength.” She swiped away the tears that blurred her vision.
Searching the trail ahead revealed only an oxen cart and a lone farmer. She slowed her mount to a walk when she reached them.
“Have you seen a rider with a child go by?” Weariness reduced her voice to a gravely whisper.
“What say?” The elderly man squinted up at Evangeline and cupped his left hand against his ear as if trying to catch her words.
She took a deep breath and tried again, praying her raspy words spoken slowly could penetrate his lack of hearing.
“Yep. A mean lookin’ bloke with a bag full of squallin’ babe passed me not long ago.” He nodded and pointed to the right fork in the road. “Went that way, toward the coast.”
“Thank you.” A flash of renewed energy filled her with hope knowing she was close to catching the brigand. She turned her mount toward the trail indicated and nudged the horse into a trot, then pulled back the reins to stop.
If Henry took the wrong path, she would have to deal with the brigand on her own. Not that she couldn’t take on any brigand if her body was rested, but truth be known, she needed Henry’s help until the king’s soldiers caught up.
Decision made, she rode to an ancient oak growing nearest the right path and pulled her knife. She made quick work of hacking an arrow into the trunk pointing to the direction with her initials ES below it. Her hand stilled in hesitation before she continued to carve and encircled the letters in a heart. Only Henry would understand the significance of their private code. Her chest heaved with a sudden fear of revealing her secret. Too late. The deed was done. She kicked the horse into a gallop.
Every horrible thought of what her precious daughter was suffering at the brigand’s hands filled her with fear and fury. Had he injured her by his rough handling? She was only a baby. Anguish loosed a sob deep from her soul.
No, he would want her to be safe if he was to collect his reward.
Her anger flared as hot as the fire One-eye had set to kill her. He would pay with his life.
Henry allowed the bay to walk until the animal cooled down and its breathing slowed to normal. After the brief rest, he kicked the horse once again into a gallop hoping that alternating rest then speed would keep the anima
l on its feet.
He approached a fork in the road. With no sign pointing the way to the coast and no one in sight to ask directions, he pulled his mount to a halt while he studied the tracks in the dust. A wagon pulled by oxen had gone left. A flock of sheep had been driven to the right trail, obscuring any other prints. Frustration and indecision plagued him.
“Please, God, show me which way to go. I can’t find them on my own.” He closed his eyes hoping for divine intervention.
The tired bay took the opportunity of the relaxed hold of the reins to wander into the taller grass beside the road.
Henry opened his eyes, disappointed that he hadn’t heard a voice from heaven. But with the sin of pride in his life, why would God speak to someone such as he?
He pulled the bay’s head up from grazing. A decision had to be made. With a tug on the reins he turned the gelding toward the left trail when something caught his attention. The midafternoon sunlight highlighted a freshly carved arrow pointing to the right fork, but there was something more carved below it. He rode closer for a better look.
His breath caught in his chest when he saw the heart carved beneath the arrow and the initials etched within.
E.S.
Evangeline Stanton. Initials drawn within a heart was their secret code to authenticate notes sent to the other. It was also used to mark the way in their newlywed games of hide and seek. Warmth heated his torso with those intimate memories then a chill of suspicion slammed the door on the past. Was this a trick to throw him off the trail? His heart said no.
Evangeline was alive? Could it be? Only one way to find out. He kicked the horse into a gallop down the right fork in the road. Within the hour his horse had stumbled twice. Urgency demanded he hurry but reason won out. Killing the exhausted animal by continuing this pace was not an option. Henry pulled the gelding back to a walk. The bay tensed and alerted Henry to the scene ahead.
A horse stood beside the trail, head down munching grass.
His horse whinnied. An answering whinny responded. Where was its rider? Could it be a trap? Bandits?
He drew from his shirt the knife that Fisher had thrown at him—Henry’s knife as it turned out.
Glad for the weapon, he wasn’t sure he was up to winning a battle in his present condition.
“Who goes there?” He hoped the authority in his voice would make any robber think twice. Holding back a groan of pain, he straightened his posture in the saddle so as not to reveal his weakness.
“Tis only me.” The gravelly voice of the nun sent joy leaping in his chest until worry halted his exaltation. Where had she come from? Had she been chasing the brigand, too?
“Are you hurt?” He dismounted and rushed toward the woman.
“No. But my horse has thrown a shoe and is lame.” She stepped out of the shadow of the horse allowing the sunlight to highlight her features.
Shock surged through him with the force of a hurricane slamming into the shore. He staggered back two steps. Clothed in men’s pants and a tunic, the raspy voice was that of the nun’s, but the face…
“Wha-a-t?” His legs threatened to buckle. His breath escaped him and his heart pounded hard as if trying to escape his chest. “Evangeline?” He whispered her name again and again. As if in a trance, he stepped toward her until he was within reach and pulled her into his arms. Shock loosed deep gut-wrenching sobs, which racked his body. He tightened his hold and drew in her fragrance. Could it truly be his beloved?
“Please, you’re crushing me.” She clung to him a moment before she pushed against his chest.
Reluctantly he loosened his hold but refused to release her.
“Evangeline?” He touched her face and traced every feature. “Please, God, let this not be another torturous dream.” He touched her hair. The shorter locks barely brushed her shoulder. Her height was right, she fit right under his chin, but instead of creamy white skin, soft curves, and gentle countenance, this woman had the darkened skin and toned muscles of a common laborer. Was this truly his Evangeline? She must have recognized his doubt, for she tensed and squirmed out of his grasp.
“It is not a dream, Henry.” She raised her chin. Defiance sparked from her eyes. “I am alive.”
It was as if she’d slapped him. Pent up fury replaced his relief.
“Where have you been?” He grabbed and shook her. “I thought you were dead.” At first she offered no resistance, then she stiffened.
With a growl of protest she broke his hold with sudden upward thrust of her arms against his.
His anger was not as easily thwarted. Fists tight, he fought for control of the betrayal that raged within him.
“To the world, Lady Evangeline is dead.” Her expression of grief was real, but the gravelly voice was not the sweet teasing tone that still taunted his dreams.
He threw his hands up in disgust, stepped back then folded his arms to keep from grabbing her again and shaking the truth out. He had died a thousand deaths since that fire.
“Why?” The anguish he’d lived with so long quickly turned again to anger. “I demand you explain.” His voice rose to a shout.
Her expression hardened into a familiar defiance with an air of regal dismissal before she turned away. “Explanations can wait. Sarah is my first priority.” She left him fuming while she led her limping horse down the road.
“Do you know where the brigand is taking Sarah?” He hated to wait to satisfy his need to know the truth of why she would abandon their child and their marriage, but she was right. Sarah was their first priority. There was no time for a long discussion at the moment, but he vowed there would come a time, even if it took locking her in a room until she told all. It couldn’t come soon enough.
“I overheard the leader say that a Spanish merchant waited for him.” She turned her focus on the road beyond. “I caught sight of him just before my horse went lame. He’s not far ahead, and his horse will also need to rest.”
“Did you see Sarah?” He was not about to let Evangeline out of his sight and hurried to her side, tugging his tired mount behind him. Their only option, unless they came across an inn or a farm with fresh mounts, was to allow his bay to rest. The gelding was too tired to carry one rider and certainly not two. Walking only exacerbated Henry’s aches and pains, also proving he was not caught in the middle of one of his many nightmares concerning his wife.
“I heard her crying.” Her voice caught with emotions. She paused and took a deep breath. “I tried to reach him, but he heard me and whipped his mount to go faster.” Her shoulders shook with silent sorrow. “I couldn’t follow.”
He started to reach for her but stopped himself. She didn’t deserve his comfort.
“Why, Evangeline?” Grief kept his tone soft but the question was filled with anguish.
“I thought you had abandoned me after my baby died. I was inconsolable.” Her voice was strained and barely above a whisper.
Henry stepped closer. Misery pooled tears in her eyes, and it took effort for her to speak.
He wished he had been more forceful with his demands to speak to her after Sarah’s birth. One person stood in his way every time.
“Millicent.” He loosed a few choice curses. “She convinced everyone that you had rejected the baby and refused to see the child.” He rubbed his pounding temple. “I was a fool to listen to that wicked woman.”
“You believe now that she had come to spread lies and rumors to separate us?” Surprise highlighted her tone. She stopped and turned toward Henry as if to search for truth.
Guilt burned his conscience. He nodded. There was nothing he could do to fix the past. Regret was a heavy burden. Millicent had caused so much damage and would pay for her lies. “I’m sorry for ever doubting you.”
They led the two horses and walked in silence.
“Can you tell me where you’ve been?” Henry kept his tone low to hide the anger that still simmered beneath his chest and threatened to burst through, demanding an accounting for every day she’d be
en missing.
“I—”
“Stop them!”
The shout had Evangeline and Henry drawing their weapons. A team of runaway horses sped toward them. The driverless wagon they pulled lost a barrel then another with every bump in the road. The loud crashes of splintering oak and pungent odor of the ale spilling out spurred the frightened animals into a frenzied need of escape.
As if with one thought, Henry and Evangeline stepped into their path, shouting and waving their hands. The frightened team veered off the road onto a freshly plowed field stopping the rampage as the heavy wagon sunk into the soft earth.
Two men on horseback raced up. One stopped before them and the other veered off toward the field.
“Thank you. I feared they would run over some poor souls.” The older man dismounted and reached out his hand toward Henry. “Your bravery and quick action were the answer to prayer.” He gave a polite nod to Evangeline, though his brows shot up when he realized she was a woman dressed in manly attire. The younger man dismounted when he reached the team and worked to calm them.
“Sir, as a reward for saving your wagon may I ask a favor?” Henry knew his ragged appearance hardly called for such as he was about to ask. He drew what energy he had to stiffen his posture and hopefully reflect his high-born heritage.
“Depends.” The man was now suspicious, his hand rested on his weapon. “What ‘tis it you want?”
“Your mounts.” Henry raised his hands at the man’s obvious suspicion. “We only need to borrow them to get to the port and will leave them at the nearest livery.” He offered the reins of his mount. “We will leave our horses in exchange.”
“I don’t think…” The man glanced at their sheathed weapons, clutched his horse’s reins and backed away.
“Please, sir. Our daughter has been kidnapped, and we must reach the port before the kidnapper sells her.” Evangeline’s voice cracked with emotion, and tears streamed from her eyes. “Our horses are exhausted from the chase.”
The Secret Life of Lady Evangeline Page 14
