Aislinn gasped. “She is but eight years old.”
Hugh’s brows rose. “By his own example, our king has encouraged noblemen to seek child brides. Did he not wed his French bride, Isabella, when she was only twelve?”
“He is a king. His powers extend beyond those of most nobles.”
“True. Yet, with King John waging an endless struggle to keep control of his French lands, he will not be so concerned with lords in England taking young brides, especially if those lords are loyal to him and wealthy. Riverwell earns a good income from his estates in Lincolnshire and has been more than generous in sending money to King John’s coffers. Indeed, Riverwell is one of the king’s most influential supporters.” Disgust churned in Hugh’s gut. “Furthermore, he does not need to wed my daughter to have her in his household and my lands within his grasp.”
“What do you mean?”
“At our meeting regarding the thefts, I heard him boasting about a lovely widow he intended to make his wife. He just had to be patient and not relent in his courtship of her until she agreed.”
Aislinn swallowed hard. “He was referring to me.”
“Aye. I had heard years ago that you had married, but did not know your husband had died. When Riverwell said your name, I could not contain my shock. I was overcome with rage and resolve. Rage that he would speak so frivolously of marrying you and resolve that he would never have you, not unless you willingly chose him to be your husband. I knew I still cared for you. I wanted another chance with you. His interest… Well, I quickly organized my journey to see you.”
Aislinn’s eyes softened, but her voice held steady when she said, “How does this prove Nolan is the man who coordinated the attack in the woods?”
“I see now the full extent of his treachery.” Hugh trembled with his rage. “He intended for me to perish in the attack, a victim—or so ’twould appear—of outlaws. He had the thugs steal my clothes, boots, and other items that might reveal who I was, so that ’twould be several days, if not sennights, before my body was identified. Meanwhile, he would secure his betrothal to you and likely ask for a quick marriage. By marrying you, he’d not only get a new wife, but increase the number of estates under his control.
“In time, my body would be identified. I would be declared dead. Since I had no male heir, ownership of Hallingstow Castle would revert to the crown. Once Riverwell was married, and with the respectability of marriage in his favor, he would petition the king to take my three daughters in as his wards. The king would see that request as a most generous act and would have no reason to refuse, especially when days after the attack, Riverwell heroically found Philippa, who had been abducted and mistreated by outlaws.”
“Mercy,” Aislinn whispered.
“Indeed. In the end, Riverwell would have you and your holdings, as well as mine, by means of caring for my children. Philippa would be his to do with as he pleased.” The thought made Hugh want to vomit. Whatever happened in the coming days, he would never yield Philippa, nor Aislinn, to that man. Never.
Aislinn’s eyes glistened with tears. Dismay etched her features. “What you describe is a most foul deception.”
“Indeed, ’tis.”
“You will need proof.”
He growled. “I will get it.”
“Now ’tis clear why you felt such fury toward Nolan when he visited you days ago—even though you could not remember the reason for that rage.”
Hugh nodded. “I told you he had lied.”
“So you did.”
“He likely expected me to die from my head wound. By saying he did not recognize me, he intended to delay anyone finding out who I really was. That, in itself, is some proof of his duplicity.”
She exhaled a sharp breath, the sound full of remorse. “Nolan was one of Matthew’s dearest friends. He has been most kind to me since Matthew died.” Shaking her head, she said, “I cannot believe…”
Hugh took her cool, slender hands in his again. “I would not try to deceive you about Riverwell. ’Tis not my way.” He smoothed his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “On more than one occasion, I have seen greed and ambition in Riverwell’s eyes. He felt slighted by King Richard. Now, with King John in power, Riverwell aims to advance his own interests. The easiest way to gain recognition from the crown is by increasing the number of estates under his rule. This allows him to provide more men to fight the king’s wars. Also, more silver collected through fines and taxes to fill the crown’s coffers. These are things King John values.”
“Do you think Riverwell knew of the emerald? Did he plan for the attackers to steal it from you?”
Hugh shrugged. “I do not know.”
Tears slipped from Aislinn’s eyes. “Oh, Hugh. ’Tis awful.”
“Aye,” he agreed. He kissed her brow, her hair soft beneath his lips. Releasing her fingers, he slid his hands into her tresses, tilting her lovely face up so she held his gaze. “’Tis why I will do all I can to stop him from wedding you.” His voice roughening, he said, “’Tis why I will make you mine.”
Her lips parted, as if she meant to reply, but he could resist her no longer. Dipping his head, he pressed his mouth to hers, catching her startled gasp. The sweetness of her lips, the instantaneous flare of pleasure at kissing her again, brought a groan wrenching from his throat.
He kissed her with all the long-ago regret, the fresh anticipation, and steel resolve warring inside him. With his lips and tongue, he promised to love her for the rest of his living days. He pledged his soul to her, kiss by kiss.
As she sighed and her body relaxed forward to press against him, he dropped his hands from her hair and slid his arms around her waist, the emerald pressing between them. She was glorious, his Aislinn, in the hunger of her kisses, the feverish plying of her lips and tongue, in the scent rising from her perfumed skin.
“Aislinn,” he groaned. He pulled her flush against him, nudging his hardness against her womanly softness. How he yearned to plunge into her silken heat, to pleasure her so completely she would love no other man.
Only him.
With a low, husky chuckle, she drew away from his ravenous mouth. Her eyes bright, she said, “I do care for you, Hugh. A great deal.”
“Thank God.” He snatched another brazen kiss. This time, he slowed the plunder of his mouth, drawing out the kiss, until she moaned and quivered in his arms.
Aislinn drew away, her face flushed, her hair tangled by the wind. “Please,” she said softly, drawing his gaze from her kiss-reddened mouth. She touched his cheek, her light-as-silk caress making the fire inside him lick hotter, higher. “You have given me a great deal to think about today, including my feelings for you.”
He longed to kiss her again, to eradicate the hesitation she voiced so eloquently. Yet, when he’d left her to go to London, he’d placed his desires above hers. He’d hurt her, because of his self-centeredness. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Nodding, he said, “I understand.”
Aislinn smiled.
“My greatest desire, though, is to win your heart again.”
Leaning up on tiptoes, she kissed him, a flirtatious brush of her lips. “Is that so, Lord Brigonne?”
He returned her kiss so thoroughly, she melted against him. “Without any doubt, Lady Locksmeade.”
“Then you and I must find a way to capture those who planned to kill you,” she said. “For if I give you my heart again, ’twill be forever.”
Chapter Eleven
Market day dawned to a cloudy, gray sky. Standing in Pendersley’s bailey, readying to climb up onto her horse, Gilly shook her head. “I hope it does not rain, milady.”
“So do I,” Aislinn agreed. “With luck, the rain will hold off until later in the day. At least until the sheriff has captured the thugs.”
She glanced at Hugh, who was helping Philippa up onto his mount, and a nervous shiver raced through her. A great deal depended upon today’s outcome, and she wasn’t the only one who was anxious. Hug
h had paced the bailey, impatience in his strides, while the wagon was loaded and the horses were saddled and bridled. He’d asked her men-at-arms for a bow and quiver of arrows, and those were tied to his saddle. Hugh looked more than ready to avenge what had been done to him and Philippa—although the sheriff had forewarned him that the kidnappers were to be taken alive for the information they’d divulge.
Aislinn had assigned six men-at-arms to ride as escort, and at last, the group and the creaking wagon headed through Pendersley’s gates and onto the road to Crannley.
Once at the market, Gilly started setting up the stall, assisted by a man-at-arms.
“’Tis busy already.” Gilly nodded toward the rows of stalls filling the square. She greeted a woman and young daughter admiring the soaps, while Aislinn discreetly looked at the other folk nearby, in hopes of spying the thugs.
Followed by a man-at-arms, Philippa wandered down to a stall offering wooden toys, and Aislinn took a deep breath, unable to stop an icy chill from weaving through her. She’d barely slept last night, her thoughts consumed by possibilities of what might happen today. If all went to the sheriff’s plan, the men who had attacked Hugh and Philippa would be arrested. On the morrow, when Nolan visited her castle, drawn there by her invitation to discuss his marriage proposal, she’d lure him into confessing that he’d hired mercenaries to ambush Hugh. She hadn’t quite figured out how to glean the confession, but she’d find a way. Nolan, too, would be arrested. At last, those responsible for hurting Hugh and Philippa would meet the punishment they deserved.
The grim chill reminded her, though, that as thoroughly as the sheriff had planned, with additional lawmen dressed in common garments and wandering the market in case of trouble, few plans ever unfolded as expected.
If Hugh was hurt again… If he were mortally wounded during the capture… She couldn’t bear to think about such an eventuality.
A touch on her sleeve drew her gaze to Hugh, walking past. He wore one of Matthew’s brown wool cloaks, its broad hood drawn up over his head. “Any sign of the two men?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Aislinn said. Be safe, her heart cried. Please, Hugh, be safe.
His mouth flattened. “I am headed to Roundston’s shop. I will be there if you need me.” He patted Philippa on the shoulder as he walked past and disappeared into the growing crowd of shoppers.
Forcing down her unease as best she could, Aislinn made her way to Philippa. “How about if we wander along the rows of stalls?” Aislinn said. “If you recognize anyone, tell me right away.”
The girl nodded. She looked so solemn, Aislinn wanted to wrap her arms around her in a soothing hug.
With two men-at-arms accompanying them, Aislinn and Philippa strolled from stall to stall. Smoke from a nearby fire drifted on the breeze, the scent of burning wood strong in the air.
The crowds thickened. The buzz of chatter and laughter from the shoppers grew louder. Aislinn studied the men she passed, comparing them to her memories of the thugs she’d seen in the shop.
Not far down the third row of stalls, Philippa lurched to a stop, so suddenly Aislinn almost walked right into her. The girl swung around to look wide-eyed at Aislinn. “I saw one of the men.”
“Where?” Aislinn asked quietly.
“Walking out of that building. The one with the red lion on the sign.”
The tavern.
Aislinn glanced at the building, and the chill inside her solidified into an icy knot, for there was the black-haired man, Byrne. A moment later, Karr strode out of the tavern, loping to catch up with his friend.
Philippa moaned. “That brown-haired man with the scar—”
“I see him.”
“He took my shoes,” the girl choked out. “He told me he would hit me if I tried to run.”
“Shh,” Aislinn soothed, drawing Philippa in close.
The two thugs strode into an alley off the market square.
Aislinn looked for the sheriff. She could send one of her men-at-arms to find him, but that would leave only one guard to watch over both her and Philippa, and with the market so crowded, she well knew ’twas not a wise idea.
Movement by the tavern drew her attention again. Another man left the building, tugging down the sleeves of his light blue tunic as he walked.
Nolan.
Aislinn fought a jolt of shock. She hadn’t anticipated seeing him today. Yet, ’twas no coincidence that he’d been in the tavern at the same time as the thugs.
“I want to go back to Gilly,” Philippa said.
“All right.” Aislinn glanced at the closest man-at-arms. “Please escort Lady Brigonne back to the stall.”
“Aye, milady.”
As the two walked away, Aislinn searched the crowds again for the sheriff. Raised voices, the sounds of a heated argument, carried from the stalls to her far right. If the sheriff wasn’t there already, he’d doubtless be headed that way to resolve the dispute before it became a bloody brawl.
She strode toward the commotion, her man-at-arms close behind. As she walked and as gaps formed in the milling crowds, she glanced at the alley. The third time she looked, Byrne and Karr were striding back out into the market square, a large cloth bag slung over Byrne’s shoulder. They were headed toward the row of shops that included Roundston’s premises.
She must find the sheriff!
Rising on tiptoes, she slowly turned. Her gaze locked with that of a tall man striding toward her: Nolan.
Mercy! Somehow, she forced her lips into a smile. “Good day.”
“Good day, Aislinn.” His appreciative gaze traveled over her cloak and gown. “I wondered if you were here today when I saw Gilly selling the soaps.”
All that Hugh had revealed about Nolan crowded into Aislinn’s thoughts, bringing a fine sheen of sweat to her palms. However, they had yet to find proof that he’d been involved in the forest attack, and she mustn’t betray Hugh’s suspicions. Not when the sheriff’s well-laid plans had yet to unfold.
“What brings you to the market this day?” she asked, keeping her tone light.
“A few matters.” The faintest hint of caution shadowed his eyes. Then, smiling, he added, “I look forward to visiting you on the morrow.”
She nodded, her attention drawn by shouting men trying to break up the disagreement. “Well, if you will excuse me, I was on my way to find the sheriff.”
Nolan’s brows rose. “Your man-at-arms could find him for you, could he not?”
“He could,” she agreed, “but I have no wish to be robbed or accosted while he is gone.”
“I will stay with you. You will be quite safe with me.”
Her pulse drummed against her breastbone. She couldn’t very well say that she felt unsafe with Nolan; that would surely raise his suspicions. Motioning to her man-at-arms, she said, “Go. Return as quickly as you can.”
The man-at-arms disappeared into the crowd.
“Tell me,” Nolan said easily. “The man you found in the woods, the one who was injured. How is he?”
A sliver of ice scraped down her spine. “He is much recovered.”
“Brigonne got all of his memories back?”
She froze. Oh, God. “You know his name,” she whispered.
Nolan’s eyes widened, as though he suddenly realized his mistake. Then, he shrugged, the gesture a little too stiff to be convincing. “I heard a man in the village say—”
“Nay.” A bitter taste filled her mouth. “You lied when you said you had never met Hugh before. You expected him to die from his wound, so you said he was a stranger.”
Eyes narrowing, Nolan said, “Aislinn—”
“What reason would you have to lie? To delay anyone finding out who he really is?” The dangerous words rushed from her lips before she could stop them. “I cannot imagine why you would lie, unless you have something to hide.”
His features hardened into an ugly mask of anger.
“If you will excuse me,” she said, turning to race away.
He caught her arm. Before she could cry out, a cold object dug into her lower ribs; the knife was sharp enough to cut through her cloak, gown, and chemise and graze her skin. His arm slid around her, pinning her to his side.
“What are you doing?” she choked out. “Let me go.”
With the steely pressure of his arm at her back, he forced her to walk. “I warn you, Aislinn,” he muttered. “Cry for help, and I will plunge this knife to the hilt.”
* * *
Hugh stood in the dusty shadows in the back left corner of Roundston’s shop. The toe of his right boot touched the bow he’d propped against the wall, where it was hidden by the drape of his cloak but within easy reach, along with the quiver of arrows. He also had a sword under his cloak, belted to his left side. Whenever the men from the forest attack decided to step inside Roundston’s shop, he was ready.
It seemed as if he’d been standing in the same spot all morning, staring at shelves of crockery, simply waiting. He’d counted every piece in front of him at least thirty times, then counted how many of each kind: bowls, plates, mugs, pots, and serving platters.
The thugs would come; the sheriff had set his trap well by ensuring they couldn’t sell their stolen goods elsewhere.
But the waiting…
Hugh forced his mind to the words that had bolstered him before: Fortitudo. Fidelitas. Fortuna. He silently repeated them, over and over.
Voices, louder than the steady noise from the market, came in through the open window to Hugh’s left. Two men were drawing near. The gritty trudge of footfalls and voices became more distinct, and the fine hairs on Hugh’s nape prickled beneath his hood.
Anticipation sluiced through him, putting his battle-honed senses on full alert. He recalled the black-haired thug’s leering face and the stink of his sweat when he’d leaned over Hugh, lying dazed on the forest road, and slammed his fists into Hugh’s stomach. Hugh curled his hands into fists. His fingers yearned to close around the hilt of his sword, to draw the weapon, to confront the man the moment he stepped inside.
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