“He drowned,” Jamison said simply. “There is no great mystery tae it. Whoever finds him will think he fell intae the river and drowned.”
Tobias shook his head still baffled by the entire situation. “Madeline,” he muttered, sipping at his wine. “God’s Bones, who knew she was capable of such things?”
“Not me.”
“Do the men know? Surely they must have seen you take her to the vault.”
Jamison shook his head. “Only a few at the gatehouse saw,” he said. “The sergeant in charge has told the men not tae speak of it, tae anyone. He is also personally selecting men tae guard her, men he trusts. That should keep the rumors quiet for a while.”
“But the men are going to eventually miss her, Jamie. She is always around.”
“When the time comes, we will tell them the truth. But for now, out o’ respect tae the family, we should keep it quiet.”
Tobias couldn’t disagree. His thoughts then shifted from Madeline back to the circumstances Jamison had described by the river’s edge and the horrors therein.
“And Havilland,” he said after a moment. “Had you not followed her, she would more than likely either be dead or someone’s concubine by now. You saved her life.”
Jamison didn’t want to think about how close he came to losing Havilland but, on the other hand, it was all he could think about. The wine wasn’t doing much to wipe away that terror. With a heavy sigh, he drained what was left in his cup and moved to pour himself more.
“I canna believe a sister would permit her own flesh and blood tae be threatened so,” he said. “But it wasna just Havilland; it was all of us. She put all of us at risk feeding the Welsh information as she did.”
Tobias nodded his head. “Agreed,” he said. “My father shall know this. I am sure he will want to take Madeline with him when he departs back to Lioncross. I am not entirely sure what kind of punishment he will decide upon, her being a woman, but whatever it is, she will pay for her crimes. Treachery cannot go unpunished.”
Jamison knew that. He took another big gulp of his wine. “But there is something more,” he said, eyeing Tobias. “I heard Evon say something that may be the answer tae a question we have been asking ourselves since we arrived.”
“What question is that?”
Jamison lifted his eyebrows, prefacing some very serious information. “He spoke of Madeline divulging the true sickness o’ her father,” he said. “Roald de Llion isna sick as we’ve been told, Tobias. Evon said that he has gone mad.”
Tobias looked startled. “Mad?” he repeated in disbelief. “Is that why we have not seen the man for over a year?”
Jamison drank his fourth cup of wine in one swallow, standing up from the table and weaving unsteadily a bit. Wine always went straight to his head. “According tae Madeline, it ’tis,” he replied. “And I am going tae discover the truth of it from Lady Havilland. If Roald is mad, then yer father will want tae know when he arrives. It changes things a bit.”
Tobias nodded but he put out a hand to prevent Jamison from leaving the table. “Wait,” he said. “Lady Havilland is probably averse to seeing you so soon after you put her sister in the vault, so I will go and speak with her. I’ve hardly had the time to speak with her since the battle ended.”
Jamison looked at the man, squarely, thinking that now might be a good time to establish the line with Havilland. He couldn’t blame Tobias for being interested in her but he couldn’t let it go on. Tobias had to know that Havilland was not as unattached as he would have hoped. Jamison hoped that Tobias would understand and surrender his claim, as a proper gentleman would, but he wasn’t so sure. Tobias had that de Lohr aggressiveness in him, something that served him well in battle but was misplaced in a situation such as this.
“There is a reason for that,” Jamison said, trying to sound as non-confrontational as possible. “Lady Havilland is spoken for.”
Tobias’ eyes widened. “She is?” he asked. Then, his features flooded with disbelief. “How is that possible? I have heard nothing about this!”
Jamison tried not to smirk like a man who harbored a great secret. “Because it only just happened,” he said. “I’ve asked Havilland tae be me wife. I would, therefore, appreciate it if ye kept a polite distance from her. She’s not tae be trifled with.”
Tobias looked him, dumbfounded. “You… you asked for…?”
“Her hand, aye.”
It was clear that Tobias had no idea what to say. He stared at Jamison, his features wrought with shock, but the shock soon turned to disappointment and he lowered his gaze.
“I see,” he said quietly. “I had no idea you had those thoughts about her, Jamie. Had I known, I would have told you that I had the very same thoughts.”
Jamison already knew that but he didn’t want to make it seem as if he had known. To do so would have been to insult Tobias. I knew ye were interested but I wanted tae get tae her first….
“Ye do?” he said, feigning ignorance. “Ye never told me.”
“I know.”
“Did she know?”
Tobias shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “I would not have told her. She would have probably spit in my eye. Havilland de Llion is a warrior above all. I do not think she gives credence to womanly emotions.”
Jamison wasn’t sure what he could say to that so he didn’t say anything at all. He could tell that Tobias was upset by the news but, much to the man’s credit, he didn’t argue about it. He simply acknowledged it. Feeling rather bad that his friend was feeling some disappointment, he slapped a big hand on Tobias’ shoulder.
“She does, more than ye think,” he replied. “I will go speak wit’ her now about her da. I’ll let ye know what she tells me.”
With that, he turned and walked away but a soft hail from Tobias stopped him. Jamison came to a halt, turning to look at his friend. When Tobias saw that he had his attention, he took a step or two towards him, curiously.
“When you asked Havilland to be your wife, what did she say?” he asked.
So he isna going to go quietly, Jamison thought. “She agreed,” he lied.
Tobias simply nodded his head, looking rather like a kicked dog about the whole thing. Jamison felt bad for the man but not badly enough to try and comfort him. That would have been odd. Departing the hall and leaving Tobias to nurse his wounded heart and wounded pride, Jamison headed back to the gatehouse where the vault was, the last place he had seen Havilland.
His thoughts switched to her quickly and easily. She was never far from his thoughts, anyway, so it was easy to open his mind and let her blow in like a breeze, touching everything about him. He drew in a deep, cleansing breath as he crossed the bailey, gazing up into the sky and seeing that the mist was starting to form again as dusk drew near. The smells from the pig the cook had been boiling all day were heavy in the air, making the men hungry, and Jamison found himself wondering what the evening meal would be like with Madeline in the vault and traumatized Havilland and Amaline. Truth be told, he was fairly traumatized himself about the entire thing.
The gatehouse drew near and he disappeared into the small doorway with the stairs that led down to the sublevel below. There were two cells down there, very small, and a big, fatted torch burned heavily in an iron sconce, giving off a good deal of light as he came to the bottom of the steps and looked around. Madeline was still where he’d put her, in the first cell, sleeping heavily on a pile of fresh straw and a blanket someone had given her. He didn’t even feel any pity when he looked at her, knowing what she had done. But there was no Havilland down here so he made his way back up the stairs and asked the first soldier he came across if he’d seen Havilland. The sentry pointed in the direction of the stables.
Following the woman’s trail, he ended up in the stables that housed several big horses belonging to the knights. He found his own horse there, a shaggy black mount he’d purchased in Edinburgh. Slapping the horse on the arse affectionately, he came to a halt when he heard soft female voices. He l
ooked around but saw no one until he realized they were coming from overhead in the loft. Finding the nearest ladder, he climbed up.
In the corner of the low-ceilinged loft, which was strewn with piles of hay, he could see Havilland and Amaline off in a corner where there seemed to be some kind of storage area. The young women were speaking softly, sitting before a pair of big trunks and rummaging through what looked like clothing. Fabric was everywhere. Jamison came off the ladder and made his way across the loft, nearly bent in half because of the low ceiling. Amaline was the first one to see him and she let out a yelp of surprise, causing Havilland to swiftly turn to him. When she saw that it was Jamison, she gave him a half-smile.
“You startled us, my lord,” she said.
He took a knee a few feet away so he was able to straighten out his neck. “My apologies,” he said. “I dinna mean tae. I heard yer voices from down below. What are ye doing?”
Havilland pointed to the trunks. “These are our mother’s belongings,” she said. “She had a great many clothes and we are looking for something serviceable for Alis de Lara’s party.”
The warm expression faded from Jamison’s face, glancing at Amaline before speaking. “Ye still wish tae go?” he asked hesitantly. “After what happened today?”
Havilland looked at Amaline, who was sitting on her bum, looking at a dress in her lap. She sighed faintly. “Ammie knows,” she said quietly. “I told her everything. I told her what Madeline did and I told her how you saved me.”
Jamison looked at the young woman with the wild red hair. “I see,” he said quietly. “’Tis unfortunate what happened with Madeline. I just checked on her. She was sleeping.”
Havilland was touched that he would show her sister polite concern no matter what she had done. To her, that spoke of the man’s true character, as a merciful captor. “And the men?” she asked. “Do they know what she has done?”
Jamison shook his head. “Only the sergeant in charge of the gatehouse and a few trusted men know,” he said. “There is no need tae announce tae the world what Madeline has done. We shall keep the matter private for now.”
“What are you going to do with her?” Amaline’s head came up, her question directed at Jamison. “Are you going to keep her in the vault?”
It was the first time the young woman had actually spoken to him. Most of the time, she hid from him, frightened like a rabbit. He answered honestly.
“What Madeline has done is a very bad thing,” he said. “I am holding her for Lord de Lohr’s arrival. ’Tis he who will decide her fate.”
“Lord de Lohr is coming?” Havilland asked. “Have you sent for him already?”
Jamison nodded. “Brend rode for Lioncross this morning,” he said quietly. “Given what was happening with yer sister, I felt it necessary tae summon the man.”
Havilland knew that. She knew her sister was in a huge amount of trouble. Her feelings were still torn, in so many ways. “I understand,” she said, looking at the garments in her lap. “What do you think he will do?”
Jamison wouldn’t tell her what he really thought. The situation was still too fragile given the upheaval of Madeline’s capture. He’d spoken briefly on it yesterday when he first informed her of Madeline’s treachery but he didn’t want to elaborate, not now. He didn’t want to upset her and Amaline more than they already were.
“I dunna know,” he said. It was the truth, he really didn’t. “But de Lohr is wise man. Trust that he’ll do the right thing.”
“I hope he keeps her in the vault,” Amaline muttered.
Both Jamison and Havilland looked at the youngest sister. “What did you say, Ammie?” Havilland asked.
Amaline’s head came up and she looked at her sister, frowning deeply. “I said that I hope he keeps her in the vault,” she said. “Madeline is mean and terrible. She yells at me and tries to push me around… and she tries to tell the men not to obey you, Havi. You know that. And now that she has tried to kill you… I do not want her to come out of the vault, not ever. Our lives will be much better if she does not.”
It was a surprising statement from a young woman who never voiced her opinion and Havilland felt a good deal of pity for her youngest sister. She knew that Madeline pushed Amaline around quite a bit, ordering her about constantly. She also knew that they were exceptionally close, so she had some doubts about Amaline’s desire to keep Madeline in the vault. She couldn’t really imagine that she meant it. Still, Havilland’s thoughts lingered on the sister who had ruined her life forever.
“Well,” she said softly, “I suppose Lord de Lohr will decide what is to be done with her. As much as it pains me to say it, I will not plead for her. I think she would only try to do it again. I do not believe she will ever amend her ways and that is a very sad thing for me to say. She is my sister and I am supposed to support her, but the truth is that she was more than willing to let me die and watch Four Crosses be destroyed. Even if Lord de Lohr were to release her out of pity, I would not want her here. I could never trust her again.”
Jamison could see how torn she was about the situation. “I canna say that I blame ye.”
“Nor I,” Amaline said. She set the garment on her lap back into the trunk and stood up, brushing the hay from her breeches. Her gaze found Jamison, shyly. “Thank you for saving my sister. I never really knew my mother, you see, and Havilland is the closest thing I have to one. Thank you for… well, just thank you.”
Quick as a flash, she ran to him, pecked him on the cheek, and scurried from the loft, leaving Jamison watching her go with a grin on his face. When he turned to Havilland, he saw that she was grinning, too.
“She is probably mortified at herself for doing that,” Havilland said quietly, watching him chuckle. “It took all of the courage she had.”
Jamison shifted so he was sitting on his bum. “Good,” he said. “That means she was sincere.”
Havilland watched him settled is big body down on the straw. “She is,” she said. “Amaline is one of the most honest people you will ever meet, unlike Madeline. But she is also very close to Madeline in spite of what she has said. How I have two sisters so completely different in character, I will never know.”
Jamison leaned back on one big arm. “That happens in families,” he said. “I have three brothers. Me eldest brother, George, is meek and studious. He is tae take me father’s place as chief of our clan someday but he doesna want tae do it. He’d rather be a priest. Then, there is Robbie, who is younger than I am. A greater rascal has never existed. Hector is the youngest and a good deal like me.”
Havilland was listening with interest. “You have mentioned George before,” she said. “But I’ve not heard you mention Robbie or Hector.”
Jamison grunted. “Because it was Robbie I was defending when I killed a man,” he said. “I wasna intending tae forgive him for sending me back intae England but I think I can now.”
“Why?”
“Because had I not come, I wouldna met ye.”
Havilland grinned, averting her gaze. She had no idea how to respond to him, untried in the ways of courtship as she was, but she was getting a little better at it. She liked it when he flattered her like that.
“Had the Welsh not attacked us, you would never have come to Four Crosses,” she said. “I suppose it is strange to be grateful for dangerous situations, but in this case, I… I suppose that I am also glad the Welsh attacked.”
He leaned in her direction, flirting openly with her. “Are ye, lass?” he asked. “Does that mean ye’ve thought more on me marriage proposal?”
She flushed red, unwilling to look at him. “Mayhap.”
“And?”
She kept turning her head because he was trying to look her in the face, moving closer and closer. The closer he drew, the more she turned her head away to the point where she had to turn her back on him. But Jamison wouldn’t let her. Reaching out, he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her about, causing her to fall back against the trunk. He wa
s right next to her, his big body against hers, his warmth scorching her tender flesh.
Having never been this close to a man that she felt something for, Havilland was having difficulty breathing. He was big and fleshy, powerful and handsome… and his nearness to her… Sweet Jesú, his nearness had her entire body quivering. When a big hand came up to touch her cheek, she thought she might faint dead away.
“And?” he pressed, his voice a husky whisper.
Havilland’s heart was pounding against her ribs as she gazed into his eyes. A deep, dark shade of blue that looked like a sapphire she’d seen once. Had he asked her a question? She couldn’t even remember what it was.
“Are ye going tae make me beg, lass?”
She was breathless, her mouth dry. “Beg… beg for what?”
“For an answer,” he murmured. “Will ye be me wife.”
She nodded. She couldn’t manage anything more than that. With a grin on his face that nearly made her swoon, Jamison’s lips slanted over hers, gently at first, acquainting her with his touch. He wanted this kiss to be careful and sweet and special, a promise of things to come, but the moment he tasted her, he knew this kiss wouldn’t be a brief one.
It was going to take all of his strength not to ravage her.
Warmth. Honey. Sweetness. Those were the thoughts rolling through his mind as he touched her, his first impressions. Sweet Jesú, he could smell her and it was an intoxicating mixture he’d never smelled before – her own sweet musk mingled with leather and something that smelled fresh, like green leaves. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was but all he knew was that it excited him beyond reason. It filled him. She filled him.
He had to have more.
His hands were on her face, snaking into her hair. He knew he was overwhelming her with his attentions, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was satisfying this hunger he seemed to have about her, this inherent need to possess her. He knew he’d pushed her about marriage and he’d very well pushed himself on her in general, but he was a man who knew what he wanted. He was determined to have her even if he had to force her into it.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 77