The drunk was too inebriated to care that he had been pushed and scolded. He rolled about on the floor and was quickly forgotten as the man with the heavy Spanish accent turned to Ryan with concern.
“Are you all right, m’lady?” he asked in a very smooth, very silky voice. “Here, let me help you to sit for a moment. Surely you need to recover from your experience.”
Ryan shook her head. “No, truly, I’m fine. He did not hurt me.”
The man smiled at her. “Then allow me to escort you back to your husband, m’lady. You should not be alone in this room full of hoodlums.”
He was kind and concerned. Ryan gazed at him; he was older, with a great bald head and skin like leather, which was tan and worn from years in the elements. Though he wasn’t conventionally handsome, his voice was rich and full, and he was quite polite and nicely dressed.
In a tavern full of ruffians and derelicts, he seemed very out of place, as did she. It occurred to Ryan that this was the man Patrizia had been looking for: a traveling merchant with manners and a fierce sense of protection towards a lady. It didn’t even occur to Ryan to be cautious, for she immediately trusted him.
“My husband is not here,” she said after a moment. “In fact, I am looking to hire an escort to London to be with him. Are you heading in that direction, perchance?”
The man shook his head. “It was not in my plans, m’lady.”
Ryan’s face fell. “Oh,” she said, disappointed. “Then I am very sorry to have troubled you. Thank you very much for coming to my aid.”
She turned to go but he put out a hand. “It was no trouble at all, m’lady. Forgive me for asking, but does your husband know that you are in this vile place attempting to hire an escort?”
Of course he doesn’t! Ryan didn’t know what to say and the man smiled knowingly. “He does not, does he? Well, I shan’t betray you. Perhaps I can help you after all.”
Ryan’s beautiful features lit up once more. “Truly? That would be terribly gracious of you.”
The man pulled out a chair for her to sit. “It would be my pleasure, Lady…?”
“D’Vant,” Ryan said. “The Lady Ryan d’Vant.”
She didn’t notice how he stared at her, or how his olive skin seemed to pale. She simply took the offered seat and tried to catch Patrizia’s attention from across the room.
“D’Vant,” the man repeated slowly. He seemed rather dazed as he took his chair. “The… Lord of St. Austell?”
“He is my husband,” Ryan replied, having no idea how stupid she was being about the whole thing. “I did not catch your name, sir.”
He took a couple of long, deep breaths before forcing a smile. “Michael. Michael Godinez at your service, Lady d’Vant.”
Ryan smiled in return. “Thank you. Are you a traveling knight, Sir Michael?”
Miguel Casteneda de la Pastrana y Godinez gazed across the table into the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It was difficult, given the realization of who she was, to focus.
He had come to the Wart hoping to find someone who knew a servant or soldier in the castle, and thereby possibly work his way into the structure of St. Austell under the pretense of seeking a job. After receiving the earl’s missive following his siege of St. Austell Castle, he had to find a way into the castle to get close to Lady d’Vant. He had spent two days in this dirty little place hoping for just such an opportunity, but never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he would come face to face with the lady herself. By God, the luck of it!
“I am a merchant,” he stammered. “I have come to St. Austell on business.”
Ryan was confident she had found someone to help her, and she was positive that Patrizia would say the same thing. She was very eager to speak with him, to bargain for a travel price, but she really did have to relieve herself and excused herself from the table. Patrizia happened to see her from across the smoky room, and she and Ryan came together several feet from the door.
“There’s a man sitting over by the door who says he can help us,” Ryan said eagerly. “His name is Michael and he is a merchant. Why don’t you talk to him while I go outside and take care of my business.”
Patrizia could see several people over by the door. “Which one?”
“He is older, bald and very olive skinned,” Ryan said. “He sounds Spanish. He seems very nice and helpful. Go and see if he is someone you would approve of.”
Patrizia meandered in the general direction Ryan had indicated. Ryan, for her part, hurried from the room and out into the cold night. The door had barely closed in her wake when Patrizia, moving cautiously through the crowd, laid eyes on a sight she thought she would never see again.
Her heart stopped; everything was swimming strangely, as if in a dream, and it was an effort to maintain her stance. She thought she heard a gasp somewhere, unaware that it was her own startled cry.
Miguel spied Patrizia the very moment she saw him. He froze, startled, as a myriad of emotions swirled through his chest. At first he thought he might be imagining her, but he knew very seriously that he was not. She was so beautiful, just as her mother had been, and he rose unsteadily to his feet. He wasn’t sure what else to do, though it was obvious that they saw one another, and it was something that had to be acknowledged.
Patrizia, however, was unable to move forward, yet unable to turn away. She stared and stared until tears filled her eyes and she was at risk of making a fool of herself. She felt ill.
“You,” she gasped. “It’s… you!”
Miguel took a step toward her, feeling giddy and fearful at the same time. He wanted to touch her but he was sure she would slap his hand away.
“Greetings,” he said softly. “What a surprise to find you here.”
Patrizia’s face went from pale to flush all in a swift moment. “What are you doing here?”
“Resting,” Miguel lied. “And you?”
Patrizia would not be lulled into a pleasant conversation. There was nothing pleasant about her father’s surprising appearance.
“How dare you sit here and act as if nothing is amiss,” she hissed. “You, who have attacked my town and fortress, sit here as if all is right with the world!”
Even in the midst of his surprise, Miguel was too cool to be pulled into a public display.
“Please, mija, sit before you fall down,” he said softly. “It has been a very long time since we last saw one another.”
Patrizia blinked and fat tears leapt onto her cheeks. But she quickly dashed them away, her normally unruffled nature collapsing.
“No,” she said. “I will not sit. I must go.”
She whirled around and he was on her in a flash, his strong hands biting into her arms. The silky voiced father held an undercurrent of terror. “No, mija, sit down with me. You will not make a scene.”
Patrizia jerked against him but Miguel held her fast. His heart was pounding and his mouth was dry, but he knew what was at stake. He was, if nothing else, observant. He had seen the communication between Ryan and his daughter and his mind was screaming with the shock of his fortune. He could not let Patrizia ruin anything, not now. There was far too much to be gained and, being the cunning man that he was, he knew how to play the game.
“You will sit now, with me, or I will carry you out into the night and make it so that you will wish that you had,” he rumbled in her ear. “Come along, now. That’s a good girl.” Patrizia was trembling. She knew her father meant every word, the terror of her turbulent childhood enveloping her as if she was living the nightmare all over again. “Please,” she whispered. “Let me go.”
“Of course I will not,” Miguel said evenly, tugging her back toward his table. “You will sit with me now.”
A small stool loomed and Miguel plopped his daughter onto it. Patrizia refused to look at him as he sat opposite her; she was too proud to hang her head, but too terrified to look her father in the eye, so she settled on staring across the room. But there were tears in her dark brown e
yes, and Miguel stared into her pretty face; emotions rippling through his chest. He was glad to see her, but more than glad that he could once again use her to his ends.
“You look fine and well, Patrizia,” he said softly.
She refused to answer. Miguel reached over to touch her hand but she caught his movement and recoiled. When she gazed at him, it was with venom. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed. “If you try to do anything to me, I’ll scream to everyone in this room that you are the Pirate Miguel and I can promise they’ll make short work of you!”
She was like a cornered cat. Miguel cooled; gazing into her eyes, he could see that she meant what she said. But he would not let his daughter gain the upper hand.
“You will not,” he said calmly. “You will not mention to anyone who I am, nor will you tell Lady d’Vant. To do so would be to clearly invite Lady d’Vant’s death. Do you understand me?”
Patrizia was shocked but not surprised. Her father could be very brutal and not one to make empty threats. “Why? She has done nothing to you.”
“Nay, she has not. Therefore, the death of an innocent would be tragic, would it not?”
“Tragic?” Patrizia was horrified at his confusing words. “What do you mean? What are you saying?”
Miguel’s dark eyes glittered. “So many questions, mija.”
“I must question when you threaten.”
“You must never question your father.”
They were doing battle; thrust, parry, thrust. It was a weaponless, bloodless sword fight, but just as deadly. Patrizia was sick to her stomach, feeling as she had when she had been younger and completely under her father’s merciless control. But she was also courageous, and it was difficult for her to back down or concede defeat, even against his tyranny.
“Why would you do this?” she asked again, hoarsely. “She has done nothing.”
Miguel stared at his daughter a moment before a slow smile crept over his lips. “Nay, she has not,” he repeated quietly. “But you must understand that it is necessary that I escort her to London. And you will help me accomplish this.”
Patrizia was more than confused. “Why is that?”
Miguel had already said too much, he knew. But he had to make it clear that he intended to connect with Lady d’Vant and Patrizia would be his liaison. His daughter need not understand his reasons; it was better if she did not.
“Trust me that it is imperative,” he said. “I will do it with or without your help, but it will be easier if you assist me. It would be more painful if you do not.”
Patrizia had no idea why he was so determined. “I will do nothing unless you tell me why,” she countered. “Why is it so important that I help you and why is it so important that you escort her to London?”
Miguel’s jaw ticked as he thought on his answer; he was displeased at her question, but then again, Patrizia was always the one to ask questions and he knew she would not stop until she had a satisfactory answer. His daughter could not have changed that much from the last time he saw her, and he knew he had to give a little in order to gain. But what to tell her?
“Because her husband is in London,” he finally said.
“He’s in London because you attacked his fortress on the orders of the Earl of Cornwall,” Patrizia snapped softly. “He has no choice but to go to the king.”
Now it was Patrizia who had said too much. Miguel leaned forward, very interested in what she had to say. “So you know about the earl?” he said, an amused smile on his lips. “What else do you know, mija? Why has Dennis gone to the king?”
She lowered her head, knowing that whatever she said would be used to Miguel’s advantage. Already he wanted Lady d’Vant, and would not say why. His presence here at the Wart was a terrible coincidence, or omen, or both. Patrizia wished with all her heart that she and Ryan were back at St. Austell, safe within the red stone walls. If only she could sneak away from her father and somehow take Ryan with her, but she knew that was impossible. Miguel would never let her go, now that she apparently was the link to something he wanted very badly. It was ironic how he seemed to let her go very easily those years ago when he was eager to pay off a gambling debt.
“He has gone for help,” she said after a moment.
“Military help?”
Patrizia shrugged, though she knew the truth well. “I am not sure. St. Austell was damaged badly in your attack. Perhaps he seeks money.”
“But St. Austell already has money.”
She looked away from him. “I would not know anything about that.”
Miguel gazed at her; he was positive that she knew more than she was telling him, being a friend to Lady d’Vant. The situation was growing most interesting, worthy of further exploration, but he forced himself to focus on his main objective for the moment. He would deal with Patrizia’s secrets later.
Lady d’Vant chose that moment to reenter the inn. She was obviously uncomfortable around the bawdy clientele as she made her way to Miguel’s table. As Miguel rose gallantly from his chair as she approached, his mind suddenly focused on one thing; clearly, Lady d’Vant was a beautiful creature and her husband was more than likely extremely possessive of her. Miguel could escort the lady to London and spend exhausting days hunting for her husband. In his opinion, he was making this harder than it should be. A perfect opportunity was presenting itself and he had almost been too blind to realize it. Miguel smiled inwardly. He would not take the lady to her husband; he would bring Dennis d’Vant to him.
Ryan was mercifully oblivious of the scheme afoot. She didn’t notice Patrizia’s pale face or Miguel’s gloating expression. All she knew was that she was positive she had found a man to escort her to Dennis, and all she could think of was her husband.
She smiled as she took the chair Miguel offered. “Well?” she asked brightly. “Do we have an agreement?”
Patrizia could only stare at her. Miguel could only smile.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“We are not angry, Lyla, but you must tell us where Lady d’Vant is,” Clive said calmly, though he was chewing his lip furiously. “You have no idea of the danger she could place herself in.”
The morning was bright with a hint of dark clouds lingering on the horizon. Lyla turned her gaze to the landscape beyond the window of Ryan’s bower as Clive and Charlotte interrogated her. She had known this moment would come; she had only hoped to hold them off a little longer. Ryan and Patrizia had only left yesterday, which did not give them much time at all to find an escort. But Charlotte had been wise to Lyla’s weak stalling tactics; she had demanded entrance to Ryan’s bower before dawn and when Lyla denied her, she promptly had the door rammed down.
“Do you have any idea what you have allowed to happen?” Charlotte threw her hands up in the air. “Not only is Ryan not fully recovered from her injury, but the ruffians and cutthroats that peruse the roads to London defy description. We shall be lucky if she isn’t dead already!”
As Lyla’s face darkened, Clive held up a quelling hand to Charlotte. “Lady Lyla did not ‘allow’ anything to happen,” he said. “It is my suspicion that Lady Ryan went very much of her own accord.”
Lyla could hardly disagree. “She must be with Dennis,” she said frankly. “I could do nothing to stop her. In fact, I wanted to go with her, but she would not allow it.”
“Christ,” Charlotte hissed in frustration. “Did she go straight to London or did she intend to hire an escort first?”
Lyla looked at her. “In truth, I do not know. Patrizia went with her and she is very worldly.”
Charlotte pursed her lips and began to mutter furiously. Clive chewed his lip faster. “They said nothing to you of their plans?” he asked.
“No,” Lyla looked away.
“And if they had, would you tell me?”
Lyla stared off into space. Then, very slowly, she looked at him. “I did not want her to go at all, you know.”
“I know.”
“But she never listens. She always do
es as she pleases. And usually, when she runs and exerts herself, her lungs grow congested.”
“I remember.”
“I am afraid Patrizia won’t know what to do if that happens to her.”
“Does it happen often?”
“Only when she exerts herself.”
“Then perhaps we should find them before this can happen.”
It was a very clever way to state the obvious. It made Lyla feel less as if she had turned against her cousin. In truth, she had been having doubts since Ryan and Patrizia fled the fortress even though, for a brief moment, they had managed to convince her they were right. Lyla thought she had been doing the right and good thing, though it had been difficult to hold off Charlotte and Clive, especially when she was so fearful for Ryan’s safety. Still, she understood why her cousin had to go.
“She wants to be with Dennis,” she said quietly. “I am not going to stop her.”
Charlotte slapped her big thigh in frustration. “You would prefer to let her take her chances on the road? Then she will surely never see Dennis and it will be your fault!”
“She is in love with him!” Lyla snapped, raising her voice for the first time. “Do not you understand? If you find her, you shall just bring her back here and she will die for lack of him. Is that what you want?”
Charlotte came to a stop in her ranting and pacing. “Of course not,” she said, more calmly. “But she should not be out there in the world by herself and well you know it. We must find her, Lyla, and you must help us.”
Lyla’s eyes were blazing. “If you find her, are you going to take her to Dennis?”
Charlotte let out a sigh and looked at Clive. “Dennis is probably already on his way to Wales. We cannot take Ryan into battle,” she said.
“But you can take her to him,” Lyla pressed. “Why not take her to a town somewhere near him, out of harm’s way, yet somewhere they can at least be together when time permits?”
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 149