by Nicole Locke
Oh, but Cook didn’t look well. His robust body moved sluggishly, his gaze not quite meeting anyone else’s; however, he stood at his station and directed the staff. Bied and Tess exchanged glances, but no one was mentioning his arrival and it seemed he preferred it that way.
‘The trumpets most likely alerted him,’ Tess said.
They alerted everyone. She’d never seen the kitchens so full.
‘When was the last time there was company?’
‘Years, and never both the parents and two brothers.’
She thought of her own family and how they wanted to stay close, but couldn’t. And this family had everything, large homes to live in and all the wealth and prosperity anyone could want, but they all stayed apart. It was heart-wrenching and frustrating.
As was Louve. Who was he, exactly, and why was everything he did a contradiction? He helped her with the ale, told her she had to trust him, yet hadn’t offered help with her sister, hadn’t revealed his purpose in the Warstone fortress.
Playing games with Lord Warstone could mean anything and, if she were wise, should mean nothing to her. Her concern was her sister. And with the Warstones here, for better or worse, she needed her sister back home.
‘I’ll walk out with you until you reach the stairs to the private tower,’ Tess said. ‘If anyone questions our presence, I can stop and divert them, while you walk right up. It’s the third door down on the left.’
Bied lifted the tray with its delicacies. The luxury was completely frivolous, but tempting enough to offer to any Warstone who wanted it.
‘That’s two favours I owe you now,’ Bied said. ‘One for getting me Bess’s gown so I could keep this position and now helping me with my sister.’
‘Two!’ Tess scoffed. ‘Three. I argued with the porter and Steward to allow you into the kitchens in the first place.’
Bied rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not so certain you did me a favour that day.’
Chapter Thirteen
‘What are you doing here?’ Tess cried out.
Bied woke to see a dark figure standing inside their room and she opened her mouth to scream. Two heavy thuds of feet and a calloused hand against her mouth prevented it. His body blocked out the slim light, but the forest scent of him...
‘Come with me,’ Louve whispered and stepped back.
She glanced at Tess, who sat, but stayed still. The others in the room remained lying in their beds. Asleep or listening? She didn’t know. If they were to pretend he was Usher and she was a servant, she had no choice. Pushing the quilt aside, she heard the rushed breath of Louve before he left the room.
He was standing in the hall, pacing, when she emerged from the room. The rest of the servants were already rising, the day beginning.
‘What did you need?’ she said, plaiting her hair.
His mannerisms not easing even after she was at his side made her look over her shoulder. Sounds everywhere, only a few torches lit as sunlight began to filter through the empty hallway.
No one else about. He had come early, but only just. When she turned, she caught his eyes roving all over her and she looked down. There was nothing to adjust. She’d dressed in the dark, but all the ties were done and, since the gown was her own, she was adequately covered.
‘What did you do yesterday?’ he said, his voice almost raspy. ‘I was too far away, but I saw you carrying that tray. Tess was by your side and you were walking towards the private tower.’
More voices behind the door she’d closed and he indicated with his chin for her to follow. Why would he want to talk of yesterday, the failure of which still hurt her heart? No, he must mean something else.
‘Did nothing but my duties, sir,’ she mocked. ‘The family wanted some food and—’
‘Don’t,’ he said, opening a door and peering in. When there was no one inside he opened it for her to get past him. Maybe he didn’t open it enough, maybe he was in a hurry, but she went in sideways, her gown, her body brushing against his. She felt the heat, the strength of him before he pushed the door closed and the rush of cool air hit her skin.
The miniscule room itself had several shelves, mostly empty, except for a few linens not used. It wasn’t meant for two people to stand in the middle. Thus, she leaned against the shelves at her back, her hands gripping a shelf for support. Still, her feet practically touched the man she’d thought of all yesterday.
He’d kissed her. In anger. When had a man ever done such a thing? Never. And...she’d responded, but she hadn’t been angry, she’d been upset. It had been a distraction in the moment, but had he meant it to distract her still? Right now, she was almost intrigued by that scar under his left eye.
‘We only have a few moments and shouldn’t be risking these,’ he said. ‘Why did you go up the stairs to the private chambers yesterday?’
So not ale, then—he wanted to talk of feelings? She owed this man nothing. ‘Why do you think? My sister was there.’
‘That woman—’
‘Tess,’ she offered.
‘Does she know?’
‘Yes,’ she answered, although it was none of his concern. Even so, it seemed to agitate him for he took a step to the side, the room denying him any more movement. At least she had the shelf she could grip.
‘What are you muttering?’ she said.
He stopped. ‘I’m not muttering. I’m reminding myself of what I want when this is all over.’ He looked to the door. ‘We don’t have time for this.’
‘Tell me.’
‘There’s no point. You told the baker about Ian and—’
That’s what he thought? ‘I wouldn’t concern her with your games, whatever those are and whoever you are. She knows I have concerns about the ale. I want to get my sister back home and Tess agreed to help.’
His exhaled roughly as if she struck a blow. ‘Did you see her?’
‘Tell me what you were muttering.’ She crossed her arms, which was a mistake because it put more of her in front. He kept his eyes on hers, but she swore he took in her new posture, how much closer she was to him.
‘You’re the eldest, aren’t you?’ he said.
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ she said.
‘Demanding,’ he said. ‘If you must know, I was reminding myself what I want when the games are done. Land of my own, an accepting, quiet wife, peace.’
If he had said he wanted to fly, she would not be more surprised. ‘You purposefully lied to be inside this fortress, pretended to be someone else, which you still haven’t told me, and all the while Lord Warstone is playing a game with you. A man like him doesn’t play games with those lesser than him. You report you’re not from noble blood, but I wager you have skill with a sword, are learned and are devious.’
He did shift then, from one foot to another. If there was space, she knew he’d step away. For her, she released her arms.
‘We do not know each other,’ he said.
She pointed, almost poking him in his chest. ‘You said games, not game. Which means whatever this is, it isn’t the only time you’ve played against each other. Been doing it a long time, have you?’
He glanced at her finger, so she put her hands behind her again.
‘Tell me if you met with your sister,’ he said. ‘Did anyone see you?’
‘I didn’t see her.’ But she’d known that she was on the other side of a door where two watch guards stood. The other rooms along the hall were thrown open so she couldn’t hear her sister even if she called out, but she liked to believe she heard steps. That perhaps Margery heard her.
‘Did you talk with anyone?’ Louve said. ‘Something slight that you might have missed.’
This wasn’t about her. His questions were all about...whatever it was he was doing here. ‘Why should I help you?’
His chest expanded, his eyes determined as if he faced a
n opponent on an empty field. No one had ever gazed at her that way. Whatever it was he was about to say...he meant it.
‘I’ll help free your sister from the Warstones.’
His expression was one of a monumental challenge. But all she felt was disappointment. Tess had already agreed to help without demands attached. The way Louve was looking at her now, she felt that he would attach so many exceptions. Her sister would be locked behind a door for ever, guarded by men who meant to do her harm. If Bied could scale towers, if she had coin to bargain, if she had anything else, she wouldn’t be standing here with this man, who...she could stare at the rest of her life and could never trust.
That took her beyond disappointment into irritation. ‘And I’m to simply believe you.’
His eyes flashed. ‘I said I’d do it.’
‘That’s all you’ve said.’
He clenched his jaw. ‘I’ll help you escape as well. Both of you.’
That went without saying. ‘Before I tell you anything, give me something of you.’
‘Something of me,’ he said slowly as if the words were simple, but the meaning wasn’t. ‘Such as...?’
‘What are these games?’
At his expected silence, she asked, ‘Who truly are you?’
When he merely kept that calm, assured demeanour of his, she said, ‘Fine, how do you know how to run a household like you do? And don’t tell me you’ve done this before. Something...meaningful.’
‘We don’t need to know each other to get what we want. I’m from—’
‘You’re English,’ she retorted. ‘I won’t waste a question on what I already know or what is safe. If I’m to trust you, I have to know you.’
He was right, she didn’t need to ask him personal questions, and a part of her was surprised she did, but...she’d revealed too much of herself to him while in the cellars. Too personal. He knew she was poor and learnt to write in dirt. That Margery was the favoured child and educated, and no person of her station should ever have been taught to read and write.
But there was more than just her pride—she wasn’t altogether certain if her asking came from trusting him or wanting to know him. And that was the most worrisome because since when had she wanted to know a man, any man?
‘This is ridiculous,’ he said. ‘You don’t know this family, or you’d accept my assistance immediately. We can’t get caught.’
‘Then why did you pull me in here?’
‘You’re stubborn, you know that. I also don’t have to help you—you know that as well.’
Despite understanding what he meant, she didn’t have facts or trust. ‘I know. I still want to understand. She’s my sister and I can’t risk her to just anyone.’
He dropped his head, looked down at his feet. Because she leaned back against the shelves, her feet had slid even closer and she fought the sudden need to pull them back.
‘I have a friend who owns a large estate in England,’ he said, not looking up. ‘He left for several years and I managed it for him.’
‘Did you like it there?’
He exhaled roughly. ‘It was challenging, beautiful. A battle against the weather many times, but...all the tenants were in it together.’
It sounded ideal to her. It also sounded like a time and place he cherished and wouldn’t have willingly left. Why would anyone leave a good life? ‘When he returned, he evicted you.’
He gazed up through his lashes, a look she practically felt, when they were this close together. She wanted to thread her fingers though the lock of hair that fell across his cheek. Wanted to...kiss that scar under his left eye.
‘What would you do, Bied, if my friend evicted me? Would you have come to my defence?’
* * *
The look on Bied’s face was worth that needless question. Part surprise, part umbrage. Part of Louve truly believed she would come to his rescue from eviction. Most of him liked that idea.
To have a woman defend him. No, to have this woman defend him. He’d like to see that very much.
Why had he dragged her in here; why did he offer help? Nothing of this was as intended, but even with Bied and her sister in the game, waking her up early, dragging her into this room wasn’t intelligent.
He had to protect Balthus, find the parchment, not notice that this woman’s gown was so perfectly tied he wished to simply...unravel it.
The small linen room was no distraction, its minuscule size only enhanced so that he could almost smell the slumberous warmth of her skin. A scent which caused an ache that could only be assuaged by him pressing his face into her neck, kissing and tasting the skin there until he’d wrung more of those tiny sounds she made when he forced their first kiss.
Even her drowsy eyes, and the deft way she plaited her hair as she yawned, called to him. He couldn’t stop staring, there wasn’t anything else in this room, in his entire life, that was near as enticing.
‘He didn’t force me to leave the estate, I left voluntarily.’
‘You didn’t dislike it—you would have stayed.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Something of it hurt you.’
Enticing...and all too astute.
‘Nicholas and I were friends since childhood and I still hold his and his wife’s friendship dear.’ When she looked doubtful, he added, ‘I’m telling the truth.’
‘But not about everything.’
‘Now is not the time for everything.’ But there was a compunction in him to tell her the rest. He’d already told her his heart’s desire for a family and a home of his own, but he wanted to tell her more. Would she defend him still? Confront the woman he’d cared for, who never loved him in return? Storm after Reynold and Balthus for dragging him into their games and this cursed mission they were on?
He’d like to see that, too, but imagining or wanting it wasn’t good for either of them. Instead he said, ‘What else can you tell me?’
‘Tess and I went upstairs, the hallways were full, I had supplies, but... Lord and Lady Warstone believed they were for them and confiscated it all. I couldn’t return after that. There were guards everywhere.’
There it was. The crack in her voice, the slight sheen in those eyes that was there, then gone.
‘How many guards in the rooms?’ he said.
‘Five, six?’
He’d already counted the ones who came in, but others went upstairs, and he didn’t know how many. ‘Did they all wear the red band at the bottom of the tunic?’
‘No. Why is that important?’ she said.
It meant not all of the guards had been proven because their loyalty hadn’t been tested. Either the Warstones had grown negligent and they travelled with anyone who’d work for coin, or the final test to be part of the official guard was yet to come.
Thus, it wasn’t an answer he’d give her. Unproven guards could mean they could be persuaded to his side or...would like to prove their loyalty to the Warstones. He didn’t like the odds.
‘We need to get your sister out of those rooms,’ he said.
She made some sound of frustration. ‘I don’t know how to get her out of that room! There were guards...everywhere.’
‘This is not a situation where caring matters.’
‘You said you’d help.’
‘I will,’ he said. ‘We need to leave.’
‘I can’t simply believe you. I can’t. I have my friend and she’ll help me.’
She meant those words. What would any Warstone do at this point? Walk out. It wasn’t important that she trust him. But...she couldn’t involve more people. That would mean more chaos, more distractions, more danger for all of them.
Determined. Stubborn. With certainty if he simply walked out, she’d do this without him, and that, for whatever inexplicable reason, didn’t sit well with him and not only because of the danger she’d cause.
‘Whatever you do,
don’t invite Tess to help you. What else do you need from me?’
She swallowed, tilting her chin. When she parted her lips, he imagined tracing his thumb along the plump lower one until she darted her tongue to taste him, or he cupped that chin of hers, lifted it to his own where they took one breath, two before they—
‘Tell me of someone you cared for,’ she said.
A quick stab through his errant thoughts. A slash to his conscience. An ache in his soul. ‘No.’
‘Never cared for anyone,’ she said. ‘Why would you bother?’
Was that where this conversation was going? ‘I’ve loved many.’
‘Of course you have. Look at you.’
‘Well, I am appealing, but what do you mean by it?’
‘Did you just jest?’ She scrunched up her face. ‘I’m not going to tell you what I thought now since it appears you’re vain and have probably had numerous women.’
He was half-thrilled at her remark, half-exasperated. Was it possible she was envious he’d had other women? Was it possible the connection he felt with this woman wasn’t one-sided? For her to feel the pull...
Balthus would laugh at him if he knew the entire mission rested on convincing Bied to believe in him. But somehow it was important she trust him and, because he wanted that frown to leave her face, he thought to tell her his most embarrassing moment. ‘Yes, I’ve had women. Even two at once. Is that what you wanted to know?’
She blinked and he was delighted to see a slight pink blush creep up her neck and over her ears.
He laughed low. ‘Trust me now?’
She frowned, shook her head. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’re... I thought you were serious?’
‘Not that night. I was drunk, slumbering. They had each other. Apparently, many times. Maybe some day I’ll have you meet the mercenaries who know the facts.’