Minnette pictured him as he was earlier that evening, crouched beside her, murmuring to her about her undergarments. His smile had been predatory, his teeth flashing in a lopsided smile, a smile that made her blood boil but her heart race.
She shook herself, forcing the truth into her muddied thoughts. He would tire of her quickly, leaving her a husk of just bloomed womanhood.
Non. She wouldn’t allow that. She would choose for herself, a gentle and thoughtful lover.
“What are you thinking?” she hissed to herself. “If you do not find a way to escape you will have no choice of lovers, you will be wedded to a stranger.” Shuddering, she lost interest in the soothing warmth and scents of the bath, rising to her feet. She grabbed the bathing linen and wrapped it around herself, stepping from the large brass tub to dry herself.
Walking toward her trunk, she opened it, reaching for the satchel secreted there, but a knock on the door had her throwing the trunk closed. She stiffened, holding the linen to her chest, then turned.
“Who is it?” she called, her accent heavy because of her high emotions—fear, wariness, exhaustion.
A soft voice called from the other side, “Tis I, Bell Heather. May I come in?”
Bell Heather. The wife of their host, Elric’s friend. She had escorted Minnette to her chambers but was called away just on their arrival.
“Come.” She straightened, pulling the linen even higher.
The chamber door opened and the woman walked in, shutting the door behind her.
“Well, I am glad to see ye made good use of the bath,” she said, moving to stand beside the tub. “Did ye like the soap?” She looked at Minnette, an expectant expression on her lovely face.
“I did. It smells divine,” Minnette answered honestly.
Bell Heather grinned. “I made it myself.”
Surprised that a lady of the manor would do something so common, Minnette exclaimed, “Why?”
“Why not?” Bell Heather inquired, her eyebrows raised high. “I like to do it.”
Minnette remembered what Enid and Twila had said about Lady Bell Heather. She was once an apothecary, so it made sense that she would find pleasure in creating soaps. But…
“But you do not need to do it. There must be others who can do it for you.”
“I like to do it, it keeps my hands busy. Also, I like knowing that something I have created is being enjoyed.” She walked toward the bed and sat, patting the soft surface beside her. Without thought, Minnette complied with the silent command and sat.
“Now that ye are comfortable, why do ye not tell me what the niece of the cardinal is doing in my home?” She didn’t sound angry or accusatory, just curious.
“It was not my choice, I assure you,” Minnette blurted, feeling comfortable with the woman despite her level of undress. “I have come from France to live with my uncle, but he has sold me off to a man named Glidden to be his bride.”
“And he has enlisted the Homme du Sang to escort ye there safely.” It was a statement, one with an edge Minnette could not miss. Her uncle had much influence in the area, that much she knew, but why had he sought to use his power against someone as kind and seemingly innocent as Tristin and Bell Heather? From the time she was small, she’d been regaled with tales of her papa and his brother, Remi, how they slew imaginary dragons and battled nearly invincible, invisible foes. But as they’d grown, her papa and uncle had parted ways, her father taking over the duchy from his father, and her uncle seeking political power through familial connections in Italy. Over the years, she heard more and more about how her uncle was seeking a place of power within the Church, which seemed out of place for a man so driven by things not of God. But then her papa died, eventually leaving her at her uncle’s mercy.
Grief and sorrow wound around her heart, but she shook it off. Now was not the time for sadness.
Bell Heather tipped her head, her lovely green eyes scouring Minnette’s features.
“Ye are lovely. Were there no men in France to marry?”
“Of course, there are,” Minnette answered, unsure why she sounded so defensive. “I just did not have the time to…to…” If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that she rarely gave marriage a thought. She had her maman, her animals—though Maman did not appreciate that—and she had her home. There was little else she wanted. But now…now she wanted freedom.
Bell Heather sighed. “Ye do not have to speak to me of yer life in France.” The woman’s words allowed Minnette to relax, just a bit. “I can see that ye are troubled, though. Is it yer betrothed?”
And so much more! She wanted to scream. Instead, though, she simply answered, “I do not know him enough to be troubled.”
“That was a revealing answer,” Bell Heather said, a smile playing on her lips. “Though I was not born to it, I know the ways of the nobility. They marry off their own to gain power and the promise of peace, without once considering that the ones they are offering would rather put flaming pikes in their eyes than marry someone not of their choosing.”
Shock rolled through her and Minnette stared at the woman before her with new eyes. Before she knew it, laughter bubbled up from her belly, spilling out into the room.
“Would I be correct in assuming that your marriage was not one such as that?” Minnette asked, her heart light. She liked Bell Heather. The woman was open, intelligent, and nothing like what she expected from the wife of a nobleman.
Bell Heather grinned. “Nay, it was not. Though it was hard fought and barely won, our marriage is one of love and passion.” Her gaze took in Minnette’s flushed face, the mention of passion making heat break out over her. “Passion is an important part of a happy marriage.”
Suddenly uncomfortable again, Minnette stood, walking toward her trunk. As she was still in her bathing linen, she wanted to put another layer of fabric between her and Bell Heather’s perceptive gaze.
“I know not of passion, and I doubt it will be part of any marriage where I am forced to speak my vows.” She opened the trunk and withdrew a simple woolen tunic, something she could put on without aid. Sucking in a breath, she dropped the linen, now naked before Bell Heather who remained silent behind her. Minnette made quick work of getting dressed, and when she finally turned back to Bell Heather, the woman was staring at her, a knowing look on her beautiful face.
“What is it?” Minnette asked, her fatigue making her tone chilly.
“I am glad to have ye here, Minnette. Though the circumstances are not of yer choosing, I hope ye will honor me by being a guest at my son’s christening in the morning.”
Chapter Thirteen
Minnette bit back the panic rising into her chest.
It was almost time. Her chance to escape was nearly there.
The ceremony was over, the congregants were filing from the small chapel on the castle grounds, and Elric and Glenn were standing at the front, speaking with Sir Tristin and Bell Heather. There was a man beside them, a man who looked much like Sir Tristin, and Bear, who had sat beside her throughout the christening, told her that was the Earl of Kentwithe, Tristin’s father. The scene before her was beautiful; a mother glowing, her husband beside her beaming down at her with love etched into every line of his handsome face, and Elric…he was the most stunning of them all. He had donned the same tunic he’d worn that day in her uncle’s study, when she’d realized who he really was. Except today, his expression wasn’t grave and hard, it was bright, his golden eyes alight as he gazed down at the babe in his arms.
At the sight of him, his strong arms gently holding a small, innocent infant…it did something to her that she never thought possible. It rendered her speechless.
Aubrey Elric Harrington LaDeux. She could easily recall the look of utter awe on Elric’s face when he’d heard what the little lord would be called. The whole of the ceremony had been wonderful, the solemnity of the commitment before God and man, the heartwarming welcome from Bell Heather, her lovely daughters, her handsome husband, and the b
rotherhood, so apparent between Elric, Tristin, and the other knights. Theirs was a bond unbreakable.
She had never felt so lonely in her life.
She had no one, no friends, no family, no one to turn to, no one to lean on. It was just her. She only had herself to rely on, and she would not fail.
Strengthening her resolve, she sat straighter in the pew. From beside her, Bear cleared his throat, drawing her attention from the happy gathering at the front of the chapel.
“I know this must have been awkward for you, attending a stranger’s personal event,” he said, a blush on his cheeks.
She couldn’t help but offer the darling man a smile.
“On the contrary,” she remarked, “I have felt nothing but welcome since arriving.” Except for that moment before the great hearth when Elric had made mention of her unmentionables. “Bell Heather has been a wonderful hostess.”
Bear grinned back. “She is a good woman, perfect for our commander, err…our former commander.” Bear’s flush grew. Minnette placed a hand on his arm.
“I know who you meant, Sir Bear,” she offered softly, her heart going out to the large but gentle man. “I only wish I could stay here longer.”
“If only we were given the gift of wish granting, then we would all be at home, sipping wine and finding our pleasures with willing maids.” Minnette stiffened at the voice behind her. She twisted in the pew to meet the gaze of the man who had, somehow, snuck up to eavesdrop on their innocent conversation.
“Sir Arse,” Minnette drawled, nearly laughing when Elric’s eyes narrowed. “If anyone were to have their wish granted it should be the one with the most to lose.” She stood, ignoring the gasps from the small group gathered, and tipped her chin up. “If you do not mind, I would like to rest. It has been a trying week thus far.” She turned toward Bell Heather who was standing beside Tristin just on the other side of the pew.
Had they all come to witness her humiliation at Elric’s hands?
“Bell Heather, thank you for inviting me to witness this beautiful and intimate moment. I will cherish it for as long as I live.” And she meant it. Memories of this day, and the warmth of Bell Heather’s heart, would remain with her, bringing her comfort on those cold, lonely nights in Lorne.
Non! That would not happen! She would be in Chatteris with her aunt before the month was over, even if she had to steal Elric’s horse and ride there bareback.
“Minnette, ye are welcome here, any time,” Bell Heather said before gazing down at the sleeping babe in her arms.
A sudden surge of tears prickled at the back of her eyes. To know that kind of love, the love of a mother for her own child…it was not meant to be for her. She refused to bear a child for a man she didn’t love, and if she succeeded in living her life, hiding from her uncle, she would be alone until she drew her final breath.
But she could choose loneliness on her own terms over loneliness surrounded by people who bought and sold other people in the guise of marriage.
Leon came forward to escort her back to her chambers.
“We will leave on the morrow,” he informed her. “There will be a celebratory feast in the great hall this evening. I will return then to escort you down.” He left before she could blurt that she wouldn’t be there.
As autumn approached, so did the shorter days and the longer evenings. Fortunately, that meant nightfall came earlier than expected. Unfortunately, nightfall came earlier than she expected. She could hear the household servants busy with preparations for the feast, moving along the hallway, preparing the rooms for the overnight guests who’d come for the christening. All the busyness would certainly make it easier for her to slip out unnoticed, but she had to time it perfectly. She had to leave before Leon came to retrieve her, but she had to give herself enough time to get a good distance away before her escape was discovered.
As if in answer to prayer, a knock sounded on the door and a chambermaid poked her head through the narrow opening as she opened it.
“Good evenin’, milady.” She came into the room fully, shutting the door behind her. “My name is Derry, and I’ve come ta help ye dress for dinner.”
“Ah,” her thoughts rioting, she added, “and how long do we have before my escort arrives?”
The maid stared at Minnette as though she’d asked a difficult question. “I wanted to be sure I have enough time to…to…”
“If ye don’t mind me sayin’ so, milady, that Sir Elric is a fine man. I’d want ta look just as fine when I go ta meet him.” The maid’s words sank slowly into Minnette’s brain, and once they were there, a blast of heat wavered through her.
“Oh, non, non! It is not that. I am just nervous. I have never been to a feast before,” she blabbered, desperately trying to hide the flustered mass curling round her middle.
The maid stared at Minnette again, this time offering, “We have an hour ta see ye dressed, milady.”
An hour? Was that enough time? If you rid yourself of the maid posthaste.
“I thank you for your willingness to serve me, Derry, but I find that I would much rather dress myself.”
This time, the maid’s stare turned to a wide-eyed look.
“Oh, nay, milady. Sir Elric sent me direct ta make sure ye were ready for the evenin’.”
Sir Elric what? That bastard! She seethed. He meant to see to it that she hadn’t a moment to think of escape. What other purpose was there to send a maid she hadn’t asked for?
Biting back a flurry of French expletives, her voice flat and cold as a frozen lake, Minnette said, “I do not need help.”
Derry’s mouth opened with a panicked expression. “But, I—”
Minnette raised her hand to interrupt her. “If he asks, I will tell him you were a great help to me.”
That made the maid’s mouth slam shut. She eyed Minnette with a wary gaze. Finally, she said, “If that is what milady wishes.”
“It is.”
“Then I will be on my way.” Derry offered a quick curtsey before quitting the chamber, leaving Minnette standing in the middle of the room, her heart in her throat, as she felt the time ticking by.
Driven by the need to go, to make the most of the hour she had before Leon arrived, she hurriedly removed her gown, which was much easier since she hadn’t bothered with all the underclothes that usually took most of the time. Her dress removed, she took the satchel from her trunk, pulling the satchel open to reveal the change of clothes within. She donned the brown maid’s dress and slipped on a pair of slippers. The slippers weren’t what most maids wore, but they were the plainest she owned, and she refused to make her escape barefooted.
Dressed, she made short work of braiding her hair into a twist and tucking it beneath a wimple. Peering at her reflection in the looking glass beside the empty armoire, she liked that she barely recognized herself. It guaranteed that anyone who had even a passing glance at her wouldn’t know who she was. It meant that her chances of making it out of the castle without incident were good.
She glanced out the window to see that the sun was kissing the horizon, which meant the feast was soon to begin.
Damn! She had to hurry.
Retrieving the satchel from the bed, she tucked it under her arm and rushed to the door. At the door, she stopped, placing a trembling hand on the hard wood. It was cold beneath her fingers. She was shaking, her breaths coming in pants. Why was she so terrified?
Because you are leaving the relative safety of the known and running, headlong, into the unknown. Ah, but in the unknown, there was the chance of freedom.
Take it!
Throwing the door open, she stuck her head out, glancing one way and then the other. A maid passed, casting a curious glance at Minnette. But once her gaze landed on the dress Minnette was wearing, her curiosity disappeared.
“If the lady is finished with ye, make yerself useful in the kitchens,” the woman snapped before continuing on down the corridor.
She thought I was a maid! Minnette nearly shou
ted for joy. Instead of drawing more attention to herself, though, she ducked her head, stepped fully into the corridor and pulled the door shut behind her. The clang of the latch securing the door was like a knell, ringing out the end. An urgency she’d never known before pulsed through her, and she turned, following the direction of the maid that had passed that way.
Her breath trapped in her chest, she let it out as she came to a set of stairs that descended into another part of the castle.
Lord, let it be the kitchens. There would be a back door off the kitchens, and she could leave through there.
Pulling the satchel closer to her chest, like a shield against the coming danger, she descended the stairs which spiraled downward, until she same to an open area swarming with servants. They were busy, moving quickly, carrying trays, linens, and shouting at one another over the din of clattering dishes and murmured complaints.
Tucking her chin into her chest, she moved through the crowded kitchens and toward the door just across the way.
Almost there…I can make it. She nearly cried out when someone brushed against her, but it was only a young boy moving by her to get to what looked like the larder. Ducking her head, she focused on an open door only one more yard away.
Her heart pounding like a runaway stallion, she placed one foot in front of the other, praying silently that God had mercy for escapees. And then she was there, at the threshold, the kitchens still busy behind her, no one calling out for her to stop, no one grabbing her to haul her back into her captivity.
She stopped, peering out into the narrow alley that backed up to a high wall. Her heart in her throat, she stepped from the kitchens’ doorway, planting her feet in the gravel and dust. Her head tipped back, she gazed at the top of the wall. She couldn’t scale it. Panic began to set in. She’d made it this far to be curtailed by a wall! Non. Walls required gates for entry and egress—there! She turned to see a woman dragging a hand cart behind her as she moved through a narrow gateway.
Sucking in a breath, Minnette tucked her satchel even closer to her and walked the short distance to the gate. She nodded a greeting to the woman who didn’t even look at her twice.
The Fire and the Sword (Men of Blood Book 2) Page 14