by Amy Mullen
Isabel gulped but did as he asked. She watched as he worked, intent on his task, knotting and pulling on the items until he seemed satisfied with the results. The make-shift rope was secured to a nail protruding from the wall a foot from the window. The end of the rope lay on the floor, ready to be thrown out the window when it was time to go.
"I hope you are stronger than you look. You must grip the cloth and use the knots as footholds. I will go first, and I will be there in the event you fall."
"I won’t fall," Isabel said, glaring at him. His sharp tone stung. Behind her, Matthew worked at pulling the tub away from the door where Turstin had so hastily pushed it. He struggled, but he dragged it just far enough for a human form to slip out, and left it there.
Isabel cracked the shutters and peered down again. The alley was darkening and appeared empty. What had alerted Turstin to danger she did not see. Nothing was amiss. The lane was quiet. "Are you sure, Turstin, you have not made a mistake? I see nothing out of order below."
Groaning, Turstin motioned to Matthew to go. The soldier slipped out the door, and Turstin shoved the tub back so the portal could not be easily breached. "You are trying my patience. You have to trust me if you want to get away. We must give Matthew time to get the horses, and then we go."
"I do not understand the fuss," Isabel said, trying to understand what was happening. "I am not a prize. Why do they want me so badly? And you? You can have Renoir. You do not need me. You have already told me you do not care."
"’Tis not what I said," Turstin replied, his voice hard yet quiet. "I never said I did not want you. I was harsh in what I said, I know, but we can talk about that later. Right now, if you want to live, you must trust me. They want you and will do anything to get you. You would command a high price elsewhere, if not here."
"But for what?" Isabel asked as her ire rose. "What is it all for, anyway? I am but a woman. I can clean and cook, but I cannot sow seeds or protect a lord. I cannot labor in the fields with the same results a man would produce. Is this about love? Passion? I see the moments between my sister and her husband, but is it worth it? Gemma was taken from us, and I thought I would never see her again. For what? What makes men so aggressive? What do they seek? I do not understand."
She understood love but would not say it aloud. She was staring at the reason she understood it. The rest, though—the physical part of love—was a mystery.
Turstin opened the shutters again, just enough to peek down into the alley. He spun around, a wicked grin on his face. "For what? Dear Isabel. Can you be so innocent? Do you not know the pounding of the heart when your chosen nears? The quickening of the breath when you see the object of your desire? The timeless tradition of learning more about one’s lover while awaiting the wedding night? The urge inside to possess and conquer, all the while protecting what belongs to you? Aye, Isabel, you are indeed an innocent."
"I know nothing of what you speak," Isabel said firmly, trying to deny feeling all of the very things he had mentioned when they had spent time together. She would deny she was feeling them right now, if he asked, but she was. "I am but a simple woman. There are women everywhere."
"Yet you do not realize how the twinkle in your green eyes may turn a man to a blubbering idiot? How one touch of your hand may render him unable to think of anything else but you? How the swish of your skirts might delight, hinting of the womanly form beneath?"
"Nay, I do not. I am not one for tales, milord. Gemma swears her life would have been a loss without Nicholas, yet I do not understand placing so much value on a woman for physical reasons. Cannot a man feel the same for any woman? ‘Tis obvious these men are not wishing to sell me to men who wish to fall in love. Nay, they want to sell me for physical love. Any woman should do. There is nothing special about me."
Turstin chuckled. He stepped to Isabel so quickly she jumped in surprise. "I do not know if your humble speech is how you truly feel, but you are indeed a desirable woman. Do not forget that." He reached out and placed his fingers under her chin, lifting her head gently so she was staring into his eyes. "You see, Isabel, it is not only the outer beauty, but the fire within. You seem timid, yet I know better. You cannot think for a moment that being afraid means you are weak. Instead, it shows wisdom."
"I refuse to be timid any longer, Turstin," she said, her voice barely audible. "I am wiser now. My sister’s beauty brought trouble to our home. ‘Twas not her fault, I believe, but how can something so exalted bring so much pain? I do not want to be beautiful, and I do not want to share Gemma’s fate. And yet it seems I already have, and I do not understand why."
"You have no choice in how you look, and you have indeed already suffered. Put it behind you. Your sister did. We shall be home soon enough."
"I cannot fight something I do not understand," she said.
Without another word, Turstin lowered his head toward hers. His lips brushed hers softly for just a moment, and then he backed away. For a moment, Isabel forgot to breathe. Her only thoughts were of what he would do next and how nothing else but this moment mattered.
His eyelids closed, and he bent in again. Isabel did not fight him. Turstin kissed her with slow deliberation. She felt his breath on her skin and the warmth of his lips as he did so. He paused again, and then, with more urgency, he put his hand behind her back and pulled her to him. She sighed as his tongue darted into her mouth, and his teeth lightly nibbled her lip before he released her. Isabel nearly fell as he backed away. In that moment, her understanding of herself and the world changed.
"That, Isabel, is why," he said as he stepped back. "Men will live and die for that. They will lie, cheat, and steal for that. They will compromise themselves for it. Wars start, and great men fall because of it."
Involuntarily, Isabel put the back of her hand over her lips for a moment, reliving the sensations he had just roused within her. She did not want him to see her tremble, or the blush she was sure had spread across her cheeks. It was proof enough she loved him. Not only did she love him, but she wished him to kiss her again. Isabel could spend a lifetime kissing him. Indeed she trembled, but no other man would do. Only him.
"Is it time to go?" she asked in a whisper, eager to leave the dingy room and not be alone with him one moment longer. It would be her heart’s undoing.
Chapter Twenty-One
"No sign of her, I’m sorry," Nicholas said, sliding down from the back of his destrier. The overwhelming exhaustion he felt was no match for the fear in his mind. The de Vere women were in the habit of being taken from him. Vaguely, he wondered if the nightmare from years prior was not over.
Gemma stood in the bailey, assisting him. Nicholas had been out all day yet again, and it was now close to sundown. When her wondering eyes met his, he sighed deeply. He had let her down. Isabel was nowhere to be found, and no one could account for seeing her or anyone even remotely like her. A new plan would be needed, for she was not in the most obvious places. Even worse, he had heard nothing from Turstin, which led Nicholas to believe he’d had no luck as well.
"I think I have to go in a different direction. Our search for Isabel in the northern country has yielded little. This time, I will go west, past Renoir, and will send others east toward London. Otherwise, I have no idea where to search. I will not stop until we find her. Has there been word from Turstin?"
"Nay, I have not heard from him. The men tell me he went east and south, rather than north as you did. If he has yet to return, I fear he has had little luck, as well." Gemma cooed at his tired horse as she handed the reins to a stable boy.
Nicholas walked beside his wife as his squire came running to relieve him of some of his armor. "I will sleep a few hours and then take fresh men with me. Can you see to it that we have food to take? Are the children abed?"
"Nay, not yet. They are worried. The girls know Isabel has yet to come home, but I have told them she was merely delayed. Miles has been walking atop the wall, his eyes trained on the woods. He is now with his sisters. They a
ll want to see their father. I am glad you have come home, even if just for a few hours. Oliver sent word back. They have had little luck after you left them."
Neither said a word as the stable boy disappeared into the stables with the weary destrier. Once unencumbered from his chain mail, Nicolas stole a quick kiss from his wife. Upon entering the great hall, he placed a hand on her stomach before they sat near the roaring fire. "And this one? How is he doing?" he asked, touching her midsection yet again.
"Or she," Gemma said, glancing up at him. "You always assume ‘tis a boy."
"I’ve been right once," he said.
"And wrong twice. Though I fear you are right. I sense this to be another son."
"Good. We shall have two of each," Nicholas said. He took her hand and rubbed her arm with his other hand. "And Constance? Has she been of any assistance?"
"None, I am afraid," Gemma said. "She is not the smartest, though she is quite helpful. She has been playing with the girls while Miles takes on his archery lessons. There has been nothing new from her about Isabel."
"You have questioned her again?"
"Aye, but again, nothing. She tells the same story. I do not think she knows anything."
"I wonder about Lord Beret," Nicholas said. He dropped her hand as food and drink were set before him. The rest of the castle inhabitants had already eaten, so they were alone in the hall—other than a few chambermaids, who were cleaning up.
His wife stood and began to pace slowly before the roaring fire as he ate. "I, too, wonder about his actions. I find it strange he sent them out in the dead of the night, on an almost moonless night, no less, when he had been made aware you were coming for her at dawn. However, Constance does not seem to be confused, only frightened that the men had been after her, as well."
"If they had wanted her, they would have taken her, too. It was personal. We all know the slave trade slips in and out without warning, but they would have taken them both. It must be personal. They were targeting Isabel."
"But what of Turstin?" Gemma asked as she stopped pacing and sat beside her husband.
"I do not know, though I do not think he would see her harmed. He cares for her. The man raced off to find her, and I do not think it had anything to do with keeping her because of Renoir. I believe his intentions are sound."
Both stopped talking as the soft sounds of feet coming down the stairs from the solar could be heard in the hall. All three of their children bounded down the bottom steps and across the room to their father.
"I see they have found me." Nicholas stood and scooped up his children, his food forgotten.
"Bed soon, children," Gemma said. "Where is Hesse?"
"She will be down to fetch us soon," Emme said with a giggle as her father set them down.
"Good. Now I think we shall tell a few stories for your bedtime before I retire. You can each pick one story you would like to hear."
Miles stood back, looking serene and stern. "I don’t want to hear stories. I want to help, Father." Miles understood Isabel was in danger, while the girls had not yet caught on. Thankfully, the boy was wise enough not to scare his sisters by telling them.
"Miles, remember what I said. Take your sisters upstairs. No need to wait for Hesse. I shall join you soon." Nicholas touched his son’s shoulder as he spoke. "I need you to help your mother."
"I know," the boy said, shrugging his shoulders. He then ran up the steps after his sisters.
"I will need new men. I will leave those I took with me to rest," Nicholas said after the children departed. "And you are sure, nothing new from Constance?"
"Nay, Nicholas. I am sorry. She is a nice girl but lacks in cunning. Even if her father were up to something, I fear she would be too daft to figure it out. She wishes to stay until Isabel returns. I have no problem with her being here. Her strange habits from before seem to have vanished."
"Aye, ‘tis fine. Will you join me in the solar to tuck the children in?" Nicholas asked.
"Nothing would please me more," Gemma replied.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Isabel held her breath as she swung her leg around the window ledge. She had never climbed down from a second story before, and as brave as she tried to appear to Turstin, she was terrified of falling. Even worse, she worried that those men he spoke of might harm him before she could hit the ground, and she would be taken again.
Turstin had given her a dagger to replace the one she had lost in the shack. The sheath slid down into the side of her left boot, and she secured the strap that wrapped around her calf. It fit awkwardly, as it was made for a man. The blade was larger than her old knife. Isabel feared hurting herself, but she could feel the sheath pressed against the inside of her leg and was comforted.
Isabel straddled the window and swung both legs down into nothingness.
"The knot is but a breath away from your right foot," Turstin said, his voice low but urgent. "Once you feel it between your feet, you will be fine."
Though panicked, Isabel managed to secure her feet and began to lower herself. It was, she found, not as hard as she had imagined. Though she had never climbed down this way, she had climbed her share of trees in the past. She quickly but carefully worked her way down. The makeshift rope went almost to the ground, so she could easily reach the end and jump down.
Isabel was near the end of the rope when a scuffle broke out. A loud grunt alerted her to the presence of others in the alley. The noise came from Turstin. She twisted her head back in alarm to see what was happening. Turstin was doubled over, and two men were trying to a grab his hands and take his weapon. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another man, dressed all in black like the others, running down the alley toward them. Matthew was nowhere to be seen, but she assumed he was near.
Hands grabbed at her feet. She kicked as hard as she could. Her foot connected with something as she heard an oath, and the hands stopped for a moment. Sliding down the last few feet, Isabel landed, twirled around, and grabbed for her dagger, ducking down as Turstin struggled with the two men who were close to overpowering him.
The third man lunged at her again. He was at least as tall as Turstin. Panic rose like bile in her throat. She swung her arm blindly at him with her dagger in her hand. He caught her wrist easily, gripping her arm so she could not move. Painfully, the man’s fingers dug into raw skin, producing the sensation of fire against her wounds. He squeezed harder, but she refused to drop the blade, even as she yelped in pain. She would not make the same mistake twice.
"No, no, no," she screamed, unaware of forming the words, let alone complete thoughts. Struggling, she twisted and turned, then kicked at the man’s knees. She connected just once, but it was enough to loosen his grip on her wrist.
Pulling free, she swung in a circle, the blade blindly hitting the man in the hip. He gasped. She let go of the dagger as another hand grabbed her.
"Now, run!" It was Turstin. The other two men were lying on the ground, motionless. Isabel asked no questions but willed her legs to move. She was shaking so violently she stumbled a few times but finally gained her feet, as Turstin dragged her down the alley toward the front of the inn.
They turned the corner. Isabel saw Matthew atop a horse. Another was beside him. "Oh please…oh please…oh please…," she stammered as Turstin pulled her along and hoisted her up on the horse. He climbed up behind her, and they were off and moving. She did not have a chance to look back.
They rode north at a brutal pace. Matthew kept up but allowed Turstin to lead. Isabel was so shaken she paid no attention to where they were headed. She kept her ears tuned into their surroundings, fearing the sound of thundering hooves coming up behind them. Her head pounded as her headache returned yet again, and the sleeve of her kirtle rubbed against her raw wrists. None of it mattered, because they had made it out alive.
They slowed a bit as they moved east. "You can relax a bit now. We are close to London, and they dare not follow us there," Turstin said in her ear. Instantly, she melted a
gainst him, and the tears fell. Her body shook as the sobs took over.
"Steady," he said. "Do not fight it, Isabel. Feel the fear but know you are safe."
"’Tis too dark," Matthew said as he came up beside them. "We must find a place to rest for the night. Nicholas was not sure if those after milady know who she is. If this is something more than a chance happening, they would track back toward Blackstone, hoping to find us before we can safely reach the castle. We should turn north, find a spot, and travel again with the sun on the morrow."
"Matthew, I shall say it again. There will always be a place for you in my household, should you wish it. You are, of course, correct."
They turned north again, this time moving more slowly. Isabel tried to clear her mind and slow her breathing. She was feeling faint and could not shake what had just happened, or almost happened. Mentally steeling herself, she tried to relax her body.Her hands hurt, and she uncurled her fists. She had clenched them so hard, her nails were digging into her own skin. Her jaw hurt, as she had clenched her teeth together the entire time. Every bit of her, it seemed, had been damaged in the past few days, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her heart, the ache she felt when she thought of the man now so near she could feel his heart beating against her back.
She managed to calm herself by slowing her breathing and focusing on the darkened woods before them. The moon was out now. It offered little light, but it was helpful. At the least they could tell in which direction they were traveling.
"We will stop soon when I find a spot that looks safe," Turstin said. "I hope we have left them behind."
Isabel tried to relax completely. She was swiftly overwhelmed with exhaustion. The small party slowed more and veered off the worn path, searching for safety. With her mind now clear, she realized how comfortable she felt nestled up against him, as if it were normal. Her cheeks burned again as she remembered the way he had kissed her, trying to make her understand.