With that, he left, lest he say too much to his wife.
* * *
Sabine woke for a second time. When she opened the shutters, the sunlight beamed through them, although she could tell it had newly risen.
When the door opened, she’d just finished dressing in her one and only gown. At home, she had worn a different one each day. And although not elaborate, they’d been made from the finest fabric and adorned with belts she made herself, or ones given to her by her mother. With such a beautiful piece draped across her hips, Sabine never desired to wear additional baubles.
“We leave immediately for Noreham Castle.”
Guy had returned looking every bit the part of a dangerous, handsome mercenary. The look on his face confirmed that trouble was afoot.
“Noreham Castle? You wish to visit the very lord who is hosting the company of mercenaries you hope to send home. Is that wise?”
Guy did not leave his position near the door.
“Nay, likely not. But neither do I wish for you to remain here, unprotected.”
“I meant is it wise for you?”
Guy seemed to consider the question for a moment. “Again, likely not. But de Chabannes sent word that we are to join him at the midday meal as guests of the baron.”
No mention of the previous night. Or of the blood on the sheets that she’d rolled up and left at the foot of the bed. Or of anything other than their next venture.
If he could play that game, so could she.
“Do you find it unusual, such a request?”
Guy shut the door finally, making her jump at the sound.
“I do. Though we’ve no choice but to accept.”
She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Guy answered her before she could ask it.
“But nay, I do not believe de Chabannes has told the lord of our betrayal. I suspect he means to remind me that he can do so at any time. A fact I don’t believe we’ll be forgetting.”
Neither of them said anything after that. Guy looked as if he wanted to speak, but when he remained silent, Sabine did the same. It was only when she finished preparing and strode toward him that Guy reacted at all. He opened the door, as if eager to escape, and stood far away from it to let her pass.
He clearly regretted his actions from the night before. Sabine, however, did not. She tried to ignore the jolt of pain his reaction caused.
They rode through the village in silence, Sabine taking in each building as they passed. A tannery with a well alongside it. The mill and a blacksmith’s shop along a small stream that followed the path they were travelling. They passed through fields, too, some planted and others fallowed. A handsome, though small, chapel marked the end of the dirt road on which they traveled. She’d not spied that earlier. Indeed, she’d thought there were none in the vicinity. Though a large demesne separated them from the castle, the fertile green land untouched, she could see it easily.
As they approached the castle, Sabine alternated between worrying over what to expect from the lord of Noreham and what to expect from her husband.
It was the former that demanded her attention at present. It was less confusing, for one, and for another, it was more likely to get her killed in the immediate future. Two of the baron’s men rode up to them, the same crest on their tunics as was flying high overhead above the main gate. Overly large, its stone arch supported two of the largest wooden doors Sabine had ever seen in her life. She supposed without a drawbridge, any approach would be met with the same, but it unnerved her nonetheless.
“Sir Guy Lavallais?”
“Aye.” Guy rode up to them. “And my wife, Lady Sabine, if it pleases you.”
The same man who’d greeted them grunted in response, turning back toward the gate. They followed, a loud crack of thunder hastening their journey toward the inner bailey, where servants and men-at-arms already hurried to take cover. Sabine flinched as another crack of thunder filled the air, this one louder than the first. Dismounting quickly and handing their reins to a stable boy, she and Guy followed the men who’d greeted them into the main keep. When they stopped in front of a pair of double doors, she wasn’t expecting another courtyard, but a wide open space greeted them. Unfortunately, the clouds unloosed a deluge on them, so they hurried to and through another door, Sabine tripping on the raised floor beyond the doorstep.
Guy caught her before she stumbled forward. As his arms encircled her, Sabine fought the urge to grip him and not let go. Though her footing was steady, her heart beat wildly in her chest, and the great hall and its occupants fell away as she stared into her husband’s hungry eyes.
The spell was broken by a voice from the other end of the hall.
“Lavallais!”
De Chabannes stood at the foot of the head table in the great hall, as if he’d just arrived himself. She slipped her hand through his arm as they approached the lord of Noreham, who sat behind a massive head table. There was no lady that Sabine could see, just a large empty wooden chair next to him.
He was young, this lord who championed a ruthless king. And handsome, though the knowledge of his complicity made him ugly to her. Some would call him loyal, but not Sabine. To her, anyone who could close their eyes to King John’s special kind of cruelty was as much a part of the problem as the ambitious leader himself. It had taken just one story, of the Baroness of Elmwood, to sway Sabine to the rebels’ cause. The widow had been imprisoned in the Tower simply for claiming her husband’s title for her son, a common practice. Unfortunately, John wanted it back and the baroness had to choose between her son’s inheritance and her life.
This was a cause her father had taken up before most others, including the order.
Relying on her training, Sabine smiled at the lord of Noreham, nodding her acknowledgment of the mercenary leader as well. She said nothing as the men exchanged polite greetings and introductions.
The baron nodded to her. “Lavallais is indeed a lucky man to have such a lady as his wife.”
She simply smiled, thinking little of the remark, until she noticed Guy’s dark look. For a very brief moment, Guy looked like he intended to throttle Noreham, but the look disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced by an expression of forced good cheer.
With the introductions no longer demanding her attention, Sabine looked upward, admiring the vaulted ceiling. By now the hall was filled with retainers and guests. No fewer than fifty people sat around them, the white table linens in stark contrast to a darkness in the hall no amount of candles could illuminate. Perhaps it felt so cold because so few females were in attendance. Or maybe it was the abundance of weapons that graced the walls around them.
When they sat at a table some distance from Noreham’s, she felt marginally more comfortable, except that de Chabannes and his men were seated opposite them.
“You want to know why I asked you here,” de Chabannes began, a mouthful of stew still making its way down his throat.
“I want to know who did the asking,” Guy responded. Though the other men at their table were obviously members of Bande de Valeur, they sat close to other tables filled with Noreham’s men. So Sabine was surprised when de Chabannes answered so openly.
“I told the baron of your arrival, and it was he who requested your presence.”
She refrained from looking at Guy, knowing it would be hard to keep any emotion from her expression. Instead, she stared down into her bowl, concerned. Neither piece of news boded well for their mission here.
Guy surprised her. “I should have expected you to do so,” he said, his tone serious.
The look that passed between the two of them did not seem like a communication between a former master and his man. This was a look of deadly understanding between equals. Except one was at a decided disadvantage. Sitting in the hall of a powerful baron loyal to the king, the table and hall filled with men who would gladly destroy Guy and his friends and those who’d joined their cause . . . aye, it was likely a position de Chabannes had intentionally ma
neuvered.
The meal passed without incident. When Noreham stood, so did those who sat around them. It was only when the baron nodded to de Chabannes that Sabine truly began to worry.
“C’est l’heure,” he said to Guy.
Time for what?
Sabine was afraid she already knew.
Chapter 22
Guy was essentially a prisoner here, but it bothered him more that Sabine was in the same position. Still, the thought of leaving her at the inn had been unacceptable.
Although he’d never admit it, Guy should have listened to Conrad and taken some of his friend’s men with him. He had dismissed the idea as quickly as he had the earl’s many suggestions that Guy remain in his service. Terric had suggested the same throughout the years, but Guy had always declined.
He did better on his own.
But you’re not alone now. You have a wife.
As they sat in the baron’s solar, he was reminded of how vulnerable that made him. He was glad neither Noreham nor de Chabannes commented on her presence even though it was highly unusual. But without Sabine, he’d have thought nothing of attempting to escape this place should Noreham actually retain him. At worst, he’d pay for bad judgement in a traitor’s jail, perhaps even with his life. But now there was a fate much worse than that.
The possibility that Sabine might be subjected to the same.
He tried not to glare at de Chabannes for having put him in this situation. The man was loyal to one person. Himself. Even so, Guy still did not believe he would have told Noreham of the order’s hope to send the company back to France.
“You worked with him once?” Noreham asked, sitting back in his chair. The baron was known to control the nearby port, which was sometimes used for the king’s transport. He’d assumed the man would be much older, but Noreham was close to him in age. Not yet thirty.
Aside from the few facts Conrad had given him, Guy knew little else about this man, including how he’d inherited such a stronghold so young.
“I did,” he said, “many years ago.”
“You must have been quite young?”
Guy could say the same but did not.
“Aye. My father joined Bande de Valeur when I was just ten and two.”
“He is a mercenary as well?”
“Aye.”
He was giving no more information than he received.
“So how did you come to be under Lord Noreham’s protection?” he asked de Chabannes.
The air, so thick with hidden loyalties and unspoken accusations, shifted slightly. Somehow, it had become even denser.
“I believe Lord Noreham would be better able to answer your question.”
Unfortunately, the lord in question was looking at his wife. It was not the first time that eve he’d done so, though Guy very much wished it would be the last. He could not discern if it was interest or something more sinister, but the nuance hardly mattered.
He wanted to pummel the man, and if the baron persisted in his staring, he just might. After all, it was de Chabannes he needed to persuade, not this supporter of a corrupt king.
“I had the land,” Noreham said, his eyes darting between Guy and Sabine.
“And did our king give you a reason for their arrival?”
He may have gone too far. By the expressions of every single person in the room, including his wife, his companions certainly seemed to believe so.
But Guy was here to turn the tide of a potential war, and his side would lose if Bande de Valeur stayed. He needed answers.
“He said,” Noreham said carefully, “they were here to ensure peace.”
Or just the opposite.
Guy decided to push further.
“And you believed him?”
Surprisingly, though de Chabannes gasped, which was very unlike the man, Noreham did not flinch. Instead, he turned to Sabine.
“What would you have done, my lady?”
She cocked her head to the side. “I apologize, my lord. I am not as well-versed in politics as my husband.”
Guy nearly choked on the wine he had just sipped. She’d said it without a hint of a smile . . . God, the woman was good.
In many ways.
Of course, the memory of her sprawled beneath him in bed was unlikely to help him think a way out of the very tricky situation in which they were currently embroiled.
“Is that so?”
Her eyes did not betray her, but the slight stiffening of her shoulders did. Whether he was the only one to notice or not, they would soon find out. But to him, it was clear.
Sabine lied as ably as every man in this chamber.
“’Tis so, my lord. Though if you need assistance in other areas, I may be of service.”
When Noreham’s brows lifted at that, Guy nearly leapt up from his seat. Sabine must have sensed both reactions, as she rushed to explain.
“I noticed the tapestries in your hall, though very beautiful, could use a cleaning. My mother discovered a method that does not require removing them from the wall.”
Noreham smiled then, a seductive smile that made Guy grit his teeth.
“Permit me to speak to your steward,” Sabine cut in quickly, standing.
Guy tried to tell her to sit back down with his eyes, but she did not take his meaning. Or perhaps she simply ignored him. A more likely scenario. Either way, she left them with Noreham’s assurance his man was standing just outside the chamber.
If they made it out of this keep alive, Guy would kill her for putting her life in danger.
Because the baron’s expression left him with no doubt—this was no friendly discussion between men. It was a deadly game, and for the moment, he and Sabine were at a disadvantage. But that was about to change.
Chapter 23
They didn’t speak on the ride back. Sabine wanted to know everything that had been said in her absence, but Guy insisted it was a poor idea for them to start yelling back and forth as they rode through Lord Noreham’s lands. She knew the true reason: he was furious she’d left his “care.”
The moment they entered their room, the bed freshly made and a bowl of rosewater awaiting their arrival, Sabine spun on him.
“You look at me as if I am to blame for de Chabannes’s wretchedness.”
“Nay.” Guy walked around her as he removed his sword and belt, placing both near the bed. “Only for separating yourself from me and putting yourself in danger.”
“He was suspicious.”
“With good reason.”
“And I suspect he may have known my father.”
“A fair assumption given the way he looked at you.”
Removing his padded gambeson and boots, Guy did not even turn around to look at her.
Sabine angrily took off her own shoes and stockings, ignoring him just as assuredly.
“You are not to blame for that,” he said at last. “But I wasn’t pleased by my inability to stop him from staring at you so.”
“What would you have done had we not been in danger of being held there as traitors?”
Sabine was not sure how she felt about Guy’s jealousy, but she was most definitely curious to know how far he would have taken it.
“I’d have asked for him to join me in the training yard, where I would have earned my reputation as the greatest swordsman in England.”
Tossing her hose aside, Sabine planted her hands on her hips.
“’Tis quite a boast.”
Guy chose that moment to lift his linen shirt above his head. Clad in nothing but trewes, he was nothing short of magnificent.
“And a true one, as Noreham would have learned.”
A feeling of warmth coursed through her. Dismissing it, she asked, “What happened after I left?”
Guy shrugged. “I made mention of Carcassonne, reminding de Chabannes that perhaps he should have more loyalty for a fellow mercenary than a king’s man.”
“Carcassonne?”
“Where I saved his life.”
�
��You . . . you saved de Chabannes’s life? And did not think to mention it to me?”
Guy frowned. “There’s much we haven’t spoken of, Sabine.”
“Such as?”
He took a step toward her.
“How Lance and I met Conrad and Terric at the Tournament of the North. We came upon one of the king’s men poised to rape Terric’s sister. Just children, or barely beyond it, we overpowered him together. We killed the man and dumped his body in the river.”
Sabine froze.
“I’ve not told you about all the nights I cried myself to sleep wondering how a mother could simply walk away from her only child. Or how I somehow felt she might do so, a fact that terrified my father. Or the ones I lay awake wondering how a man who wants nothing more than to be alone craves the company of a woman already pledged to him.”
Sabine wanted both to weep at his loss and smile at his admission.
“I’ve not made mention”—he closed the distance between them—“how, for the first time in my life, I became angered by the mere suggestion that another man might want the woman I care for.”
Her chest heaved as it rose and fell.
“Nor have I admitted that I want this mission to succeed as much for you and your parents’ sacrifice as for my brothers in the order.”
“But most of all, I regret not having mentioned before this moment that not spilling my seed into you last eve was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. And not something I ever wish to repeat.”
They stood there staring at each other, neither making a move. All she had to do was reach for him. Admit to herself that needing Guy was not the same as needing her parents. When they’d been taken from her, she’d been lost. As lost as she would be if Guy walked away from their marriage.
Just say it. Ask him. Find out this very moment if he still plans to leave you when his business with de Chabannes is all over.
Nay, you need only say three simple words.
I love you.
All she needed to do was speak the words aloud.
The Mercenary: Order of the Broken Blade Page 10