Only For You

by Hannah Howell

  “Surely there were other women who could have taken her into their care.”

  “At first Alhric sought a woman who could come to Wolfshead Hall and care for Saxan and the younger Thylda.” Edric shrugged. “It did not work. The women who did come were far more interested in trying to secure Alhric for a husband since they were either widowed or spinsters. Alhric finally turned to rearing the lasses himself with occasional assistance from me and our cousin Sir Fridolf Jager.”

  “Why could the elder sisters not take the girls in?”

  “They offered, but Alhric did not wish to part the twins. That is one reason Pitney was trained at Regenford. Also, Denu and Tuesday were busy raising their own families, as well as aiding in training the young girls from their husbands’ families. But, in all truth, Alhric was ever loath to see any of his bairns leave the nest.”

  “I think all parents suffer that, Sir Edric,” Lady Mary murmured.

  “And, as a result, Saxan and Thylda received an upbringing that few ladies do,” said Botolf.

  Edric nodded. “They were raised alongside the boys. Mind me, they are not without a lady’s skills, but I will concede that they have enjoyed a strange rearing for young ladies. ’Twas often easier, aye and pleasanter, to toss the lasses amongst the lads and treat all alike. Since we men treated the girls in such a manner, the lads did the same. ’Twas not until Saxan and then Thylda began to look more like women than girls that our lads began to treat them any differently.”

  Recalling the fight that had ensued between Saxan and her cousins, Botolf grinned. “They still forget from time to time.”

  “Aye.” Edric laughed, then sent Lady Mary an apologetic smile. “We are often alone in these wild lands, m’lady. There is little of the courtly manners and rules about here, and we saw naught wrong with what we did. And, in these past two years or so, her brothers have had the rearing of the girls. The eldest of them is but four and twenty. The fact that all four lads are away leaving their sisters in command of Wolfshead tells you clearly how they think of the girls.”

  “The girls were left alone in such a troubled area?” Lady Mary asked, her eyes wide with shock.

  “Aye, Sir Edric, it does not sound particularly wise,” said Botolf. “No castle is always safe, but out here we have our own particular dangers. Rogues like the Black Douglas often raid.”

  “Very true, m’lord. Howbeit, their mother once held Wolfshead Hall for two full months against the Scots. Saxan and Thylda are very much like her.”

  Botolf idly placed his hand over his mouth to hide his frown as he thought over all Sir Edric had said, for he did not want Edric to think his look was one of censure. Saxan Todd was much akin to a boy in her manner. He could see how such an attitude would result from such an unusual upbringing. Knowing Sir Edric and Pitney as he now did, Botolf was certain there was no real bad in the girl. He hoped that would make it easier for his mother to accept Saxan as she was, although he was not sure why that acceptance mattered so much to him.

  In the back of his mind, a wild plan was being born. Botolf found himself actually considering marriage to the girl, and he intended to observe Saxan carefully. Life would certainly be much easier for him if his mother and Saxan were able to get along. Lady Mary and his late wife Alice had never done so, and there had been continuous strife in his household Botolf wanted no more of that.

  When he saw a look in his mother’s eyes that promised a great deal more questioning, he excused himself, claiming a need to see to the preparations for the journey. He was still too uncertain of what he planned to do to give her any satisfactory answers. His mother would undoubtedly find his hesitation and need to step slowly puzzling, but he felt he had to be careful. He dreaded the possibility that he could find himself burdened with another wife like Alice. The very thought made him shudder. Botolf did not think he had the strength to endure another such disastrous marriage.

  Although he could not believe Saxan was anything like Alice despite their short, violent acquaintance, he could not let instinct sway him from caution. He warned himself sternly not to allow the ache Saxan stirred in his loins to sway his judgment. When he had helped Pitney undress his sleeping sister last night, Botolf had quickly recognized the danger. The image of her gently curved, half-dressed lithe form was seared into his mind’s eye. He grimaced as, despite all his warnings to himself, he found himself watching for Saxan as he oversaw the preparations for leaving the inn.

  Saxan found herself caught firmly in the chilling nightmare again despite all her efforts to suppress it. The earl stood before her, his strong, long-fingered hands dripping with blood. Only, it was not the earl. The man spreading terror through her dreams looked like the earl, but her heart told her he was not. She could see that clearly now, now that she had come face to face with Botolf. This time surprise woke her with a start. She sat up abruptly, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

  “The earl has no scar,” she whispered in sudden realization.

  “By the blood of Christ!” cried Pitney, clutching his tray of food as her abrupt movement caused it to bounce. “What ails you?”

  She blinked at her annoyed and startled brother then calmly replied, “Lord Botolf has no scar by his left eye.” Saxan helped herself to some bread and cheese from Pitney’s tray. “I had this dream over a fortnight ago. In it I saw the earl standing before me with blood on his hands. That dream was what made it so easy for me to believe the earl had murdered you, that he would coldly kill a lad put into his care. Well, I have just had that dream again, only this time, I noticed something beside the blood. Although the man I see looks much akin to the earl, he is not the earl. The man in my dreams has a scar over his left eye. I wonder who he is?”

  “Bad beef most likely,” Pitney grumbled. “Did you really try to kill the earl?”

  “Aye. I truly thought he had murdered you. Those fools Kenelm and Olan got the tale all wrong. I rode here on Midnight. I nearly succeeded, too. Howbeit, Master Meeks saw me and gave the alarm. Once the earl and I ceased to tussle, I learned the truth. Then I fainted.” She giggled. “That surprised our uncle and cousins.”

  “I do not doubt it.” Pitney shook his head, watching her as she rose from the bed to begin dressing. “Did the earl say anything to you after all this excitement?”

  “Nay. I believe he understood that it was all a mistake. If there were to be any punishment meted out, it would have been done by now.”

  “Aye, it would have.”

  “Um, Pitney? How is it that I am only half-dressed?”

  “You fell asleep after you soaked me to the skin with all your weeping, so the earl helped me get you comfortably settled.”

  “Oh.” Saxan bent over to tug on her soft black boots, letting her hair fall forward to conceal her blushes.

  “Who else was at home at Wolfshead when our cousins brought you the news?”

  As Saxan turned to look at her brother, she frowned Although he was talking to her, his dark frown indicated that he was deep in thought. Then she felt a pang of guilt. Having saved the earl’s life and been knighted for his bravery, Pitney now had a real chance to become an important member of the earl’s household. He could find many opportunities for advancement often denied to a younger son. Pitney would never fault her for what she had tried to do, but he was only human. He had to fear that her rash actions might have destroyed his opportunities even before he had a chance to grasp them. She did not believe the earl was going to seek any retribution, but she was not sure how she could convince Pitney of that.

  “Thylda was with me,” she answered finally, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and securely tie her hair with a leather thong. “I must get word to her or she will be worried beyond enduring. She knew I sought the wrong man shortly after I left. Kenelm and Olan told her just before they raced after me. Those two fools,” she muttered, shaking her head and wishing her cousins were near enough to slap.

  “Do not beleager them too much, Saxan.” He exchanged a
brief grin with her, then grew solemn. “I feel some evil stalks our liege lord.”

  “So do I, Pitney. There is my dream to consider. I have had it again; yet if it were a warning about you as I thought it was, I should not have. ’Tis a warning, but now I believe it concerns the earl.”

  “Someone certainly wishes the man dead.”

  “We must watch carefully.”

  “Aye.” He set his tray aside and rested against his pillows. “I had so many questions, yet now I feel that all is clear.”

  “Good.” She kissed his cheek, stood up, and strode to the door. “I will see you later, brother.”

  “See me later? What are you going to do? Saxan!” he called, but she hurried out of the room. “I hope our uncle is vigilant!” he yelled as she shut the door behind her.

  Saxan laughed softly, hurrying down to the common room. Peeking inside, she discovered that her uncle was far from vigilant. If she were any judge, Edric was so interested in Lady Mary the man would not notice much else. Lady Mary sat near Edric, blushing faintly and struggling to make conversation. Since the topic was the threat to Botolf, Saxan decided to listen for a while.

  “It troubles me,” Lady Mary said. “I fear I have erred toward Cecil in some way, that ‘tis my fault he has caused such trouble for his brother. I cannot believe ’tis Cecil who is trying to kill him, however.”

  The fact that Botolf was being threatened by his own brother deeply shocked Saxan.

  Edric covered Lady Mary’s small, fretful hands with his. “That it may be your fault is something I can never believe. He was a bad seed, m’lady. Fated to do evil. They appear without warning in families hitherto unblemished. No blame can be laid at anyone’s feet for such a child.”

  “Do you truly believe that, Sir Edric?” She leaned toward him in her eagerness to have some reasons for the family’s tragedy.

  “Aye, I believe it.” Edric brought his face even closer to hers, his voice lowering in a way Saxan easily recognized. “M’lady, forgive me, but I intend to kiss you.”

  “You do?”

  “Aye, without doubt.”

  “Be quick about it then, for I fear that I may soon come to my senses and flee the room.”

  Saxan nearly gasped when the couple began to kiss. Here could be trouble. Shrugging, she slipped by the doorway and headed for the stables. She wondered if Lady Mary had had other reasons for staying so close to Pitney’s side. Saxan knew her uncle had charm and an allure many a lady found compelled to respond to, just like all the rest of her male kin. The problem this time was that the lady her uncle wooed was the mother of their liege lord. Her musings were brought to an abrupt halt when, just as she drew near the stable door, her path was blocked by the earl himself.

  “Just where are you going, Mistress Todd?” he asked.

  “To the stables, m’lord. You see, my horse is in there and I shall need him to reach Wolfshead Hall,” she replied in a tone one might use to explain something to a very small child.

  “You will travel with us, you impudent wench.”

  “I do not wish to trouble you, m’lord.”

  “ ’Tis no trouble at all.” He took her hand in his. “Come, I wish some ale before we leave for Regenford.”

  Thinking of the scene she had just witnessed in the common room, Saxan advised, “I should not go in there if I were you.”

  “Why not?”

  “My uncle is kissing your mother.” She was not surprised when he came to an abrupt halt, dropped her hand, and gaped at her. “I should close your mouth, m’lord. We are near the stables, and the flies are thick about here.”

  “Are you sure?” he demanded.

  “Quite sure. I saw them with my own two eyes.”

  “My God.”

  “You do not approve?” she asked, feeling the tickle of insult and prepared to defend her uncle.

  “My shocked mind has not reached the point where it can consider the weighty matter of approval or disapproval.”

  “Oh. Just where is your mind then?” She tried not to giggle, but her laughter could not be fully suppressed and it trembled in her voice. “Sorry.”

  “So you should be, wench.”

  “Wench, is it?” She easily caught an apple tossed her way by her cousin Olan as he ambled by. “What happened to Mistress Todd?”

  Disgruntled, for he had not caught the apple tossed his way as smoothly as she had, he drawled, “I begin to think she does not exist.”

  “I wonder what not existing feels like.”

  “I doubt it is very painful.” As he bit into the apple, which was surprisingly crisp despite having been stored through the winter, he wondered at the absurdity of their conversation.

  “That is something that eases my mind, although I suspect that, if I do not exist, neither does my mind”

  “Quite true.” He watched her even white teeth bite into her apple with more interest than such a mundane act merited. “You realize that, if you do not exist, nor does your mind, than neither does your mouth.”

  “I shall remind it of that, m’lord, as soon as it is done with this apple.” She watched Sir Roger and Sir Wesley walk past on their way into the inn. “Ah, ah, ah. I should not go if I were you.”

  “Why not?” asked Sir Wesley. “I must have an ale before we journey on.”

  Botolf frowned at his apple, wondering what to say, only to turn his stare on Saxan as she replied, “There has been a horrible accident. Master Meeks’ leg was crushed beneath an ale barrel. They have the poor man stretched out on top of the largest table in the common room. When I left, they were preparing him”

  “Preparing him for what?” Sir Roger cast a nervous glance toward the inn.

  “To cut the poor mangled limb off, Sir Roger,” she answered, her tone of voice as solemn as her expression.

  At that moment Master Meeks himself appeared in the doorway and hailed them. “Ah, m’lord. I have just breached a new keg of ale. I thought you might be wanting a tankard or two ere ye leave.”

  Struggling to reply over the laughter clogging his throat, something made all the harder by the way Roger and Wesley were staring at Meeks’ legs and Saxan was looking as innocent as a newborn, Botolf finally said, “Thank you, Meeks. We were all just longing for some.”

  “I will set out the tankards, m’lord,” he called and disappeared back inside.

  Sir Wesley eyed Saxan with a mixture of annoyance and amazement, clearly wondering how she could have the audacity to look so sweet after telling such a huge lie. “He lost his leg, did he?”

  “It grew back,” she replied.

  Before anyone could stop her, she dashed past the men. She intended to put a stop to her uncle’s wooing of Lady Mary before anyone else caught him at it Surprise brought her to an abrupt halt in the doorway of the common room. The couple who had looked so loving only a few moments ago was now split apart, each person seated at the far opposite ends of the long table. Saxan was immediately aware of Botolf as he stepped up beside her even though he had approached without a sound.

  “Are you sure of what you saw?” Botolf asked softly, noting with an odd sense of tenderness that Saxan barely reached his chest.

  “I am quite, quite sure of what I saw,” Saxan replied, scowling at the couple. “Either they are playing at being innocent or something has gone sadly amiss.”

  “What could go amiss?”

  “How should I know? Romance and the meanderings of the heart are not things I have had a great deal to do with.” She fell silent when Wesley and Roger arrived.

  Botolf took her gently by the arm, directing her to sit by his side at the table. As he signaled to Wesley and Roger to take their seats, he, too, wondered what could have gone wrong. One look at his mother’s and Edric’s faces told him that they were not playing innocent. They looked too tense and unhappy.

  “Will we be leaving soon, Botolf?” Lady Mary asked.

  “Aye, Mother,” he replied. “As soon as I have quenched my thirst.”

&
nbsp; “Then I shall go and assure myself that my maid Elizabeth has collected all my things.” She hurried out of the room.

  Sir Edric stood up an instant later. “And, if you will excuse me, m’lord, I will see if Pitney needs any assistance.” As soon as Botolf nodded, he also hurried from the room.

  Seeing that Wesley and Roger were deep in conversation, Botolf met Saxan’s inquiring gaze and shrugged. “I have no idea what could be troubling them.”

  “Do you wish to know?” she asked, keeping her voice low so she could not be overheard. “After all, your mother is Lady Mary, the widow and mother of earls, and my uncle is only a knight, a man with a somewhat meager holding and two sons he must provide for.”

  “Do not be an idiot. Thank you, Meeks,” he murmured as the innkeeper served the ale.

  “ ’Tis not idiocy,” she said as soon as Meeks left.

  “Mayhap not. Your uncle’s position and wealth matters little to me. The people who may be concerned have naught to say, for my mother is past the age to bear a child. I just do not believe such matters should be interfered with,” he said in a stem voice.

  “I never suggested such a thing.”

  “Hah! You were thinking on it.”

  “Well, mayhap just a bit,” she admitted reluctantly “I will merely watch.”

  “Watch for what?”

  “For signs, m’lord. Sometimes one can see a great deal in the manner a person adopts.”

  “Ah, of course. You are right. And what if your uncle merely flirts, dallies a little?”

  “Uncle Edric would never dally with a lady who can sit higher at the table than he can. Nay, and not with any wellborn lady of your good mother’s ilk.”

  “You may watch them if it pleases you, but no more than that.”

  “Aye, m’lord. As you wish,” she murmured with an overplayed meekness.

  “Your father did not beat you enough,” he drawled, smiling slowly.