A Promise to Keep (Out of Time Book 2)

by Loretta Livingstone

  She could see the ladies on the dais now; there were several of them, all applauding, and an older one was on her feet, beckoning him. The jongleur came to her, bowed down again, and she gave him her hand to kiss. Shannon was in awe. This must be Eleanor of Aquitaine. And she was actually seeing her. Not that she could see much; the lady was soon obscured by bodies again.

  Shannon was captivated. She’d really seen Eleanor, was in the same hall! Not that she could ever tell anyone in her own time, but she hugged the knowledge to herself. What a privilege.

  Then, she noticed the man who had blown her a kiss earlier was still staring in her direction. She gave a half smile and turned away, but she felt as though he was still watching her. The sensation was so strong, she almost fancied he was burning a hole in her spine. But she was just imagining it, wasn’t she?

  She shifted slightly so she could take a surreptitious glance out of the corner of her eye. Blast! He was not only still looking, he’d seen her peeking at him. Now, she was feeling more than uncomfortable. The look on his face was strange, and he wasn’t even hiding the fact he was watching her – staring quite openly.

  She resolutely dragged her gaze away and began to talk to Alys, whose small face was glowing, but all the time, she could feel those eyes watching her. Who was he? And why was he so interested in her? Had she slipped up somehow? Could he tell she wasn’t like the others? She peeked again. Still that narrow-eyed catlike stare. He was almost licking his lips. Oh, yuck! What a perv! She took another quick glimpse. Hell! He seemed to have moved a bit closer, or was that her imagination? He’d be a bit less menacing if he wasn’t half in the shadows.

  So distracted was she, she hadn’t been paying attention to Alys until the girl gave an excited squeak and grabbed her hand.

  “Rohese, look!”

  Shannon followed the direction of her finger which was pointed at a group of knights clustered on the far side of the hall.

  “That one,” Alys whispered proudly, “is my betrothed. The one with the chestnut hair. And, Rohese, you can’t tell from here, but he has the most beguiling eyes.”

  Shannon recoiled in shock. This child-woman was betrothed to Adam?! The blood drained from her face.

  Alys didn’t notice. She was still gazing at Adam. “Is he not handsome, Rohese? Oh, I am so blessed.” She sat smiling at her secret thoughts.

  Shannon turned blindly and groped for her goblet, sending a splash of wine down her skirts. Alys turned in horror and began mopping at it. “Your gown! Come, let me take you to the bedchamber. We must deal with it quickly else it will be spoilt.” She seized her hand and pulled her, unprotesting and white to the lips, from the hall. “My maid will deal with it. How fortunate you are not much taller than I. You may borrow one of my gowns while yours dries.”

  Still numb with shock, Shannon allowed Alys to lead her from the hall and out across the bailey to a wooden building. Opening the door, she dragged Shannon in behind her. Then, she opened another door which led into a small chamber. “My father had been going to bring our pavilion,” Alys prattled on, “however, so many have come, it was decided to turn some of the outbuildings into guest-quarters.”

  There was only one bed in the room – a large one, heavily canopied. “Yours?” Shannon asked.

  Alys giggled. “My parents sleep there. Here is my niche.” She drew Shannon to a small curtained corner where there was a chest and a pallet and no room for anything else. “Sit you down whilst I fetch Tilda.”

  Shannon sat obediently, biting her lip and trying hard to stop the tears falling from her eyes. When Adam said he was betrothed, she had not imagined this engaging child. How could he? How could they betray Alys like this? How could they bring pain and shame to this sweet imp?

  Lost in misery, she never heard anything until the curtain was pulled back with a rattle. She turned, shocked to see the man who had blown her a kiss earlier eyeing her in a manner which made her feel horribly exposed.

  He came and stood just in front of her. Way too close for comfort. She wanted to shudder but didn’t dare. She had a nasty feeling he might have enjoyed that. She’d have to brazen it out. Lifting her chin, she gave him stare for stare. His lips twitched into a smile. Damn! He seemed to like her direct approach. She felt sick. How could she get rid of him?

  He held his hand out to her. “A new face to court, I see, sweeting. What is your name?”

  Obviously wealthy, the hand held out to her wore lavish rings. His face was handsome, yet there was something about him which repelled her. She started to rise without his assistance, but he gave her an imperious look, and she allowed him to help her. His hard fingers squeezed her hand unpleasantly. “Your name, my lady?” He repeated.

  “Er…Rohese…er, my lord.” She had a feeling the ‘my lord’ was expected of her.

  “Sweet Rohese. What a delightful name. And what a delightful gown.” He frowned. “I see you’ve spilled something down it. Allow me to assist you. You must needs remove it before it stains.”

  Shannon froze with horror. “My lord?”

  “Come now, you mustn’t be shy with me.” His tones were silky. He still had hold of her hand, pulling her closer to him. What should she do? What could she do? This couldn’t be happening.

  She was about to protest when the chamber door opened again. The man dropped her hand instantly and turned, an urbane expression on his face. “Alys, you’ve been remiss, puss. This demoiselle has need of assistance. Indeed, I thought I should have to help her myself.”

  Alys stopped dead, faced her uncertainly then turned back to the man, dipping into a low curtsy. “My lord, I’ve brought Tilda to help.”

  “As well for you, child. It does not do to neglect so charming a lady. How terrible it would be if something should befall her.” He gave Shannon a mocking glance, turned on his heel and stalked to the door, glancing over his shoulder as he left the room. “Until we meet again, Demoiselle. I assure you, I look forward to that with the greatest pleasure.”

  Shannon dropped back onto the pallet – her legs would hold her up no longer. Alys was white as chalk, her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Rohese, I’m so sorry. I would never have left you if I’d known Lord John had followed us.”

  “Lord John?”

  “The King’s brother. Did you not know?” Her eyes were huge, her lips trembled. “Never, ever allow him to catch you on your own. It’s not safe.”

  Tilda put her hand on her young mistress’s shoulder. “There, sweeting. No harm done. Sit you down next to Mistress Rohese. I will fetch you both wine.”

  Alys clutched her hand. “No. Please stay.”

  Tilda freed herself. “Mistress, there’s wine in the chamber. I shan’t leave you, child, but the pair of you are as pale as new cheese. One moment.” She whisked from the alcove, returning with two cups.

  Shannon almost snatched one from her and took a gulp. Her heart was hammering so hard, she was sure they could hear it. She took another large swallow.

  “Now, Mistress, be calm. Naught happened, did it?” She eyed Shannon closely. Shannon shook her head. “Well then, all’s well. Come, let me see your gown.” She pulled at it, tutting over the stain. “Mistress Alys, this should have been put to soak at once. Yet, mayhap it’s as well you had not already removed it. Quickly, slip it off, and I’ll deal with it.” She lifted the lid of the coffer and pulled out a gown of soft green linen. “Here. This will look well on you.”

  Hildegarde had just extricated herself from the company of a garrulous countess who was eager to impress her with the gifts her husband had presented to an abbot for whom Hildegarde had great disdain, knowing him to be no man of God but a hard-hearted political aspirant. She searched around her but could find no sign of Shannon. Drat her. Did she not realise the danger here? Taking care of an entire convent of sisters was as nothing beside watching this headstrong girl didn’t get herself into trouble.

  A worried frown puckered her brow, and she half rose when she saw Shannon enter the hall accompa
nied by the young Lady Alys. Sweet Mary, what had happened? The pair of them were the colour of putty, and Shannon looked as though she might vomit. And that was not the gown she had been wearing earlier. That one had been the peacock silk; this was a soft green.

  Hildegarde’s hand flew to her throat, horrified, as she realised that, in these colours, Shannon bore a remarkable resemblance to Marion on her first appearance at the abbey.

  From the other side of the hall, she could see Prince John was also observing them through narrowed eyes, one hand stroking his beard as though he racked his brain to think who she reminded him of. As Hildegarde reached Shannon, he blinked and stared harder.

  Hildegarde put one arm around Shannon and with the other, steered Alys in the direction of her mother. “Child, I need to speak with Rohese privately. Attend upon your lady mother.” Then, with the other arm still around Shannon’s trembling shoulders, she propelled her to the back of the hall and up the steeply-winding stairs leading to the gallery, beyond which was the small private chamber they had been given in deference to her rank. Shutting the door firmly behind her, she opened the coffer and pulled out the second of the gowns Shannon had brought with her, the apricot one the nuns had sewn.

  “Quickly, Shannon, remove that gown. You must not – you simply must not – be seen in those colours. Here, put this on. Then, tell me what happened. But we mustn’t tarry here overlong. We need to be in the safety of the hall.”

  As she sat on the bench with her back against one of the tapestries which decorated the walls, Shannon’s head was swimming. Still upset about Adam and edgy from her royal encounter, she’d definitely had too much wine, and the smoke from the torches around the hall was making her eyes smart. She turned to speak to Hildegarde; however, that lady’s attention was claimed by a matron to her left, wearing a gown in a violent shade of puce, which clashed horribly with her flushed face.

  Shannon stifled a giggle and rubbed her sore eyes. She needed some fresh air; her head was muzzy, and she felt queasy. Where was Alys? No, she wouldn’t go to her. She was with her parents and Adam, and not for worlds would Shannon draw his attention. She tried to find Isabella amongst the crowds of gaily-clad women, but she was nowhere to be seen. Surely, oh surely, it couldn’t hurt. She’d just go outside for a few moments.

  While she was still thinking about it, she was surprised to see a large cage full of finches being brought in. The cage was taken to a trestle in the centre of the hall and opened, leaving Shannon entranced as the birds flew out, fluttering overhead.

  She watched them in delight until several men brought in falcons and, to her horror, released them. All around her, bets were being taken as the falcons swooped on the small birds, killing them, to the raucous amusement of the guests. Shannon gasped in dismay, sickened, tears filling her eyes as she sprang to her feet, determined now to leave the hall.

  Keeping a watch on John, who was lounging in a corner, flirting with a woman in a very tightly-laced dress, which revealed much more than Shannon thought was decent in this era, she slipped through the noisy throng to the door, tiptoeing into the antechamber. After a quick glance over her shoulder, she sped across the room to the open archway and slipped out. Leaning against the rough stone, she took deep gulps of fresh air. The coolness cleared her head and soothed her aching eyes as she strove to erase from her mind the images of the massacre she’d witnessed.

  A couple of men-at-arms jostled past her, then turned to stare, one saying something in an undertone to the other, who laughed and made a lewd gesture. In a panic, Shannon darted back inside, out of their view; however, as she turned towards the door leading back into the hall, it opened, and John stood there, talking to someone she couldn’t see. He had his back to her – he wouldn’t have noticed her.

  She stood frozen to the spot for a moment, then spied a narrow stair and fled up it as fast as she dared, holding her gown in one hand and clinging to the stone walls with the other. The steps narrowed towards the centre of the spiral and had dips worn in the middle; the soles of Shannon’s shoes were thin, the leather slippery, and her heart was in her mouth as she tried to hurry yet not misstep. If she fell on these, she would break bones at the very least. Probably her neck.

  Heart thumping, almost dizzy with fright, she trod carefully on the widest part of each step. If only there was more light.

  She gasped as one foot slid from beneath her, wobbling precariously until, by some miracle, she managed to regain her balance. It was no good. She’d have to slow down. She pressed tighter to the wall, trying to gain support from the stone.

  After a few more nightmarish moments, she reached the top and paused, not knowing where she was. Then, she heard soft footfalls behind her and, without looking round, turned right, hoping to find somewhere she could hide.

  The torches blazed up here as well, but their flickering flames threw dark shadows along the hallway. Shannon hurried as best she could along the short corridor trying to find another stair back to the hall. She rounded a corner and came to a dead end. Panting and disorientated, she turned back the way she’d come, to see John padding towards her, a smile on his face like that of a hunter who’d spied his quarry.

  “Sweetheart, who is it you seek?” His expression grew lascivious as he stared at her, his gaze lingering on her body, raking her up and down. “Might I hope you are desirous of renewing our acquaintance?”

  He advanced on her, flames from the wall sconces reflected in his eyes. Shannon started and moved backwards. “Mistress, be not so shy. Do you seek refuge from the hubbub below?” She nodded mutely, and his tongue flickered over his lips. “Then, let us seek sanctuary together.”

  Shannon took another step backwards and then another, unable to look away from his hypnotic gaze. She felt like a rabbit before a snake. Each step she took backwards, John mirrored with a forward one, until she suddenly felt a door at her back and could retreat no further. The cold metal studs on the door she pressed against were not responsible for the tremor that ran through her.

  John put his hands lightly on her waist, and she tried to urge her frozen brain to work. A knee to the royal groin, although it appealed to her just now, was probably not the safest way to rebuff a prince. How might a medieval woman get herself out of this predicament?

  As John moved one hand to cup her face, tilting it upwards ready for his kiss, his other hand sliding down to her hips, she looked him full in the eyes. This had to work. “My lord, I’m aware of the honour you do me, truly I am.” She searched his face for a sign of compassion and found none. “But I pray you, do not do this. Do not make me imperil my soul.”

  Giving a snort of laughter, he asked, “Why should I not, when my own is so often imperilled? Is your soul of so much more value than mine? Come, sweetheart, let us enjoy the fruits of the flesh tonight, and tomorrow confess and be cleansed. And,” he continued silkily, “is it a greater sin than displeasing your future king? The one who can imperil your body, if not your soul?”

  Shannon said nothing, but her horrified gaze was fixed on him. She felt like a deer who could see the headlights of the car; she could not move to save herself. She had never fainted in her life, but now, black specks filled her vision; her legs felt weak.

  John swore and rolled his eyes as her knees buckled. He let go of her chin and caught her around the shoulders as she began to sink to the floor. Sweeping her off her feet, he kicked open the door behind her, carried her into the chamber and deposited her upon a padded chest.

  As Shannon lolled against him, she was dimly aware of the fragrance of cinnamon, cloves and bay overlaid by a faint smell of sweat before he thrust her head down towards the floor. She struggled, then relaxed as he said with a wry laugh, “Do not fear, sweeting, I have no demands on your virtue at this precise moment, I assure you. I’m merely trying to restore you to your senses. I may have varied tastes, but a fainting woman holds little appeal.”

  She sat there, his hand pressed to her shoulders, her head hanging over her knees
until the faintness receded. When, at last, she eased herself upright, and he slid his arm around her, she found herself too grateful for the support to worry about anything else.

  As she began to recover, however, the wine she had drunk earlier started to roil in her stomach, and she gave a hiccup. Before she could gag, John had her on her feet and was propelling her inexorably towards a curtain, which he pulled aside, revealing a garderobe. Holding her veil and her hair back from her face, he pushed her to her knees, and she put both arms thankfully on the smooth wood surrounding the hole. The evil smells which came from the latrine shaft put paid to her last shred of self-restraint, and she lost her supper, retching uncontrollably.

  Finally, her eyes streaming, she sat weakly back on her haunches, and through the blur of tears, she saw that they hadn’t been quite quick enough. John was gingerly wiping a splash of vomit from his elegant shoes.

  “Finished?”

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  He gave her a crooked grin. “I confess, that was not quite what I had in mind for the evening’s amusement. Come.”

  He raised her to her feet and steered her carefully back to a chair in the corner of the room then, fetching a laver of water and some napkins, he wiped her face gently.

  “Lass, I find you’ve quite despoiled my appetite for the delicacy tonight, to say nothing of my shoes.” He moistened another napkin and mopped her mouth and her still-streaming eyes. Then, with a barely disguised twinkle, he said, “I think we’ll blame the wine. In truth, I found it somewhat over-spiced myself.” He patted her hand. “Rest you here awhile, sweetheart, and I’ll send someone to attend you. Let us hope our next encounter will be memorable in pleasanter ways than this one.”