The Herald's Heart

by Rue Allyn

  • • •

  Larkin wiped the last of the dust from the shelves in the earl’s counting room. She’d started cleaning there because she’d yet to complete her search of the windowless space. Last night, before she’d been interrupted, she’d all but finished chiseling free that section of newly mortared stones. If she must labor like a peasant, she might as well make use of every opportunity to continue to ferret out the marriage box.

  She set her dust cloth aside and pulled her tools from the pocket of her apron. She’d have to sweep the floor when she was done, but she’d not removed the rushes yet, so getting behind those stones would cost her little extra labor.

  She finished cleaning, set her dust rags aside, and pulled a chisel and hammer from her apron pocket to attack the last corner of the wall. As she set her chisel, she paused and rose on tiptoe to examine the mortar. It was rough. Much rougher than mortar spread by a mason. The light of the single torch in the sconce by the door was too poor to tell for certain. She stroked a finger along the mortar line and was certain she felt the longer gouges of a chisel. How could that be? She had not touched this corner yet.

  Curious, she set her chisel in place, struck with the hammer, moved the chisel, and then struck again. She repeated the actions over and over with but one answer to her problem. The only person who knew what she’d been at in this room was Sir Talon. However, he’d had no chance to act before her. Could he have set someone else to the task? Why?

  She hesitated before taking the strokes to remove all the mortar and studied how the stones might fall. The last thing she wanted was to have one or more hit her.

  A footfall scraped. She turned. The torch went out.

  “Who’s there?”

  The sound of breathing and the soft shuffle of leather against stone echoed throughout the room, making it impossible to tell where the person was.

  “Who ...?”

  Pain struck her head. She staggered. A rumble of rock falling was the last thing she heard before a second blow knocked her senseless.

  • • •

  A pounding ache in her head muted the voices that woke her. Larkin opened her eyes, but could see nothing in the dim torchlight save the open door to the counting room.

  “St. Cuthbert help us, look at all the gold.”

  “Forget that. Help me get these stones off her.”

  “Aye, Sir Talon.”

  A weight pinned her arm, and she tried to turn her head but succeeded only in making herself moan as the pounding in her head increased. She closed her eyes.

  “Shh. Lie still. We’ll have you free in a moment.”

  Free?

  The weight shifted away, and strong arms raised her. Her head spun. She feared she would be sick until she came to rest against a man’s solid chest. She knew that chest and the minty scent of his breath.

  “Send for a healer from the abbey. But first get Alice. Tell her to bring water, cloth, and bandages.”

  To whom did he speak? But then Larkin ceased to worry as he moved and her world tilted and rocked as if she were on board a ship.

  He settled her onto the solar bed, then sat, holding her hand. When her head no longer spun and pounded, she opened her eyes to see him contemplating her, a stern set to his mouth.

  “I am sorry you were hurt, but ’tis the consequence of tearing down walls in pursuit of thievery.”

  “I was not stealing.” She made to pound her fist at her side and gasped at the pain in her arm.

  “Lie still lest you cause yourself further injury.”

  She grimaced as she relaxed her arm. “I did not cause this. Someone hit me, then pushed the stones onto me.”

  Talon raised a brow. “Who?”

  “I know not. Whoever it was put out the torch first.”

  “You should create better lies. The torch was burning when we found you.”

  She stiffened her back. “My attacker could have lit it again.”

  The knight snorted. “Cleve said he heard the crash of stones to the floor. He paused only to send someone for me before going to your aid. He found you unconscious, your arm pinned beneath the stones, and fistfuls of gold coin spilling from the pocket of your apron. The rest of the treasure lay scattered about a small chest with a broken lock.”

  “Gold? I know nothing of any gold or a chest.”

  “Do you expect me to believe that you had no knowledge of the treasure hidden within that wall?”

  “The only treasure I sought was the box I told you of.”

  “Yet you had tools that could have been used to break the lock of that chest as easily as chisel mortar from stones. With the gold, you could have purchased a dozen boxes filled with documents and locks of hair and claimed any one of those as the one you sought. What a shame you did not take more care. Your thieving might have gone undiscovered.”

  She fought through the thudding ache that had returned to her skull. “Someone is trying to make me look guilty. How could I pocket so much gold in the time it took the stones to fall? Nor would I have been able to remove anything from behind those stones without first removing them. Were that so, they would not have fallen.”

  He studied her. “You are a very clever woman. Clever enough to frighten an entire keep. You could have found the means to get the chest that would leave the stones unsteady enough to fall on you. But you raise enough doubt that I must investigate more closely.” He started to stand.

  She caught his hand with her good one. “I did not know what lay hidden within that wall.”

  “’Tis difficult to believe when you continue to lie and deceive like a thief.”

  “I seek nothing that is not mine.”

  He heaved a great sigh.

  “I brought the water and all ye ordered, Sir Talon,” Alice interrupted from the doorway. “If ye’ll move aside, I’ll care for her until Mother Clement gets here.”

  Talon clenched his jaw and stood. “We will talk more once your hurts have been tended, but know this. On your oath, you will cease your searches of this keep, or I will place a guard to watch you whatever your task.”

  Larkin moaned.

  “Hush now. Keep quiet, and you’ll soon feel better.” Alice sat and dabbed at her forehead.

  With Alice between them, Larkin could not have responded to Sir Talon had she wished to, which she definitely did not. She would swear no oath to cease her searching. She would have a hard enough time if her arm injury was as severe as she feared. If she could just make Sir Talon believe her. That was impossible without the marriage box. So no matter what he threatened, no matter her injuries, she would find the box or die trying.

  • • •

  His first thought on seeing Larkin in the rubble of the broken wall had been to pray she was still alive. When that prayer had been answered, he prayed that her injuries were slight. She had indeed been lucky. However, when he’d seen the gold spilling from her apron, he’d chastised himself for a fool. He had no business being soft where this woman was concerned.

  Talon trudged down the stairs to the solar where Larkin was cleaning today. On the chance that she told the truth about how her accident happened, he’d gone back to the counting room and examined the entire space. He’d found a burned spot in the rushes below the sconce where the end of a recently extinguished torch might have lain. The rushes near the doorway seemed disturbed, but any number of things could cause that. However, the scorch marks supported Larkin’s tale, if nothing else did. He could not condemn her when she might not be lying.

  He paused in the doorway of the solar and watched her. She seemed as diligent in her assigned task as she’d been in searching the keep. But working hard did not make her honest.

  She swiped one-handed at the sweat that trickled down her neck and below her bodice. Her left hand was useless, being heavily splinted to protect it while her sprain healed. She tugged open the laces at the front of her gown and fanned herself with the loosened cloth.

  Talon was oddly proud of her. After three days
’ work, the solar was nearly clean. She’d done the work one-handed and alone. The odor permeating the keep was better, so he knew she had removed every trace of offal. However, ’twas nothing like the May meadow he’d demanded. The entire building needed cleaning on a daily basis. Cleve had not been able to convince any of the village women to enter the keep. Even clever Larkin would not be able to keep up on her own. He must get her help but not too much. He wanted her so busy she had no time to search for any marriage box.

  He’d told her not to search the keep on her oath, but he’d neglected to get that oath from her lips. Given what he’d found in the counting room, should he force the issue or risk her continued searching? If she told the truth about her accident, it was possible someone did not want her prying about Hawksedge. She’d had as much success finding the marriage box as she had cleaning the entire keep on her own. But who knew what secrets the earl had hidden about? If her searching threatened those secrets, she could be in danger. He would have to keep closer watch on her.

  He continued to observe unnoticed. She inhaled deeply and held her breath. Then she bent and gathered a bundle of sodden, mold-scented rushes into one arm. Did she hate getting anywhere near the stuff as much as he did? About to drop the mass into the tub used to transport the filthy reeds to the bailey, she gave a surprised shriek and dropped her load, scattering moldy straw across the nearly clean floor of the solar.

  “Nooo!” She gave an anguished cry and began to jump about like a madwoman. “Get thee gone, you hideous beast.”

  Talon frowned and glanced back over his shoulder. No one else was in sight, so she could only be speaking to him. He could swear she had not looked in his direction, and he was certain he was not hideous.

  She slapped at her breast. “Nay! Get off me.” She screamed and grabbed the gaping material at the top of her gown and shook it violently. She stared down her front, as if she expected the cloth to object to her harsh treatment. “Argh.”

  A moment later, she began to beat herself about the thighs. She twisted and turned as she struck wildly.

  Talon gaped at her antics. Mayhap she suffered an injury to her brain from the broken wall, and the injury had gone untreated. No matter what the cause, he could not allow her to hurt herself more.

  He charged into the room, lifted her from the floor, tossed her onto the bed, and pinned her writhing limbs beneath his body.

  “Ugh. Get it off me,” she screamed, while pulling her arms free.

  His brow tightened, he stared down at her.

  “Remove it, please. I cannot stand it. That thing might be crawling under my skirts now. I beg you.” She pitched her head from side to side and thrashed her legs.

  He captured her hands before she could harm herself. “Calm down,” he ordered. “I can do naught while you shout and move thus.”

  She froze beneath him, though her chest still heaved and her lips trembled. The feel of her warm torso beneath him caused his body to harden most inconveniently. Now was not the time for sexual advances. He told himself to focus on the problem at hand.

  “Tell me what tortures you.”

  “A spider,” she blurted. “A great wooly beast of a spider as long as my finger. It leapt on me from the rushes and hides in the folds of my skirt.”

  Talon smiled and smoothed the hair from her face. “Is that all? Lie still, and I will find your spider for you.”

  She bit her lip and stiffened.

  Talon released her arms and sat up. Her obvious discomfort and fear cooled his desire. Gingerly, he patted at her long tunic from waist to ankles. To preserve her modesty, he did his best to keep his touch firm and impersonal. When that netted nothing, he began to carefully spread the folds of her skirt apart.

  “There’s the beastie.” With a lightning-swift move, he scooped the eight-legged creature into one palm, covering it with his other hand.

  “Where?” Larkin raised herself onto her elbows and peered at Talon. The movement forced her gaping laces farther apart.

  His gaze fixed on her breasts; he licked his lips and swallowed.

  She slapped a hand over her exposed flesh.

  He sighed and raised his gaze to her face, disappointed and at the same time relieved.

  “Here.” He lifted his cupped hands. “Do you wish to see it?”

  Larkin’s lips still trembled, but she nodded.

  He brought his hands closer and slowly lifted his upper hand away.

  She stared at the small brown ball. “Is that it?”

  “Aye.”

  “It seemed much larger when it leapt at me.”

  “It probably was. Drawing in its legs seems to be some sort of defense.”

  She shuddered. “I wish you would put it out of the room.”

  “You don’t wish me to kill it?” He strode to the door.

  She cocked her head. “Why would I want that?”

  He set the spider on the floor outside the solar. “Because it frightened you, I suppose.”

  She gave a throaty chuckle. “If I killed everything that frightened me, I would have murdered you on first sight.”

  “Truly?” He walked to the bedside. “You did not seem fearful when I saw you in the fog.”

  She was calmer now. He knew one of them should leave, but he did not want to. For the first time, he felt as if the barriers between them might fall.

  “I learned early that to show fear was a sure way to attract danger.”

  “’Tis a good lesson to learn.” He held out his hand to her. To help her stand, he told himself, not because he wanted to touch her even in the smallest way. “But you showed your fear of the spider.”

  “I was surprised, and a spider is a far different thing from a man.” She took the offered hand and stood.

  He should have stepped back but remained where he was, staring down at her lips.

  She inhaled and put her hands on his chest, pushing gently. “Please?”

  Was that “please” consent or protest? The touch of her hands was too pleasurable to stop him. He anchored her hands in place with one large palm and bent his lips to hers.

  The kiss was sweet, more plea than demand. He scraped his teeth along her lower lip. She opened, and he dipped his tongue within.

  A small moan moved from her to him. His hands went to her shoulders, but she pushed away before he could draw her nearer.

  She moved several steps from him, her face heated, her breathing rapid.

  “Do you fear me now?”

  She frowned and twisted her hands. “If I did, I’d neither tell nor show you.”

  “However, I did surprise you?”

  She turned away, and he could not see her expression. “Nay, it is not surprising that a man would take advantage of a woman who has neither strength nor power to deny him.” Her voice was hard.

  Did she regret yielding to his kiss, even for that brief moment? What a shame she could not be honest even in this, for her desire had been palpable.

  “Mayhap you are right.” His voice dripped sarcasm as he walked past her to the door. “However, you have denied me, have you not?”

  He disappeared down the stairs before he could say something he might regret.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  During the next few days, she did not see Talon for more than a few moments during meals in the great hall when large numbers of people surrounded them. She told herself she was happier not seeing him and that she spent far too many hours thinking about him as she scrubbed, dusted, and polished.

  You have denied me, have you not? Indeed, she had, after she realized she was yielding. He had not forced her, either. Though he had not asked permission to kiss her. What kind of man was he to take but not pursue an advantage? What kind of woman was she to allow this man to distract her? Much more of this and she would be praying for the earl to return just to avoid the storm of confusion Talon inspired. If the earl came back, would he accept her as his countess? Did she want him to? Would she gain justice for her family, regain the home s
he’d lost? Or would she lose her life and any chance of love, like every other Countess of Hawksedge?

  Disgusted with her circling thoughts and her inability to resolve the issues, Larkin poured a bucket of hot water into the tub before the solar’s blazing fire. Then to keep the heat in, she adjusted a tall wooden screen around three sides of the tub.

  She was done laboring for the day. And she was done with carrying the stink of cleaning the keep on her person. She would teach Sir High and Mighty Talon Quereste that he could not show her kindness one moment, kiss her senseless the next, and then ignore her completely, even though his notice was the last thing she should want. She was not a plaything for nobles or yeoman. Thanks to a few black eyes and bloody lips given by her sharp elbows and ready fists, the village men knew to leave her be. Sir Talon would know it too. She simply hadn’t figured out how to teach him that very necessary lesson yet. Just as she hadn’t yet taught her mind to erase the memory of his touch, his kiss. But she would. She’d figure it all out while she bathed.

  She placed a stool next to the tub and set a clean tunic, drying cloth, and her lavender-and-pansy-infused soap on the seat. She tested the water. Perfect. Then she stripped off her work-soiled clothing and the splint she felt she no longer needed.

  ’Twas a risk, deciding to bathe in the solar. But all of the keep’s other rooms were either too public, too cold, or too dirty to suit her. Besides, not moments ago, she’d heard Talon in the bailey shouting at the guards and knights who practiced their battle skills. She had plenty of time to scrub herself clean before he returned.

  She stepped into the tub with a small splash. Ahh. The heated water lapped at her sore muscles and eased the ache in the small of her back. She picked up the soap and submerged her hands.

  “Aieeh!”

  The water pricked at the many tiny cuts dirty rushes had made on her palms. Leaving the soap afloat, she lifted her hands. She turned her palms upward, gasping. How had she acquired so many cuts and blisters?