by Rue Allyn
He studied the path as he rode, looking for signs of a pony pulling a cart. Though he doubted it, she might have come this way instead of taking the forest track. But the ground was dry, and he saw no trace of wheels or hooves. He had little choice but to hope he would find her at the abbey.
Pray heaven she was well. She would need all her resources when he found her. After he shook some sense into her, he would keep her so busy she would have no time or energy to frighten him again with escape. Nor would she seek to make ridiculous claims about being Lady Rosham. ’Twas time she understood just what her place was at Hawksedge Keep.
And what was that place? Peasant. She could be naught but a peasant.
The woodland opened upon the carefully tended fields belonging to the abbey. But again, no sign of Larkin or the cart. Talon followed the track that cut through the greening crops and led around the abbey complex.
Attached to the rear wall of the complex was a small building, the anchorage. The solitary window stood open. In the fog of that first encounter with the anchoress, he’d missed its proximity to the abbey. Perhaps he could save time by asking after Larkin there first. Abbeys could be notoriously slow in responding to worldly queries, especially when the abbey was run by nuns and the queries came from a man. However, his first encounter with the anchoress made him pause. How reliable could anything she said be? Nonetheless, he dismounted and tied his steed’s reins to a low bush that guarded the short path leading to the open window set in the chained door.
“Hello,” he called.
A woman’s face appeared in the window as he neared. She peered at him, owl-eyed, until he came within an arm’s span of the opening. Unlike his last approach, when fury and hurt greeted him, this time he felt unaccustomed comfort steal over him like a warm memory.
Her mouth opened, and a terrified scream rent the air. She fled.
What in the name of heaven is wrong with her? Talon walked to the window. Inside, the large room was divided into three areas. One with a Spartan bed for sleeping. Another near the fireplace with cauldron and kettles. Probably where the anchoress cooked and made her candles. The third contained an altar and a small statue of the Virgin. Before the altar, the anchoress lay prostrate mumbling a mad prayer.
“I beseech you, Holy Mother, protect me from the demon you have sent. I have lived all these years as I promised, away from the world and sin. Do not now condemn me, I pray. I have born much sorrow, as you have. I know you will help me to bear this new curse that comes upon me ...”
Talon waited. The prayer did not end but wound on and on in an ever-spiraling litany of fear, regret, and pleading. The woman would be of no help and certainly offered no blessing.
Frustrated, he rode round the abbey to the gate and knocked. The nun who answered knew nothing of Larkin but did take his request to speak with the abbess. He was left standing outside in the darkening gloom, just as on the day he’d been tossed from Hawksedge Keep like so much refuse. No wonder he found himself less concerned about the disappearance of his nominal father than the escape of one lying wench. Where was she?
“Do you often stand sentinel in the dark?”
How dare she calmly sneak up on him while he spent precious time searching for her. He peered at her. “What are you doing afoot and covered in filth?”
Teeth teasing her lower lip, Larkin stared at him from the path that led into the woods. “I came to the abbey to seek shelter for the night, since it was my destination and the pony ran off with my cart.” Dirt, curious as it might be, did not bother him. Walking his horse to where she stood, he bent and extended an arm to her. “Get up behind me. You may explain while I take you home.”
Her eyes narrowed, her mouth firmed, and she planted a fist on each hip. “No.”
He sighed and cast heavenward a quick prayer for patience. “You made your vow to me not to attempt escape. Now you defy me to my face?”
“I have every intention of returning to Hawksedge, so I have broken no vow.”
“So you say.” Was she lying again? He clenched his teeth against the urge to shake the truth from her. “Since I am here now, you will come with me.” He stretched his arm out farther.
“Nay.” She dared to smile.
“Must I force you?”
“Ahem.”
Talon straightened and guided his horse behind Larkin but facing the abbey. A black-robed woman stood in the open gate.
“Mother Clement.” Larkin’s voice was strained and her shoulders jerked.
“Abbess.” Did the woman’s sudden appearance startle Larkin? No doubt it was petty of him to feel pleased that someone could unnerve her, even if he could not.
The abbess inclined her head. “Mother Clement will do. You found Larkin.”
“She arrived while I waited for you.”
“So I see.” She raised a brow.
“I have all the herbs you requested,” Larkin said. “But the pony ran off with them in the cart, and the burn blossoms have not bloomed yet.”
Talon seized on this second mention of her missing pony cart. “Why did the pony run off?”
“Someone shot an arrow at it as I freed the cart from a mud hole.”
“Why would someone shoot at you?”
Even the poor torchlight was enough to let him see her pale.
“I cannot say. Most likely someone who wished to kill me, but who would want that?”
She squared her shoulders, but he heard the tremor in her voice. She was afraid of something.
“’Tis a likely consequence of claiming that which is not yours, Larkin,” warned Mother Clement.
“But I—”
The abbess raised a hand. “Pray that God will provide what is needed and trust in Him. Now, when do you think you may return to pick the burn blossoms? ’Tis the best treatment for itchweed, burns, and other ailments of the skin. Our supply is exhausted, and we need the blossoms urgently.”
“If it please you, I will come back after the next full moon.”
“Excellent. In the morning, I will send some of the sisters after your pony cart and have it returned to you.”
Talon coughed. “I regret, Mother Clement, that Larkin will not be able to gather these blooms for you.”
“Why not?” The woman drew herself up in a way that he had seen King Edward do when opposed.
“Because she was found trespassing in the keep and must remain there until the earl returns to speak her justice. In addition, she is safer there than wandering around the countryside alone. The keep has too few guards to spare even one to escort her.”
“Is this true, child?”
Larkin dropped her gaze. “Aye, my trespassing is the reason I’ve made no deliveries in the past weeks.”
“That was very foolish of you.”
“Aye.”
He had never seen Larkin so meek. He was not certain he liked it. Humility did not suit her. She appeared weak, and he knew she was stronger than most women.
“Others may suffer for your actions.”
Her head jerked up. “They already suffer when I cannot make deliveries.”
“We managed before we had a carter. So even though you provide a useful service, you cannot break your parole.”
“I did not.”
The abbess held up a hand once more. “Nor even bend it for the sake of others.”
“But—”
“No excuses, Larkin. Even Christ did render unto Caesar.”
“Aye. I am sorry.”
“As you should be. I forgive you. Pray that God does as well, and that none will need the burn balm before you are released of this vow. Are you satisfied, Sir Talon?”
“Aye, Mother Clement. I thank you for your aid.”
“Do not thank me too soon, young man. She has a tendency to attract trouble, and because of her promise, I charge you with her care. See that she comes to no harm. Hear me in this.”
“As you will.”
“Good night then.” The abbess nodded and retired
to the abbey.
“It must be a weighty matter that had you standing in the dusk waiting for Mother Clement’s convenience?”
Ignoring the mud covering her front, Talon lifted Larkin onto his horse’s rump, grateful that she did not resist. “Nothing so much as a lying wench who risks her life to escape the earl’s justice.”
Her lips trembled then firmed, and her jaw locked. “I swore my parole to you when you loosed the ropes that bound me that first morning in the keep. If you choose to think I would damn myself to escape, you don’t know me very well.”
“Aye, I do not know you well.” He smiled without mirth. He picked up the long plait she’d made of her hair and toyed with it. “Perhaps we should become better acquainted. The idea has some merit. ’Twould take little to persuade me.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
He sighed and dropped her braid. “You are right. I would never force a woman, and since you do not choose to spend your nights with me, then—for your safety, of course—you must spend them in the dungeons or perhaps chained to the kitchen hearth. I would not wish you to suffer a chill.”
She did not respond, so he fell silent. He preferred to let her think that he contemplated ways to punish her for lying than allow her to know how conflicted he was. As a liar and a thief, her safety and comfort should matter not at all, yet both seemed to matter greatly. So greatly in fact, he should decide how best to guard her before they reached Hawksedge. Then he could cease to concern himself with her and get on with the more important work Edward sent him to do—find the vanishing earl and compel him to court to swear fealty to his king. In the process, he would do all possible to achieve his aim of regaining his place at Hawksedge Keep.
• • •
Riding pillion, Larkin allowed the rhythm of the horse’s movement’s to relax her as she had not been since that arrow struck the side of the pony cart. She’d been lucky, and the archer’s attack at dusk was a poor choice. ’Twas obvious the mud that trapped her cart had been meant to position her as a target for the nameless archer. But why? She’d told Talon the truth. She could imagine no one who might wish to kill her. Wat the miller might wish her harm because of her rejections, but surely not enough to do murder. Talon might be angry enough, but murder did not seem his way. The earl? Perhaps. His reaction when she claimed to be his wife certainly gave him motive, but how could he have achieved this when he’d been missing for weeks? Wearying speculation whirled in her brain, and she fell forward against Talon’s strong back only to jerk herself upright.
She gripped the cantle of the saddle rather than touch his body. “’Twould take little to persuade me.” Clearly the only acquaintanceship he wished was the carnal sort. She had no desire to share any man’s bed, especially his. Once she proved her identity, she would be his stepmother, and the church forbade congress between any sort of mother and child as sinful. However, she did need to understand him, for the longer she knew him, the more confused she became.
He suggested sex in one moment, then insisted on protecting her, and, in the next instant, proposed dungeons and chains for her. Any of those would impede her ability to search the keep for her family’s marriage box and the proof it contained of her identity. Without status as Lady Rosham, she had no chance to escape a fate as either the plaything or the servant, or both, of men such as Sir Talon Quereste. For her own security and freedom, she must regain her name and her home, Rosewood Castle.
As they neared the keep, her gaze lingered on his broad shoulders and the easy way he sat in his saddle. He was an attractive man, and did she not know the consequences of yielding to his lures, she might be tempted. He thought she wished to escape the earl’s justice. She almost wished she could leave, but to serve justice, she must remain and be free enough to continue her search. ’Twas a risk, especially when the earl returned, for he would not hesitate to toss her in a dungeon.
When they emerged from beneath the keep’s portcullis into the bailey, a crowd of guards and horses thronged the yard.
“So ye’ve found her, Sir Talon.”
“Aye, Cleve. Any sign of the earl?”
“Nay, but he may have met with Baron Le Hourde. We’re still waiting to hear from him.”
“Very well then, dismiss the men.”
Cleve did as ordered, but the men lingered as the guard captain turned to help Larkin dismount.
“’Twas a naughty thing ye did, girl, making me think ye intended to cart goods when ye meant all along to run away.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Aye, ’cause Sir Talon here caught ye.”
“But—”
“What d’ye want done with her, sir? We’ve irons in the dungeon where the stores are kept.”
Larkin worried her lower lip. Would Talon go through with his threats? She turned pleading eyes on him but found his gaze impassive.
“Nay, Cleve, I think not. The keep still has need of her services. I wonder if she might not know a way to escape those irons were she not watched constantly, and Hawking Sedge’s men have already exhausted too much effort because of her.”
He dismounted and handed his horse over to a stable lad.
“Then I don’t know what’s to do, Sir Talon.”
“Please, do not imprison me,” she implored.
Talon raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember the abbess’s request that I should have care of you?”
Larkin nodded, aware of Cleve and the listening men.
“Th’ abbess asked ye to keep Larkin safe?”
“Indeed she did. Let it be understood by all that Mistress Larkin continues to clean and help in the keep as I direct. During the day, she will have a guard with her at all times. The nights she will spend in the solar.”
She gasped. So much for trust and his word to Mother Clement.
Several of the men chuckled.
Cleve grinned. “The men will envy you, sir. She’s turned them all down.”
Talon’s voice turned cold. “Let the men think as they like, but remind them what I said. As long as Larkin remains within these walls, I will have no man offer her insult or injury. Is that understood?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Then kindly ask Alice to have bread, ale, and cheese sent to the solar.” He pushed on Larkin’s arm, and with the entire guard watching, she was forced to march ahead of him, up the stairs to the hall, and upward again into the solar.
The moment the door closed she shook off his hand.
“I told you I would never consent to your touch,” she snarled.
He waved her to silence. “There is no need to snap at me, Larkin. I’ve no interest this night in proving that you lie to us both.”
“But you said ...”
“What I said in front of the men was to keep you safe, as I promised the abbess I would.” He sank onto the bed. “I need your help with my boots. I really must find a squire.” He spoke as if to himself.
Larkin hung back in the corner near the door.
“Well, what are you waiting for? I asked for your help.”
“Why have you done this?”
“Done what? Asked you to remove my boots for me? Because I don’t wish to sleep in them.”
“Nay.” She stomped across the room to stand before him. How could he treat her so casually and still believe her to be the liar and thief he constantly accused her of being? How could he claim to give no woman dishonor, yet allow the entire keep to think she shared his bed. The man was impossible.
“Who is the liar now,” she accused. “My presence alone in this chamber dirties my honor.”
“I will not dishonor you.” He lifted the hem of his shirt and shrugged the garment over his head.
His calm denial irritated her more.
“Do you not? Cleve was leering. The rest of the guards snickered and made lewd comments among themselves. No doubt they all expect to hear my screams this evening and your tale of the bedding on the morrow. These are not the actions of a man who would keep me sa
fe or preserve my honor!” Her voice rose.
“Cease!” He roared back at her and stood.
She retreated a step. Even then, he was too close. Too daunting. Too shirtless. Too attractive.
“I did none of these things.”
“Of course you did,” she sputtered.
“Nay,” he said, giving a weary shrug of his naked shoulders as he sat and lifted a booted foot in her direction. “’Twas Cleve, you said, who leered, and the guards who snickered and made lewd remarks. By your own words, I did none of these things.”
“But you caused them.” She grasped the boot and tugged.
“Did I tell those men I was taking you to my bed? Did I promise them your screams and the tale of it on the morrow?” He lifted the other foot.
“Nay.” She dropped the first boot and took hold of the second. Confusion reigned. He may have said he would not dishonor her, but he gave no explanation either. “Not many weeks past, you promised I would share your bed if you ever found me alone here again. Now, you say I will spend the nights in the solar. ’Tis where you sleep. How can those men think anything except that I share your bed?” The boot resisted her tugs. She bent her back to it.
“I have always said I would not force you. My promise tonight said naught of what others would think. I have seen how the men look at you. Were you chained in the dungeon, at best, your honor would be gone by morning. At worst, you would be dead by an assassin’s knife. None would confess to either. If you lived and accused any man, you would not be believed because of your other lies.”
Larkin gave an angry heave and the boot came loose. “And what, pray, is to keep those men you set to guard me during the day from murder or taking what you deny them at night?”
“As each man is assigned, he will be clearly identified. Should any harm come to you under his care, he will be held to account for it and publicly hung or disciplined.”