Margo Maguire

by The Virtuous Knight

  A fierce brawl had broken out and fists were swinging in every direction. The fight seemed to be centered on the far side of the room, near one of the dingy windows. And in Alex’s present mood, he was just ripe for a fight.

  He’d had no luck finding Lucy, though he’d gone up and down most every street of the city, and questioned every shop owner and tradesman he could find. One or two had seen her, but had not paid any attention when she’d left. They could not tell Alex where she’d gone.

  As he pushed his way through the crowd, Alex hoped that one of these blockheads would throw a punch his way. He’d never been more ready to crack some heads.

  The innkeeper tried to break things up, but was having little success on the fringes of the fight. The brawlers merely tossed him aside.

  Alex searched the periphery, and then the crowd, for the innkeeper’s wife, but he did not see her. And he began to suspect the woman had gotten caught in the thick of it.

  Using his size and strength to push through the crowd, Alex took great satisfaction in wrestling and battling the men who crossed his path.

  Finally he reached a brawny, light-haired fellow, bent over the struggling woman in a crimson gown. Alex grabbed the man by his collar and yanked him away.

  “Alex!” the woman cried.

  His heart twisted painfully. God in heaven, ’twas Lucy!

  And as he stood gaping at her, the big fellow threw his fist and caught Alex on the jaw. Lucy screamed and scooted away, straightening her torn clothes as she moved. Alex turned into the fight, pummeling the man who thought he could violate Lucy with impunity. But before he could murder her assailant, several of the men pulled him off. The music stopped as Lucy threw herself at him, weeping.

  He closed his arms around her and led her from the fray. As soon as they were away from the crowd, Alex guided her to the staircase. Keeping hold of her, he climbed the steps and did not stop until he reached his room.

  ’Twas cold and dark inside, but Alex did not leave Lucy to start a fire, but sat on a chair by the bed and pulled her onto his lap. It seemed that she would never stop trembling, and Alex felt somewhat unsteady himself. They did not speak, but as he tucked Lucy into his embrace, his heart pounded heavily in his chest.

  He’d searched for her all day, and now that he found her, he did not know what he would do with her.

  With Lucy’s penchant for finding trouble, Alex could not leave her alone. At least, not until he’d helped her find an appropriate method to support herself. It might delay him for another day or so, but after his months of travel, such a short span of time did not seem to matter. He’d hidden the Mandylion well, and if the black knights came to York, they would not find it.

  Nor would they find him. ’Twas doubtful they would even recognize him with his shaved beard and the new tunic he wore.

  He rested his chin on the top of her head and held her while her sobs subsided. It had been a long couple of days and Alex doubted Lucy had slept much—if at all—the night before. She’d been on the run from the one-eyed maggot who’d tried to molest her.

  “Tell me, Lucy…what did you do to the weaver?”

  “What did I do to him?” she asked, wondering how he knew about the weaver.

  She felt his throat move as he swallowed thickly and pulled her closer.

  “Nay,” he whispered. “Do not tell me, for I may have to kill him.”

  Lucy saw the tradesman’s face in her mind, felt the grasp of his strong hands holding her down, and she shuddered. His ill treatment was much worse than the incident that had just occurred in the tavern, though she was more than grateful for Alex’s timely arrival just now.

  “I did not know where to go last night when I ran from the weaver,” she said quietly. “I walked for a long time… Did you know there are watchmen who walk the streets at night?”

  “Aye.” His voice was low and warm. Reassuring. She felt him stroke her hip where he held her.

  “I stayed out of sight as much as I could, but there was nowhere to go….” She could not make her voice any louder than a whisper. “I was afraid….”

  A sound from somewhere deep in his chest rumbled through her.

  “The weaver did not f-follow me very far.” She curled into him even more if that were possible. “I think I m-must have hurt him when I hit him with the b-broom. And I think he was w-waiting for someone else to come….”

  She stopped speaking when tears threatened again, and her voice failed her. She did not want to think what might have happened if the baker’s wife had come to help him with whatever debased act he had planned.

  The hours since leaving Holywake swirled together in Lucy’s mind like a terrible dream. And the nightmare ended only when Alexander intruded upon it. She did not know how he happened to arrive at the inn when he did, but she was grateful, and would allow herself a few moments of comfort in his arms.

  The heat from Alex’s body seeped through Lucy’s skin and finally deep into her bones. She felt weightless and free in his arms, on his lap, and wished he would never let her go.

  Never in her life had she been so glad to see anyone as when Alex rescued her in the tavern.

  ’Twas not only because he’d saved her from being assaulted by the drunken townsman, but because she’d missed him more than she ever could have imagined.

  It seemed far too natural to hold Lucy in his arms, to comfort her. But Alex could not stay with her indefinitely and keep her from harm. There had to be some wholesome and reputable place in York where she could remain and earn her keep while she stayed out of trouble.

  Unfortunately, Alex did not want to leave her.

  He could not put off the inevitable any longer. He had to leave for Eryngton soon.

  Without thinking, he rubbed Lucy’s arms. She was much too cold, and still shivering. Her breathing was uneven, and Alex heard the occasional sniffle. Her weeping had not yet subsided.

  The bastard in the tavern had torn her gown and bruised her throat. Or mayhap the weaver had done that. Either way, she’d experienced too much of the world’s evils since her arrival in York, and Alex would prefer that she see no more of them.

  He supposed he could take Lucy with him when he went to Eryngton. If he purchased another wagon and they rode together, any onlooker would assume they were man and wife. Skelton’s men would not recognize him without his beard, nor would they associate him with a wife—or a woman of any kind. ’Twas likely they could ride right in front of the black knights, and the men would not know him.

  Satisfied with his plan, he leaned back and relaxed in the chair, pulling Lucy close. Absently, he caressed her, he closed his eyes and nuzzled the hair at her crown, content now that he had her near. He would not leave her again until he was satisfied that she’d found a situation perfectly suited to her, something that placed her with a family, with children. She would make a fine nurse.

  Or wife.

  Her breathing settled down and when she finally slept, Alex allowed himself to doze. Sometime during the night, he carried Lucy to the bed and lay down, keeping her in his arms until morning.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lucy awoke to a feeling of warmth and comfort that was entirely unfamiliar, especially of late. Pulling the warm quilt around her, she sat up in the bed and looked at her unfamiliar surroundings. Her heart sank when she realized that Alex was not there.

  The windows were shuttered, so she could not tell how long she’d slept. A healthy fire blazed in the grate, and there was a tray on a table nearby, covered by a cloth. The rips that Giles Falk had torn in her blue kirtle had been mended, and it lay draped over a chair. The red one was nowhere to be seen.

  ’Twas with relief that Lucy’s eyes alighted upon Alex’s leather saddle packs, lying on the floor near the chamber door. He had not left her.

  Giddy with relief, she threw off the bedcovers and got out of bed, only to discover several new bruises in addition to the ones she’d acquired at the weaver’s. But the worst was a small lump at
the back of her head, where she must have hit it the night before.

  She stepped over to the window and opened the shutters. Bright sunlight shone in and Lucy guessed it must be near noon, if not already past. She was hungry, but the fatigue that had plagued her the day before was gone. The day was new, and Alex was nearby.

  It took but a moment to strip off her clothes, and Lucy quickly washed with the water in the pitcher. She dressed in the clean blue kirtle and was assessing the damage to her head and hands when a quiet tap at the door claimed her attention.

  ’Twas Alex.

  “You’re awake,” he said when she opened the door.

  She nodded, feeling absurdly shy. He seemed reticent, too, which made things much easier for her. While she was asleep, he’d shaved and put on clothes Lucy had never seen before. He wore a tunic of deep green and trimmed in gold. A short cape in complementary colors was slung over his arm and he looked like a prosperous nobleman.

  “Have you broken your fast?” he asked, coming into the room.

  “Not yet,” she replied. “I have not been awake for long.”

  He nodded and his eyes lingered on hers a moment, then skipped down to her shoulders and the rest of her body before glancing toward the tray of food. “You needed to sleep. How is your head?”

  “Better, I think,” she replied, catching her breath when he ran his hand gently across the back of her head. She would not mind if he pulled her to his chest and held her there until she felt steady once again.

  “You need not worry about finding employment now.” He stepped away and stood next to the chair where they’d sat together the night before.

  Or had that just been a dream?

  “I have a plan,” he said. “Eat.”

  Alex had always struck her as a determined man, but there was something different about him now. ’Twas as if he’d settled himself somehow and was more certain of his task. Or mayhap the new clothes had made him seem different to her. Lucy took a bite of the bread on the tray and waited for him to explain what he intended.

  “’Tis my task to get the Mandylion to safety,” he said. “But the black knights will interfere, and steal it if they can.”

  She sat down on the bed and listened.

  “They may not recognize me without my beard,” he explained, “but they will surely not know me if I travel openly with a woman. With you posing as my wife, and—”

  “As your…?” Lucy felt the blood drain from her head. She had never dared think of herself as Alex’s wife, though being wed to him was her heart’s deepest desire. To pretend such a thing… She swallowed and tried to ignore the fluttering in her chest. “Your w-wife?”

  “Once the Mandylion is safely delivered—” he stood and faced the window, clasping his hands behind him “—I will see that you find proper employment for a woman of your station.”

  Tears clogged her throat. He could not have asked anything more difficult, but Lucy could not refuse him, no matter how much it would hurt when he finished his ploy and sent her on her way. And if ’twould give her another day or two with him, she would do it.

  Her stomach churned and her appetite disappeared. And since there was no reason to linger, Lucy rolled up her blanket along with her few other belongings and tied the bundle neatly. He slipped her shawl about her shoulders and they walked together to the main floor of the inn. They did not go through the tavern, for which Lucy was grateful.

  “Oh, Sir Alex!” The innkeeper’s wife encountered them near a door that led to the courtyard. She seemed breathless, as usual, and no friendlier to Lucy than she’d been before. She was more than civil to Alex, though. “Alf fetched the wagon ye bought. He’s just hitching it now to yer horse.”

  Alex gave a curt thanks and led Lucy from the inn. They walked across the courtyard to the stable where the landlord was leading Alex’s horse outside. The mare pulled a large wagon behind her.

  Alf said naught, and by the sullen set of his face, Lucy surmised that his exchange with Alex had not been a pleasant one. In spite of that, Alex dropped a coin into the man’s hand, then lifted Lucy onto the wagon. He dropped her bundle into the wagon bed, then climbed up after her. Sitting side by side, they set off.

  With Alex next to her, she felt safe and protected. Naught could happen to her while he was there, other than having to suffer a bit of ridicule for being dressed like a beggar next to her fine knight. Though her sleeves had been reattached to the gown, and the tears had been patched, she and Alex could not have appeared more mismatched.

  Lucy ignored the stares of the people they passed on the street, and without thinking, moved closer to Alex on the seat. She did not recognize the area of town in which they rode, but she had not seen much of York in daylight. She felt she’d covered all of it during the night when she’d run from Master Falk.

  Alex stopped the wagon and jumped down. He tied Rusa, then came around and helped Lucy out of the wagon. He treated her as though her shabby attire meant naught to him, holding her by the waist as he lowered her to the ground. Lucy gazed up at him and when their eyes met, a heavy ache of yearning formed in her chest.

  She did not know ’twas possible to care so deeply for another. His heart was clearly engaged elsewhere, but that did not seem to matter to Lucy’s own heart. She loved him.

  He found a boy to watch over his horse and the wagon, then took Lucy’s arm and led her down the narrow lane full of shops.

  “What is this place?” she asked to take her mind off the flood of emotions coursing through her.

  “The tailor’s shop is down this way,” he replied. “I stopped here earlier, while you slept, and made some arrangements.”

  The shop was very different from the one where Lucy had worked. ’Twas clean and orderly and smelled of cider and cinnamon. “Good day, good day, Sir Alex!” said a round little woman with bright red hair. “Is this your young lady?”

  Lucy heard Alex clear his throat and mutter affirmatively.

  “Well, come in, come in!” she said. “My brother is not yet returned, but we have all that you’ll need. Hmm…she’s a good bit smaller than my niece. Ah, ’tis no matter. We’ve got the means to alter the lot.”

  The woman’s words puzzled Lucy, but when she felt Alex’s hand at the small of her back, urging her forward, she went along without question. They walked into the workroom where two large tables were situated. Folded piles of colored cloth were stacked on shelves against one wall and three women sat at the tables sewing and chattering among themselves. At the other table, a man stood cutting fabric with a pair of shears. Lucy wondered if her gown had been mended here this morn.

  “’Tis fortunate that my niece will not be wed until next month,” the red-haired woman said to Alex as she poured a cup of cider for Lucy. “So we can replace these two gowns and all the rest of it well before she’ll be needing them.” She turned to Lucy. “Just go through there and take off your clothes.”

  Lucy did not move. Too much had happened of late for her to follow instructions blindly and she could not fathom what was going on here. “Wait.”

  Everyone in the room became silent at her forceful command and she felt her face heat with the blush of embarrassment. She turned toward Alex. “May I have a moment?”

  He did not hesitate, but went with her into the small chamber where she was supposed to have disrobed. When he turned to face Lucy, he was frowning. “What is amiss?”

  “I don’t understand what I’m to do here. Why must I…must I…”

  “Remove your clothes?”

  Embarrassed all over again, Lucy nodded. She well knew ’twas unseemly to speak of such things to Alex. Intimate matters were to be left between husband and wife, and Alex’s wife was dead. The only wife Alex wanted now was a temporary one. A fake. A sham.

  “’Tis a tailor’s shop. They have some women’s clothes that were made for another purpose,” he explained, “that the tailor is willing to sell to us.”

  “But Alex—”

  �
�I arranged it all earlier. You may break your fast, then let the woman fit you and we can be off.”

  There was no reason to argue. The only clothes in Lucy’s possession were fit for a beggar’s wife. She would never find suitable employment in such garb, so she accepted the new kirtles.

  By late afternoon, the women in the workroom had altered two gowns and a warm, woolen cloak so that they fit Lucy. Alex paced impatiently as they worked, and even left the tailor’s shop for a short time. Lucy did not know where he’d gone, but she was ready to leave when he returned.

  Instead of the travel-worn, abused kirtles she’d worn since meeting him, Lucy was now fashionably dressed. Her gown was a very fine velvet of brilliant blue, with decorative trimmings in gold and a darker blue. Underneath it, Lucy wore a delicate silk chemise.

  She had never worn anything so fine.

  Once the final fittings had been done, the ladies in the shop amused themselves with Lucy’s hair, putting it into braids and weaving it intricately about her head.

  She was certain the mirror in the tailor’s shop reflected some other woman within its glass. Though Lucy had rarely had occasion to look into a mirror, she could not recall a time when she’d looked—or felt—so feminine.

  Never in her life had Lucy dressed for a man, and she was not quite sure that was what she’d done this time. But she was suddenly very glad that she would no longer appear to Alex as a ragged waif.

  If only she could have cured her damnable limp as easily as her wardrobe had been corrected.

  When Alex returned to the tailor’s shop, Lucy found herself suddenly shy and hesitant to make her appearance in the anteroom. The tailor’s sister was oblivious to Lucy’s consternation, ushering her toward the entrance of the shop where Alex awaited her.

  “Well then, Sir Alex,” the proprietress said, “our task is complete and well done, wouldn’t you say?”