by Lynn Kurland
“How thoughtful of you.”
“Add that to my list.”
She looked up at him and smiled as he continued to enumerate in great detail all the things he was. And as she listened to him extol his virtues as if he were a stallion someone intended to sell, she realized that he did indeed have many fine characteristics. Had he been presented to her as a potential suitor, would she not have dropped to her knees and kissed her father’s feet in gratitude?
She suspected she would have indeed.
“But,” he said, “I’ve neglected to tell you the most important thing about myself, the thing I’ve carried in my heart the longest and the secret that few know.” He looked down at her solemnly.
“And what would that great secret be, my lord?”
He paused. He looked at her for a moment or two in silence, then he held out his hands for hers. She pulled her hands free of her cloak and put her hands in his. His palms were callused, his fingers rough from work. But all she noticed truly was that his hands were warm and that they held hers gently. She looked up and found that his expression was a very tender one.
For Robin, that is.
“It is that I love you,” he said quietly.
“Oh,” she said, blinking. She cast about for something to say, but all she could do was stare up at him in complete surprise. She had expected him to reveal that he loved children, or had a soft place in his heart for hounds.
He waited.
And then he began to scowl.
“Well?” he demanded.
“I’m still recovering from that, my lord. Pray tell me you’ve no more revelations of that kind.”
“It would be passing kind of you to reveal something of yourself! Something of that ilk!” he said heatedly.
She looked at him in surprise. “Well, of course I love you, you great oaf.”
He spluttered for a moment, then glared at her. “Prettily spoken.”
“Oh, Robin,” she said, with a laugh. She went into his arms and hugged him tightly. “Surely you’ve always known it.”
He shook his head. “Nay, Anne. I hoped it. And I told myself what a goodly life I would have, had I but your love in it.”
She looked up at him. “And now that you have it?”
He smiled. “Today, my lady, knowing that you care for me only leads me to believe I could do anything you willed of me.”
“You’ve already done that.”
“What?” he asked. “Brought you to the shore and given you my heart?”
“Aye,” she said, “that.”
“And taken yours in return?”
She pulled her head back to look up at him. “That as well.”
One of his eyebrows went up. “Is there aught else you would demand of me whilst I am baring my soul?”
“A kiss?”
“A fine idea.”
“I thought so as well.”
“If my lady will permit?”
“I suspect I will begin to demand if you don’t cease with your babbling.”
He smiled, then gathered her closer. “As my lady wishes,” he said, lowering his head to hers.
And at that precise moment, it began to rain.
And it wasn’t a pleasant, gentle rain.
The heavens opened and a torrent descended.
Robin clapped his hand to his head. “We are doomed!” he exclaimed.
And then the winds began to blow.
“Complain later,” she said, holding her hands over her head. “Find us shelter now!”
He cursed. “Can you ride?”
“Gladly!”
He put her up into her saddle, then swung up into his own. “To the forest, then,” he called over the wind. “Follow me!”
It was only then that Anne realized he had shortened her stirrups for her. And to her great surprise, it was far easier to ride with her knees bent so far than it was with them scarce bent at all. She had little trouble keeping Robin’s pace and each time he looked over his shoulder to see how she fared, she urged him on until they were flying across the ground. Laughter tore from her; she was powerless to stop it.
She saw Robin’s guard keeping pace with them, a short distance away, of course, and just the sight of it relieved her. Not that she had any reason to fear, but it never hurt to have extra men about.
The forest was a goodly distance from the shore, and perhaps that was too lofty a title for it. There were trees, true, but ’twas nothing as tall as she’d seen near Fenwyck, nor as dense as she’d heard tell of in the north. But it would provide them at least a little relief from the storm and for that she was grateful. Once they were under the shelter of the trees, Robin swung down off his horse and held up his hands for her. She was out of breath from the exhilaration of riding so swiftly, and from her laughter.
He pulled her under a tree, then Anne found herself backed up against it with Robin in her arms.
“By the saints,” he said breathlessly, “you are beautiful.” His eyes were bright, his hair was blown all about, and he was staring at her so intensely, Anne wondered if she might begin to melt. “I can hardly believe,” he whispered, “that you are mine.”
And then he bent his head to kiss her.
Anne was powerfully glad she had something to lean against. She closed her eyes as he buried his hands in her hair and tilted her face up. And when his mouth came down on hers, she couldn’t stop a shiver, or the abrupt loss of her breath.
And then her surroundings faded until all she could feel was Robin’s mouth on hers and his strong arms about her. She gave herself up completely to his kiss.
And then she completely lost her sense of time passing. All she knew was that she simply could not have enough of Robin’s mouth on hers.
And she wasn’t at all sure that kissing was going to satisfy the longing he was stirring inside her. That wasn’t a bad thing. He was, after all, her husband.
Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings. The rain continued to fall, pattering on the last autumn leaves above them. The wind continued to blow, wiping her hair and his. And then she noticed that Robin was dripping on her.
He tore his mouth away, then leaned his forehead against her, drawing in ragged breaths.
“Are you unwell?” she asked, her own breathing equally ragged.
“Ask me in an hour or so, when I’ve recovered.”
She saw the twinkle in his eye and frowned at him. “Are you jesting at my expense?” she asked, wiping the rain from her face.
“Nay, my love,” he whispered, kissing her again softly. “I’m giving you an honest answer. The saints be praised we have somewhere dry to sit here, for I doubt I have the strength to walk.” He looked about him, then smiled at her. “Will you have something to eat?”
She smiled dryly. Robin’s concern for the filling of his belly was nothing if not predictable. Perhaps he had suffered from too many polite meals at his grandmother’s table. “As you will, Robin.”
“Then sit you there on that log and I’ll fetch my saddlebags. My grandmother’s cook was persuaded to pack us something tasty.”
“Using your gentle influence again, my lord?”
He snorted. “A drawn sword, rather. He was most unwilling to rise when asked.”
She shuddered. “Then let us pray ’tis edible.”
“Oh, it is,” he said, coming to sit next to her. “I know this, for I watched him sample everything before he packed it away. There should be no mystery as to his size.”
Anne watched him as they ate, and found herself surprised by his ready smiles and hearty laughter. It had been years since she’d seen the like and she realized then how much she had missed it. Robin looked as if he’d shed a handful of years and a heavy load of care.
He looked up from his consumption of a tart and smiled at her. “What is it?”
She shook her head, smiling as well. “Nothing, really.”
He hesitated. “Did I eat too much?”
She put her arm around his neck and leane
d over to kiss him softly. “Nay, Robin. I was just looking at you.”
“And finding me to your liking, apparently.”
“Apparently,” she agreed.
He reached up and held her hand that rested on his shoulder. “You know, Anne, my grandmother could find somewhere else to sleep.”
“She could indeed.”
He paused. “Should she?”
“What do you think?”
“I already know what I think,” he said. “What I’m interested in are your thoughts.”
She chewed on her lip for a moment or two, then cast aside any semblance of reticence. There was no point in it. “I think,” she said slowly, “that she would be passing comfortable any number of other places.”
Robin was on his feet before she had finished her words. “Then let us be off,” he said. “Best see her settled early, so she has no complaints.” He pulled her to her feet, then released her to go fetch his saddlebags. Anne watched, then noticed something on the ground near where they’d sat. She walked over and picked it up.
“This must have fallen out,” she said, handing the scrap of parchment to him. “Words of love from Cook?”
“Wooing ideas from my grandmother, no doubt,” Robin said with a snort. He unfolded the paper, then went perfectly still.
The sight of the change in him from lover to warrior set Anne’s hair on end.
She didn’t think she wanted to know what had caused it.
38
Robin stood in the shelter of the trees and considered. He’d passed a marvelous day up to that point. Anne had seemingly found the contents of his heart bearable and his kiss tolerable. The rain had been a less than pleasant occurrence, but it had been remedied easily enough. He had looked forward to returning to the keep and passing the rest of his day closeted in his father’s bedchamber with his wife, consummating their marriage. He had thought it an afternoon to relish.
He suspected that this new development, though, just might be enough to ruin that.
Robin looked down at the note and suppressed a shudder at the words written there.
I know where you sleep and you’ll die there. I’ll not rest until the keep is mine.
Anne ripped the note from his hands before he could stop her. He watched her still completely as she read the words. Then she looked up at him in horror.
“It isn’t over.”
“Nay, my love. Apparently not.”
She threw herself into his arms and he gathered her close. He gritted his teeth in frustration. Perhaps thinking Maude had been behind the attacks had been naive. But if not Maude, then who? Who would want Artane badly enough to kill for it?
He latched onto one name with strength borne of certainty.
Baldwin of Sedgwick.
He whistled out a bird call and within moments, his guard was surrounding them. Robin read them the note, but said nothing else. He wouldn’t need to. They would understand that their duty was to look after Anne, for he’d spoken to them of it more than once in the past.
He looked back at his lady. “Can you ride?”
She nodded without hesitation.
He put her up into his saddle, then swung up behind her.
“Are we going home?” she asked.
“Briefly.”
“Robin, what will we do?”
“Kill the bastard,” Robin growled. He reached for the reins and kicked his horse into a gallop.
Half an hour later, he thundered into the inner bailey and dropped to the ground. He held up his arms for his lady, then set her on her feet. He bellowed for the acting captain of his father’s guard.
“Sedgwick?” Robin demanded.
“Haven’t seen him since yesterday, my lord,” the man said, looking at him with wide eyes.
That brought Robin up short. If Baldwin had been gone a pair of days now, how could he have placed the note in their saddlebag?
He cursed, then pulled Anne along with him up the steps to the great hall. He found his grandmother loitering near the fire and collected her on his way up the stairs. Perhaps if they reasoned together, they might identify who had done this.
He looked at Anne as she followed him, with his guards trailing hard on her heels. He smiled grimly.
“How fare you?”
She shook her head. “I cannot possibly spend the rest of my life this way. We will lose our minds.”
He nodded, agreeing completely.
He went into his father’s bedchamber with sword drawn and a guard with a torch going before him. He searched the chamber thoroughly, then ushered Anne and his grandmother in. Once he’d started a fire and seated them to his liking, he handed his grandmother the note.
“What do you think?” he asked.
His grandmother peered at it, then pursed her lips. “An annoyance,” she said dismissively.
“Whilst such a thing is indeed true, it is not so easily ignored,” Robin said.
“Anne told me a bit of the happenings before my arrival,” Joanna conceded. “I thought, however, that such troubles ended in the chapel.”
Anne shivered. “Aye, so thought we as well.” She looked at Robin. “Think you ’tis but a jest?”
Robin sat, rubbed his hands over his face, and sighed deeply. “As much as I would like to believe thusly, I cannot risk my fate or yours on such a hope.”
“But it could have been a servant,” Joanna protested.
Robin scowled. “One who speaks French instead of peasant’s English?”
“Mine do,” Joanna said, then she blinked. “Think you it could have been—”
Robin shook his head. “These attacks began long before you arrived.”
“But those were directed at me,” Anne said. “Surely this isn’t the same person.”
“Perhaps,” he said slowly, “they thought to strike at me through you.”
“But what sense does that make?” she protested.
“How is it best to wound a man?” he asked with a grim smile. “Strike first at what he loves best.”
“Oh,” Anne said softly. “I see.”
Joanna clapped her hands. “The saints be praised,” she said happily. “’Twas obviously all that civilizing, grandson, which has brought you to such a realization.”
Robin glared at his grandmother. “The note,” he said. “Let us think on that more, for ’tis our best clue. Now, I agree it couldn’t be a servant—”
“Maude was a servant,” Anne interrupted.
Robin turned his glare on her. “Meaning there could be another lord’s daughter hiding in the kitchen with my death on her mind?”
“’Tis possible,” she offered.
He grunted. “Any other suggestions?”
“A scribe,” Joanna said. “A priest. Another nobleman. Someone who can fashion his letters without mistakes.”
“Well, I suppose that eliminates Sedgwick,” Robin said with a snort.
“It could be those Lowlanders,” Anne offered. “The border shifts so often and your sire always finds himself in the midst of whatever skirmish is happening. He has ever had troubles with them.”
“Aye,” Robin agreed, nodding slowly, “but what use would they have for the keep? Steal one of Father’s daughters, aye, but his hall? They would find themselves routed within days.”
“It could have been anyone, Robin,” Anne said helplessly. “Men come and go through your sire’s gates in droves. It could have been anyone who resented you.”
“But how many of those men want Artane?”
“How many don’t?” she returned with a half smile. “Robin, this is a marvelous hall.”
“Maybe ’tis someone you offended dispensing justice,” Joanna said suddenly. “How many souls did you anger that day, my love?”
Robin pursed his lips. “I dealt as fairly as I knew how, Grandmère.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Men are complicated creatures. I would look to my rolls were I you. And while you are about your business, Anne and I will remain here
cozily. Send up the minstrels when you go, love.”
Robin had no intentions of being dismissed so easily. He stood, pulled his grandmother up, and embraced her heartily. “I love you, Grandmère,” he said, kissing both her cheeks, “and I appreciate all you’ve done for my sorry self. I’m quite certain Anne will benefit the rest of her life from the courtly skills your lads have endeavored to teach me. But you’re in my marriage bed and I want you out of it.”
“But—”
“’Tis best you pack up your lads and head home.”
“But—”
“’Twill be much safer. Anne and I will come for a visit once this is all sorted out.”
“Nay,” Joanna said, shaking her head. “I am of no value to any assailant, my lad. I’ll just keep myself tucked up nicely in your sire’s chamber.”
“And if someone enters?” Robin demanded. “What then?”
His grandmother smiled, but it wasn’t a very pleasant smile.
“Do you actually think,” she said, leaning forward and looking at him intently, “that I’ve lived this long, survived as many kings, and fended off as many undesirable suitors as I have without having learned a bit of this and that?”
“Well . . .”
“Think you my lads are for ornament only?”
“Aye, Grandmère. That is what I think.”
“Then you haven’t looked very closely at them.” She sat back and smiled indulgently. “See to yourself, Robin, and leave me to my little comforts. I’ll be safe enough here.”
Robin considered. And he watched his grandmother consider as well, though he suspected the older woman was fairly sure of the outcome. After all, she was the one acquainted with her lads’ skills. Finally, Robin sighed.
“Very well, Grandmère. The victory is yours.”
“I’ll think on a plan whilst I’m enduring my confinement,” she said, tapping her finger against the arm of her chair. “We’ll root out this fiend soon enough.”
“May you have better luck than I’ve had,” Robin said, inclining his head.” He looked at Anne. “We had best pack, then, my lady.”
“We’re leaving?” Anne asked.
“For the moment. I’ll not be a prisoner in my own hall.”