"A bold wench," Garrick said with a laugh. "Still, she hardly seems the type to be an assassin—or a spy." A slow smile stretched across his features. "I would more likely grant her the role of… seductress." He darted a glance at Navarre. "Is that the way of it, old friend? Did she seek to seduce you into revealing our secrets?"
Kendra heard the quick intake of breath, saw Navarre's hands knot into fists at his side, then slowly relax.
"Nay," he said quietly. "She is but a woman. I do not yet know her part in this affair."
"Strange the manner in which she appeared after the storm," John said, "almost as if it were some type of magic." He tapped one finger against the side of his face, reflectively. "Magda predicted her arrival there. How know you, Navarre, that both Magda and this woman be not witches?"
Kendra tensed herself as she waited for Navarre's answer.
"I know not," she heard him say, his voice filled with hesitancy. " 'Tis best, perhaps, that we keep her our prisoner until we are able to discern her function in this matter."
A loud laugh startled Kendra and she looked up to see Garrick leaving his chair and crossing to her side.
"Ho, my friend, methinks I already know one very apt function the wench can fulfill, and it takes no discernment to name."
Kendra took a step back from him. This was it. Time to exercise the strength she was famous for. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
"Am I to be allowed to speak?" she asked, glaring up at the man towering over her.
Garrick glanced over at Navarre and one corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement.
"No," he said. "At least, not now. For now, you shall sit beside me and partake of the best that Nottingham has to offer."
"But I—"
"God's teeth, Navarre, is this your witch?'"
Kendra and Navarre both turned, open-mouthed, as a slight girl of about fifteen glided across the stone floor to stand beside Navarre. The girl was slim, her face colorless, her hair muddy colored and ill-kept. She stared openly at Kendra and Kendra stared back, biting back a smile as the girl tried to appear haughty and failed miserably.
"Hold your blasphemous tongue, young lady, or I shall send you to Father Tucker for confession," Navarre said sternly. The girl hung her head and murmured a polite apology, but Kendra saw a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth and found herself immediately drawn to the teenager.
"What is all this about witches, Marian?" John asked, rising to stare at the girl in front of him.
Kendra raised one brow. Marian? Maid Marian, and Robin, and the Sheriff of Nottingham? She closed her eyes. This was really too much.
"Everyone in the castle is speaking of it," Marian said, moving to take her seat behind the table after looking Kendra up and down quite openly. She reached for a golden pitcher and, with an air of refinement, poured a dollop of wine into a goblet.
"What are they saying?" Garrick asked.
Marian took a sip of her drink. "That Navarre has captured a witch." She lowered the wine and returned her gaze to Kendra. "I must say that I am disappointed. No warts or anything. What is your name?"
"Kendra," Kendra said quickly with a smile, happy to be spoken to as a person instead of an inanimate object. "Kendra O'Brien."
"This woman is no witch, Marian," Navarre said, his voice hard. "She may be a spy, but she is no sorceress."
"Oh, well, then she is of no interest to me." Marian promptly turned her attention to two fat birds a servant had deposited on her plate.
"Come, my dear," Garrick said, offering Kendra his arm. "You must be starved after your long journey. I do apologize for your unnecessary stay in our dungeon." He glanced at Navarre. "Tsk, tsk, my boy, have you no sense of chivalry? To place such a lovely blossom down in the dungheap—'tis a travesty."
Kendra felt Navarre stiffen beside her.
"I thought it the proper place for her at the time," he said shortly. "After all—"
"Tut, tut," Garrick waved one hand dismissively. "One maid can hardly hold any danger for us. Therefore, we shall enjoy her as a welcome diversion—but first, we shall dine."
Kendra let the man take her hand and tuck it into the crook of his arm. She followed him meekly to the chair beside his, all the while her mind racing ahead. There had to be a way out of this, a way to keep the sheriff from using her as a "welcome diversion." What that way might be she had no idea. She glanced over at Navarre and saw with surprise that his jaw had tightened and the golden eyes shifted to molten stone as she took her seat beside Garrick. Turning on his heel, he strode back around the table, slamming himself down into the chair beside Marian's.
The sheriff smiled at him. "Don't worry, my friend, you shall taste the lady's pleasures as well as I. But, of course, you already have, haven't you?" He waved one hand. "Enough of this. John and I have much to tell concerning our journey to London."
"Aye," Navarre agreed. "But I suggest we discuss it in private. Marian, finish your meal and retire."
"I am sick of staying in my room," the girl said, pouting. "I have waited and waited for everyone to come home so that I might have my evening meal with someone besides the cook!"
"I would be delighted to have you stay," John said. "Really, Navarre, you do forget yourself betimes. One would think Marian was your ward instead of Richard's." He lifted a goblet of wine and tossed it down, then drew the back of his hand across his lips and poured himself another glassful. "I have been giving it much thought and I have decided that in Richard's absence, as his brother, I shall adopt Marian as my ward."
Kendra felt rather than saw the tension that sprang into Navarre's body with John's words. "I beg pardon, my lord," he said, "I have grown to think of Marian as much my ward as the king's—"
"As Richard's, you mean," John said, the perpetually boyish look shifting suddenly to one of warning.
"Aye, as Richard's. I have known the girl since she was but a child and in Richard's absence have taken on the responsibility of her well-being." He bowed his head respectfully. "So, while your offer is most kind, you can see, my lord, there is no necessity for it."
"You overstep yourself, Navarre," John said, his voice harsh. "I have said the girl will be my ward and that is what I mean." He turned to Marian. "That would please you, would it not, my dear?"
Marian glanced at Navarre, glowering. Then she shifted her gaze to the leering face of John. "I am quite honored, my lord. However, Navarre has always cared for me, even when Richard was in England."
Kendra lifted one auburn brow and shot Navarre a knowing look. He had the effrontery to glare back at her.
"Now that honor falls to me," John insisted, leaning back and gesturing for a servant to take away his plate. "And what is this "my lord" nonsense, Navarre? I am Richard's brother, ruling in his stead. Shall you not call me 'sire' as is my due?"
Navarre's face tightened and Kendra caught the subtle exchange between Garrick and the knight.
"As you are not the king, my lord," Garrick said smoothly. "And lest someone misunderstand your desire to help Richard in his absence," he said, looking meaningfully at Marian and then at Kendra, "I suggest we leave titles as they are presently. You must remember, John, that your lady mother, and her minions, rule in Richard's stead. You serve as her ambassador of good will."
"Dear, dear mother," John said mockingly, his full lips thrust forward in a babyish pout. "That will all change, Garrick, very, very soon."
"Yes, my lord," Garrick said, tapping his long jewel-bedorned fingers on the tabletop. "Now, shall we move on to other topics of interest? Mayhap Marian will be interested in the matter of those people."
Navarre frowned. "What people?"
"Ah, yes," John said, losing the pout and turning to Navarre angrily. "Those moneylenders. Really, Sir Navarre, I insist that we purge England of these heathenish Jews."
Navarre sighed in a tolerant way. Kendra watched him, weighing his reaction to John's petulant request.
"My lord, I have talked wit
h you of this. The Jewish moneylenders do us no harm, in fact they do us a great amount of good. They keep a good deal of gold in circulation—gold that we would not have in England without them, thanks to Richard."
"Still." Garrick interjected, placing a thin morsel of meat on his tongue and winking in Kendra's direction, "they are such inferior creatures, such unbearable heathens, that I think it detrimental to our cause to tolerate such people." He waved his hand again. "Take a squad of men and find them, Navarre. Kill them, ship them to Normandy, I care not. You agree, John, do you not?"
"Indeed, indeed I do."
Kendra seethed inwardly at the bloodthirsty, yet casual command. To speak of killing people as though it was of no more consequence than killing a hill of bothersome ants! She leaned forward slightly to watch Navarre's face. His jaw was even tighter now and the flame in his eyes fairly danced.
"We have talked of this," he said again, his voice deceptively quiet. "I will not make wholesale slaughter against a group of people simply because they are of a different race or religion than I am." He took a deep draught from his goblet, never taking his eyes from Garrick's as he set the heavy glass down with deliberate slowness. "You must have me confused, old friend. I am the Black Lion, not the golden one who murders women and children in Acre and leaves England to outlaws and thieves."
"Outlaws and thieves," Marian said dreamily. "I do like the sound of that—outlaws and thieves." She smiled. "It quite rolls off the tongue."
Kendra hid a smile behind her hand and decided once again that she liked Marian. She was obviously shy, and yet, there was a quality about her that pointed to a strong character and personality under the timid exterior. The girl seemed lonely. Kendra caught her breath. Perhaps she could use that loneliness to her own advantage. If she could find a way to befriend Marian, maybe the girl would help her escape from Nottingham! A long shot, but at the moment it was the only idea Kendra had.
"You'd not think it so romantic, my fairy, if you had to deal with the ruffians as I do," Navarre said. He glanced back at John, "is it really your wish that I should massacre these people?" Before he could answer Navarre hurried on. "Remember, if England should happen to have need of funds, the Jews have gold and are willing to lend—unlike our own people."
Kendra watched John. He was much younger than she'd thought at first, no more than twenty, but already his face showed signs of dissipation and an indulgent lifestyle. He stroked the short goatee he had trimmed to an impressive point as his brown gaze flickered to Garrick, then back to Navarre.
"We should not be too hasty, I dare say, Garrick," he said hesitantly.
"Ridiculous nonsense." Garrick shoved his chair back and stood, fingers pressed against the wooden table. "We can wipe them out, take what they have, and add it to our coffers."
"Aye." Navarre agreed, rising slowly from his seat, "we could, if we were thieves and murderers. I, however, do not consider myself either." He cocked one dark brow. "Do you, Garrick?"
Silver eyes locked with golden and Kendra shivered, feeling the tension between the two men. It was an uncomfortable moment; then a slow smile spread across the sheriff's face. He sat down and picked up his goblet.
"As always, my friend, you bring me back from the brink of my own barbarous nature." He waved one hand. "Keep your precious Jews."
Navarre hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but shook his head and sat down, his gaze darting to Kendra. The frustration she saw mirrored there surprised her, and suddenly she found herself wondering what a man like Navarre de Galliard was doing with this sleazy pair of back-stabbing scum.
"Why are you and Robin enemies now, Navarre?" Marian asked abruptly. Kendra glanced at her, half holding her breath at the mention of the legendary outlaw. To think he was alive and real. What a terrific story it would make—an interview with Robin Hood. She blinked and shook her head slightly as the now increasingly familiar sense of unreality threatened to close in on her.
"Little girls should mind their own business,'" he said shortly. "Now, run along, we have much to discuss."
"I am not a little girl." Marian lifted her chin. "I am a woman. Perhaps I should go where I may be treated as such."
"And where would that be?" Navarre asked, his lips curving up in amusement.
Marian glared at him. "Perhaps in Sherwood Forest."
The knight laughed without humor. "Aye, they would treat you as a woman all right, but not as your romantic heart supposes. Go to your room, Marian, before I turn you over my knee."
Marian's brief flash of spirit died quickly and she lowered both her gaze and her voice. '"I protest your treatment of Robin, Navarre."
"Do you now?"
"Aye. He is a hero, not an outlaw. It is only because of him that England has not fallen into unsavory hands." She made her statement with an air of innocence that quite took away the sting of its meaning. The men exchanged glances and John frowned.
"Marian," Navarre said warningly, "go to bed."
With a flounce, the girl stood and swept away from the table, her long dress dragging across the dusty floor.
"Very well, but don't say I didn't warn you. Someday I shall run away to Sherwood."
"Marian, dear," John said warmly, standing and following her. "Do not rush away feeling slighted." He lowered his voice. "Not everyone sees you as Navarre does." He took her hand and patted it in a brotherly way. "I find you very charming. Now, please, allow me to escort you to your room."
Marian smiled up at the young man and Kendra saw a dark anger leap into Navarre's eyes, then just as quickly disappear as he rose from the table.
"Do not trouble yourself, John. I shall see Marian to her chambers. I have something to discuss with her anyway."
"No, no." John firmly steered Marian away from the table—and Navarre. "You and Garrick have much to talk about, and I believe you should question this woman about her involvement with R—with our enemies."
Marian turned back. "I do hope you won't kill her," she said dispassionately. "I am tired of having no one to talk with, and besides, she has lovely hair. See how it shines?"
Kendra felt herself blushing as all three men turned to stare at her. Navarre looked quickly away and Kendra almost burst out laughing in spite of herself. She saw a glimmer of mischief in the dowdy Marian's eyes, and she sensed the young woman was trying in her own way to help her. Now Kendra was even more hopeful of enlisting Marian's aid. John and Marian drifted out of the room and the sudden silence quickly became oppressive.
"Well." Garrick rose. "If you will excuse us, my friend, I believe I shall take our lovely guest to my chambers where I plan to become much better acquainted with her."
"You mean you plan to interrogate me," Kendra said sharply.
Garrick pursed his lips and shook his head. "What an ugly word, my dear. I say I want to know you better and that's what I mean. I must know where you are from, what brought you to Aveury—if the skin of your inner thighs is as creamy as your lovely face and your hidden curls as fiery as those you openly display."
Kendra could not help gasping at his crassness, and Garrick laughed at her discomfort. He leaned down and slipped one hand under Kendra's elbow, his thumb surreptitiously caressing the side of her breast. "Come, my dear, let us retire."
Kendra had two choices. She could stay where she was and hope Garrick wouldn't pick her up and carry her to his room, or she could give in gracefully and let Sheriff "Pretty Boy" introduce her to sex—medieval style.
Kendra pulled her arm out of his grasp. "Thank you," she said politely, "but I haven't finished my dinner."
"Oh, I think you have." Garrick bent down until his lips touched her ear. "It grows late, my love, and I, too, have a hunger."
Kendra felt the panic welling up inside of her, and yet that terrified thudding was almost drowned out by the roar of anger thundering in her temples. She fought for control. Losing her temper now would do her little good. She glanced at Navarre and saw that he had his lips pressed
together, his fists clenched on top of the table. Still, he did not speak and made no move to save her from Garrick.
"I will not come willingly," she said, trying to use the syntax of the day, "for I am not a whore to be used for your pleasure."
Garrick feigned a small gasp and straightened, spreading his hands apart. "Of course you are not a whore, my dear. But I am the Sheriff of Nottingham, second in power only to John, the next king of England." He trailed his fingers down the side of her neck. "Surely you can see the advantage of bedding a powerful man like me."
"I am the daughter of an important man," Kendra said desperately. "I have been trying to tell you but you would not allow it. My father will be very angry if you defile me."
Garrick chuckled. "An important man? And he allowed his daughter to roam the countryside alone in the clothing in which you arrived?" He cocked one brow. "You speak no French. A noble's daughter? I think not. A merchant's? Perhaps. I assure you, your father will see the advantage of cultivating a close relationship with a man such as I." His fingers moved lower and Kendra steeled herself as he slipped his hand beneath her tunic and caressed the top of her breast.
The sound of Navarre's low voice suddenly next to her startled Kendra and she jumped. Garrick removed his hand slowly from beneath her gown, giving a little caress to the side of her cheek as he did so.
"I thought we were going to discuss your trip to London," Navarre said through clenched teeth.
Garrick turned, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Jealous, my friend? I know, I know, you saw her first, but even though I interrupted you in the bath, surely you gave her a bit of a tumble on your journey here."
"Mayhap the lady was not willing," Navarre said.
Garrick laughed out loud. "You are custodis pads, keeper of the peace, you have the authority to do as you wish."
"Again, you confuse me with another," Navarre ground out. "Just as I do not murder, I do not rape." Kendra watched in fascination at the subtle play of a muscle flexing in his jaw. "And I remember a time when you did not either. What has happened to those days, Garrick?"
Tess Mallory - Circles in Time Page 11