by Lynn Kurland
“My lady, you’re frightening my little lad.”
A large hand came to rest gently around Marie’s wrist.
“Release him, if you will.”
Ali wondered how it was that Colin had arrived to rescue her so quickly. Well, never mind that; he was there and that was all that mattered. She jerked her arm away from Marie, leaped behind Colin, and used him as a fine, large barrier to hide behind. Who would have thought he would become her deliverer? She closed her eyes and began to pray.
“Why, that is quite a womanly guardsman you have there, to my mind,” Marie said smoothly.
“And it pains him, believe me,” Colin said, “so I try not to speak of it overmuch. Now, might I escort you back inside? Surely this weather is too foul for a lady such as yourself to endure.”
Marie tried to look around Colin’s shoulder, but Colin stepped to block her view. Then he gave Marie no choice but to accept his arm and go back toward the hall. Ali kept Colin between herself and her stepmother, then snatched up her cloak and pulled it around her and over her face.
But she knew in her heart it was too late.
Marie knew.
All that remained was to see when Marie would choose to reveal her. It would be, no doubt, at the worst possible moment.
She wondered if she might manage to escape through the gates before the alarm was sounded.
She tried right then, but she suddenly found herself hauled back alongside Colin by the back of her cloak. His grip said that he wasn’t about to let her go. She was thereby forced to listen to him converse with Marie. It occurred to her as they reached the great hall that he was certainly babbling about more unimportant things than she’d ever heard in her life, but perhaps victory did that to a man.
Though she’d seen Colin vanquish others before and he certainly hadn’t frothed at the mouth in quite this manner.
She found herself dragged into the great hall and could do nothing but allow it. Sir Etienne was standing near the fire in the midst of the hall.
“Tonight,” he snarled at her as she passed. “His solar.”
She rolled her eyes as she continued her unwilling journey across the floor. First Sir Etienne, then Marie, then Sir Etienne reminding her of the thievery she must commit. Could anyone else arrive to make a demand of her?
A breathless squire began trotting alongside her.
“My lord Berkhamshire is astonishing, isn’t he?” he panted.
Ali glared at him. As if she wanted to discuss any exploits of the man who refused to let go of her at present!
“Tell me of him, won’t you?” said another who had suddenly appeared at his fellow’s side. “It must be exciting traveling with him. Danger, intrigue, secret assignments.”
Ali would have snorted, but her tunic was beginning to strangle her and she didn’t have the air for it. She was finally deposited against the wall; Colin took his seat next to Marie and began regaling her with all manner of tales Ali was almost certain he was making up on the spot.
Then again, the man simply couldn’t lie.
Could he have actually leaped from windows thusly? Vanquished scores of enemies with but himself and his sword? Been paid such vast sums of gold for mercenary endeavors?
The squires were panting at her side, listening with their mouths hanging open and their tongues lolling out in disbelief.
For herself, Ali could have wished for far less danger, intrigue, and secret assignments.
And when Marie threw a single smile over her shoulder at Ali, she knew she was on the verge of experiencing far too much of all three.
Chapter 30
Colin lay awake in his minuscule chamber and fought sleep. It wasn’t as difficult as it might have been another time, especially given the most extraordinary events of the past many hours.
It had taken him a goodly portion of the night before—spent mostly awake, as well—to accustom himself to the thought of Henri actually being Aliénore. When the sun had risen, he’d met it wide-eyed and anxious to get on with his business. Unfortunately, finding Lord Denis indisposed had left him with no choice but to retire to the lists and endeavor to distract himself until the man recovered from whatever malady had laid him low.
Perhaps Marie had worn him down to nothing.
A frightening thought to contemplate, indeed.
He turned his mind quickly to other things. His pleasant time in the lists that morning was an appealing thing to linger over, but unfortunately not something he could permit himself at the moment. Besides, intermingled with all the memories of vanquishment were visions of Aliénore being approached by various and sundry souls who wished her no good. His concern for her had cost him a trip down into the mud, but he couldn’t begrudge her that—especially after he’d seen her place her elbow with great enthusiasm in Sir Etienne’s most private parts.
What a wench.
But now that wench was currently rising from her pallet with great stealth. Colin closed his eyes quickly and feigned a few snores. What was she about?
Nothing good, no doubt.
Colin had heard Sir Etienne hiss something at her earlier that evening, so perhaps she was seeing to some foul work for him. Colin waited until she had eased out the door before he rose quietly and belted his sword about him. He didn’t trouble himself with his mail. Even should he encounter Sir Etienne, that man merited no more than a stiff leather jerkin to repel any of his feeble blows.
Colin left the chamber and saw Aliénore creeping down the passageway. That she was heading toward Denis’s solar and not toward the great hall gave him pause. She wasn’t fleeing. Then what? Did she plan to stick Marie whilst she slept? A fine plan, and one he hoped she could accomplish with all dispatch.
The sight of Marie standing next to Aliénore in the lists earlier that day would likely be a vision he would carry to his grave. Nothing short of sheer panic had propelled him across the lists so quickly that afternoon. He’d seen the knowledge in her eyes and searched desperately for something to do to distract her from contemplating it further. Not even putting forth his best imitation of a charming, boastful, talkative Artane lad at table had seemed to distract the woman from her thoughts.
But what would she do with her knowledge? That she hadn’t blurted the truth out right there to him gave him significant pause. If she didn’t intend to reveal Aliénore, what did she intend to do?
It couldn’t be good, whatever it was.
He had decided earlier that evening that the best course of action was to go to bed. He’d done so, taking Aliénore with him, simply because the effort of talking for so long had thoroughly exhausted him. He could have spent two solid se’nnights in the lists and it wouldn’t have been as taxing as passing an afternoon and evening with his mouth running as freely as a river. By the saints, how did Jason do it? Boasts, flatteries, questions he couldn’t have possibly desired the answers to?
And now Aliénore, damn her, was throwing herself into danger without so much as a “by your leave.”
Unless she merely planned to filch something from her father’s solar, then be on her way.
Without him.
He scowled. Well, she could try, but he would find her just the same. He was an expert tracker and she a mere woman. A clever woman, to be sure, but not his equal when it came to the hunt.
He studiously avoided the thought that did he reveal his knowledge to her, she would demand to be released from her betrothal to him.
He would give that some thought later.
Later, when he’d screwed up his own considerable courage to be able to face the possible rejection.
But now his path was clear and he put his foot to it without hesitation. He melted back into the shadows when Aliénore looked behind her before entering her sire’s solar. Had he entertained any further doubts about her identity, this small journey during the middle of the night would have silenced them. She knew this bloody hall far too well.
He opened the solar door, then quickly and silently sli
pped inside. He quickly ensconced himself in the shadows as Aliénore looked back toward the door. She cursed and came across the chamber to push the bolt home. Then she returned to the trunk under the window and went back to her task.
Of robbing her father blind, apparently.
Unfortunately, the lock was giving her trouble. Colin watched as she looked about her father’s table for the key, kicked the trunk several times in frustration, then set to with her dagger. That lasted longer than he thought it would before she jabbed her knife into the top and cursed in frustration.
“If you’re going to ruin the top, why not just cut the entire thing open with your sword?” he asked.
She gasped, jumped up, and whirled around so quickly, she choked. She was still hunched over, alternately choking and gasping for breath when he crossed the chamber and patted her as gently as he knew how on the back. Even so, she almost went sprawling and he had to catch her by the arm and pull her back upright.
“Theft?” he asked doubtfully. “Is this a proper knightly activity, Henri?”
“Ah ... ah, I’m m-merely—”
He pursed his lips. “What? Stealing from Solonge’s lord? Filching coin to finance an escape?”
She looked at him and he was surprised by the expression on her face. A more foolish man might have thought she looked a bit appalled at that idea.
“Nay, my lord. I was not seeking a means of escape.”
Colin put that expression away in his memory to examine later. ’Twas far better a look than one that bespoke complete revulsion.
A man took what he could.
“If not escape,” he asked, “then what?”
She sank down onto the trunk suddenly and put her face in her hands. She sat there silently. Colin studied her for a goodly while, then sighed.
“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?” he asked.
“The truth,” she began slowly, “the truth is ... unpalatable.”
“I have a strong stomach.”
She looked up at him then and a ghost of a smile crossed her features. “This I fear, my lord, might sicken even you.”
He wondered, with a sudden surge of alarm, if Sir Etienne had taken more from her than her peace of mind. Then he took a deep breath and shook aside the thought. The man was too greedy for rapine to be his first choice. Colin had no doubts that once Aliénore had satisfied his purse, Sir Etienne would turn to other things, but at the moment his purse was still empty.
All the more reason to stop him whilst he could.
He pulled up a stool and sat down across from Aliénore. “I have seen many things,” he said, “that would finish a weaker man. I daresay nothing you could possibly say would even make me turn my nose up. So, share your burden with me. Perhaps I can aid you.”
She looked at him as if she could scarce believe her ears. Colin wondered with a goodly bit of surprise if he was so truly fiercesome that such a generous offer would cause Aliénore to feel such a sense of disbelief.
He scowled. “I have a softer side, you know. Generous, even, when moved by the right circumstances.”
She smiled faintly. “My lord, your reputation often does you disservice. I do not doubt that you would aid me if you could. But the tale I would give you would no doubt inspire you to other thoughts besides those of succor.”
He frowned thoughtfully, trying to unravel her words. Did she not think him as fierce as he was or did she appreciate his ferocious reputation yet think him tolerable in spite of it?
How did that bode for a future with this woman?
Best not to think on that now, lest he be distracted from prying the truth from her.
“Why do you not try me,” he offered, “and see?”
She looked at his hands. He held them up to show they were empty. She sighed.
“Very well. Sir Etienne wishes me to steal something for him.”
Colin was unsurprised. “And if you do not?”
“He will kill you. Or perhaps Jason first. I can’t remember the order at the moment.”
He felt one eyebrow go up of its own accord. “Indeed.”
“The sword at your throat was merely a warning,” she said. “As was the attack on Jason. The next time he would succeed. I’ve no doubt of it.”
“Well,” Colin said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, “that sounds like reason enough for me to do him in first, wouldn’t you say?”
“Aye,” she agreed. “Reason enough.”
“At least we concur on something. Now, this cannot be the only reason you are here, bent on thievery. What else does he hold over your head?”
Aliénore bowed her head. “I cannot tell you.”
“Cannot, or will not?”
She looked up at him from under her shorn hair. “Does it matter?”
He supposed it didn’t. He shook his head.
“I cannot tell you,” she said, “for the telling of that secret would mean my death.”
“I could protect you.”
She smiled again, without humor, but said nothing.
Well, he supposed she thought he would kill her if she revealed herself to him. Given what he’d said in her presence without thinking before, he could well understand why she would. In time, perhaps he could convince her otherwise. Now, though, his task was to deal with Sir Etienne. What would Lord Denis think if he arrived in his solar to find Sir Etienne’s dead body draped over his trunk?
Colin suspected he wouldn’t be pleased.
He could, however, at least convince Sir Etienne that troubling Aliénore further would be a mistake. A fatal one, if the man was slow in learning his lessons.
“Al-ah, Henri,” Colin said, wishing heartily that the ruse was over and he could call her by her true name. It would save him a mighty bit of aggravation. “Henri,” he said, “go back to our chamber; I’ll wait for Sir Etienne here.”
Her mouth fell open. “You jest,” she breathed.
“I do nothing of the sort. He’ll come in, fumble around in the dark, and then I’ll step from the shadows to greet him. ’Tis a simple plan, easily executed, and will be quite successful. I will give him reason to leave you be.”
She shook her head violently. “You cannot—”
“I most certainly can, and I will.” He stood, then reached out and pulled her to her feet. “Trust me. I can see to him.”
“It isn’t now that troubles me,” she snapped, “’Tis later! What will you do when an arrow comes at you from the shadows? How can you defend against that?”
“Do you think he’ll leave this chamber on his feet?” Colin asked.
She paused. “You’ll slay him?”
“I’ll leave him in perfect condition to pass a goodly bit of time in the dungeon. By the time he’s freed, we will be well on our way back to England. I daresay he hasn’t the imagination to follow us there, think you?”
She looked powerfully pale, even in the faintest of lights. “You don’t know him.”
“I know his kind.”
“He’ll never rest until he’s slain us all.”
“He’ll invent his own ending to the tale, with him as the hero and me at his feet begging for mercy. That is a tale, I might add, that no one with any wit whatsoever will believe. He won’t bother to make another journey to England. Now, go. Be swift and silent, if you can manage it.”
“But—”
“I know,” he agreed, “I don’t like to leave you roaming the passageways at night by yourself either, but I can see no other alternative at present. Draw your sword and go swiftly. This shouldn’t take long.” He took her by the arm and led her across the solar. He’d memorized where the furniture lay and had no trouble finding his way through it. He opened the door quietly, then looked out into the passageway. It was empty. He pushed Aliénore out into the passageway. “Your sword,” he prompted.
She drew her sword, gave him a final look of something akin to worry—which he dismissed with a snort—and then put her shoulders back and crept back down
the passageway. Colin closed the door and retreated to the darkest comer. He sat and made himself comfortable, though he supposed he wouldn’t have to wait long. Sir Etienne would no doubt employ much haste to have his prize.
Colin didn’t wait long. The moon had only begun to pour its light through the window before the door was eased open and a large shape came inside. The door closed and was bolted. Colin nodded to himself. Apparently, Sir Etienne had plans to have his treasure without interruption. The other man paused in the middle of the chamber, then looked about him.
“Aliénore?”
Colin nodded to himself in satisfaction. He’d suspected that this was the other part of Sir Etienne’s extortion, of course. But how had the man learned who she was? And how long had he known it? Colin had no doubts that he himself had been used as a weapon to force her cooperation. No doubt Sir Etienne had promised her several choice tortures at Colin’s own hands if she didn’t do his bidding.
All the more reason to make it so the man wasn’t capable of any more blackmail.
“She’s not here,” Colin said pleasantly. “But I am.”
Sir Etienne whirled around with something of a gasp. “Berkhamshire,” he said. “What do you want?”
“Your head adorning my gates might do for a start.”
Sir Etienne huffed a bit. “You don’t want me. It’s that girl you want. She’s your betrothed, you know.”
“Aye,” Colin said calmly, “I know.”
That brought Sir Etienne up short. “You know?” he asked.
“Have for some time,” Colin answered. That was true, he reasoned. He’d known since supper the night before, and that was some time. “So, I suppose that’s nothing you can use against her anymore, is it? What else did you threaten her with? Killing me?”
Sir Etienne seemed to sway for a heartbeat or two, then regained his composure. “Let us do this,” he said. “Let us cast our lot in together and go look for the gel. She has treasure enough for two, I’ll warrant.”
The man was inventive, Colin would give him that. And quick thinking. Apparently, though, he’d heard the tales of Colin’s prowess but chosen to ignore the tales of his principles. Stealing was not an activity he engaged in.