Magic in the Kiss

by Shari Anton

  Had the messenger the earl awaited already come, then? Likely not, or Lucy would have said somewhat of the messenger's arrival.

  Nicole squared her shoulders and crossed the room, her boots clicking softly against the stone floor. The earl saw her first, and once he took notice, so did the others. Their bold stares made her insides squirm until she ventured close enough to recognize signs of admiration.

  Her rank, proclaimed by the circlet, might account for some of their regard, but Nicole suspected the snugness of her gown, leaving no female curve hidden, earned her the greater attention.

  The earl rose from his chair, smiling. "Lady Nicole, 'tis pleased I am to see you rested and in full bloom."

  Ignoring the knights for the nonce, Nicole gracefully curtsied low to the highest-ranking men in the chamber.

  "Greetings, Lord de Vere, Lord de Chesney." Rising, she smiled at the castellan of Oxford Castle, her host. "As always, your hospitality is above reproach, my lord. Pray give my compliments to your housekeeper and cook for providing excellent bed and board, particularly when they are forced to accommodate a guest without warning."

  The earl's smile faltered, but the castellan's widened. Apparently he understood and approved of her attempt to discomfit the earl. Had she found an ally in de Chesney? Would he aid her cause?

  "You must know the servants hold you in affection, Lady Nicole, so they do not mind providing for you for as long as you may be with us."

  "'Tis my hope their service shall not be required long." A slight shift of stance faced her square before Aubery de Vere. "My lord, while I appreciate your kindness in the lending of Lady Julia's garments, I must protest the necessity. Truly, my habit, though old and unfashionable for so esteemed a court, would have done me fine."

  The earl crossed his arms. "You are the first woman I have heard protest the gift of a fashionable gown, and certes, the time has come for you to put aside the habit."

  "You may be right, my lord," she conceded, mindful of not angering the earl. Calmly presented reason would carry the day, as it had for Mother Abbess. "However, I am uneasy over leaving Bledloe Abbey without the king's consent. 'Tis where he has commanded I reside, and I have yet to discern an urgent reason for my displacement. Though I am not averse to residing in Lord de Chesney's care, I fear we may all suffer the king's displeasure over my removal from the abbey."

  De Vere sank back down in his chair. "You are kindness itself to concern yourself over my good standing with the king, but I believe he will understand my unease over leaving you in the care of the nuns, unprotected. I would be remiss in my duty to our sovereign if I did not take action to assure your safety."

  "Safe from what threat, my lord?"

  "Your Welsh uncle, my lady. And his bard."

  The bard whom de Vere had locked up in a guard tower. Who was denied his freedom because she'd unwisely wished time to consider her uncle's offer of refuge in Wales, even though she'd known she couldn't possibly accept.

  "My Lord de Vere, I do not make light of your concern. However, you must consider that Rhodri, truly, is merely a messenger from my uncle Connor. Indeed, had I not asked Rhodri to play his harp for Mother Abbess, and had not Sister Claire requested he also do so at the burial, Rhodri would have come and gone the previous day without incident. I beg you not to hold him at fault for consenting to my whim."

  "Lady Nicole tells the same tale as ap Dafydd," de Chesney said, and Nicole was so grateful for the castellan's support she could have hugged him. "I still believe we should have left Lady Nicole to the nuns and allowed the bard to go his way."

  Apparently the earl and castellan had argued over this earlier, given the tension she now sensed between the two men who usually got on well together.

  The earl shook his head. "I cannot ignore the disturbing presence of a Welshman within the walls of the abbey, no matter his intent. Faith, the king's negotiations for Lady Nicole's marriage are in a delicate state. She should not be allowed within ten leagues of any of her kin, most especially the Welsh."

  Not any of her kin? Not even her sisters? Sweet mercy, whom was the king planning to marry her off to that necessitated such secrecy? Nicole bit her bottom lip to halt the question de Vere had said yesterday he wasn't at liberty to answer, determined to first gain the concessions of foremost importance—her return to the abbey and Rhodri's release.

  Before she could utter another plea for mercy, de Chesney leaned toward the earl.

  "No harm was done," he said. "Making prisoners of them both makes no sense."

  The earl sneered. "Does it not? I cannot be assured the encounter was, as you say, innocent. But even if it was, the situation has changed. I dare not allow Lady Nicole to return to a place where I can no longer feel certain she is safe. As for the bard, if I allow him his freedom, he will but return to Wales and inform Connor ap Maelgwn of the king's intentions, who will in turn inform the prince of Powys. That man will do his utmost to cause mischief with the negotiations, and that is a risk I dare not take."

  Now de Chesney shook his head. "The Welsh have known for years that King Stephen intended Lady Nicole for marriage to a Welsh prince, or at least a high-ranking noble. What matter if they know our sovereign now makes good on that intention, so long as they do not know the identity of the groom?"

  "Perhaps, but until I receive word from King Stephen to do otherwise, both the lady and bard remain in our custody."

  Vexed with the stubborn earl, Nicole pondered over what to do next. Good manners and sound reasoning hadn't moved him, but she doubted he would be budged by tears or a fit of temper, either, ploys she hadn't used since childhood and refused to resort to now.

  With an inward sigh, Nicole conceded she had no choice but to await the king's decision, which might not come for several days even if the messengers were swift. For herself, she could abide, being in no immediate danger. But Rhodri was locked in a tower cell, and she wanted him out and on his way back to Wales before anyone discovered that the reason for his visit hadn't been as innocent as they were claiming.

  Too, this matter of her marriage wasn't right. The king should have, at the least, informed her brother-by-marriage, Alberic. Camelen bordered Wales, so Alberic should have some say in the matter of any proposed alliance with a Welsh noble. Neither the earl nor the castellan would be willing to allow her to send a message to her family, but if she could help Rhodri escape he might be willing to carry a message to Camelen before returning to Glenvair.

  Her brother's dagger weighing heavy in her boot, Nicole gathered her composure once more.

  "My lords, since I am at your mercy in this affair, I ask a boon. I am concerned for Rhodri's welfare, as I am sure he is concerned for mine. Might I be allowed to see him, for a few moments only, to banish our common fears?"

  The men looked to each other, silently debating the wisdom of granting the request. De Chesney shrugged a shoulder, as if to say he saw no harm in granting the boon, but left the decision to the earl.

  De Vere rubbed at his chin for a moment before relenting. "I shall grant the boon, but do not linger. Walter, pray escort Lady Nicole to the Welshman's cell, and ensure she returns in short order."

  "As you say, my lord." The captain of the castle guard waved a hand toward the door. "My lady?"

  Nicole curtsied to the earl once more, hoping her delight in his concession didn't show overmuch. "My thanks," she said before scurrying out of the solar.

  Short of stature, round of build, Sir Walter had always reminded Nicole of a bear, rather lumbering in his movements and lacking in social graces. All thought of judging him ineffective, however, had ended when she once observed him in the practice yard. As with a bear, one would not wish to come up against Sir Walter without warning or in the dark. And as captain of the guard, he expected his men to match his high standard of physical ability and proficiency with weapons.

  Walter said not a word as he arrowed across the bustling bailey on this brilliant afternoon, the air warm and redolent with th
e odor of the earth beneath her feet and of horses and hay from the stables. Nicole clutched her skirts, hiking them up to avoid soiling the hems of either shift or gown, but not high enough to expose the hilt of the dagger.

  Heads turned as they passed, and she noted the surprised looks on those few who recognized her in her new finery. Later, she might visit the gregarious blacksmith and the always amusing stable master.

  Too, she must arrange another meeting with the earl. Nicole consoled herself by remembering that Mother Abbess hadn't always won battles during the first foray into the field. Sometimes several skirmishes were necessary before gaining an opponent's surrender. She just had to think of the most effective argument to gain the most advantage.

  But for now Nicole shifted her focus to her destination, the northernmost guard tower along the high, thick curtain wall.

  While still in the bailey, Nicole heard the sound of a harp and, from the unholy noise, knew the harp's master didn't play it. Her ire pricked, she entered the circular tower, where a rotund guard sat on a stool, his filthy, untalented fingers abusing the silver strings of Rhodri's precious harp.

  Furious that the guard dared to toy with the harp, she snatched the heavy instrument away from the stunned guard.

  "A toad could play better!" she snapped. "By whose leave do you possess it? Most certes you have not permission from the harp's owner!"

  The guard's eyes widened as he stood, his mouth agape. "Uh, my lady, uh—"

  Nicole cradled the harp with one arm, holding it firmly against her hip, and pointed to the floor. "Give me the sack."

  The guard obeyed swiftly, and not until she'd covered the harp and pulled the sack's strings securely shut did she notice neither the guard nor Walter had said a word while she completed the task.

  She glared at Walter. "Well?"

  Mercy, milady, mercy!

  Nicole's breath caught at the sound of a male voice intruding into her thoughts. Gor, she had no time now to converse with a spirit but couldn't ignore the man's wrenching plea for mercy.

  Who are you?

  Thomas Thatcher, milady. I beg your aid!

  Sir Walter waved at the stairway that hugged the tower's wall. "Lady Nicole is allowed a short visit with the prisoner. Unlock the door."

  The guard's eyes narrowed. "The earl said not to let anyone in there but him or Lord de Chesney."

  "The earl will be pleased to know you remembered your orders. He will also be very displeased if you do not allow Lady Nicole entry. Good God, man, would I give you an order you could not obey?"

  "Humph. Suppose not, Captain. This way, then."

  Her attention divided, Nicole knew she must free Rhodri from the tower before all else.

  Hear me, Thomas Thatcher, she ordered the spirit. I will aid you if I am able, but you must give me a few moments to complete my errand.

  The spirit sighed mournfully. I have waited more than a man's natural lifetime for one with the gift of hearing to come my way. I can wait a few moments more if I have your oath not to forsake me.

  I will not forsake you.

  With the oath given, Nicole nervously followed the guard up the stairway, Walter a few steps behind her. They stopped on the small landing of the tower's middle floor—on the next floor up, she knew, the stairway opened out onto the wall walk where the guards patrolled the curtain wall.

  From around his neck the guard removed a necklace of thick string, from which dangled a large iron key. As he unlocked the windowless oak door, Nicole hugged the harp, fearing the condition in which she might find its master.

  Chapter Five

  The cell was half the size of Nicole's bedchamber, furnished with only a thin pallet that would do little to cushion a body from the hard floor. Dim sunlight from the defensive arrow slit didn't ease the dreariness of the cell, and the stench of a piss bucket nearly gagged her.

  Nicole pushed past the guard. Rhodri uncurled his legs and stiffly rose from the pallet. His distrustful glance flickered between the guard and the captain behind her. She took the two steps necessary to put her within arm's length of Rhodri.

  Not until she held out his harp did Rhodri look at her fully, beginning with the circlet on her head and moving down the length of her snug gown. His gaze left her as unwarrantedly, improperly tingling as had his inspection of her in the abbey's receiving chamber.

  Except this time he didn't smile or offer compliments on her appearance. Now that she actually looked like a princess, he seemed not to appreciate the change.

  She tried not to be miffed.

  "Ah, my lady," Rhodri said on a hearty sigh. "My undying thanks for rescuing my harp. The indignity of being held captive 'twas naught when compared to the torture of hearing those sweet strings suffer violent ill-treatment." He held up his hands, palms outward, refusing her offering. "I prefer you hold the harp safe for the nonce."

  Understanding his fear that the harp would be taken from him again, Nicole once more hugged the harp to her bosom, wishing she could as easily remove Rhodri from this wretched place as she could the harp. Words of apology didn't seem adequate to compensate for being the cause of his imprisonment. Sweet mercy, if she hadn't asked him to play for Mother Abbess, he'd be on his way home to Glenvair instead of trapped in this wretched cell.

  Then Rhodri turned his head to again look past her at the guard and captain. Being closer to him now, she saw the ugly bruise on his jaw that hadn't been there yesterday.

  Her heart fell at the evidence of his mistreatment. She placed gentle fingertips on the physical indignity he shouldn't have suffered.

  "Oh, Rhodri," she whispered.

  He grasped her shoulders, giving them a squeeze as if in reassurance. " 'Tis nothing, Nicole. I have suffered worse. Make no more of it."

  The last was an order he expected her to obey. Damn it, did he truly expect her to keep silent over the violence done to him for no good reason?

  The urge to reach into her boot and give him the dagger, if naught but for his own protection, nearly overcame her good sense. Too many eyes watched. She'd never get the dagger out of her boot secretly, and she might then, too, be imprisoned, if in more comfortable quarters.

  To gain Rhodri's freedom she needed to maintain her own, be free to roam the castle grounds to find the least observable way out and devise a plan to liberate Rhodri.

  Hoping he could sense her determination, she whispered, "With Archangel Michael as my witness, I will secure your release."

  His mouth quirked with humor at her reference to the angel Mother Abbess had mistaken him for. All well and good, except she also sensed Rhodri didn't believe her. Well, let him doubt. She'd prove him wrong! She'd convince the earl to give Rhodri his freedom. She would!

  Nicole squared her shoulders, but not sharply enough to displace his hands.

  "Are you receiving the food sent to you?"

  His attention again fixed on the guard and captain, he said absently, "Enough of it."

  "Time to leave, my lady," Walter ordered, his voice gruffer than what she thought it needed to be.

  She loathed leaving Rhodri, but heaven help her, she didn't want to linger in the cell any longer than she must, either.

  Nicole turned to leave. Rhodri grabbed hold of her around the waist and pulled her hard against him. His other hand clenched her throat, tilting up her chin, almost choking off her breath. Her panic absolute, she wouldn't have moved if she could.

  "One cry from either of you," Rhodri told the men in a low, menacing voice, "and I shall break the lady's lovely neck."

  Heart pounding, Nicole didn't doubt that with the merest twist of his wrist she'd be dead.

  Damn him! She'd been distressed over his welfare, nearly wept over his mistreatment, completely forgetting he was not only a bard but a warrior, as well. A Welsh warrior so intent on escaping a Norman earl that he'd do whatever he must to save his ungrateful hide!

  "Release the lady, Welshman!" Walter ordered. "You have no hope of gaining your freedom if she is harmed
."

  "Whether she is harmed or nay is now your decision. The lady shall serve as both my shield and my writ of safe conduct out of the castle. Step aside, Captain."

  Walter huffed and, much to Nicole's dismay, drew his sword.

  Her back pressed up tightly against Rhodri's unyielding length, she could feel him chuckle, an evil sound.

  "Your weapon does you no good, sir, unless you intend to run the lady through, too. Might be rather difficult to explain to the earl why her blood stains your sword."

  The captain spat on the floor. "I had heard you Welsh are a barbaric lot! To hide behind a woman is dishonorable."

  Walter waved the sword. Rhodri tilted her chin higher, and her high-pitched, pleading gasp for mercy reverberated through the chamber.

  "Good sirs, pray make yourselves comfortable on the pallet before the lady can no longer breathe!" Rhodri commanded.

  Walter growled his displeasure, but her desperate plea had the desired effect. To Nicole's relief, both Sir Walter and the guard sidled along the wall, obeying Rhodri's order.

  Dear God in heaven, was Sir Walter truly allowing Rhodri to escape?

  And wasn't Rhodri's release precisely what she'd set out to accomplish this morn?

  Not like this, however, with his hands at her throat, threatening her life. Certes, she didn't approve of his method of escape, of being used in such harsh fashion!

  Except… his scheme seemed to be working. And certes, she might not have arranged his escape, but she'd given him a weapon—herself—that he'd used to his advantage. Resourceful of him, she reluctantly admitted. Later, she would ensure Rhodri fully appreciated her cooperation in his escape, but not until they were safely away from the tower.

  Surely, if he managed to get beyond the castle grounds, then through the town and beyond the town's walls—a daunting task—Rhodri would soon be on his way back to Wales.

  "Give the lady the key," Rhodri told the guard.

  The guard looked to Walter, who grimaced as he nodded. "Do as he says."