Windsong

by Allison Knight

  With a pitcher in hand, she started for the kitchen. As she started to mount the stairs, her progress was stopped by strong hands. She cringed. Alwyn stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Heat swept through her and she had no explanation for the feeling.

  “‘Twas not meant to happen,” he muttered and turned her so she faced him.

  “M’Lord, to what are you referring?” She lowered her eyes afraid to see if Sybil walked behind him.

  “What has she done?” Alwyn asked.

  “I am sorry, m’Lord, your question makes no sense.” She tried to shrug his hands away and made to slip past him to retrieve enough water to wash. He wrinkled his nose and Milisent knew his disgust was for her smell, for several days had past since she had a chance to do little more than give herself a quick wash. He let loose his hold but before she could move, he grabbed her chin and turned her face to one side. She cringed for she suspected he could see where she had been marked.

  Would he demand to know what sin she had committed to bear the sign of discipline?

  A look of concern crossed his face and she shivered. However, to her surprise, his finger gently traced the bruise left by one of Sybil’s strikes. “Who marked you?”

  He didn’t know? She stared up at him, not certain how to answer. Mayhap it would be best to move away quickly. She took a step back and stumbled. He caught her and pulled her toward him.

  The next thing she knew, his arms held her. Intent on escape, she took a deep breath. But, she could not move. Nay, she stood frozen in his arms, for his scent attacked her senses. This man smelled fresh, like the air after a spring rain, and a unique fragrance, which must be his own. Nothing like the disagreeable smells she associated with the men of her acquaintance, the odor of old sweat, horses and unwashed clothing. Strange this man was so different.

  Before she gathered herself to move away, he pulled her closer. She stared up into his soft brown eyes. Something in her melted like tallow against a hot flame. Of a sudden, he lowered his head and his lips were on hers, a soft brush that stilled her as if now she was pinned to the floor. She took a breath as the touch came again, only this time his lips stole the air from her lungs.

  Heat and a strange sensation bolted through her like a streak of lightning. This was nothing like the pawing of the man Gilbert chose to husband her. Nay, for as his lips clung to her, pleasure engulfed her. Aye, this was wonderful.

  She couldn’t help herself. She leaned into him and gloried in the warmth and security that flooded her. Staying in his arms forever suddenly appealed, shocking her with such a desire. When he dragged his lips from her, she became aware her arms were draped around his shoulders, her hands in his hair.

  Nay, this should not be, could not be. She drew back, but stepping away hurt, for she wanted to be in his arms, have him hold her. She wanted more of those kisses.

  “Nay, you must not,” she whispered, the words cutting like the edge of a sword. She must discourage him and herself as well. Should she say to him that she was promised to another? But she could not lie for she had refused Gilbert’s choice, would continue to refuse de Bain.

  He too took a step back. Once again he repeated, “‘Twas not meant to happen.”

  “Nay, it was not,” she murmured and moved to pass. She needed to remove herself. The temptation to walk back into his arms was too great.

  “I refer to Sybil. She does not have say over my people.”

  Milisent shook her head. His words gave lie to what had taken place while he was gone. “Aye, she does.” The words rushed out in denial.

  “Nay, she does not.” He sounded upset and ran his hand through his hair. “And she will be gone from this place this very day.”

  Milisent shook her head. She put no faith in his words. Nor could she give reason to the desire that sizzled between them. She backed away and turned back toward the steps to the kitchen. Above all, she had to escape this place. Now!

  “Your companion will be brought back anon, mayhap in the hour, two at the very least.”

  “Ella is returning?” She shook her head for she could not believe this either. If Ella came this day, they could make their plans to return to Fenton Castle.

  “Aye. Rhys has been sent to fetch both Betha and Ella from the village. For now, I’ll order water for a bath and see that you have a clean garment to wear.”

  Milisent raised her hands to her hot face. He had no need to call

  attention to her filth, but the bath did sound wonderful. She gave him a slight smile of thanks.

  “Know you that none of this was done by my order. Rhys was instructed to see to your protection, but he was prevented. However, I have arranged for the situation to be corrected. This will not happen again.” He stomped off and Milisent nearly sagged with relief. His presence disturbed her more than his words. And nay, it could not happen again, any of it. The only way to make certain it did not was to find a way to flee.

  She had no idea what arrangements he made nor would she allow herself to think on it. Aye, but a hot bath would be much appreciated, something to be enjoyed. And mayhap she could scrub the memory of their kisses away while she washed away the filth.

  FIVE

  Alwyn marched from the area, astonished with himself. He had not meant to kiss her. After all, she was forbidden to him, much as she affected him. He could not desire her, should not, yet he did, for he was not one to lie to himself. The knowledge she had lain with Chelse made her no less desirable, even though it should. Nay, he must exercise more care, for bedding her was no part of his plan. Somehow the thought of denying himself hurt when it should not have bothered him at all.

  He groaned, imagining the next hour of his life. Sybil had occupied his bed for over a year, and despite her desire to be more to him than a bedmate, he disliked what he must do. He could not abide how Sybil had treated the women he considered guests.

  Sybil was waiting for him in his room. “I have decided you must wed.” He started to remove his travel-stained clothing, ignoring the smile that lit her face. “But you will not be wedding me.”

  She laughed.

  He slammed his fist against the lid of his open trunk. “You have meddled in things that did not concern you. It is not the first time you have done this.”

  “I care for this house. You brought me here, you gave me that right.”

  “Nay, I did not.” He flopped on the chair and removed his chausses from each leg. “By the holy rod, I told you I had no intention of marrying you. You insisted you must come and you accepted my word there would be no union between us. Only a wife can give the kind of direction and discipline you used on my people.” He jerked to a standing position.

  She glared at him, and he noticed how much bigger she was than Milisent. Her hips, with her fists planted there, were wider, she was taller and she was angry. But her anger could not match his. His bordered on rage. “I instructed Rhys to find you a husband. You will leave this house and be wed before the sun sets. I have sent for the priest.”

  “Nay, I will speak no vows with anyone but you. You brought me here. You forced me from my home. I did not want to come.” She waved her fist in his face and he restrained himself from grabbing it for he feared he

  was furious enough to hurt her.

  “You lie. You insisted you had no place to go. Remember your home was nothing but ashes? In truth, you had no home.”

  “Who destroyed that home? Men from your own country. If not for those miscreants I would have had a home.” She sneered at him.

  “Aye, but I was no part of that rampage.” She did have the right of it though. The men who had sacked and burnt the house had been Welsh rebels who denied Edward as their liege lord. In that he felt a touch of guilt, but he had more than repaid her. And from what he had seen, she did not have that much of a structure to call home in the first place, even though her father was a merchant of some means.

  He also knew she had made herself available to one of her father’s friends, mayhap m
ore than one. Nay, she was not what she had pretended to be and she did not deny it once she was at Throsle. He had been a fool not to see her wed many months ago.

  “What you once had is no more. I am sorry for that, but your home is not here with me. However, this day I will provide you with a new one. Now make yourself ready. I will gift you the clothing I have provided.” And he had provided her with a substantial wardrobe, better then his Essylt had had. He reached for the goblet of wine waiting for him beside the chair.

  “You drink the wine I poured, you sleep in the bed I prepared, and now you think to give—”

  “Sybil, do not do this. You have not provided the wine, you have not prepared the bed, and I have the right of a protector to provide you with a husband. That you do not like my authority does not concern me. You knew from the beginning if you chose to share my bed, it would be for only a short time. I will take no wife. Not again.”

  “Y-you…I gave of myself. What else could I do? And you were happy with me until you brought that whore into this house. She is the cause of this. She will be sorry and so will you. I intended to be your wife. I will be your wife. See if I do not!”

  She slammed out of the room. Alwyn breathed a sigh of relief. Nay, it had not been pleasant. But she could not harm him, nor could she harm Milisent. Owain stood guard at the entrance to the kitchen and would alert him if she sought revenge on either woman.

  He washed and dressed hoping Rhys had returned with the women and the name of the man to wed Sybil. The priest had already arrived and waited in the hall.

  After he hurried to the hall to wait, one of his soldiers approached. “M’Lord, Rhys said you seek a man to marry Sybil. I mentioned to Rhys on our return march that I have enough years of warring to want a more peaceful life. I want to establish a home in the village.” His face wore a worried look. “I would take your Sybil to wife.”

  Alwyn smiled. “This will be a different kind of warring. Evan, are

  you certain this is your desire? She will have her say, and mayhap fight you for a time.”

  “Aye, but she is comely and I need a woman.”

  “I will not have you mistreat her. If you say vows I will expect you to be kind to her.”

  “I will be good to her. If you will but release me from your service, I have enough coin saved to provide for her.” He looked embarrassed.

  “What will you do in the village?” Alwyn only wanted to make certain Evan had a skill but his man looked even more embarrassed.

  “I work with wood. I enjoy building and have repaired some of your furniture here at Throsle. Rhys knows of my skill. I can provide.”

  Alwyn slapped him on the back. “Then it will be as you wish, but you can not refuse her once you have said your vows. Know you I will dower her with funds for the next year.”

  Evan thanked him.

  Alwyn nodded. “Prepare to wed this night.” He turned toward the dais searching for Rhys. He felt a surge of relief when he saw his man.

  Rhys nodded. “Ella has gone to Milisent, but I worry about Betha. Sybil applied the lash with more vigor than necessary.”

  Alwyn swore. “Evan has spoken for Sybil. I’ll get her, you tell Evan to present himself to the priest and we will get this couple wed. Does Betha need the healer?”

  “Nay, Ella will care for her. I sent the girl to the women. Does Evan know how Sybil is? I-I— She will be unpleasant.”

  Alwyn chuckled. “She made her desire no secret, it seems. But, aye, he knows, and he wants her anyway.”

  “He is a good man,” Rhys confirmed. “Skilled with wood. He will treat her well.”

  “I hope she will be far enough from here to do you no harm,” Rhys commented before he turned away. “Now I will get Evan. I only hope you can find Sybil and she will agree to wed the man.”

  Alwyn gritted his teeth. “She has no choice. She either accepts him, or she will be sent to one of the crofters on the other side of the forest. She has caused enough harm in this household. Now go. I want this done before the sun sets.”

  ~ * ~

  The priest was somber, the groom elated, the bride so angry her responses were given between clenched teeth.

  Alwyn hid a smile remembering how Sybil had acted when he took her aside and told her about the one room cottage on the other side of the forest, about the family of four children for which she would have to care. He frowned. What had she expected? He told her when she accompanied him to Throsle he never planned to marry again.

  Many of his servants had gathered to watch, and they were clearly

  enjoying her discomfort. His men were more constrained, but it was obvious there was a bit of jealousy among some of them, for Sybil was a beautiful woman.

  When Rhys went to the village to collect Betha and Ella, he also located a cottage recently vacated by the widow of the cobbler. She had gone to live with her oldest son two days before Rhys arrived. She left the modest dwelling and Alwyn immediately assigned it to Evan with no rent due for a year and a day, to give the couple a chance to begin their married life in relative comfort. Certainly, not as luxurious as life in this house, but pleasant enough.

  After a hurried meal and before the sun set, the two were sent to the village. Neither Milisent, Ella nor Betha were present for the ceremony or the meal that followed. He had not expected Betha, but he thought mayhap Ella or Milisent would there to rejoice in Sybil’s situation. Most women would.

  After several unsettling attempts to question his servants, he retired to his empty bed, but sleep eluded him. Sybil had obviously reigned terror over his household staff. He wondered why someone had not mentioned their concerns. What little he could determine from the hesitant comments he elicited from those willing to say, told him she had abused almost everyone who worked for him.

  Also, before he retired he had been tempted to go to the chamber shared by the women and see how they fared, but seeing the bruise marking Milisent’s face again would only increase his anger. Nay, he would wait until morn to ask her what punishment Sybil had visited upon her. He doubted she would answer, but he had to ask. Mayhap she would confess to Ella and he could get the companion to tell him what he wanted to know.

  Rhys and Ella seemed to be friendly. If Milisent told her companion, mayhap his man could discover what had occurred.

  For what remained of the night, he tossed and turned, thinking back on Sybil’s behavior. She could not longer be allowed to return to Throsle with Milisent in attendence, for he could not abide anyone abusing his guests.He wondered how had he missed her attitude toward his servants, his holdings, his property.

  ~ * ~

  Again in the morn, Milisent and Ella were not among those who came to table to break their fast. Now, he was concerned. “Rhys, did the woman, Ella, suffer while in the village household? She nor Milisent have come to eat.”

  Rhys shook his head and quaffed the last of his ale. “Nay, as far as I know she experienced no harm. She mentioned nothing and the family who took her in are not known to harm those in their care.”

  “But the women have need of sustenance.”

  Rhys nodded his head and raised his cup for more ale. “Fear not. Food was sent to their chamber early on. They are caring for Betha; the girl

  has a fever. Ella told the maid they did not want to leave her.”

  Rhys looked none too happy relaying the information that Ella would not join them, and Alwyn almost smiled. Rhys was taken with her. Mayhap Ella would stay here at Throsle with Rhys when he found a husband for Milisent.

  The thought of another man with Milisent did not sit well with him. For some reason, wedding her to some unknown man was not something on which he wanted to dwell. Instead, he stood, announcing, “We must inspect the mill. The wall should be repaired by this time.”

  ~ * ~

  Miles away in London, Gilbert Mortimore, Baron Chelse paced beside his cot fearing his face had lost color as sweat beaded on his brow. He ran his hand through his hair and swore under his breath.
“How could this be?” he snapped at the young boy who stood before him.

  “M’Lord, I have no knowledge of the contents of the message. When I was given the missive and told to deliver it to you, only you, it was sealed.” He turned to go.

  “Nay. Wait I must know more. Who sent you?” The thought of his castle being raided by an unknown enemy sent terror sliding through him.

  “I was given the message by a stranger. I did not know him, but he asked if I knew you. When I said I did, he gave me coin to bring this to you. No one else, only you.”

  Gilbert gazed at the messenger, trying to discern his honesty. “You say you did not know this man. How much in coin did he give you?”

  “Enough,” the boy replied and smiled. “He said you would ask such a question. He said I did not need to say.” The messenger frowned and looked perplexed for a second. “He did say he would know if I delivered this to you, that if I did not...” His voice trailed off.

  “He threatened you?”

  The boy nodded. “But I have done as he asked. I have no fear now and will take my leave.”

  He bowed and scurried from the room.

  Gilbert clenched his fists and cursed the fates. Whoever had carried out the deed had taken Milisent. But who? And more important, why? No one knew of his sister. He had kept her secluded from everyone. Well, almost everyone. His plans to wed her to someone closer to the king had been destroyed when de Bain discovered his secret.

  With the boy’s departure Gilbert reread the message and his anxiety increased. The amount of gold demanded for the return of the hostages was staggering, but there was no mention of returning Milisent to him. And that was what stirred the dread crawling through him.

  His questions became a litany of concern as he paced. Who could have done this deed? Why had they done it?

  He jerked to a stop and cursed all the saints he could remember. “De

  Bain!”

  The man had to be responsible. Milisent had refused his offer of marriage twice. Mayhap the man tired of waiting.