She hadn’t known him before, but at night Ian tossed and turned in his sleep. He said words about his wife. He was distressed, and his cries made it seem possible that he cared for his wife. Then he’d wake again, and she’d know better than to let her guard down. It was like caring for a wild animal that at any moment could kill you.
‘Do you trust me?’ asked Evrart. ‘I was gone for weeks. I left you here whilst Ian was in residence. I—’
He wanted trust from her battered heart? All her life she’d protected herself and defended her family. With Evrart she had been prepared to defend him, too—except he told her he didn’t want her.
Yet, did her emotions have anything to do with trusting him? Because she still had them. Foolishly, probably, when they had no future. And yet...
‘Were you recounting that story of the hogs to Ian to cheer me?’ she asked.
‘Did it?’
Her quiet warrior had embellished a humorous story. Had that been him asking for forgiveness? Did it matter when it came to her own feelings? ‘I trust you, Evrart. I do.’
He exhaled roughly, adjusted his neck, but a look that was almost uncomfortable flitted across his eyes.
‘Do you...not trust me?’ she said.
His eyes locked with hers, but the man who rarely talked had returned.
She pointed behind her. ‘We lay in that bed. Together.’
‘And it was true.’
It had felt that way to her. Was he sincere?
‘You told me we had no future.’
‘We talked of my not seeing colours. We talked of quince and forbidden fruit. We talked of the chapel garden. But I have to know everything. To protect you if I must. To protect my family if not.’
He looked away then, as if he realised he’d said too much. He had. He didn’t trust her. She’d lain with him. Given herself freely for the first time. And yet there was a belief inside him that thought she wasn’t to be trusted.
‘I know you were Roul’s mistress,’ he said.
He might as well have struck her. This was worse than being told they had no future. Now he was telling her she was unworthy of him. She just stood there, taking his words, unable to protect herself.
‘And I know there was a man before who was a fool and lost you in a game,’ he said.
She barely heard him through the roaring in her ears—but she didn’t need to hear him because she was already backing away to close the door.
He reached out. ‘No, don’t. I’m saying everything poorly.’
‘You are, but even if you decorate your words, your meaning is still clear.’
He looked down at the ground, before looking back at her. ‘I don’t want to talk of those men. I want to know of you.’
He didn’t deserve to know.
His brows drew in. ‘Let me ask, please. His parents are here, and I can’t leave anything to chance. What does Ian want with you? Everything in me says that your reason for being here is Ian’s alone, and yet he’s not behaving with you as he should if you were innocent.’
She’d told him she trusted him. Now she felt like some sort of fool to have done so. She just wanted him gone. It hurt to look at him. He didn’t deserve to know her past, but he wasn’t leaving. Maybe when he knew some of it, he would.
‘I had nothing to do with Ian before that one fateful night,’ she said. ‘I chose Josse because of his age and his manners. Because he was wealthy enough to take care of my family and he did so. With Roul, I avoided him as much as he’d allow me. I ate by myself. That night I was starving. It was dark, and I walked to the kitchens where Ian held a dagger to a woman’s throat. I ran, but he caught me. I didn’t hear words exchanged, or if I did, I’ve forgotten them. He kept me, and I don’t know why. He told me he killed her, but I’m still here,’ she said.
He frowned. ‘If you happened upon one of his games he should have killed you. It’s another game of his. It’s not you.’
Wasn’t it? She had been the mistress of Josse and of Roul. If she hadn’t put herself in that house she wouldn’t have been in Ian’s games. She felt Evrart’s eyes search hers, felt as if her own were doing the same.
She found it odd, now she’d talked of Josse and Roul, that he talked of Ian and not the men she’d lain with. Twice now he had let that part of her past go. Maybe he didn’t want to know of the men, or perhaps it didn’t affect him as she thought. A part of her wanted to pursue it with him, to let him know how terrible a person she had been before Josse had ridden through town and she’d made the decision to remedy it all. But what would be the point?
She needed to get her sister free, and then she’d be gone. This man, for whom she had let all her defences down, was here for just this part of her life. He wanted no future with her. And yet she worried for him, because he was implying...
‘When you left that day...that last day when you and I—’
‘He was waiting for me outside this door,’ he said. ‘He knew I was in here. When he left, he said his time was to be interesting. I thought he meant his next journey, but now I wonder if it was...here.’
What would be interesting here? Nothing.
‘Margery, we need to say so much more, but the timing... Ian’s parents are here and that changes everything. Whatever rumours you’ve heard, that isn’t the same as living with them. They are badgers with smiles on their faces.’
Ah. Back to the guests and her sister. ‘I can hardly avoid them if Ian decides to—’
‘He won’t introduce you, but they will still know you’re here.’
‘Why wouldn’t he introduce me?’
‘He’s never had a mistress before, and you aren’t even his mistress. It would cause too many questions.’
‘But there’s all these people...and they’re likely to be in this area of the castle because they’re his family.’
‘True, but...’
Evrart looked to the side before he looked at her again. She saw something in his eyes—something she wanted to know very badly. Something that had nothing to do with Ian and his parents.
‘They have an odd way of pretending,’ he continued, though his voice was a bit raspier than before. ‘If nothing is said, and if it is of no import, then it’s beneath them.’
She felt the heat in her cheeks. It was true. As a mistress without powerful connections, she was beneath Ian, and she knew in her heart she was beneath Evrart. Evrart—who kept looking at her as he’d devour her, or stuff her away in some burrow where no one could find her.
‘You’ll stay away from them,’ Evrart said.
It sounded as if he cared...he looked as if he wanted her safe. And, as foolish as it might be, she wanted it to be true. Because, even if she was a fool to do so, a part of her trusted him, a part of her loved him. All of her worried for him.
‘I’ll stay safe as long as you will,’ she said.
Evrart gaped at the woman who now stood in the doorway connecting his room to hers. She was right there. Fearless wide clear eyes, full lips, that defiant tilt to her head that made him want to bury his hands in her curls, tilt her chin up and kiss her.
‘I’m always safe,’ he answered.
‘No, I don’t believe you’ve been safe for a very long time. If I’m to stay safe, then you are, too.’
Had anybody ever said such words to him? Had he ever had such a reaction? He’d left Ian and his mother in the courtyard, strode as fast as he could to come here. But when he’d arrived it had been as if all the fear and rage over the last days had escalated inside him. He’d merely wanted a moment to gather himself. To not be a madman when he faced her.
And all she’d done was open the door...
A breath, some words, and reason had returned. But how could he hold on to it if she said such words as this to add to the words that said she cared for him?
Those words whipped
heat around him. Her voice was telling him she wanted him safe, calling to him to take, to protect.
Possession. Protection. Those words had lashed at him since last night, when he hadn’t been able to hold her, when he’d pressed his ear to the connecting door in case she came to harm.
Her hand was wrapped. Not a drop of blood had bled through. It had to have been a shallow cut, but he hated it. Hated their separation. So, though Ian had dismissed him, and he’d hurried to reach her, once he could, he’d tried to rein himself him.
He’d stood by the door just to breathe and settle his heart, and then she had pertly opened it and harangued him.
Ian’s room was empty for now, and so was his. Margery was here. Another step and she’d be in his room, near his bed. All he had to do was shut the connecting door to Ian’s chambers...
‘Evrart, you’re quiet again.’ She shook her head, her curls brushing against her shoulders, releasing that fragrance he swore he’d scented in his bed last night. How she had plagued him even then!
No, there was danger. She couldn’t be here.
The corner of her lip was healed, the bruises around her neck faded. He was glad. He was grateful. He wanted to mark her all over again. Simply the thought of Ian having access to her when he could not was driving him mad.
‘You’re here.’
She was here in front of him, and they had talked of what they needed to. Now he just wanted. But they had no time!
‘And so are you,’ she said. Simply. Easily. As if it didn’t mean everything to him.
He’d gone a lifetime without her, then weeks more after he’d kissed her, held her. But these hours of being close to her without knowing her like that again were unbearable. He couldn’t do it again. Not in this lifetime.
‘I should have told you of my family and Ian’s threats against them,’ he said.
She tilted her head, her expression one of guilt, concern. ‘Perhaps. And I should have told you of mine,’ she said.
He didn’t understand. ‘Yours?’
She nodded. ‘My family. Because one of them is here.’
He stepped away. Looked through Ian’s rooms and then his own before he dared take another glance at the woman who unbalanced him.
‘We should sit,’ she said.
He’d thought her past held the danger. How much time had he already been here? How much time before Ian was to be here, or the rest of the household?
‘Tell me,’ he demanded.
‘I sent a message, asking to be rescued.’
‘What?’
‘I learnt to read and write from Josse and I taught my siblings.’
‘Margery...’
She closed eyes briefly. ‘I sent a message to my sister, to make her keep away, and another to my brothers, asking for their help because I was in danger.’
Evrart cursed. Cursed again. ‘The usher?’
‘Biedeluue. She is my sister.’
‘The cook—?’
There were voices outside.
Margery’s eyes widened.
He held his finger to his mouth.
‘You don’t understand,’ she whispered. ‘She’s here for me. I know there’s no future between us, but I need you to—’
‘Margery, there’s no time.’ He wanted that time!
‘Can you...will you protect her?’
She didn’t have to ask. ‘I’ll find some way. When Ian leaves again I’ll create a distraction, if necessary.’
‘His guards are here. There are more guards, too. There are too many.’
And all their swords would be pointed to her.
‘There are only the ones at your door.’
‘Then another will get to your family. You risk them if you do.’
How quickly she knew the risks! ‘There’s some distance between here and there. They have a chance if I can get to them. Your sister has none if we don’t do something fast. Who’s the usher?’
‘I don’t know. But I believe my sister knows him.’
He agreed. It had been the way the man stood, as if protecting Biedeluue—a fact that if he’d noticed, so had Lord Warstone. Something he needed to tell Margery.
‘Ian knows she’s your sister,’ he said.
‘He can’t.
‘Warstones always know—or they guess and all too often are right.’
‘How would he guess?’
‘You could have given him a clue.’ He remembered. ‘You cut yourself on that dagger purposely to get his attention away from her.’
‘What have I done...?’
Nothing but be good, loyal and brave.
He took her bandaged hand. ‘Don’t do that again. Please, Margery, stay safe. Stay here until I come again. Can you do that?’
‘My sister... I’m surprised she hasn’t already come to these rooms.’
‘Stay. Here. Even if she comes, stay here.’ He looked to the window. ‘I’ve got to go. I can’t be caught here again.’
He stepped back, his eyes never leaving her.
Would this be it?
‘I’ll stay, Evrart,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay if you answer this.’
He gave a curt nod.
‘Why were you standing on the other side of the door?’
His dear sweet Margery. ‘Don’t you know? I was trying to keep you safe from me.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Margery resumed her pacing and hated every step she took. She’d been at the whim of her family and her village until she’d made her own fateful decision to accept Josse. Since then she’d lived as much as she could by her own volition. She’d wanted to learn to read and write...to do sums and learn languages. She had demanded it.
Now to be confined, when she truly wanted to grab her sister and run to another country, and not to be able to...
What did Evrart mean by keeping her safe from him? She’d kept on thinking of his words and deeds all morning. Him not opening the door...him repeating the word ‘safe’. She’d thought he meant safe from Ian, but then he’d said from him.
He said there was no future for them. She accepted that. Even if they got out of here alive, with her sister safe, his family safe, there was still the fact of her past. She’d chosen Josse—a difficult decision. But the reasons behind her choosing him hadn’t just been about her poverty. They’d been about how hard it was for her family to care for her. She’d been a burden on them since her birth. She wasn’t worthy of them.
And now Evrart said he wanted her safe from him. Was that why he’d pushed her aside? Not because of his family or because he had no space in his heart for her, but because he thought himself dangerous?
She loved him. She shouldn’t. She should still protect herself. But there was so much about him—how could she not have let her defences down? All this time he had been worthy, not her.
Sitting down on the bench by the window, she still couldn’t see Evrart or any of the new arrivals. The sounds in the castle were many, however.
At any moment she expected Ian to storm through. She expected her sister as well—but that was only because Biedeluue rushed ahead before she thought matters through. Or maybe she had come and was being delayed by the guards? Anything could happen to her! And who was the usher Louve? Why had Ian seemed so pleased with that conversation about food?
She didn’t need to be safe from Evrart. She needed him. He was worried for her...for her hand. He was concerned over Ian and his madness. Was Ian slipping out of reason? What did that mean? He’d never harmed her before—hardly touched her. That slice on her palm had been almost as if he was proving a point—but what? Had he been showing off because of Bied? Impossible.
The ominous quiet weighed heavily. There was nothing to break the circle of her thoughts, and she was starving. Would Jeanne come and stay long enough for her to ask a few ques
tions?
Standing again, she paced the entirety of the rooms which were open to her because Ian had made them so. One antechamber led to another, then another. All were furnished with chairs and tables and whatever a person in captivity might need. They were sumptuous, but by now she could count every floor stone.
Another turn about the room and she could hear the guards conversing outside the door. They never talked of anything worth hearing. It was as if they knew not to mention Ian, or the kitchens, or anything that would help her escape. Then there were other voices. A man’s and...her sister’s! Bied was on the other side!
Margery pressed her ear to the door. It was Bied! A click of the latch, and Margery scrambled back—to see the usual guards, and then the new usher!
‘What are you—?’
Behind him came a familiar figure, ambling in sideways, as soon as the guards would let her. Her sister! The door slammed shut, but she didn’t care, she was hugging and squeezing her with all her might.
‘Biedeluue! How did you get here?’ She pulled back, noticing the usher move swiftly to one of the windows to look down below.
‘I have brought a tray of food,’ Bied said. ‘Jeanne’s slicing vegetables in the kitchens today.’
She truly was pretending to be the cook, but... Margery glanced again at the man, who had moved to another one of the windows.
‘Who is he?’ Margery indicated with her chin.
‘This is Louve,’ she said. ‘He’s usher here.’
If he was usher, she truly was a mistress and Bied a cook.
Margery crossed her arms and tapped her fingers along her elbows. When Bied looked a bit sheepish, she arched her brows for good measure. Her sister would eventually tell the truth.
‘He’s here because...because...’ Bied set down the tray she carried and seemed to gather her thoughts.
The sudden quiet was broken by Louve, who was rifling through the contents of a table where there were papers and a quill, opening up a large flat box and then another.
‘Which one is his chest?’ Louve said.
Ah. Ian’s mysterious messages. Constantly he was at his writing table, and men would wait to be handed a sealed scroll. When Margery was especially bored she’d rifle through the desk, much as this usher now did.
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