by C. C. Wiley
Darrick’s eyes followed the rhythmic movement of her body. He could see that his tight-lipped response ate at her raw nerves.
Her voice trembled as it rose over the babe’s wail. “Do you truly think I believe you felt the need for a pleasure trip across the water? Just happened to land your boat on these godforsaken shores?”
“If you are finished,” Darrick said, “I will explain what I can.”
The old woman stopped swaying and waited for his answers.
Darrick responded with measured authority. “You may address me as Sir Darrick of Lockwood.” He ignored her snort of derision. “I have traveled to this deserted rock in search of someone.”
“As you bellowed earlier. Are you alone, Sir Darrick of Lockwood?”
“I come only with that ugly brute lying over there,” he said. The dog lifted his head as if to affirm the fact.
“Do you burn me from this island?”
“Are you daft, woman? I search for someone dear to me. Perhaps you have seen her. Sent here for safekeeping. Dear woman,” he coaxed, “please release me so that I might find her and take leave of this desolate place. ’Tis nothing more that I want from you.”
“Why should I trust what you say?”
“Because you must. I assure you. Had I truly wanted your life, the deed would have already been completed.”
Darrick watched her gaze drift over his body, measuring his size against her own. He lifted his bound wrists and showed her the loosened knots. Her eyes widened when she saw he had already begun the task of shredding the bindings. He smiled, nodding, answering her spoken question. It was true. He could have rid himself of the binding with little effort.
His satisfaction diminished when she moved much quicker than one imagined of a crone. She knelt beside him, her face hidden by the cloak, her dagger held against his throat.
“If in truth, you come here to do harm, I will make you pay.”
Darrick studied the lethal weapon held too close for comfort. “I swear on my father’s grave, I’m not here to harm either of you. Now, untie me. Before I lose patience.”
“Take caution, sir. I’ve no fear of slicing you open from ear to ear.”
Darrick cooled his anger. It would not serve him well to have his throat slit by a deranged old woman. He stared at the space where he assumed were her eyes. “Have a care. ’Tis ill-advised to try your hand at outwitting a king’s man.”
The blade pressed sharply against his skin. Her hand shot out, flashing a sign for silence. Male voices drifted past the cave. Their steps were heavy as they broke through the brush.
Darrick felt the sting of the blade as it trembled at his throat. “You and I both know they may soon return with orders to search deeper,” he said. “I’ve nothing more to offer you than my word that I mean you no harm.”
The woman nodded but remained unconvinced.
“’Tis certain you’ve removed me from my weapons. I am defenseless against you. Moreover, if it soothes your nerves, keep the blade pointed to me at all times.”
Slowly the sharp edge withdrew from his skin. Without a word, she began to cut away the bindings. Darrick could not help wondering why her resolve weakened so easily. Surely, the old woman had more sense than to trust his word. However, he was never one to look away from a gift. His irritation renewed in force when the dagger wavered over the reddened battle scars on his wrists.
“I would think the task is made easier if you watch what you are doing,” he snapped. “I carry no desire for having a portion of my body sliced by your hand.”
Gasping at his snide remark, she finished with an angry stroke of the knife.
As the blade set loose his hands, he swung around and grabbed her arm. “Do not…ever…tie me up again,” he warned. Before releasing her arm, he snatched the dagger out of her grasp.
She grabbed at her cloak to keep her face behind the folds of the hood. “Please, I beseech you.”
Exasperated, Darrick watched her curl her body over the child as if she was certain the sting of his fists were certain to follow. He sat back on his haunches. “Stand up, old one. I told you that I mean you no harm.”
Behind him, he heard the foul animal move restlessly. Remembering the blow he received to his head, he held out his hand. “Under my honor as the king’s knight, I vow that you and your child will not be harmed. Now, call off your beast.”
Muffled laughter erupted. “’Tis only Matilda, Sir Knight. One very ferocious goat.”
Darrick ignored her taunts and sawed at his bound ankles. Bested by a mere goat. He was thankful she could not see his disgrace. He would have to ensure that Nathan never discovered his embarrassment. The more he thought on it the more furious he became. With one stroke of the blade, his ankles were free.
He jumped to his feet and ducked when his head brushed the domed ceiling, narrowly missing the sharp points of rock that hung like evil, sharp teeth. He stretched the cramps from his legs and turned on the old woman.
“We must be going, Sir Darrick of Lockwood. I wager the soldiers are still looking for us.”
He pried her hand from his arm, noting her slender fingers. “Of whose soldiers do you speak?”
“Sir Vincent DePierce. The Lord of Balforth.”
Darrick stifled the flinch of disgust, but not quickly enough.
“By your reaction, I must assume that you are familiar with his reputation.” She braced her wrinkled arms across her chest. “How well do you know DePierce?”
Bemused by her defensive stance, Darrick watched her closely. “I’ve met him only once. ’Twas enough to know he is not the man I would willingly join in battle. Not at any price.”
* * * *
The stranger raked his fingers through his hair. Strength and confidence rested on his shoulders as if it were a tailored suit of armor. He wore it well. As if born to it. Much like her father and brother.
It had been almost a full year since Sabine’s life had been left in turmoil. It started with her father’s disappearance. Then the mercenary soldiers raided Castle Clearmorrow and its inhabitants. They were her responsibility and she had failed them all. The soldiers killed the castle folk, burning the village and fields, destroying everything in their path.
She had thought the worst was over when her brother Taron’s garbled message instructed her to seek out DePierce’s protection. But there, her troubles really began.
The giant knight was speaking again, interrupting her thoughts. “I search for a young maiden of nobility. Raven hair. Mist gray eyes.”
Filled with an odd twinge of disappointment, Sabine forgot to whisper. “You must not love her well,” she observed.
“I love her well enough.”
Sabine recalled the despair on Elizabeth’s face. She snorted in disbelief. “Not if you’ve managed to lose her.”
“I was serving my king.”
“I see. Of course.”
“I fought against France. For King Henry. ’Twas my duty,” he persisted.
“Duty? What of your duty to your love? Did you love her?” She shook her head. “What treatment, so terrifying, would cause her to run here?”
His head tilted to one side as a puzzled look crossed his face. “I never gave her reason to fear.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My father would not grant me entrance into the Lockwood keep that should have been mine by birthright. Please share with me, old woman, how I’m to care for someone when I’m not allowed near that person?”
“You must have found some way. Less than a year ago, ’tis what I calculate.”
“Cease your riddles. What do you speak of?” he asked.
“Your Elizabeth, you fool! Was she your lover? Your wife?”
“Enough.” Sir Darrick grabbed her. “Tell me where I can find Lady Elizabeth.”
“I don’t know.” She broke free of his h
old and snatched at her cloak, fighting to contain her identity. “If you aren’t the one who her heart ached for, then tell me if it is you who seeks her death.”
“If my sister was on this island,” he whispered hoarsely, “I demand you tell me where she is now.”
Sabine’s heart pounded against her ribcage. “Sister?” Tears filled her eyes. She nodded towards the baby sleeping peacefully on the moss bed. “All that you have left of Elizabeth lies here, Sir Darrick. This is your nephew.”
She saw the shadow of pain darken his eyes and she rushed to tell him what she knew. “Elizabeth arrived on my doorstep with very little. Even in the last stages of labor, she would not talk. Although she and the babe survived their ordeal, she wore her grief like a mantle of penance. ’Twas what worried me and caused me to follow her when she walked out of my cottage with the baby. It was beginning to storm. I could see her thoughts were unsteady.”
“Continue—” His voice, filled with emotion that brooked no fallacies, broke “—with your tale.”
She took a halting breath. “I followed her to the cliffs that stand not far from here. The storm was intensifying. I started to go after them.”
“You let her go?”
“I’ve learned to listen to the sounds that don’t belong,” she said in her defense. “I waited long enough to believe it safe. I caught up with her straight away. Only to see your sister tuck her son under the juniper bush and walk to the edge of the cliffs. I thought I saw her turn back. Something…someone…moved out from the shadows.”
“You did nothing to save her?”
Guilt racked her soul. Thoughts of the spinning heights taunted her. She shook her head. “I tried. Truly, I did. But…”
Her words were lost. She waited in silence for his angry response. Even though the hood continued to protect her face, she felt his penetrating gaze. Droplets, formed of her tears, fell to the floor. She could wait in silence no more.
“Your sister drew the murderer’s attention from the child and directed it to herself,” Sabine whispered. “Elizabeth sacrificed her life for her son.” She spread her hands, pleading for his understanding. “I’m sorry that I could do nothing to save her. Afterward, I vowed to find the babe’s kinsmen as soon as possible. Then the fires began.
“So, you see,” she said. “My vow is fulfilled. I’ll be leaving now that I’m not—”
Darrick placed his hand over her mouth, yanking her to his chest. The sound of footfall drew near. Muffled voices carried into the cave.
“Why must we continue our search?” the voice outside whined. “We found the woman we were ordered to bring back.”
“You know his lordship. He would rather have someone else clean up his foul mistakes.”
“Well, I’m gett’n tired of being in his service. ’Tis better coin to be made in France.”
“Aye, but we best find the other woman b’fore we go. She may have seen something.”
“Right you are. Should we fail, his lordship will send his soldiers after us too. Would hate to end up in that tower with the others.”
“I heard ’twas another young maid that got away after he beat her. Course, just her, and the other one, s’all that ever lived to tell. ’Tis a waste, I’m say’n.”
“He could at least toss ’em to us. Wouldn’t mind a bit of creamy thighs o’wrappin around me middle.”
“Aye, right you are. Let’s find that wench. I’ve a hunger for a sweet tasting morsel before he uses that one up too.”
* * * *
Darrick waited until they moved away from the opening of the hidden cave before motioning to the woman to gather all their belongings.
“’Tis time to leave.”
The hope that his sister yet lived grew dim. He had seen the high cliffs. The rock formations slashing the air with their deadly edges. His blood boiled when he thought of the ill care his sister had received while under DePierce’s protection.
Darrick’s eyes dropped to the tiny infant cradled in the old women’s arms. On his honor as both a Knight of the Swan and uncle, he would protect the child. As his sworn duty, he would ensure his nephew found his rightful place at Lockwood.
The crone began to gather their belongings. A strand of burnished gold hair slipped from the protection of her hood.
Darrick crooked an eyebrow. Under the guise of indifference, he watched her quickly hide the strands and then straighten her cloak. She tightened the leather thong that held the jeweled dagger at her trim waist.
He stayed her hand when she turned to pick up her pack and he tossed the bundle over his shoulder. His eyes widened when she plunked the wiggling babe into the crook of his arm. Her fingers shook as she smoothed the satiny fuzz on the baby’s crown. Darrick did not know whether it was out of fear of him or the conversation they had overheard.
“You’ll return with me,” he ordered.
“No. I have a small boat that will take me where I need to go. Most assuredly, my path takes a direction other than yours. I’m weary of hiding and mustn’t delay any longer.”
“You’ll find safety in my company.”
Sabine shook her head. “I can think of no reason to travel with you.”
“I realize there’s naught that I can say on my behalf, but please, I implore you to consider the child. I’ve need of a matron to care for my nephew.”
“For the baby.” She smoothed her finger over the baby’s rosebud pout. “Nonetheless, I cannot promise how long I will stay.”
Darrick gave her thin shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Stay at least until I’m able to hire another woman.”
His hand traveled across her back, hesitating for a brief moment. She was quite muscular for a hermit. She was definitely hiding more than her withered form. Before she left his company, he vowed, he would know her secrets.
“The goat must come with us. For your nephew,” she demanded. “She won’t be a burden to you.”
Glancing at the goat, Darrick doubted it. His head and honor still throbbed from the damage the goat had wrought. After weighing the need of milk against his pride, he finally agreed. “Promise me that you’ll keep the beast out of my reach.”
She nodded and hurried to grab Matilda’s rope. “Make haste. Get the baby to safety.”
Concern caused Darrick’s steps to falter. “The soldiers. I should be last.”
“I’ll follow with Matilda. She can be a bit stubborn.”
He eyed the goat. “As you wish. I’ll lead the way and prepare the boat.”
With his nephew nestled close to his chest, Darrick crawled through the hole. Once down the stairway, he signaled to the woman that they had arrived safely.
* * * *
The stairway to the shore below loomed before her. Sabine felt the blood rush from her head. Its wake pounded in her ears. Her vision blurred. Bile rose in her throat. If she did not leave right then, her feet would never move again. Her fears would force her to remain on the island.
Her head spinning, Sabine gulped and steadied her nerve. She could not let DePierce win. “Come, Matilda. ’Tis time we took our leave.”
After a few hesitant steps, the animal braced her little hooves and balked at the shadows stretching along the walls. Their weight shifted as Sabine dragged Matilda through the doorway. The heavy moss underfoot gave way. Before she knew what was happening, she and the goat were flying down the stairway.
At first tug, Matilda trailed behind. As their fall gathered momentum, the animal rolled past, hooves and gangly legs scratching for purchase.
Sabine’s hand burned from the rope wrapped tightly around her fingers. She clawed at the wall and moss to slow their decent. Vegetation tore loose of its mooring. Green clumps soared over her head, striking Matilda’s backside. Their tangled mass of limbs burst through the opening.
* * * *
Upon hearing a crashing
noise coming from the crevice, Darrick decided it best to look in on the old woman. Like as not the damn goat had killed her. He turned to look on his nephew. The babe lay in the bottom of the boat. Dry and snug.
He ducked as chunks of rock sailed down the narrow stairway and out the opening. Two thrashing forms landed with a splash in the water pooling by the shore.
The goat was the first to rise and shake itself from head to toe. On trembling legs, it stumbled out of the pool and collapsed.
Darrick quickened his steps. He did not want to be left alone with the wild goat and a helpless infant. Her motionless body required a quick search for broken bones. That was when he first noticed her gown.
The hem crested a pair of thighs. Although it had been a long time since he had lain with a woman, he knew these limbs definitely did not belong to a crone. Her cloak had slipped off and hung at the entrance on a scrubby bush.
She lifted her head from the lapping water. Propped on her elbows, she gasped for air. Her long hair curled over her shoulders, hung down her back, making her look like a maiden of the sea. Darrick stopped in his tracks and waited, fearing he would spoil the moment. A surging wave washed over, revealing her fair maiden’s figure. Satisfied that she would live, the corners of his mouth twitched as he enjoyed the view. He wondered if her visage was as beautiful as her backside. The answer to that mystery floundered at his feet.
* * * *
Sabine lay in the water trying to catch her breath. She pushed the damp hair out of her face and froze. Tiny rivulets of brown sludge trickled down her arm, joining the drops at the end of her elbow. Her disguise washed away with each lap of the water. Her breath caught. Panic began to build. So relieved that she survived the fall, she had forgotten to keep her identity a secret.
Now she would have to travel without the protection of her disguise. With a man she did not trust. Alone! Worse, he made her stomach behave disagreeably whenever he was near. All her experience with men beyond her father’s land had caused her pain. How would she know if he could be trusted? Her brother and father had failed her. How could this man possibly succeed where they had not?