Roland reclaimed his chair. Respectfully as he could under the circumstances, he asked, "Did you ever keep one, when mother still lived?"
Formality invaded the pleasant atmosphere. Lord Darchours looked at him a moment. "I assume this is not idle curiosity asking? I’ve heard of your difficulties with Jean."
Jean. Not "Jean Van Sadis", but simply Jean. "You might have told me," Roland said quietly.
His father sighed. "Yes, he’s mine. Not the sort of thing a man wishes to bring up to his legitimate sons." He looked past Roland, unseeing, for a moment. "Your mother was not like your fiery Ally, my son. She loathed me, and hated the marriage bed. Her disgust made it unpleasant for both of us. I hated coming to her, and by the time we’d conceived you, I was nearly unmanned." His lips tightened. "She barred me from her bed and demanded that I go find a mistress. I balked at first, for I took our vows seriously. In time, of course...." He sighed. "I’m not proud of it, but yes, Jean is mine. My only bastard, by the way. I expect he’s jealous of you."
Roland’s jaw tightened. "He has much to answer for."
Lord Darchours looked down, and then met Roland’s gaze with grim honesty. "I was ashamed of him or of myself for spawning him. I never visited him or his mother as he grew up--our relationship was short. I didn’t take another woman until your mother died. Perhaps I erred in not taking responsibility beyond supporting them."
Roland said nothing. How could he offer advice? His life had been a series of self-inflicted agonies, too.
"That’s why I wasn’t really eager to see you get rid of Marissa. I knew you loved her at the time, but I saw her character and suspected how it would end. I knew Ally’s mother, and knew what kind of woman Ally would become. She was a good girl, and I wanted her there when you were ready. Unfortunately, your hot head led you off to war for ten years." He shook his head and sighed in rebuke.
"And now I have a half-brother bent on vengeance." It seemed a fitting cap to the last decade.
Chapter 17
Ally was surprised to see her friend Ceylon waiting for her when she got home. They’d corresponded but hadn’t seen each other in person since her last trip to Queenstown. She held out her hands in greeting, admiring her friend’s glowing complexion. "You’re looking well. Uric has put roses in your cheeks." She had to admit she was envious.
Ceylon blushed. "He tries." They chose seats in the salon and Ceylon took a cracker topped with herbed goat cheese and lox, washing it down with herbal tea. "Our first year has had its difficult moments, but we’ve sorted ourselves out until the accident."
Ally had heard about that. Roland’s squire had been given drugged ale at his pre-race toast and crashed his ice boat. Equipped with sails and skies, those craft were dangerous enough without adding intoxication. The lad had been badly hurt, and was lucky to be alive. "That’s a bad bit of luck with your Raven," she said as she poured more water for the special tea blend Ceylon always kept in her pocket. "Only a gutless coward would strike at you that way. You do suspect Eville, don’t you?" Though it could also be the Ogress. Uric’s mad mother had flown her tower and was on the loose. Since she’d already tried to harm Ceylon once, Ally guessed she’d eagerly do it again.
"Yes. What I don’t know is how to root him out. We’ve tried everything." Worry puckered Ceylon’s brow, making her look older than she was.
Ally studied her over the rim of a wineglass. "Everything?"
Ceylon shrugged. "So far as I know. I’m concerned for our child." She placed a hand on her stomach.
Ally’s eyes widened and she sat forward. "You didn’t tell me that! We’ve got to stop this fool before he does real harm."
"The men are trying."
A snort expressed Allyson’s opinion of their efforts. "Yes, well, they are men. They can’t help but falter, and often. A smart woman learns how to do these things for herself. I’ll wager cold gold that I can find Eville a great deal faster than they possibly could." Uric made a terrifying general, but he wasn’t used to sneaking around. Ally, on the other hand, had traveled for days in the guise of a lad under her husband’s very nose. If anyone could root out Eville, it was she.
Hope sparked in Ceylon’s eyes. "Do you think?"
"I know it." She slapped her thigh decisively. "Give me a week."
Once Ceylon had left, Ally gathered her disguise. For this to work, she would assume the guise and lodging of a simple laborer. Since Roland would undoubtedly object--men had a way of scotching the best ideas--she left him a note saying she had business to attend to and would be back in a week. She assumed he wouldn’t like it, but hoped he’d be mature enough not to worry. Disguising him and taking him along on her adventure never occurred to her. Subtle and Roland did not mix, and his inept but sincere interference would only fumble her mission.
What she suspected he would mind would be the delay in their bedding. Thoughts of that slowed her momentarily, but she shook them off. She’d promised Ceylon, and Roland would be even worse once he was her husband in truth. He might even develop one of those "dominance" ticks. She frowned.
Suddenly this little detour seemed like a very good idea.
* * * *
Allyson kept her head low and sipped her beer. The ragged hat she wore disguised
her bearded face. The fake hair itched and she scratched at it.
No one in the smoky, noisy tavern looked twice at the ragged young laborer. Not even Maude.
It still amused Allyson that the woman chose to hide in plain sight. Not once had the man she knew was a spy from Uric looked at the tavern keeper’s "sister." Allyson herself hardly recognized the woman. Her hair was tucked out of sight under a kerchief, she’d bleached her brows white and done something to her face to make her look thirty years older.
Or maybe it was lack of make up, Allyson mussed. Even she wasn’t talented enough with cosmetics to look that ancient and ugly. Probably Uric wouldn’t recognize her, either.
No wonder the hag had been so upset when her maid Anne had decamped. It took true talent to make a woman who looked that ugly presentable.
The woman must be desperate if she were willing to pose as a peasant. From all she’d heard of Maude, the woman thought herself royalty. Allyson couldn’t imagine how Ceylon had tolerated the woman for so long.
Thoughts of what Maude planned for Ceylon made Allyson’s eyes narrow. Time for her Majesty to get her comeuppance.
Mischief was riding on her shoulder that night. Allyson leered as the older woman came near to take her empty tankard. As she bent, Allyson gave her a hearty slap on the backside.
Maude stiffened and shot her a poisoned glare.
Affecting a drunk’s smirk, Allyson lowered her voice and slurred, "Evenin’ beautiful. How about you and me gettin’ friendly?" For a moment she thought Maude would clobber her.
Apparently Maude was made of sterner stuff. To Allyson’s shock, Maude smiled and looked Allyson over with a predator’s eye.
She chucked Allyson under the chin. "Why not? You look manly enough to distract me for a few minutes. Why not out back, against the stable wall?"
Allyson’s jaw dropped. She quickly swallowed, gave a quick grin. Inside she groaned. Neat. She’d had no idea Maude was so … adventurous. Who knew Uric’s frozen mother was a … well, less than virtuous? And now she wanted a rendezvous against a wall, for pity’s sake! Well, it would make it easier to capture her.
Allyson followed Maude’s wide behind out the back door. It wasn’t easy to adopt a male swagger with that daunting view in sight, but she was nothing if not talented.
The night was dark. There was barely enough light spilling from the greased paper windows to illuminate Maude as she turned, her back to the wall. She bent and lifted her skirts. There was a soft snick.
Luck was with Allyson, for she was faster than Maude expected. A feint sideways took her out of Maude’s knife’s reach, another brought her in close. Her hand closed around Maude’s wrist, twisted. In a few moves she had the older woman
helpless on the ground. It was almost too easy to bind her wrists, and then wind the cord around her elbows, locking her arms together behind her back.
Allyson hadn’t studied with the sneakiest fighters in the kingdom for nothing. She knew every rotten trick that money could buy.
It was a difficult thing stuffing a cloth in Maude’s mouth without getting bitten. Using a twisted handkerchief, she secured the gag. Success!
Without warning a boot emerged from the darkness and kicked her in the ribs, sending her sprawling. Pain made her gasp even as she rolled aside. The buzzard had kicked her in the smallest rib, no doubt breaking it.
He laughed and drew his sword, ready to finish her.
There was no way she could fight sword-to-sword, not when she couldn’t breathe. Unafraid to fight dirty, Allyson drew a throwing knife from her sleeve sheath and flicked it at him. It sank deep into his thigh.
The shadow howled and gripped his leg. Then he snarled at her and raised his sword.
"What’s going on there?" someone yelled. Other voices joined him. There came the sound of running boots.
The stranger swore and yanked the knife from his leg. They were but a few steps from the river and he ran and jumped into it.
"Who are you?" A man asked as he roughly hauled Allyson to her feet. The other men who’d come with him had lanterns, and they searched the river as the escaping man splashed away.
"I’m here for this woman," Allyson said in her best male voice. She ignored the howling in her ribs and toed the bound Maude. "Duke Uric has a bounty out for her."
The men with lanterns came near and peered at her. They looked unsure what to believe.
Allyson wasn’t worried. She knew just what to say to win them to her side. "Come with me to his house. We can split the bounty."
The men looked at Maude with greed in their eyes. She’d suddenly sprouted money signs.
The man who’d spoken first must have had a shred more moral fiber than his eagerly murmuring companions, for he asked gruffly, "What of that man in the river? Who’s he?"
"Her accomplice," she told him promptly. "And it’s a pity you didn’t catch him. The man is worth a fortune to the duke, dead or alive."
"Ah, blast the luck," groaned one of his friends. "If only I’d learned to swim!"
Another man nudged his companion roughly. "Say, Bern, you know how to swim. Why didn’t you go after him?"
"If I’d of known--"
"Time’s wasting," Allyson reminded them impatiently. "What say we get this one delivered? You can always hunt up the other one later."
Hot on the scent of reward, the men dragged Maude to her feet and followed Allyson, who kept a sharp eye on them. One never knew what a money hungry man would do. Some of them would be only too happy to slit a stranger’s throat to avoid sharing his reward money.
Fortunately it didn’t seem to occur to her bunch, for they made it to Uric’s without mishap. The guards there took Maude into custody while the men were paid.
The leader grinned and winked at Allyson. "Any time you need a hand catching a crook, you let me know, boy." They left, happy with their unexpected good fortune.
"I’m going to walk along the river and see if I can’t scare up that other one," the man called Bern said.
"I’ll help," the one who’d nudged him earlier said quickly. There was a chorus of assent.
Allyson silently wished them luck. She’d had enough hunting for one night.
* * * *
"Ouch!"
Anne grunted softly and stopped probing Allyson’s ribs. "It’s broken for certain," she said as she placed a damp herbal packet over the huge bruise and gently bound it. "You’ll have to be careful of it for a while."
Ceylon clutched her robe shut as she stood before the fire in her bedroom. She looked guilty. "I never meant for you to get hurt."
Allyson shrugged her good shoulder. "It’s nothing. I deserve worse for not keeping an eye out for Eville. It must have been him who kicked me."
Uric was seeing to Maude, so the room was private as Anne finished wrapping the bandage. "There! You’ll be healthy before you know it."
"Thank you. What are you going to do with Maude?" Ally hoped they’d execute the woman. Not only was she dangerous, but thanks to her, Ally’s ribs were killing her.
"Lady Riverdell ought to be concerned about what should be done with her," Roland’s angry voice snapped from the door. Menace hung in the air around him. The black patch and queued hair made him look like a menacing pirate.
Ally jerked in surprise and swore. Energized, she sat up straight and smiled darkly. Pain gave her words needles. "Jealous, Ducks? Face it, you needed a wench to catch a witch. No doubt I’ll be the one to root out Eville, too."
Fire leaped in his eye. "You’ll not go!"
"You’ve had no success. I’ve been the best you’ve had." Aye, he was angry, but she noticed worry, too. She’d been gone for days, and really ought not to taunt him. True, he’d started it, and old habits died hard, but she could act grown up if she tried.
Roland’s look sizzled. Sparks snapped in the charged atmosphere. Two parts frustrated passion, ten parts emotion. The man cared.
Ceylon looked between them, but didn’t comment on their little war. Instead she asked, "Where is Uric?"
Still tense, Roland broke off his silent challenge to glance at her. "He took Maude to the castle dungeon. Under the circumstances he felt justice would be better served by allowing the queen to sentence Maude." He sent a dark look Ally’s way. It was clear their battle wasn’t over.
Roland’s eyes flicked to Ally’s side, where her shirt hid the bandage. Something strained flashed in his face and was gone. "What of the man who kicked you? Was it Eville?"
"It was too dark to see. I suppose it was. Who else could it have been?" Ally made sure her tone was less antagonistic, her expression softer. It wasn’t hard, for she preferred his concern to his anger.
He stepped closer. "You wounded him?" Definite softness there.
Ceylon’s eyes flicked between the two of them. She tried to hide her smile, without success.
Ally ignored her. "A knife to his thigh. It was the best I could do at that angle." She lowered her eyes, feeling oddly vulnerable, even shy. The sizzle in the air between them reminded her that they had yet to consummate their union.
But it would not happen that night. Her ribs were throbbing and every breath was her enemy.
Ally gave her a spoonful of syrup. Even sweetened, the substance tasted vile. "What is this? Poison to finish me off?"
"Henbane. It’s a powerful painkiller."
"It smells like vomit!" And tasted worse.
"Yes, but it’s non-addictive, unlike the opium poppy. You’re not likely to find yourself craving it."
Ally made a face. "You can bet on that."
Ceylon laughed, and then waved an admonishing finger at her. "Just make certain you don’t exceed the dose. High doses make you feel stupid and you might start seeing things--"
"What!" Aghast, Ally stared at the little bottle Ceylon handed her.
"And if you feel weakness and nausea, tell me right away. This tea," she waved a parchment envelope in front of Ally, "contains valerian root, vervain and meadowsweet. You’ll use it in compresses and as tea. Add honey if you have to, but drink it down, because it will speed healing and help with the pain."
Ally took the pouch and sniffed it, grimacing at the combined odors of urine, mildew and flowers. "Don’t you have medicine that doesn’t smell like something dead?"
"You’ll take it," Roland said with a warning glance at Ally. "And now I’ll take you home and put you to bed. Just be glad you’ve got a soft bed to go to and not a dirty bedroll on a battlefield somewhere." He put his hand around her shoulders, but let her get up slowly. Past experience must have made him careful.
Ally was beginning to feel pretty good. She gave him a loopy smile. "You probably had a pretty maid somewhere bring you soft pillows and wine."
Her eyes welled up with tears. "Oh, Roland. You poor thing." She abruptly laughed.
"Er, you might want to decrease her dose a bit," Ceylon whispered in Roland’s ear.
He gave her droll look. "You think?"
"On the bright side, she’s obviously feeling no pain." Ceylon offered an apologetic smile.
He shook his head and led Ally out of there. Once in the carriage, she smiled up at him and stroked his chest with the back of her near hand. "You’re a handsome one, love," she slurred.
Laughter caught him by surprise. He’d never seen her intoxicated, and doubted the chance would come again soon. Amused, he asked, "Am I?"
"Mmmm. I’m sorry I worried you." She patted his thigh and batted her eyes as if they weighed as much as shields.
"Well, if you’re sorry, then I guess it makes it all right." Grumpy at the reminder of her foolishness, he nevertheless drew her cloak about her as she drifted off against his shoulder.
She’d caused him many sleepless nights and much pacing. Worse, she’d found a way to delay their bedding again, albeit unintentionally. At least, he assumed she’d been hurt by accident. Even Ally wouldn’t risk losing a battle just to torment him.
Did she want him, though? He wasn’t the brooding type, but his mood was dark that night. Was she simply acting as independently as she had for the last few years, or was she still running? It didn’t bode well, and he’d have to cure her of the urge to flee every time they became emotionally intimate. He glanced down at her sleeping face and smiled darkly. She might be too injured to engage in lusty sex just yet, but he still had plans for Ally. As long as she was injured, she couldn’t outrun him, and while she was abed....
He sat back and smiled in anticipation. He was going to be a very diligent doctor.
* * * *
Ally lay in bed the next morning. The medicine was working, and she felt mellow and a little drowsy. The blankets were warm and the pillows soft. Though the weather outside was almost black with rain, she didn’t have to be out in it. The day just couldn’t improve.
The Other Woman Page 15