by Tamara Leigh
Strangely aware of his breathing, he struggled to hold onto the image of the woman. As the last of her blurred, he determined it was, indeed, hatred in the eyes that had peered at him from beneath a thick, woolen shawl. A shawl that made a poor fit for a day well warmed by sun.
CHAPTER THREE
The squire made a final, muffled protest and slumped to his pallet.
“Now The Boursier,” Agatha said, pulling the odorous cloth from the young man’s mouth and nose.
For the first time since slipping out from behind the tapestry, El looked to the still figure upon the bed. Though the solar was deeply dark, the bit of moonlight filtering through the oilcloth showed the big man lay on his back.
Thankful for Agatha’s size that would bear much of Boursier’s weight, El crossed to the bed. “Does he breathe?”
“Of course he does,” the woman said as she came alongside, “though if you wish—”
“Nay!” She was no murderer, and holding him would accomplish what must be done.
“Then make haste, my lady.” Agatha tossed the coverlet over Boursier’s legs so they might drag him down the steps of the walled passage. And drag him they must. Though the older woman was relatively strong of back and El was hardly delicate, Boursier’s size outnumbered them.
El put her knees to the mattress and reached past him to the other side of the coverlet upon which he lay. As she did so, her hand brushed a muscled forearm. She caught her breath and looked up his dark form. For some reason, it bothered her to see such an imposing man laid helpless before his enemies. Of course, once she had also pitied Murdoch. Only once.
Returning to the present, she dragged the coverlet across his torso. As she reached higher to flip it over his head, his wine-scented breath stirred the hair at her temple and drew her gaze to his shadowed face.
By the barest light, something glittered.
She gasped, dropped her feet to the door.
“What is it?” Agatha rasped.
El backed away. “He…” Why did he not bolt upright? “He looked upon me.”
A curt laugh sounded from Agatha. “It happens.” She pulled forth the cloth used upon the squire and pressed it to Boursier’s face. “But let us be certain he remembers naught.”
Would he not? Of course, even if he did, the glitter of her own eyes was surely all he would know of her. Heart continuing to thunder, El watched as Agatha swept the coverlet over Boursier’s head.
“Take hold of his legs,” she directed.
El slid her hands beneath his calves. Shortly, with Agatha supporting his heavier upper body, El staggered beneath her own burden. Boursier seemed to weigh as much as a horse, and by the time they had him behind the tapestry, he seemed a pair of oxen. Garments moistened by perspiration, she lugged him through the doorway and onto the torchlit landing.
“Put him down,” Agatha said, lowering his upper body.
With a breath of relief, El eased his legs to the floor.
Agatha closed the door that granted access to the keep’s inner walls and jutted her chin at the wall sconce. “Bring the torch.”
El retrieved it. As she turned to lead the way down the steps, a thud sounded behind. She swung around.
Agatha had hefted Boursier’s legs, meaning his head had landed upon the first of the stone steps. “Nay!” she protested. “We must needs turn him. His head—”
“What care you?” Agatha snapped, lacking the deference due one’s mistress. But such was the price of the woman’s favors.
Why do I care? El wondered. Still, she could not condone such treatment, for a blow to the head could prove fatal. “We turn him, Agatha. Do not argue.”
“My lady—”
“Do not!”
Agatha lowered her eyes. “As you will.”
El assisted with Boursier and, shortly, Agatha gripped Boursier about the torso. His feet taking the brunt of the steps, they continued their descent. At the bottom, they turned left.
Huffing loudly, Agatha dragged the big man through the doorway that let into the underground passage.
“Give me the key, and I will lock it,” El offered.
Continuing to support Boursier, Agatha secured the door herself.
Trying not to be offended, El led the way through the turns that eventually placed them before the cell.
When Agatha dropped Boursier, once more having no care for how he fell, El glared at her companion.
Staring at her from between strands of hair that had come loose from the knot atop her head, Agatha raised her eyebrows.
El held her tongue. She supposed the rough treatment of Bayard Boursier was the least owed one whose grievance against him was great. Agatha had spent a year in his household serving as maid to his wife who had also been El’s aunt. For one long year, Agatha had been at Constance’s side, aiding her when Boursier turned abusive and comforting her when he took other women into his bed. Given a chance, it was possible Agatha would do the baron mortal harm.
El fit the torch in a wall sconce, then aided in propping Boursier against the cell wall and peeling the coverlet away to bind his wrists.
She tried not to look upon him as she struggled to open a rusted manacle, but found herself peering into his face. And wishing she had not.
She returned her attention to the manacle and pried at it, but not even the pain of her abraded fingers could keep from memory her enemy’s dimly lit face—eyepatch risen above his eyebrow, the exposed, scarred flesh of his left eye. More, she saw the tousled auburn hair on his brow, cheekbones above an unshaven jaw, and relaxed mouth. All lent vulnerability to one who did not wear that state well.
“Give it to me.” Agatha reached for the manacle.
El pried harder and fell on her backside when the iron plates parted.
Though Agatha’s fingers turned around the manacle, El pulled it away. “I did not come to watch,” she said and glanced at Boursier’s other wrist that Agatha had fettered. Wishing the woman would not hover, she rose to her knees and raised Boursier’s arm. As she fit the manacle, his pulse moved beneath her fingers—slow and deep. Very slow and deep.
“How long will he sleep?” she asked.
“’Tis difficult to know the amount needed to put down one of his size, so I erred on the side of giving too much rather than too little.”
Alarmed, El said, “He will awaken, though?”
“They usually do.”
Murdoch always had.
Agatha’s mouth lightened. “And most content he shall feel.”
As Murdoch had felt, which had many times spared El his perverse attentions, just as what she did this night would spare the De Arell woman Boursier’s attentions.
El extended a hand for the keys and, at Agatha’s hesitation, ordered, “Give them to me.”
The woman’s nostrils flared, but she surrendered them.
El met the upper plate of the manacle with the lower. It was a tight fit, one that would likely make it difficult for blood to course properly, but she gave the key a twist. As she rose, she looked upon Boursier’s face and the eyepatch gone awry. She struggled against the impulse, but yielded and repositioned the half circle of leather over his scarred eyelid.
Behind, Agatha gave a grunt of disapproval.
El considered the pack of provisions. There was enough food and drink to last Boursier six days, after which she and Agatha would release him.
She wished she did not have to return to this place. Unfortunately, Agatha was of an uncertain disposition—not to be trusted, El’s uncle warned. Not that Agatha would harm the Penzers. The woman simply did not take direction well, firm in the belief there was none more capable of determining the course of the Penzers. Thus it had been since Agatha had come from France eleven years past to serve as maid to El’s aunt.
“We are finished,” Agatha pulled El from her musings.
El knew they ought to leave Castle Adderstone now that the deed was done, but something held her where she stood—something she should
not feel for this man who had stolen her aunt from another only to ill treat her. Hating herself for it, El turned and asked, “What if he does not awaken?”
“Then death. And most deserving.”
Once more unsettled by Agatha’s fervor, wishing it had been possible to take Boursier on her own, El frowned in remembrance of how quickly Agatha had agreed to help—and how soon her plans had supplanted El’s. Grudgingly, El had yielded to the older woman who was not only conversant in this place, but had possessed keys that had gained them access to Castle Adderstone.
“Do not forget who he is,” Agatha reminded, eyes glittering in the light of the torch she had retrieved.
El peered over her shoulder at Boursier who was no different from Murdoch—excepting he was mostly muscle whereas her departed husband had been more given to fat. And that surely made this man better able to inflict pain and humiliation.
Lord, what a fool I am! she silently berated herself for feeling concern for one such as he. It is no great curiosity how Murdoch made prey of me.
“Never shall I forget who he is,” she said.
Agatha lowered her prominent chin, though not soon enough to obscure a surprisingly childlike smile.
Telling herself she did not care what pleasure Agatha took in Boursier’s suffering, El stepped from the cell.
As Agatha pulled the door closed, she beckoned for the keys.
El shook her head. “I shall hold to them.”
The woman’s lids sprang wide. “You do not trust me, my lady?”
El longed to deny it, but swallowed the lie. “I do not,” she said and stepped forward to lock the cell door.
In the silence of Agatha’s ire, she followed the woman from the underground passage, taking the light with them and condemning Boursier to utter darkness. A darkness that would not lift for six days.
TAMARA LEIGH NOVELS
INSPIRATIONAL HISTORICAL TITLES
The Feud: A Medieval Romance Series
Baron of Godsmere: Book One, 01/15: Amazon
Age of Faith: A Medieval Romance Series
The Unveiling: Book One, 08/12: Amazon
The Yielding: Book Two, 12/12: Amazon
The Redeeming: Book Three, 05/13: Amazon
The Kindling: Book Four, 11/13: Amazon
The Longing: Book Five, 05/14: Amazon
CLEAN READ HISTORICAL TITLES
Dreamspell: a medieval time travel romance, 03/12: Amazon
Lady At Arms: a “clean read” rewrite of the 1994 Bantam Books bestseller Warrior Bride, 01/14: Amazon
Lady Of Eve: a “clean read” rewrite of the 1994 Bantam Books bestseller Virgin Bride, 06/14: Amazon
Lady Of Fire: a “clean read” rewrite of the 1995 Bantam Books bestseller Pagan Bride, 11/14: Amazon
INSPIRATIONAL CONTEMPORARY TITLES
Southern Discomfort Series
Leaving Carolina, RandomHouse/Multnomah, 2009
Nowhere, Carolina, RandomHouse/Multnomah, 2010
Restless in Carolina, RandomHouse/Multnomah, 2011
Stand-Alone Novels
Stealing Adda, 05/12 (ebook edition) Amazon
Stealing Adda, NavPress, 2006 (print edition)
Perfecting Kate, Multnomah, 2007
Splitting Harriet, RandomHouse/Multnomah, 2007
Faking Grace, RandomHouse/Multnomah, 2008
OUT-OF-PRINT GENERAL MARKET TITLES
Warrior Bride, Bantam Books, 1994
*Virgin Bride, Bantam Books, 1994
Pagan Bride, Bantam Books, 1995
Saxon Bride, Bantam Books, 1995
Misbegotten, HarperCollins, 1996
Unforgotten, HarperCollins, 1997
Blackheart, Dorchester Leisure, 2001
*Virgin Bride is the sequel to Warrior Bride
Pagan Pride and Saxon Bride are stand-alone novels
www.tamaraleigh.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tamara Leigh holds a Masters Degree in Speech and Language Pathology. In 1993, she signed a 4-book contract with Bantam Books. Her first medieval romance, Warrior Bride, was released in 1994 and became a national bestseller. Continuing to write for the general market, six more of her novels were published with Bantam, HarperCollins, and Dorchester, earning awards and places on bestseller lists.
In 2006, Tamara’s first inspirational contemporary romance, Stealing Adda, was released. In 2008, Perfecting Kate was optioned for a movie and Splitting Harriet won an ACFW “Book of the Year” award. In 2009, Faking Grace was nominated for ACFW “Book of the Year” and RITA awards. In 2011, Tamara wrapped up her “Southern Discomfort” series with the release of Restless in Carolina.
When not in the middle of being a wife, mother, and cookbook fiend, Tamara buries her nose in a good book—and her writer’s pen in ink. In 2012, she returned to the historical romance genre with Dreamspell, a medieval time travel romance. Shortly thereafter, she once more invited readers to join her in the middle ages with the Age of Faith series: The Unveiling, The Yielding, The Redeeming, The Kindling, and The Longing. Her Bantam Books bestsellers, originally titled Warrior Bride, Virgin Bride, and Pagan Bride, are the first of her early medieval romances to be rewritten as “clean reads” and retitled Lady At Arms, Lady Of Eve, and Lady Of Fire. In Winter 2015, look for Baron Of Godsmere, the first book in her new series, The Feud.
Tamara lives near Nashville, Tennessee with her husband, sons, and a Doberman that bares its teeth not only to threaten the UPS man but to smile.
Connect with Tamara at her website www.tamaraleigh.com, her blog The Kitchen Novelist, Facebook, and Twitter. To be added to her mailing list for notification of new releases and special promotions, drop her an email at: [email protected]