Creating Memories - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 6)

by Shea,Lisa

  Falcon’s face was neutral as he sipped his drink, but Jessica leaned forward, her gaze intense. “Walker could easily be lying about her, for who knows what reason. From what I hear, his daughter is equally untrustworthy, which is why I keep warning you to turn your back on this marriage. It will not bring the peace you seek.” She took a long pull on her wine, then plowed ahead with force.

  “If Lord Walker is claiming something, it is best to get a second opinion to know what the truth is. You cannot trust any statement that family makes.”

  Falcon’s voice remained even as he asked quietly, “Speaking of second opinions, what is your thought about the vases you brought in?”

  Jessica flushed, leaning back in her seat. “As far as the wares go, I was told those pottery items were from France. Perhaps I was lied to as well. Believe me, I am making my own inquiries into the situation.” Her brow creased, and she looked up, realizing that Storm was approaching.

  “My dear, there you are,” Jessica purred effusively, patting the seat next to her. “Here, come sit with me.” She made room by pulling her own chair closer to Falcon’s. “I hear you are now cavorting with the guards. Do tell, is that fun?”

  Storm moved toward the seat, settling herself into it. To her surprise, a calm acceptance settled over her. In a way, Jessica’s manipulations and pointed darts were a type of game.

  One that two could play.

  “Oh yes, my morning exertions were very enjoyable,” she responded, bringing a mug of mead to her lips for a long sip. She put the drink down and turned to look at the woman by her side. “The guards are quite friendly and appreciative of my talents. I hear they want me to stay here full time, they are so enamored of my skill.”

  Jessica’s wide-mouthed stare and long silence were all Storm could have hoped for. Storm was even able to talk with Falcon during their breakfast, to discuss the practice routines and plans for the next day.

  Jessica did not break her silence until the meal had come to an end. To Storm’s surprise, Jessica stood suddenly, her normal attempt to insinuate her way into Falcon’s afternoon apparently put aside.

  “I have just remembered, Falcon, my dear, that I should be able to reach my main suppliers in the next town over today. I want to go talk with them right away about this pottery issue. I hope you understand.”

  Falcon stood and smiled politely. “By all means, take as long as you need. Your shop’s reputation is, of course, its most important asset.”

  A frown crossed Jessica’s face, but she regained her smile quickly. “I will be back by sundown, never you fear. Until then!” She took Falcon’s hand and gave it a warm squeeze, then turned and strode out toward the stables. She stopped at the entryway to the hall, turning quickly to look back.

  “Be sure to behave as the nuns would wish you to,” she reminded Storm with a sweet grin, her eyes flashing with a different emotion.

  Storm’s mouth quirked, but she nodded demurely. “Of course, Jessica. I will do them credit. Have a safe journey.”

  Jessica looked as if she did not quite believe Storm’s intentions, but after yet another fond farewell to Falcon, she turned and headed out.

  A wave of peace washed over her as Jessica left the room, and she stretched out in her chair in languorous relaxation. She looked up with a smile as Falcon lowered his hand to her.

  His voice held a gentle tease. “Shall we go for a ride?”

  Storm did not need to be asked twice. She stood with him, walking down the hallway and out across the courtyard to the stables. He moved to one stall, drawing out his stallion, and she walked over to Mercury’s stall, standing before the horse with contentment. He was such a beautiful creature. His large, brown eyes held hers with wisdom and calm. She ran a hand tenderly down his mane, drawing from his strength.

  There was a grasp on her arm.

  She reacted by instinct, spinning hard, drawing her knife from her belt. She brought it up and across, pressing its razor-sharp edge against the soft flesh of his throat. Her heart pounded against her chest as she stared up into his eyes.

  Falcon stood stock still, not moving, his gaze locked on hers.

  Storm blinked in shock, motionless for a moment, then she realized the position she was in. She drew in a long, shuddering breath, then took a step back, lowering her blade and resheathing it.

  “I am sorry,” she offered hoarsely, almost at the point of shaking. “I have no idea -”

  Falcon’s mouth quirked into a half smile. “I think, with that display, that we have proven beyond a doubt that there is no tender man in your life,” he chuckled.

  “There was none,” Storm found herself saying before she could stop the words from escaping. She flushed, her mouth going dry, lost in the warmth of his gaze.

  He took a step toward her before reining himself in with a visible effort. His eyes held hers with a regretful acceptance. “If I only have a month with you, then it will be enough,” he vowed. “I would not lose one day of it. In the years to come, I will treasure my memory of our time together.”

  Storm forced herself to smile. “Well then, let us get out of these stables and be on our way.”

  In a few moments they had their steeds saddled and were moving side by side through the autumn sun, walking their horses quietly down the lanes and meadows of the village.

  * * *

  A drifting fog whirled playfully across the dawn courtyard, moving among the soldiers with easy grace. Storm danced and blocked through her routine, all watchers fading from her attention as she became caught up in the focus of her actions. Time seemed to suspend as she moved; before she knew it she had done the full sequence twice and was quite worn out. She rolled her shoulders in weary relief. Falcon nodded at her in thanks, then turned to start working individually with his troops.

  Storm ran a hand through her thick hair, drawing it back. A pair of heavy stone benches sat against the encompassing wall, and she walked over to rest. She stretched out her legs with pleasure, then began wiping down her blade with long, steady strokes.

  A soft squealing noise rose up from behind her. Her eyes lit up with curiosity, and she turned to look. A female hunting dog was lying in the shade, five newborn pups nuzzling at her teats. Their small eyes were barely open. She imagined each could fit within her cupped hands.

  “Oh, how precious!” she cooed, dropping to her knees beside the mother.

  A familiar boy’s voice sounded beside her. “Her name is Bethany; she belongs to me,” offered Zach with pride. “She is one of the best hunters in the land, my uncle has said so!”

  Storm smiled up at him while running one hand down the dog’s head, scratching behind her ears. “I am sure the pups will do just as well,” she promised the lad. “Look at how active and alert they are already!”

  A clatter of hoofbeats sounded and Jessica trotted into the center of the courtyard on a proud, high-strung horse of jet black. She slid off the steed, careful to hold her skirts above the dirt of the ground, then tossed the reins at a passing servant. Her eyes swept the area, and her face lit up with delight as she spotted Storm kneeling beside the dog.

  “Oh look! You have found your best friend!” she called out, her eyes flashing with mirth as she slowly moved forward, avoiding a muddy puddle. “Wait, I forget – was the dog your meal for tonight?”

  Zack’s face went white with shock, and Storm patted his arm. “It is what passes for a joke with her,” she reassured the boy under her breath. “Pay her no mind.” More loudly, she responded, “How did your talks go with the suppliers about your French pottery?”

  Jessica’s face turned a flaming shade of crimson, but her mouth froze mid-retort. Her eyes moved up behind Storm, and a smile appeared on her face as if by magic. Instinctively, Storm turned to follow their gaze and found Falcon coming up behind her. He looked down at the pups with a fond smile, then brought his gaze back up to encompass the group.

  Jessica’s voice took on a contrite tone. “I am afraid we have not yet tracke
d down the bill of lading for the pottery,” she admitted tightly. “I will be heading myself to the main shipping office later today, to get to the heart of the matter. I am sorry to say I might be gone for a week or more, if I have to go to the docks or even to France to track down where the paperwork has gotten to.”

  “It is always worth it, to find the truth,” commented Falcon, moving up to stand beside Zack and Storm.

  Jessica’s brow creased, and she spun to head inside.

  Storm cast a long glance at the dog family, lost in thought.

  Chapter 14

  True to her word, Jessica left abruptly after the meal was over, promising to return as soon as she was able to. Storm admitted to herself that she was not sad to see the woman go. It was only moments after her departure that Falcon’s warm eyes had turned to her.

  Storm knew that she should stay away from Falcon, not allow herself to grow fonder of him. But she could not bring herself to refuse his company. It was only for a month, after all. She could allow herself this one month of pleasure.

  They walked side by side to the stables, saddling up their horses together. Falcon moved past her as he reached for his bridle, and his arm brushed hers. She flinched; with effort she reined in the reaction, taking a deep breath. He glanced over at her, his eyes warm, holding still, and she leaned against him, allowing herself to relax before stepping forward and continuing with her task.

  A gentle breeze rustled the leaves on the trees as their horses walked side by side down the quiet lanes. They stopped in to talk with Carol, then moved further down the street to where it turned at the stream. Falcon glanced over at Storm for a moment, then his eyes drifted ahead, his gaze losing focus.

  Contentment eased over Storm as she moved alongside him, simply being with him. They had reached a thick hedge, and she noticed a small, quiet dirt road which wended its way down toward the far edge of the woods. She was intrigued that she had not spotted it before.

  As the pair passed the turn-off, their horses moving at a gentle walk, Storm stopped and gave the reins a slight tug.

  “How about we try that way this afternoon?” she asked with a casual glance down its dusty length.

  She was unprepared for Falcon’s reaction. His face became like marble; he did not even look down the path she had indicated. “No,” he barked. “There is nothing down there.”

  Storm could clearly see the edge of a house’s eaves beyond the trees, but she did not respond, wondering at his sharp reaction.

  Confused, Storm took a deep breath, then prodded her horse to follow him as he continued in silence down the path. She did not bring up the subject of the house again as they rode, and Falcon seemed content to let the quiet follow them back to the keep.

  * * *

  The next morning, Storm was playing with the young pups after the morning workout when Zach came over to stand near her, watching his dog with a troubled eye. His left hand continually strayed to his right arm, scratching at it through his linen shirt.

  Storm watched for a few minutes without commenting, but finally felt compelled to say something. “Did you do something to your arm, Zach?”

  Zach looked down in misery. “I do not dare tell my uncle,” he quietly admitted. “He would most likely whip the hide off of me if he knew.”

  Storm turned to face the boy, taking a gentle hold of his arm. “Come on, let me see,” she insisted. He did not resist as she slid the sleeve up, but to her surprise there was no welt or mark on the skin beyond the scratches Zach had made himself.

  “It had been tingling furiously for a while,” he commented sheepishly, “but now it feels almost numb, and I do not like that at all.”

  Storm immediately released his arm, her eyes flashing to his. “Were you touching a bushy plant? One with tall, violet flowers?”

  At his hesitant nod, she grabbed a hold of his other arm, dragging him toward the stables. “Just what did you think you were doing?” she sighed in exasperation as they rounded the corner of the building.

  Zach did not meet her eyes. “It was those two new soldiers,” he grumbled. “They have been hounding me since they arrived. This time they threw one of Falcon’s boots into the patch. They threatened, if I did not fetch it out, that they would tell Falcon I had stolen it.” He gave a long sigh. “What choice did I have?”

  Storm shook her head. “I will never understand what boys think passes as funny,” she muttered. She drew to a stop beside a half-barrel nearly full of rain water. She plunged her hands into the water, then turned to dig her fingers into the fist-sized jar of wood ash soap which rested on a nearby ledge.

  She nodded at him while she carefully worked the froth between each finger. “Remove all your clothes. Be quick about it.”

  Zach’s mouth opened in shock. “All of them? Now?”

  Storm shook her hands through the water, thoroughly rinsing them. “You have got the oils from the monkshood all over your clothes, no doubt. Unless we get rid of it now, your entire body could soon be absorbing the toxins.”

  Zach blanched at this, then hurriedly began stripping off his items of clothing. Storm did not feel uncomfortable with the lad; she felt as if this was a common scene for her. She wondered if she had younger brothers who she cared for, back home.

  Wherever that might be.

  He left his clothes in a small pile, then clambered into the half-barrel. The water came up over his waist, and she handed him a large metal cup to pour water over himself with. She scooped some of the soap out onto a cloth, presenting it to the lad with a stern look. “Every corner,” she reminded him. “You do not want to leave one speck of that oil behind.”

  A thought came to her. “Which boot style was it, that was in the patch?”

  “It was his one of his dark black boots, the ones with the coiled rim,” responded Zach, scrubbing furiously at his neck. “He rarely wears those; I was able to get it back into place without him noticing.”

  A deep voice came from behind them. “Actually, I did notice,” commented Falcon.

  Zach jumped guiltily, splashing water out from his tub. Falcon smiled, waving for him to continue on with his task. Falcon then looked over to Storm, raising an eyebrow.

  Storm relaxed into a smile. “You might want to send those boots to Mary, who will need to thoroughly clean them along with these clothes,” she advised.

  “Yes, I am quite familiar with monkshood, unlike our young friend here,” agreed Falcon with a chuckle. “Now that I am warned, it will be done this afternoon.”

  “The numbness is beginning to wear off, but now my scratches are all itchy,” moaned Zach in desperation, continuing to scrub. “How long is this going to last?”

  “Here you wanted to not be numb, and now you grouse about having feeling again,” responded Storm with gentle smile. “I imagine it will be back to normal in a few hours.”

  Zach’s face fell. “A few hours?”

  Storm shrugged elaborately. “That will teach you to give in to those bullies the next time around. Come tell one of us, and we will set things right for you instead.”

  Falcon’s brows knit. “Bullies? Do you mean David and Shawn?”

  Zach shifted uncomfortably, but he silently nodded.

  Falcon sighed. “I am trying my best to get those two to learn the ways of our keep, but they are indeed the wild souls my brothers warned me about.”

  Storm looked up in surprise. “Your brothers sent them to you? You mentioned them before – they are at a monastery?”

  Falcon nodded. “Yes, both of my brothers are younger than I am. They were sent to be novices before my father died, for their own safety. The elder of the two took to it immediately, and the youngest dotes on him and would go wherever he did.”

  Storm thought back to her own recent musings about brothers. “Do you get to see them often?”

  Falcon shook his head no. “I have not seen them in many years; their monastery is quite far from here. Between the bandits and their duties … well, they are q
uite content where they are.”

  Storm looked back down at the lad by her side. “What about the two young men?”

  Falcon wearily shook his head, his eyes running down the marks on Zach’s arm. “David and Shawn were orphans who were taken in by the church. Their rambunctious nature did not fit well with the novices, and after a few years it became clear that they were not suited for the clergy. My brothers wrote me and pleaded with me to take them in, to train them as soldiers.”

  His voice became quiet. “My siblings ask so little of me, I could hardly refuse them in this request. I have done my best with the lads, spending time with them, going riding with them. Still, I begin to wonder if their wildness is beyond taming.”

  Falcon looked down into Zach’s eyes. “Whatever their childhood, I will not allow those two to run helter-skelter over the other residents of the keep. If they trouble you again, please come to me.”

  Zach’s eyes fell, and he jutted his lower lip out. “That would probably only make things worse,” he muttered to himself morosely.

  Storm’s eyes lost their focus for a moment. “Well then … perhaps another option …” she mused quietly. With an effort she snapped back to the present. “For your itching, at least, there is something we can do to help you directly.”

  She glanced back at Falcon. “Do you think we could get some oatmeal and a pot of hot water?”

  Zach’s voice trembled with nervousness. “What are you going to do?”

  Falcon looked over the page huddled in the barrel. “I believe she is going to boil the infected skin off your bones,” he offered dryly.

  Zach shrieked in terror, wrapping his arms tightly around him, glancing in panic between the two adults.