by B. A. Morton
* * *
Grace watched Miles and Hugh as they caught up on recent events. She hung back, distracted by the endless twittering of the women, and unsure of this charismatic newcomer. She judged him to be about fifty years, perhaps older, though he had the countenance of a much younger man and there was something about him other than his charm and good looks that attracted her. She was curious about him and thankful he’d arrived when he did, for without his men they would not have made good their escape.
She watched him covertly from beneath lowered lashes as she broke from the women and circulated the hall checking on the children and congratulating the fighters. She was mortified when he caught her glance and smiled slowly at her. She turned her back, tried to look busy and disinterested but when she turned again he raised his drink and nodded in her direction. Damn the man, he was as bad as Miles.
She turned her attention to the rest of the room, searching for Linus and was surprised to see him perched not on John’s knee, but that of one of Hugh’s knights. The child’s face was lit with delight as the man regaled him with a tale of sorts. She saw humour on the man’s tired face and great tenderness in his eyes as he gazed at the child. John stood behind and placed a hand briefly on his shoulder, causing him to turn and receive the slightest of nods, an unspoken word. With a quick glance in Grace’s direction, he handed back the child, almost reverently, and returned to his comrades, gathering admiring glances from the unattached ladies. He had a ready smile for each but managed to resume his seat at the table with the rest of the men without offending the ladies too greatly.
Momentarily distracted by the notion that she had witnessed something she was not meant to see. Grace threw off her curiosity with a smile. These knights certainly had a way about them.
Fly approached her then, tired from playing with the children, his belly full with scraps from the table. He wagged his tail and wiggled at her feet, tongue lolling as puppy tongues are prone to do. She bent and picked him up. It had been some time since she’d been honoured with his presence. He was in demand here at Wildewood such was his cheerful disposition and his uncanny record for catching rabbits. She buried her face in his rough coat and sighed.
“We’re a long way from home, puppy,” she whispered against him and she felt his tail thud against her. “How will we ever leave this behind?”
The wagging increased dramatically and she looked up to see Miles approaching. “Traitor,” she muttered to the dog.
“Come join us, Grace, I would like you to meet Hugh.” He reached out a hand and tucked her fringe behind her ear. “You look deep in thought...”
Grace smiled at him. She had lots to think about. She reached out and took his hand, glad that they were together again, amidst the noise and crush of the celebration. But unsettled by the sudden invasion of Miles’ other life—the life she had inadvertently become a part of.
“Do I have to?”
He returned her smile. “Like you, I would like nothing better than to escape this melee and seek the privacy of our own chamber, but I think we must await our reward a little longer.”
Grace shrugged. She felt helpless. She sensed a shift in what had become normal in this strange situation, and sought to restore the balance.
“Who is the charming knight who is enchanting all the young ladies?” she asked as she cast her eye toward the gathering of men.
Miles followed her gaze and chuckled. “Thomas of Blackmore, a reluctant Templar...a far bigger rogue than I, but a good loyal friend.”
“He seems to have taken a shine to Linus, and the child to him,” commented Grace.
“Indeed.” Miles shrugged off her interest. His gaze flicked briefly between Thomas and John. “Thomas has that effect on most people. I shall have to keep him away lest he steal you from under my nose.”
Grace raised a brow. “I’m not that easily stolen...”
“Oh, I don’t know, I didn’t have too much trouble.” His accompanying grin saved him as he added quickly, “Enough of Thomas, come meet Hugh.”
“I’ve already met him, remember,” she replied, the memory of his attack still clear in her mind.
Miles grinned, “He thought you were going to kill me.”
“Well, if I had, you’d have only yourself to blame. I learned everything I know about killing from you.” She glanced down at her clothes. She couldn’t sit at the table dressed as one of the devils army, although no one else seemed at all bothered about getting out of their armour. “I need to change first. My rabbit skin stole, although rather fetching is beginning to smell.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Go then, but make haste, Hugh is waiting to speak with you.”
Grace stretched out her arms to the sides and looked at him helplessly. “I think I may need some help. John fastened me into this and I’ve no idea how to get out.”
“That’s why knights have squires.” He sidled closer and gave a crooked smile. “Shall I be your squire this evening, Lady Grace?” Taking her hand he escorted her across the hall and up the stairs to her chamber, unaware that their progress was being watched. From his seat below in the great hall Hugh gave no hint to his thoughts.
* * *
“You were stunning today, Grace, absolutely stunning.” Miles breathed against her ear, as he unbuckled her breast plate
“And I could be equally stunning tonight if you have the will.” She smiled at him with the merest hint of mischief.
“My will is without question.” Miles gave an answering grin. He was high on adrenalin and in the mood to play despite his wounds. He helped her to pull the aketon over her head and added it to the pile of rank smelling armour on the floor.
“Well, they say where there’s a will there’s a way.” Grace teased him.
“Now...?” Miles voice whispered gruffly in her ear. No one would notice if they didn’t go straight back down to the hall. He ran his hand down her bare arm
“Miles you have guests.” Grace raised a brow in mock horror at his suggestion.
“And they will understand. They are men.” It had started in jest, but now he found that it was not, and he wanted her more than anything. He wished they were alone, but they were not and he wondered how long he would need to play the dutiful host before retiring.
Grace squeezed his hand, “The best things are always worth waiting for.”
And don’t I know it, thought Miles as he watched her strip down to her underwear and wash with a cloth soaked in the warm water left out by Martha. The water ran down her neck and he watched as it slipped between her breasts.
“Is this going to take long,” he asked...hopefully.
She threw the wash cloth at him “Your turn, you smell of....”
“Piss and shit, I know,” he replied “The hazards of hanging around in dungeons.”
“You have such a romantic turn of phrase,” muttered Grace.
It took a little longer to get ready than if she had been left alone to dress, but not long enough according to Miles who felt he needed a little more practice in the art of lacing or more specifically un-lacing ladies undergarments.
Chapter Forty One
Unaware of Hugh’s calculating gaze, Miles and Grace descended the stairs together. They had succumbed to distraction and kept their guests waiting much longer than intended. Dawn was fast approaching. The celebrations had mellowed. The men were stated and those not already sleeping, listened as Tom Pandy played a final haunting melody on the pipes.
“My lady,” Hugh said as he rose slightly, took Grace’s hand and brushed his lips across her skin.
Miles grinned as he placed an arm loosely around Grace and leaned past her toward Hugh. “Hugh, finally I can introduce you formally to my guest, Lady Grace from Kirk Knowe. Grace this is Hugh de Reynard my good friend and mentor.”
Grace gave a cautious smile.
“So, is this the diminutive Saracen warrior whom I almost beheaded at Ahlborett? Or the niece that slipped my mind?” Hugh’s voice rumbled pleas
antly from deep within.
“Neither I’m afraid. I’m just Grace; a little prone to dramatics when the need arises, Miles will no doubt agree.”
“You make for a convincing Saracen.”
“I can play a part when required,” she replied. The look they shared was one of mutual curiosity.
“I can imagine.” He gave a slight shrug as if casting off some puzzling thought and bestowed her with a charming smile. “I must apologise for almost taking your life, Grace, but the lad here looked like he needed my help. He’s prone to getting himself into scrapes which require the intervention of others. I can see now, however, you had everything in hand and I need not have concerned myself as to his safety.”
He turned to Miles with a slow smile, “Miles, the plan with the armour and horses was masterly. If you’d seen them hurtling out of the night you’d have believed the very gates of hell had opened. The painting of the horses was quite unique, I may borrow that idea myself sometime.”
Miles caught Grace’s hand and squeezed it gently. “It is not only horses that Grace paints, she is an exceptional artist.”
“So I understand,” replied Hugh. “Why even the king himself has learned of your skills.”
Miles spotted the familiar frisson of discomfort in Grace’s expression, the quickly downcast eyes, the hand straying to her hair, and felt an unwelcome churning in his gut. Once again secrets lay between them. He didn’t want this tonight. Tonight was about celebrating victories not harbouring doubts and suspicions. In an effort to divert the conversation away from Grace he turned back to Hugh.
“How did you know to come to our aid?”
“Mayflower...”
“He sought you out?”
Hugh shook his head. “Not entirely, Inspired by your good lady he was enroute to deliver a message to the king. I intercepted him.”
“So, the message is not yet delivered?” asked Grace. She glanced at Miles who merely shrugged his confusion. “What about the treasure and Gerard? How can Miles expect to retain Wildewood if our ace card has not been played?”
Hugh smiled at her and his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “Fear not, my lady, Gerard will keep and the treasure is in safe hands.”
“Whose safe hands?” she muttered, as she moved closer to Miles.
“Where is Gerard?” asked Miles, confused by her unwarranted suspicion and at pains to diffuse it. “Guy said he’d gone to meet the king.”
“Everyone wants to meet the king,” sighed Hugh. He took a long drink and set down his flagon. “The king is a busy man and although the plan was astonishingly ingenious,” he turned to Grace. “Your idea I believe.”
Grace shrugged. “Not entirely.”
“Hmm, well from long experience of dealing with more than one king, I have found it unwise to be so...honest.”
“What do you mean, Hugh? Would you rather we deceived the king? Personally, I value my head more than the treasure.”
“No, I do not recommend deceit, Miles, merely an economics of the truth.” Miles stared at him bewildered, Grace with continued suspicion. Hugh gestured them closer.
“What did you hope to achieve with your plan to expose Gerard’s greed to the king?”
“Gerard’s compliance with the king’s decree, giving title of Wildewood, to me,”
“And what of Guy and his predilection for perversion,” asked Hugh.
“The king does not need to concern himself with Guy, I will finish that myself,” stated Miles vehemently.
“I don’t doubt it, Miles, and therein lies the answer and the reason why I intercepted your message.”
“I don’t understand,” said Grace, swinging her gaze between the two men.
Hugh raised a brow at Miles. “Perhaps this would be better discussed later, in private.”
Miles gave a quick shake of his head. “You may speak freely, Hugh. Grace is one of us. She has earned her place at this table.” He reached for her hand again and held it firmly.
“Very well, after talking with Mayflower, this is what I surmised.” Hugh settled back in his seat leaving Miles and Grace to lean close to hear what he had to say.
“Gerard used Guy to accumulate funds and Guy used Gerard’s need of funds to feed his own urges, both for the murder of good knights and the growth of his bizarre collection. They use each other but the only thing they have in common is you, Miles. Gerard wants you off his land and Guy wants you dead.” He paused to consider Miles.
“You’re a popular young man, Miles and not just with the ladies. You have two men fighting to get at you. However, if you inform the king about the treasure then you may cause the wrath of the king to fall on Gerard, albeit it would be temporary, for the de Frouville’s are powerful barons and the king relies upon their ward-ship of this land. So, you would make a mortal enemy and gain nothing.”
“I would gain Wildewood,” stated Miles.
“You already have Wildewood, Miles. The king has decreed it. What you need, is to remain here unhindered by your neighbour, and that will never happen if you betray him to the king.”
“What are you saying?”
“Gerard needs additional funds to protect his land from the Scots, but does not wish the king to know of his financial predicament. If he is allowed to retain those funds without the king’s knowledge then he will forgo his claim on Wildewood and leave you in peace.”
“But why would I make peace with the man who killed my mother?”
Hugh winced and shook his head. “Because it is imperative you remain at Wildewood, Miles. Things are beginning to happen, to change. This period of relative calm with the Scots will not last forever. Gerard will vehemently defend the border on behalf of the king and so he should, but without you and your affinity with the clansmen we will have no lines of communication and the country will be forced into bloody conflict. You speak of your mother, of defending her honour, but, Miles, apart from you this place is all that is left of your mother. She would not want you to do anything in order to retain it. She would want you to do what is right.”
“And you believe this pact with Gerard is right?”
“I do.”
“What if Gerard does not agree?”
“I have already spoken with him, he is in full agreement.”
“You spoke with him without first discussing with me?” Miles frowned, unsure now as to Hugh’s motives.
“I took an opportunity to broker peace and avert disaster.”
“And if he reneges?” asked Miles.
“He will not renege. Who do you think sent me to Ahlborett this night? He put his own men at risk in order to facilitate your escape.”
“In order to salvage his position, more like,” muttered Miles. He looked from Hugh to Grace. He needed time to think. He was not entirely sure he could put the future stability of Wildewood before his need for revenge against Gerard. He was surprised Hugh had orchestrated this, dismayed by what appeared to be his lack of regard for his mother’s memory.
“You obviously do not hold my mother’s memory as dear as I, Hugh,” stated Miles coldly.
“You have no notion of what I hold dear, Miles,” replied Hugh with equal chill and the men considered each other in silence for a moment.
Grace shuffled uncomfortably. Both men were silently squaring up and the atmosphere becoming charged.
“And what of Guy?” she asked in an effort to break the deadlock.
Hugh visibly let out a breath and turned to her with a tight smile. “The evidence against Guy is here now at Wildewood, on the backs of your own men, scattered on the floor of your chamber, my lady. If you declare it now to the king then you may condemn Guy but you will also shatter the myth of the Wildewood Horde and I fancy you will have need of it again.”
“And so what of Guy, is he also to escape justice?”
“That is a matter of honour between Miles and Guy. You do not need the king for justice to be done.”
“So, you will allow me to finish Guy, but I must
forgo my revenge on Gerard?” muttered Miles. He reached for his drink, drained it in one and slammed down the flagon with irritation.
Hugh shook his head with frustration. “Miles this is not about you, it’s about doing what is right for the majority of those who have been, or will be affected by your actions. You are a good man, Miles, when you have time to consider this you will agree that a truce with Gerard is currently advantageous to all concerned. Guy is expendable, do as you wish with him."
Hugh rose and pushed away from the table. “Please excuse me, I am not as young as I like to imagine and I am weary.” He turned to Grace with a wry smile, “Perhaps, Grace, you could show me where I may rest and I’ll leave Miles to deliberate on the situation.”
“Of course,” replied Grace uncertainly. She looked at Miles who shrugged and pulled himself to his feet reluctantly.
“Martha has prepared the guest chamber, Hugh. Grace will show you the way,” He nodded at her raised brow. “Hugh, don’t think I’m not grateful for your intervention, I know you mean well and your motives are honourable but it is not easy for me to align with Gerard, we may be linked by blood but that is where the similarity ends.”
Hugh considered him in silence a moment before nodding curtly and following Grace from the hall.
* * *
Allowing him to take her arm as they mounted the stone stairs, Grace paused at the top to look down on those gathered below. There had been much merriment throughout the evening and it was good to see the hall filled and being used as it should. Miles however sat alone as he had been left; pensive he gazed unseeing across the room. She knew he was obsessing about his feud with Gerard and it would do him no good. Hugh interrupted her thoughts.
“What do you think, Grace, about all of this trouble with Gerard and Guy? Would you not rather have Wildewood at peace?”
Grace looked at him, “It’s really nothing to do with me,” she answered carefully, aware that anything she said was for some reason of great interest to this man.