Sheltered by the Warrior (Viking Warriors Book 3) (Historical Romance)

by Barbara Phinney

  He followed her, wide-eyed but bowing repeatedly as he left.

  Only then did Stephen exit the hall. He called for his squire and demanded half a dozen men.

  In his private chamber, he wrote out three missives, divided his men into three groups and then gave them strict instructions.

  Money motivated Saxons and Normans alike. And where there was money, there was often a trail of proof as clear as the road to London. One pair of soldiers would go to the seat of Taurin’s holdings. A soldier named Kenneth, promoted to knight for his bravery exposing Taurin’s plans to usurp the king, had been granted the man’s holdings. He may have a ledger proving Rowena’s purchase.

  To London, Stephen sent another group. For if Rowena’s father had purchased back his land from William, there would be a record of it there. And there would be a record of Taurin’s misdeeds, also.

  He paused. Had Gilles sent the courier there for such a reason and, having discovered nothing of use, declined to mention it to Stephen?

  He would find out soon enough.

  The last pair were to go to Rowena’s home. If Althenson had purchased back his land, he’d keep a record of it, regardless of whether he could read the deed or not. And surely someone would know something that could prove Rowena had not lied.

  Did that mean he suspected she had lied? Nay, he told himself fiercely. Common sense told him that Rowena had had no motive to lie before her father arrived. Even if she’d deceived people for sympathy, she hadn’t known Stephen well enough to assume she could garner influence. She didn’t even care a jot for him then.

  Did she care for him now? His heart lurched. Oh, how she must hate him for housing her vile father in the manor and for even being willing to listen to his tale! But she didn’t understand Stephen’s position here. With few soldiers, he needed to tread carefully.

  The guards and missives dispatched, he strode out and down the corridor. His manor had fallen quiet, as if the whole of the estate were holding its breath and waiting. The uneasy feeling crawled over his skin.

  Behind him, Stephen heard men quietly preparing for the night. Abruptly, a thump of something dropped chilled the men into complete silence, before someone dared to shift on a trestle table again.

  Stephen reached the maids’ chamber and he rapped swiftly on the door. A scurry of muffled footfalls could be heard before the door swung open.

  Ellie stood in the open doorway, her expression stricken. “Milord?”

  Stephen stooped and strode inside. ’Twas not proper for him to barge into these women’s private quarters, but Ellie had pulled the door wide open, anyway.

  She was alone. He hadn’t expected the cook’s maid to be there, because she would bake most of the night for the next day’s meals. And the other maid was probably assisting Josane as she saw to Althenson. But Rowena should have been there.

  “Where is Rowena? And her babe?”

  Ellie shook her head. “I don’t know. When I returned a short time ago, she wasn’t here. And her cloak and the babe’s things are also gone.”

  “Did you search the manor for her?”

  “Nay, I had to help prepare a room for Rowena’s father. I only just returned.” She pursed her lips, but looked as though she was bursting to speak.

  He stopped her. “You don’t know where she went?”

  “Nay, milord! I thought she may have gone to the chapel to pray, but I just checked there and ’tis empty!”

  She burst into tears and rushed forward to grab Stephen’s arm. “I fear she is gone for good, milord! She had a terribly sad look on her face in the hall. What have we done to her, milord? What have we done?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rowena hefted Andrew to shift his weight. He was sleeping soundly, probably having been up late playing with Ellie, who loved to dote on him.

  ’Twas just as well, for Rowena needed him silent as she stole from the village. She’d paused as she passed the lane that led to her hut. Nay, there was nothing in it she could use. She’d borrowed a skin of cider and a quarter of cheese from the kitchen without anyone seeing, promising herself silently that once she reached Dunmow Keep, she would ask Lady Ediva to replace them in exchange for Rowena’s working there.

  Dunmow was the only place she could go. Clara would still be there, for she had yet to marry her beloved Kenneth, who had gone to accept his new holdings. Clara had promised Lady Ediva she would stay on as healer until someone suitable, such as their cook, could manage the distribution of the healing herbs.

  Dunmow was to the east, toward where the sun rose, while her birthplace, and Taurin’s estates, were to the west and London to the south. The east was the only place to offer any security.

  The night had chilled further, but as she moved, her own body provided heat for her babe. She hiked up her cloak and tucked the hem in around Andrew. Aye, she could walk that much faster now.

  But soon, her ankle began to ache again. She should have taken a pony, but ’twould have been too hard to slip one from the stables unnoticed. All she could do was walk as far as she could tonight, her feet fueled by churning emotions and her mind forcing away the pain in her ankle. Though she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep when Andrew awoke, she needed to put a great distance between her and Kingstown.

  Away from Stephen. A sob caught in her throat and she nearly choked as she shoved it back down. Aye, she could have stayed to fight her case, but she couldn’t risk her father learning of Andrew. She wasn’t sure what he might do, but she wouldn’t take the chance. He’d sold his own child into slavery. He could easily sell his grandchild. And she could not stand to hear him tell that filthy lie of never selling her, or ever mistreating her.

  She would never go home again!

  Rowena paused and shifted Andrew again, taking time to catch her breath and ease the weight on her ankle. Those few moments in the manor’s great hall returned to her. Stephen had said she was bound to his estate, but he said nothing about wanting her close to him, no mention in his words or hint in his tone of how he felt. Had the kisses they’d shared meant nothing?

  Could it be that he was merely dallying with her until the king ordered him to marry? After all, had Stephen ever told her that he loved her? Nay, and worse, he’d mentioned he knew his duty could lead him to marry someone King William chose for him.

  Aye, though they’d shared kisses and those moments in her hut had been sweet, she’d seen men turn from kind to cruel in the blink of an eye. As much as her heart might yearn for someone who cared for her, she was lucky to get free, she told herself. She might never get the chance again.

  Then why did it hurt to leave him? Why had she not risked seeing Stephen listen to her father, and mayhap believe him? She swallowed, refusing to answer her own questions.

  Moonlight filtered through the trees, and Rowena forced more determination into her limping steps. And she did her best to ignore the ever-tightening ache in her heart.

  * * *

  Stephen ordered the village searched immediately. He wanted more done, but all his men were now employed in other tasks, while his staff were busy searching the manor and outbuildings.

  The anchoress had been awakened, but she could offer no clue to where Rowena went, for she had not even known she was missing. Stephen wanted to ask her so much more, but with Gilles standing beside him, he could not. And Rowena’s immediate safety was far more important.

  ’Twas deep into the night, almost to the point where the east would soon begin its soft glow of dawn, when the last of his staff returned from their searches. Rowena was nowhere in the village, nor in the forest to the north where the palisade was being built and small shelters had been erected to house the foreman and his office. Her hut was also undisturbed.

  Stephen could order some men and horses to the various roads, but he hesitated. They were sorely taxed with half of his guards already dispatched with missives and the other half, minus one on a roaming picket, needing to sleep. He needed his men fresh, for that cur H
undar remained at large, and that sly old fox Althenson was still here. Either could easily rally Saxons to attack. Such was unlikely, but Stephen would not take that chance. ’Twas bad enough that he had been forced to take the guard he’d placed on Althenson.

  “Milord?”

  Now in his office, for he had ordered the remaining soldiers to go to ground in the great hall, he looked up from the table on which he’d spread his maps. The other maid whom Ellie had helped prepare Althenson’s chamber, a girl whose name he couldn’t recall at this moment, stood holding a tray of hot broth and sliced cheese.

  Stephen returned his attention to his maps. “Take it away. I’m not hungry.”

  “Milord, Lady Josane said you must eat. And—” she glanced behind her to the empty doorway “—I think I have something of interest.”

  His head shot up. “What is it?”

  “When I was ordered to bring you this fare, the cook’s maid was telling the cook that a skin of cider and a quarter of cheese were missing. Cook always has her count the provisions each night before she begins her baking, for she fears the guards may slip in and steal food and ale.”

  She was probably right, Stephen thought drily. But ’twas beside the point right now. “Only those two things were stolen? No ale?”

  “Nay.” She hesitated. “I don’t want to place blame, milord, but I saw Rowena leaving the kitchen shortly before the count. And now—”

  She snapped her attention to her left as a noise interrupted her. Immediately, her gaze fell to the floor as she shut her mouth.

  Rowena’s father stood in the open doorway. “Is there something wrong, milord? Can I help?”

  ’Twas too bad he’d taken the man’s guard. He would have stayed out of Stephen’s way. “Nay, return to your pallet. ’Tis of no concern to you.”

  Immediately Stephen could feel the young maid’s strong stare return to his face, as hot and riveting as the sun in July. Her back was to Althenson and ’twas as if she was trying to tell Stephen something without words.

  Althenson took a step forward. “What has happened to my daughter, milord?”

  “Nothing.” Stephen paused. “She has left the manor and I have men out searching for her.”

  The older man came closer. “She has run away? In all her days with me, she never ran away! She loved her home.”

  Stephen felt the hairs on his neck tingle. “’Twas just a farm, wasn’t it? A place of smelly animals and hard work. Did she love animals so much that she’d never want to leave?”

  “Aye, milord. She was always wanting to stay in the barn. We wanted her in the house, but nay, she insisted on staying with the beasts.”

  Stephen’s frown deepened. Was this man saying he had no choice but to relent to his daughter’s childish wishes? His lips pursed. Nay. This was a lie, he was sure. And that part of running away? “Say that again.”

  Althenson looked bewildered. “Say what again, milord?”

  “All the days she was with you, she did not run away?”

  “Aye, milord.”

  ’Twas a slight contradiction to what this man had said earlier. He’d said he’d thought Rowena had run away, but now he saw that she’d been kidnapped by Lord Taurin. In fact, twice he had said she’d run away. He sounded as though he’d never considered she might have done so. “Milord, is it true that she has a child?”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Lady Josane told me, milord.”

  Stephen stared at the man, whose throat bobbed once. The maid nearby hardened her glare. Nay, Stephen told himself. Josane wasn’t given to chattiness with anyone. She may not like the girls under her care, but she would not gossip about them. Besides, she’d caught Stephen’s fierce look when he’d ordered her to see to Althenson’s comfort. She would give as little information as possible, because she would see this man as beneath her station and not worthy of conversation beyond what was barely necessary.

  This man had just lied to him twice in the span of a few breaths. Stephen was sure of it, even without Rowena’s careful observations. He had made a career of reading situations, and if this man was trying to deceive him right now, what else had he lied about?

  The whole fabricated tale of Rowena’s being kidnapped? On the morrow, he was to listen to this man’s sorry story of losing his beloved daughter. ’Twould be full of more lies, he was sure.

  Still feeling the maid’s harsh stare on his face, Stephen took the tray from her and set it on the dais. He quickly dismissed the young woman. He would talk with her later. Right now, he had more important things to do. To Rowena’s father, he snapped, “Return to your pallet. We will speak later.”

  As the man left without an answer to his question, Stephen grimaced and returned to his maps. The men had searched the surrounds. Would Rowena go to the west, to confront the man who’d attacked her?

  Nay, not with Andrew. She would go to where she felt safe—

  “What have you found out?”

  Stephen looked over as his sister swept into the room. “I have discovered that Rowena’s father is not what he seems,” he said tersely.

  Josane rolled her eyes. “I could have told you that!”

  Stephen tipped his head. “Why the sudden turnaround? You looked surprisingly smug when he wanted to present his story.”

  Josane frowned. Stephen knew contrition when he saw it, though ’Twas a surprise to see it on Josane’s face. “’Tis true. I wanted Rowena to be the liar, because she has wrapped you around her finger.” She sighed as if life was easing from her like air from old bellows. “But ’tis wrong to think that way. And watching her father has changed my mind.”

  “How so?”

  “When you left him in my care, he was the one who looked quite smug.” She walked over to the table and tilted her head to peer at the maps. “I gave him a small chamber down the corridor, and when my maid and I returned with a blanket, I noticed the drinking flask I had left was missing. I ordered my maid to search his things whilst I distracted him. She found it tucked in a secret pocket in his cloak. He’s a thief, Stephen.”

  Ah, so that was the other thing the maid had wanted to say, Stephen thought. He should have had her tell him while he had the chance.

  “And,” his sister went on, “he did not once ask to see Rowena. He did not even ask a thing about her. Does that sound like a loving father to you?”

  It appeared Josane had inherited the same reasoning skills as he. But it did not explain how he knew Rowena had a child. “He lied twice to me. First, he said that Rowena had never run away, the opposite of what he’d said earlier. And he said you told him about Andrew. Did you volunteer that information?”

  Josane took Stephen’s cup and poured hot broth into it. As she handed it to him, she lifted her brows haughtily. “Do I look as if I would chat with him?”

  He accepted the cup. “Nay.”

  “Then I did not.” She pursed her lips as she shook her head. “Stephen, I know I warned you about growing soft away from London, but you must forgive me for that. I fear I have not wanted to stay here for a long time, and ’tis making me bitter.”

  “Where do you want to go? London?”

  “Nay. I want to return to Gilles’s estate in Normandy. I am homesick for it. It has been my home for years.”

  Gilles. As Stephen drank, he pondered Udella’s claim about Gilles’s parentage. But ’twas of no import now that Rowena was missing.

  “Why all this fuss over a girl, Stephen?”

  He did not look up from his drink. “Because I pledged to protect her and now she’s gone.”

  Josane took his cup and refilled it. “Well, consider this, Stephen. In Rowena’s eyes, you have failed to protect her. So she has returned to the only place she feels safe. Where did she run to before?”

  “Colchester, but the townsfolk didn’t want her. The only reason she chose that ’twas because a group of merchants were traveling that way.”

  “Think, Stephen. That midwife who came with her t
o settle her here, and who protected her after she came from that area, is the one she’s gone to. She has returned to the woman, not the town.”

  He mulled it over. “Aye, I know where she would go. Where she knows she will be safe.” He called out to his squire, demanding any male servants available to come immediately. A stable boy and the thatcher arrived.

  The thatcher? Stephen grimaced at how someone, Gilles probably, had brought in the villagers to assist in the search. But neither male in front of him was suitable for the task.

  Again, Josane took the cup from his hand. “Go after her, Stephen,” she said softly. “Wherever this place is, ’tis where your heart is now.” She smiled. “You say you only want to protect her because she is bound to your estate, but ’tis not the whole truth, is it?”

  He glared at her. His foul expression rolling off her like water off a duck’s wing, she continued, “And forgive me for not approving of anything you’ve done lately. I have ached for Normandy and for something special in my marriage. Gilles and I have no children, and ’tis only because there is no love between us. Our marriage wasn’t that kind, and I fear it has worsened. Gilles is different now, more secretive and spending far too much time on his work with the Saxons. But you have a chance for happiness.” She paused. “And I...I didn’t want you to have something I didn’t have. ’Twas petty of me to think that way, and I’m sorry for it. And I am sorry for blaming you for Corvin’s death. I’ve thought long of it these last few days, mayhap because the babe has been here and I remember Corvin as a child. I could have also lost you as we lost Corvin. That was not because you did something wrong. Nay, ’twas a Saxon sword that killed him, not you. And the more I thought of that, the more I knew I wanted to go home to Normandy and not face these people anymore.”

  Josane drew a restorative breath. “But that is my life, not yours. So, go, find Rowena. I will manage the manor in your absence.”

  His heart thumped in his chest. “Thank you. And when I come back with Rowena, we will discuss your return to Normandy. Our parents would like to see you again.”