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

by Barbara Phinney

  She sniffled again and he pursed his lips. The only thing he was sure of right this very moment was how he felt. But did he dare risk this softened heart of his, when more danger lay ahead?

  Could he say I love you when he didn’t know how the day would turn out? He spurred the horse back to a canter, and they remained silent all the way into the village.

  When they reached Kingstown, he’d spotted the pair of guards returning from the west, from Taurin’s estate. He ordered them to where he’d left Hundar. When they returned, they were to tell him what they’d discovered on their trip.

  Stephen halted the horse in front of the small church, with its door shut tight and nary a soul around. ’Twas still too early, even for the priest, who rose early to pray and prepare for morning services. But not for long. Dawn was close at hand. “Go into the chapel, Rowena. And do not leave until I come for you.”

  Stephen eased her onto the frosty ground, and looking down at her, he knew his sister had seen the truth in him long before he had. He was truly in love.

  Rowena looked up at him in the waning moonlight, her pale eyes wide. Hurt blossomed there.

  Have I lost your love, Rowena? Oh, how I know so little of it, having shut away my heart for so long.

  And her child, that sweet boy with warm, dark eyes full of watchfulness, that little round nose, and mouth open in constant awe, stared also up at her.

  Regardless, Stephen would protect them both. He wanted to hold them close and keep them there, but the chapel was safer than being with him, considering the task that lay ahead.

  “Where are you going?” she whispered.

  “Hundar has no reason to bear a grudge against you. He was paid. And I intend to confront the person who paid him. Now go into the chapel and stay there.”

  Stephen swung his horse around and looked over his shoulder at the pair watching warily. “And, dear Rowena, pray for me. I have been betrayed and my task is a distasteful one.”

  He spurred on his horse toward the stables. Aye, distasteful and surprising. He’d arrested many a man for conspiring against the crown. He’d fought at Senlac and battled fools who’d tried to assault the king. And although William was a powerful man in his own right, battle-hardened from years of fighting to be the successor to his father, Duke Robert, Stephen was his chief bodyguard and well trained for it.

  Until today, he was one who cared little that he hurt people. He’d long ago reconciled with that warrior side of him. He was a soldier as King David had been, and ’twas all the justification he needed.

  He wasn’t as cold as that anymore. He knew the sin of it.

  But now he was afraid he wasn’t up to the battle that lay ahead.

  * * *

  Rowena watched him ride off, fear gripping her. Not just from what could happen, but also from what had happened back on the road. She’d accepted Stephen’s confession without so much as a blink of the eye. He’d used her for his own gain, just as her father and Taurin had done.

  And it didn’t matter. She not only trusted him, but more. She loved him.

  God in heaven, protect him.

  She pulled hard on the chapel door, for it, like the manor’s main door, opened outward on loud, unwilling hinges. ’Twas for safety, she presumed, for opening the door took effort and an unarmed hand, thus detracting from an easy invasion.

  Andrew wriggled and called out in his usual gibberish, though the tone was fast becoming whiny and hungry.

  “Hush,” she told her son softly, though he ignored her as he squirmed. Having recovered from his ordeal by the campfire and been lulled to sleep on Stephen’s mount for a time, he wanted to be out of the sling and moving around. She wondered if she should let him crawl in the chapel.

  She pulled the door shut behind her. No expensive candles were lit. After feeling her way to the spark box, she opened it, and the draft made the piece of bone glow brighter.

  Putting Andrew on the floor, for she now feared he would reach for things he shouldn’t, she quickly lit the lamp beside the spark box.

  The wick was too short, but the small flame did much to drive away the penetrating darkness. Rowena set down the lamp and sat on the closest pew, leaving its short door open. Feeling a bit uneasy, she only perched on the bench’s edge. Andrew held up his hands. Typical of a child, he’d changed his mind about being free.

  Mayhap he hated the darkness as much as she did. All those years living in the barn, hearing the sounds of vermin and livestock but not seeing them, had taught her to hate a world with only noise. Lamps and torches were too dangerous to be left lit in stables, so she’d endured many black nights.

  Rowena pulled Andrew into her arms, and as she hugged him, she prayed. Then after taking a break, she prayed again. Each time for Stephen’s safety, followed by a plea to teach her to forgive.

  How was it possible to love a man and not forgive him? She truly loved Stephen, yet she knew he could never return that love, nor would he see any reason to disbelieve her lying father’s filthy tale. Stephen had found her only to keep his promise to shelter her, and should that include her return to her family, so be it. No doubt he’d be glad to release her, for she had brought nothing but trouble.

  Lord, help me to understand everything. Help me to forgive. If You can help with unbelief, You can help with unforgiveness.

  Time rolled by, and when Andrew nuzzled her, Rowena fed him. He let out a loud burp before settling down against her bosom. Without any windows, she couldn’t say if dawn had started already.

  Then a harsh scrape ripped through the chapel.

  * * *

  Stephen strode into the manor, finding the expected quiet of the predawn. Only the cook and her maid were up, but already the scents of fresh bread and warming broth had begun to waft through the downstairs. New lights lit the corridor, and he was grateful for them.

  He went straight to his office, stopping only to awaken Gaetan and hand him his sword and dagger and order a light breakfast. He wanted to send a meal to the chapel, but ’twas best that no one know where Rowena was. He would act as if all were normal until he found the proof he sought.

  In his office, he lit the lamp and drew out the financial ledger. Before he opened it, he freed the delicate, embroidered purse he’d confiscated from Hundar and counted the silver coins. A considerable sum, and one not readily available to most men.

  Gaetan returned with the kitchen maid, appearing to hope he would offer good news, but Stephen stayed silent. She served his food, dipped her head and with the squire left quietly.

  Setting the purse with its counted coins aside, Stephen opened the ledger. Comparing it with the coins in his strongbox, he began to pore over the record of the manor’s logistics, half hoping he would not find what he eventually found.

  ’Twas as he suspected. The money to pay Hundar came from within the manor for ’twas the exact amount missing. Silver coins only a manor would have.

  And so, he thought, looking again at the small feminine purse he’d scooped up at Hundar’s feet, ’twas time to force an answer, though his heart ached at the task.

  Nay, Rowena deserved the truth.

  Even from you. Tell her the truth about how you feel. Risk your heart, even though you now know how you’ve sinned.

  He discarded that reminder. Not yet. After locking up his proof, he went straight to Josane’s room. There, after pounding on her door loudly enough to awaken the entire manor, he shifted impatiently. There was only one rush lit upstairs, and it was nearly out.

  Josane’s personal maid opened the door a crack, and Stephen, accepting the invitation boldly, strode into his sister’s chamber.

  She sat up in bed, her braids hanging from her nightcap as she pulled up on her bedclothes. “Stephen! What is it now? You are worse than a child!”

  “I want answers, Josane.”

  “At this hour? What’s wrong? Where is Rowena? Has something happened? Have you been up all night?”

  “Aye. And I find it interesting that you
retired earlier, then bounced out of bed to ask after Rowena, especially since you told me to look for her on a road on which I could easily be ambushed.”

  “What are you talking about?” Josane accepted a cloak from her maid, tossing him a scowl as she pulled the garment over her shoulders. “Of course I told you to search for her. What else could I do? I couldn’t ride out into the night myself, nor could I—”

  “Never mind. I need to know where a quarter of the manor’s coinage has gone to.”

  The maid lit the lamp as Josane fastened her cloak. Both women gasped. “Are you addled? Rowena is missing and you decide ’tis time to count the manor’s silver? If those coins aren’t in the strongbox in your office, I have no idea where they are!”

  “Where is your purse?”

  She looked blankly at him. “My purse? ’Tis with my things. My maid takes them for the night. But ’tis nearly always empty. I’d be a fool to prance around this village with coins jingling.”

  “Where are your keys to the strongbox?” he barked.

  Josane stiffened and he knew she would not crumble under his harsh tone. “I will assume Rowena is safe, for surely you would not be asking this nonsense if she weren’t.” She looked through the dim room to her maid. “Get my belt, my purse and my keys.”

  The maid hesitated. She glanced at Stephen, then at the door, then at her mistress.

  In a sudden, surprising burst, she fled past Stephen and into the hall.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Rowena spun at the harsh noise. The tiny door to the right of the altar scraped open, and still unused to the odd arrangement, she waited, her breath held fast.

  Udella peered out, her own lamp already lit. “Rowena! I thought ’twas too early for our chaplain to come for services.” She looked more intently. “What has brought you here, child?”

  Rowena bit her lip. She had put her faith in Stephen, and so she must also believe in Udella and her sincerity. Or could she? Stephen had said he’d been betrayed. But if he suspected Udella, he wouldn’t have asked Rowena to stay here so close to her. “I ran away tonight, but Stephen found me and brought me here,” she blurted out.

  “Why did he bring you to the chapel?”

  Rowena paused. Stephen must have thought ’twas the safest place. But did that mean he trusted Udella and the chaplain, who would arrive at any moment?

  “I don’t know. We found the man who attacked me, but Stephen said this business was not over yet.”

  “Who was it?”

  “A man from a village west of here. Oh, Udella, ’tis so complicated!” Rowena cried. “Stephen took a purse from the man, but before that, my father arrived here. ’Twas why I ran away, for he’s telling such a tale, I am sure no one will ever believe me! But I didn’t lie! My father sold me to Lord Taurin, and now he’s saying I was kidnapped!”

  “Hush, dear. Start again.”

  Rowena told her the whole set of events, all garbled and backward and upside down, and she could only hope the old woman followed her words. “And then Stephen took the man’s purse and we returned,” she finished.

  “The man had a purse? Was it heavy with coin?”

  Rowena frowned at the anchoress. “Aye. And ’twas not a man’s purse, but a fine lady’s one. Why are you focusing on that? More important, I am sure my father will insist I return with him. I fear Stephen will be tired of all the trouble I have caused. I cannot go back, for my father will probably sell me again, or worse, sell Andrew. That was why I ran away!”

  “Trust in Lord Stephen’s good judgment, Rowena.” The words were comforting, but the tone bore a curious edge to it. Rowena peered at the woman, but in the dimness, with only two small lamps lit, Udella’s expression was hard to read. Was she worried?

  “Rowena, there is something you should know. I didn’t tell you the complete truth with Gilles. He and I spoke—”

  Andrew chose that moment to gurgle and coo and stare at Udella with unabashed interest. Rowena waited for the woman to continue to speak, but tears now streamed down her wrinkled face, and she seemed to choke on her words. Finally, she whispered, “I am such a sinner, Rowena. And look at you, fresh with new faith, trying so hard. And your babe is such a sweet child! Makes me long for when I had—” She stopped, then gripped the wall beneath her small door. “Did you hear that?”

  Rowena spun, straining to hear beyond the dim chapel, but only the sound of her pounding heart reached her ears. “Nay.”

  “I know each sound this estate makes. ’Tis too early for the priest...” Udella gasped, then turned to Rowena, her face a mask of deep concern as she held out her arms. “Quick, Rowena, give me the child.”

  Rowena frowned. “Why?”

  “For his safety. Hurry!”

  She hesitated. Then Andrew perked up, pushing himself to standing as he peered over her shoulder.

  Rowena froze. For far too long she’d lived in a stable and learned to rely on the animals’ keen hearing. Andrew’s youthful hearing was also fine. Taking a fast breath, Rowena surged toward the small door and over to Udella. But still, she could not relinquish her child.

  “Now, Rowena! Trust me. Oh, my dear, not even my own flesh and blood could force me to hurt a babe!”

  Another curious moment. But after kissing him, Rowena quickly handed over her only child. In a single fluid movement, Udella took him and shut the small door as quickly and quietly as she could.

  A noise grated behind Rowena and she pivoted sharply. A draft winked out the lamp.

  Then a sound she’d heard before. The unsheathing of a sword.

  * * *

  Stephen tore after the maid and easily caught her at the end of the narrow corridor, directly in front of Gilles’s chamber. The girl cried out as she struggled, “Master Gilles! Please, help me!”

  Stephen made short work of subduing her. He spun her and pinned her to the floor with one hand, tearing off his belt to bind her wrists with the other. Finally, the maid dropped to the planks and sobbed quietly.

  Footfalls approached and Stephen glanced over his shoulder to see his sister as she hurried close with her lamp. She quickly lit the unlit rush torch nearest Gilles’s door and peered at her brother. “Stephen! Release her!”

  “Nay. She bolted and I want to know why. Do you have your keys?”

  “Aye.” Josane held up her belt, then examined the set dangling there. She gasped. “Nay, not all of them. One is missing.”

  Stephen stood and hauled up the maid by her crooked arm. “I would wager that ’tis the key to my strongbox, isn’t it? And you took your lady’s purse, too. Where is the key? Why did you steal it?”

  The girl hung her head. “’Twas not me, milord. I was ordered to. It came with a promise of safety!”

  “Who ordered you?”

  “Master Gilles! Gilles, my love, come out!”

  Josane gasped. “Nay!”

  Stephen dropped the girl and she threw herself against Gilles’s door. It remained closed.

  Cold anger washed through Stephen and he lifted the latch, but it held fast.

  Lord, ease my temper. I need to be as clearheaded as I am in London.

  As I am in London? Nay, I need wisdom, Lord.

  “’Tis locked from the inside,” Josane whispered.

  “Not for long.” Stephen hauled the girl away and stepped back. He drew up his leg and drove it forward. Splinters flew as the door slammed inward to bang against the wall. Grabbing Josane’s lamp, Stephen marched in over the broken wood. “Gilles!”

  A sniffle reached them from deep in the chamber. Stephen held the lamp forward. Gilles’s young page, a boy of less than eight years, cowered in the corner. “Nay, milord. He is gone,” he whimpered.

  “Where?”

  The boy shrugged.

  “When?”

  “Shortly after you arrived downstairs. I heard you order food and drink. He left then.”

  “How long had he been here?”

  “He came up here only for a moment in order
to take his sword. I was to stay here and open the door only to him.”

  Gilles had been downstairs when he arrived? Stephen had delivered Rowena to the chapel because ’twas the best place for her to hide in a hurry. He’d turned his mount toward the stable and noticed the lights behind the shuttered windows on the manor’s main floor. He’d assumed the cook and her maid to be up, and had found them so. But in the kitchen, not near the shuttered windows. Fresh rush lights had lit the corridor outside his office.

  The cook would never waste the torches. She lit only the kitchen, for she had no need to roam about the manor.

  Gilles had been downstairs... ’Twas wholly possible he’d seen them arrive at the chapel.

  He pivoted to face his sister. “Order a guard to watch your maid, Josane, and I want all others in the hall guarded.”

  “All others?”

  “Aye, especially Rowena’s father. I have not yet dealt with him, but I will.” He grabbed the freshly lit torch and roared down the stairs.

  * * *

  Master Gilles! The breath of time before the lamp winked out gave Rowena a single glimpse of him.

  But it also gave him the same of her.

  Rowena dropped to the wide stones below and crawled past the enclosed front pew before trying to squeeze herself under the next one. She could hear Gilles stride up the aisle. He knew this chapel far better than she did, and when he stopped at the altar and faced right, she guessed he knew exactly where to go.

  She wasn’t able to crawl under the family pew, so she chose the second one. She banged into it, and the sound bounced around the small chapel, betraying her location. She scurried under the next one, then the fourth one.

  The scrape of metal on stone ruptured the tight silence that followed. Another scrape, then another.

  Not knowing where she was, Gilles was plunging his weapon repeatedly under the open pews, hoping to stab her.

  Rowena shuffled back, horrified to find she’d reached the end of the pew. She froze.

  He was only an arm’s length from her as he prepared to step forward and thrust again. Rowena shut her eyes tight.