Winter's Flame (Seasons of Fortitude Series Book 4)

by Elizabeth Rose

  Her skin was as white as snow instead of browned from the sun like most of the lower class. Her long, black hair was tied up in a knot atop her head with a few stray pieces falling, framing her oval face. It took all his control not to reach out and push away the strand that touched her delicate, pink lips.

  With her chin lifted high, she almost seemed to look down her long nose in a regal manner. She held the composure of a noblewoman even though her face was dirty and her clothes covered in soot. When her emerald green eyes met his and their hands brushed against each other mere seconds ago, he felt excitement surge through his body. Aye, he wanted her.

  As angry as he was, the girl seemed confident the sword could still be crafted in a timely manner. Did he really have a choice in the matter? Sure, he could kill the blacksmith’s son and the blacksmith, too, but he still wouldn’t have a sword. This man was said to be the best in the land although, by what he was witnessing, he was starting to have his doubts. With the former Lord Ravenscar dead, there was no way to collect on the deal they’d made now. He was about to take his steel and leave when another idea came to mind. It might just work.

  “Will you give him more time?” asked the girl named Winnie. Her voice was like the sweet song of meadowlarks as the raging flames of the fire rose up illuminating her body from behind. Such a delicate flower amongst the ashes. She spoke in a proper manner and, as far as he could tell, she still had all her teeth. When their hands touched earlier, he swore he smelled rosewater drifting from her body. He must have been mistaken. Most wenches smelled like ale and sweat. This girl was like an angel amongst the flames of hell. She intrigued him like no other.

  “Please, my lord,” begged the blacksmith. “Give me another chance. And please don’t hurt my son.”

  “You seem to care much about your children,” he said, still staring at the man’s daughter.

  “I do,” he said. “I’d do anything – anything at all. Just name it.”

  “I will,” said Martin, reaching one hand up to stroke his chin in thought. “You’ll come with me, back to my castle to forge my sword.”

  He saw the girl’s bright green eyes light up in surprise.

  “That’s impossible,” she answered with no emotion at all in her voice. She was very controlled.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because this is Wal – my father’s home,” she said. Her eyes shot over to the blacksmith and then back to him. “This is where he works. Everything he needs is here.”

  “I have a smithy at Castle Heaton that is much nicer than this hole in the wall,” he told her. “I also have the most expensive equipment and everything a blacksmith could ever need.”

  “If I come with you, will you release my son?” asked Wallace.

  “I’ll release him when the job is finished and not before,” he told him.

  “Do you promise not to hurt Josef?” asked the man’s daughter.

  He chuckled and reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. “You are very bold for a wench,” he said. “But you needn’t worry about the boy because you’ll be there with your father to witness the fact I will treat him fairly.”

  “Me?” she gasped and pulled away. His hand dropped to his side.

  “Blacksmith, you told me you needed your daughter to assist you.”

  “I – I do, my lord. But she cannot come with us to your castle. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Why not?” Martin turned to see the fear in the blacksmith’s eyes. “She comes along, or you’ll both stay here, and the deal is off.”

  “What about Josef?” asked the girl. “Will you return him if we don’t go back to your castle with you?”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Josef was assurance that I’d get my sword. No sword, no Josef. It’s as simple as that. If you two don’t accompany me back to Northumberland, Josef will stay at Castle Heaton forever and you’ll never see him again.”

  “I’ll go,” said Winter, having no choice in the matter. Wallace would never be able to make the sword without her. Lord de Grey could end up killing both Wallace and Josef for all she knew. She couldn’t let anything happen to either of them. Josef had to come home. If he didn’t, Wallace would be so heartbroken; he might just die.

  Nay, this was the right decision she convinced herself.

  “Good,” said Lord de Grey, turning and heading for the door. “Pack whatever you’ll need onto a cart and meet me at the docks in an hour.”

  “That soon?” asked Wallace in surprise.

  “I am anxious to collect on the debt,” he said, once again raking his eyes down Winter’s body. “Don’t make me wait, because I am not a patient man. I’ll leave my squire here to help you. Now, hurry!”

  As soon as he left the room, Wallace ran over to Winter.

  “Lady Winter,” he said, taking her hands in his. “I appreciate everything, but I can’t let you do this.”

  “Nonsense,” she said, untying her apron. “It is the only way to get Josef. We’ll go with Lord de Grey, make his sword, and come back with your son in a few weeks.”

  “What will Lord Ravenscar say?”

  “I’m sure we’ll be back before he returns from his trip. Don’t worry.”

  “At least tell Lord de Grey you’re a lady and not my daughter,” he begged.

  “Nay,” she said, starting to douse the fire of the forge, dumping water on it. It hissed and smoke filled the room, causing her to cough. “If he knows who I am, I won’t be allowed in the forge to help you. With your poor eyesight, you know as well as I do that you’ll never get the sword completed.”

  “Perhaps he’ll let Josef help me.”

  Putting down the bucket, she picked up a few tools to bring with them, loading the items into a long, wooden carrier with a handle. “You said yourself that Josef never learned the skill as good as me because his heart isn’t in it. I want to do this, Wallace.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you see? It is a dream of a lifetime to work with Damascus steel. I might never have the chance again. The idea excites me. I don’t mind the charade since I’ll get to do something I’ve always wanted to do.”

  “Just tell Lord de Grey the truth, I beg you. Mayhap, he’ll still allow you in the forge.”

  “You heard him when he first entered the smithy. He said a forge was no place for a wench. Do you really think he’d allow me to work if he knew I was a lady?”

  “Nay, I suppose not.” Wallace shook his head despairingly. “But this could be dangerous, my lady.”

  “That’s even more reason why I want to go along,” she said with a smile. The fact that she wouldn’t be allowed to do something like this made her want to do it all the more.

  “What are you going to tell your guard?” asked Wallace, nodding toward the door.

  “Oh,” she said, having forgotten all about that. “We’ll have to cause a distraction or perhaps send him away. Just long enough for us to get packed up and to the docks.”

  “What do you suggest?” asked Wallace.

  “Hmm,” she said, noticing the guard still looking at the whores. She pulled a few coins from the pouch hanging at her side and handed them to Wallace. “Sneak out the back. Give these coins to the whores and tell them to keep the guard busy for at least an hour.”

  “How do you know he’ll leave his post?” asked Wallace.

  “I’ll tell him I’m tired and will be taking a nap in the back room. That should work.”

  “If you’re sure, Lady Winter.”

  “You mustn’t call me Lady Winter. Call me Winnie, like you did when I was a child. We can’t slip up around Lord de Grey.”

  Giving the man a gentle push, she sent him toward the back door. “Also, ask the whores to tell the guard when they’re finished that I am safe and he doesn’t need to come looking for me. I’ll be back in a few weeks’ time. Tell them to let him know you are with me and that we are visiting another castle at the request of the lord. That should be enough to keep him from sending a search party
after me. We’ll just have to be sure we’re back in Ravenscar by the time my sister and her new husband return because I don’t think they’d agree with my decision.”

  Chapter 5

  It didn’t take long for Winter and Wallace to get to the docks. They had the wagon loaded down with tools they would need as well as a trunk with some of the late blacksmith’s wife’s clothes and some extra things for Wallace. Excitement, as well as a little fear, filled Winter. The squire stopped the horse-drawn wagon at the pier.

  De Grey’s ship was docked alongside several smaller ships that belonged to tradesmen, merchants, and fishermen. His was a huge ship – large enough that the man had brought his horses with him! A dockhand led the lord’s steed up the gangplank.

  “We’d better hurry,” said the squire named Rock, hopping off the bench of the cart. He held out his arms to help Winter, but she jumped down by herself. “Lord de Grey is not a patient man.”

  “So, I’ve noticed,” she said, still eying up the ship. It was a flat-bottom cog with lapstrake planking on the sides. One thick mast rose up from the center of the ship that had one large square sail. At the top of the mast, flew the lord’s flag with colors of black and gold.

  A falcon swooped down from the sky, landing on the sidewall of the wagon.

  “Well, hello there,” she said, loving animals of any kind. “Can I pet you?” She reached out to pet the bird, but a long arm shot over her shoulder and fingers clamped around her wrist to stop her. She looked back to find Lord de Grey – though she hadn’t even seen him approach.

  “Andromeda doesn’t like strangers,” he told her. “She might bite.”

  “I’ll attest to that,” commented the squire, helping Wallace haul the things out of the back of the wagon. “I tried the same thing once, and she left her calling card.” He held up a hand to show the tip of one of his fingers shorter than it should be.

  “Oh. Thank you,” she said, her eyes traveling upward to look into the deep blue orbs of Lord de Grey. Out in the daylight and up so close she could see his features very well. His shoulder-length ebony hair lifted in the breeze. A light coating of stubble covered his jaw. She stood so close that she could even see the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He looked to be close to ten years older than her age of eighteen.

  No matter his age, his sculpted face was very handsome. That is, except for the irritation she detected in his gaze.

  “Rock, get their things aboard the ship and tell my captain we set sail in five minutes.”

  “Aye, my lord.” His squire hauled their things down the pier with Wallace helping him.

  “We’ll need to get the horse and cart back to town,” said Winter. “We borrowed it from the undertaker.”

  “I’ll have the dockhand take it.” He finally released her wrist. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he wanted to touch her. A part of her told her to be repelled, but she actually enjoyed it. It wasn’t every day a handsome lord stood so close with his hand around her wrist.

  “Wait, dinna leave!” came a shout as another horse-drawn wagon pulled up, driven by the castle’s stableboy. Next to him on the seat was the old healer.

  “Nairnie,” she said under her breath. She’d almost forgotten about her. There was no way Winter would be able to go with Lord de Grey now. Nairnie wouldn’t let her leave and would most likely reveal to Lord de Grey her true identity as well.

  “Do you know her?” asked Martin.

  “She’s the healer from the castle. I’ll see what she wants.” Winter rushed over to the newcomers before Lord de Grey could stop her. Meeting Nairnie as she dismounted the cart, Winter glanced over her shoulder quickly and then spoke in a hushed whisper. “Nairnie what are you doing here?”

  “I ken ye’re goin’ with him,” said Nairnie, nodding toward Martin with a look of disgust on her face.

  “What are you talking about?” Winter tried to maintain an act of innocence, but Nairnie saw right through it.

  “Dinna act naïve with me, lassie. I had a vision and that’s why I hurried down to the docks.”

  “You can’t stop me, Nairnie. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to go with Wallace to Castle Heaton. I have to help him so he can get his son back.”

  “I ken that.” She looked over to the stableboy. “Bring that trunk to the ship immediately,” she commanded. Then she turned back to Winter. “I’m goin’ with ye.”

  Winter’s eyes opened wide. The last thing she wanted was Nairnie tagging along. She would make the trip unbearable.

  “Nay, you can’t come with us,” she said. “And what is in that trunk?”

  “I’ve packed up some of yer things, lassie.”

  “Nairnie, nay!” Her words came out louder than she intended. Once more, she glanced back at Lord de Grey. He was preoccupied, talking to his pet falcon that was on his arm now. “I can’t wear the clothes of a noblewoman,” she said in a soft voice. “Lord de Grey thinks I’m Wallace’s daughter.”

  “What? Why would he think that?” Nairnie squinted an eye. “Ye lied to get him to take ye with him, didna ye?”

  “He’s the one who assumed I was Wallace’s daughter since I was wearing the clothes of a commoner and working the forge. And it was his idea I go with him, not mine.”

  “What did he say when ye told him ye are a lady?” Nairnie stared her down.

  “Oh, all right,” she admitted with a sigh. “I didn’t correct him. But I swear I only did it to help Wallace. It’s very important we keep up the ploy. If Lord de Grey knows who I really am, he’ll make me stay here and Wallace will be doomed. The blacksmith needs me to help him make the sword.”

  “Makin’ swords is the man’s trade. If I’m no’ mistaken, he was the one to teach ye everythin’ ye ken about the forge in the first place.”

  “Aye, that’s true. But he’s losing his sight, Nairnie. He can’t tell the difference between a nail and a punch unless he’s holding it right up to his face. Lord de Grey has his son, and it’s the only way to get him back.”

  “I dinna like this. What will Lord Ravenscar say? Or what about yer brathairs?”

  Winter hadn’t thought about what her brothers might do if they found out she was posing as a commoner and traveling to a warlord’s castle. It wouldn’t fare well for her or Wallace if they found out. “We will have to make sure they don’t find out a thing until after I’ve returned.”

  “Winter. Ye are more trouble than all three of yer sisters wrapped in one.”

  “Oh, Nairnie, please don’t say anything.” She noticed Lord de Grey walking over to them. His bird was still on his arm. “Please.” Winter wanted desperately to do this, and the only person who could stop her now was an old woman with a stare so intense it was sending a wave of fear up her spine.

  “Winnie, get on the ship. We’re about to leave,” said Martin, getting a snort from Nairnie. “You, too, Andromeda.” He flicked his arm, and the bird flew up into the air.

  “Yes, my lord.” Winter turned and walked with Martin toward the ship. By the sound of the shuffling from behind her, she didn’t need to look to know that Nairnie followed.

  “She’s no’ goin’ anywhere without me,” said Nairnie, waddling along on her short legs, trying to keep up with them. Martin stopped and dragged a hand through his hair, turning to talk to Nairnie.

  “Who are you, old woman?”

  “I’m Nairnie. I’m a healer and midwife.”

  “Go back to the castle and leave us alone.” He touched his head again.

  “Ye need me, my lord.”

  “I have a healer back at my castle and I’m certainly not in need of a midwife. Now leave before I make you go.”

  “Ye have a headache, dinna ye?” she asked.

  He looked up in surprise. “How did you know?”

  “Nairnie also has visions,” Winter informed him. “She can see things before they happen and she is never wrong.”

  “Hardly ever wrong,” Nairnie corrected her. “After all, I cheate
d death just recently.”

  “Can you see things – like the outcome of a battle?” asked Martin.

  “Possibly,” answered Nairnie.

  “What about having visions of the best time to attack an enemy?”

  “Ye’re givin’ yerself a headache with all yer worryin’,” scolded Nairnie, digging into her bag and retrieving a small vial. She popped the cork and held it up. “Ye need some of this spread on yer temples and yer headache will go away.”

  Martin did have a headache and wanted to get back to Northumberland as quickly as possible. The old woman intrigued him, but she looked to be more trouble than she was worth. However, if she had visions, perhaps she’d be able to tell him what to do to go up against the Dunbars and win. Then again, she was Scottish, and might not help him. He loathed the idea of taking a Scot with him and felt confused and unable to decide with the infernal pounding in his brain.

  “What is in that vial?” he asked, not really caring, just stalling until he decided what to do with the old lady.

  “It’s peppermint oil,” she told him. “Rub some on yer temples, and ye’ll see what I mean.”

  “Nay, I don’t have time for this.” He pushed it back, but the girl reached out and took the vial from her.

  “I’ll do it,” she said with a sigh. She dribbled some of the oil over the tips of her fingers and handed the vial back to Nairnie. After spreading it in her hands, she reached up and touched his head. Making small, sensual circles on his temples with her fingertips, he felt immensely comforted. His eyes closed at the touch of her soft skin against his. This felt good.

  “Breathe in the scent,” she said in her melodic voice. He took a deep breath, feeling better already. His senses started reeling and, before he knew it, something else started to happen as well. He felt himself growing under his belt at her gentle and sensual touch. His eyes popped open and his hand covered hers, trapping it against the side of his head. Looking deeply into her green pools of seduction, he found himself lost and also feeling very randy.