Believing Your Eyes - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 3)

by Lisa Shea

  “Oh, Nicole has been injured,” she murmured with bright eyes. “It is all too shocking. She tripped over a root in the gardens, and look at her arm!”

  Lucia peered through the crowd. A bandage was carefully wrapped around her right forearm, perhaps two inches in width.

  Anna turned to Lucia. “Stephen was called right away, and he wrapped it up,” she explained. “Nicole insisted on his help, after seeing how quickly he healed you from the poison.”

  Nicole’s high voice carried over the murmurs of the women. “I hope it does not scar me! I could not live if I were scarred!” The women immediately fluttered around her, soothing her.

  Anna sat back in her chair with relaxed contentment. “I am sure it will heal perfectly,” she promised. “Stephen is the best at these things.”

  Lucia looked down. She remembered all too clearly his dark eyes at her side, the way he had tended to her all through that long week. She could still feel the warmth of his hand …

  Anna chuckled. “Although apparently the man is not much for conversation.”

  Lucia looked up at that in surprise. Stephen’s conversations had enveloped her with hope, had filled her long hours with comfort.

  “Why do you say that?”

  She shrugged. “I ask him what he thinks about my beautiful dresses for the wedding, and he says nothing. I ask him when he plans for us to move south to Kendal, and it is as if he did not hear me. I swear, getting the man to say two words in a row can be a challenge.”

  A shadow settled over Lucia’s heart. He had been so open, so warm, and now …

  “You deserve a man who will be fully honest with you,” she muttered. “We all do.”

  * * *

  Marcus nodded in appreciation as she stood a distance from the target and carefully sent her third arrow in between the other two. “You certainly are healing up well,” he praised.

  She nocked another arrow against the string. “One day at a time,” she responded. “I will take it slow and steady. I would not want anything else to delay my departure.”

  Marcus’ mouth tweaked into a grin. “You might miss all the excitement then,” he teased.

  Lucia sent her arrow flying. It thunked into the hay bale alongside its brothers. “Oh?”

  He nodded his head. “It seems someone must have questioned Stephen’s honor, and I do not think I have ever seen him so angry. The heat in his eyes, it is something to see.” His grin widened. “I sense a fight coming.”

  The tension in Lucia’s chest darkened and roiled. He deserved it. It was time he felt some of the torment she lived with each hour.

  “I will have to ask Anna, and see what she has heard,” she commented. Her lips twisted in a smile. This little communication chain could be used in both directions. “I hear she appreciates it when people share their honest thoughts with her.”

  * * *

  Anna turned to her with wide eyes. “Can you believe it? Stephen had a long talk with me last night.”

  “Oh?” asked Lucia, keeping her voice even. She stared down at the elaborate needlework she was finishing on Ian’s scabbard. She found it gaudy and bright, but Anna had insisted that it was exactly what he had wanted.

  “Yes, on all sorts of topics. For example, he actually would like some blue color in our wedding gathering!”

  Lucia kept her eyes lowered. “And what did you say?”

  Anna nudged her head toward the window. “The women are dyeing it now, in the courtyard. I said I could certainly compromise, if it was important to him. So each person shall have a blue sash to tie at their waist.”

  Lucia glanced up at that. It was a small token, but at least Anna was trying. “That was kind of you.”

  Anna nodded in satisfaction. “I felt it was the least I could do, since I will have my way on living at Kendal.”

  Shock washed over her. “Stephen agreed to that?”

  Anna laughed merrily, her eyes twinkling. “No, he insisted that he wanted to retake his family lands, and to hold them.” She leant forward and lowered her voice. “But I know well how this works. It is like my father insisting I cannot have another piece of apple pie. I simply go on with my plans, and eventually he will give in.”

  Dark shadows swirled through Lucia, and she looked away. She and her brother Michael had never hidden anything from each other; they had always shared every thought, every hope, every dream. She had found that same easy openness with Stephen. And now there was this twisting of truths, a state that pulled at her innards like a hungry wolf tugging at a young lamb.

  There was a low, dramatic moan from the doorway, and Nicole walked slowly into the room, holding her arm. “Oh, I could be scarred for life,” she groaned, looking around her. “Stephen says I will not be – but how could he know?”

  Lucia’s mood grew even blacker at the silliness around her. “And how long is the cut?”

  Nicole’s eyes went wide. “A full inch!”

  Lucia hauled up the blue fabric at her leg, revealing the gash on her thigh. “This is what causes a scar,” she snapped. “Unless, of course, it gets infected, in which case they take the leg off at the knee.”

  Nicole’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she spiraled down toward the floor.

  * * *

  There was a thundering of hooves as she eased herself off Troy, and she turned with a smile. Marcus was certainly in a hurry today. She wondered what had gotten him riled.

  The horse plowed into the clearing, and Lucia staggered back against Troy, her legs going weak.

  It was Stephen.

  It had been two long weeks since their day in the clearing when they revealed their feelings to each other. Since that day, she had only talked with him that one brief time by the church. Every hour, every minute, her heart longed for him, ached for him.

  He dismounted and strode over to her, his eyes hard. “Let me see your leg.”

  She blinked in bafflement. “What?”

  He swept her up in his arms, and the scent of juniper and leather nearly overwhelmed her. She leant against him, and when he eased her down against her willow it was all she could do to draw back, to let him move to kneel beside her.

  He slid up the dark blue fabric, lifting it around her wound. He looked at the scar with careful attention, his gaze easing as he gently prodded along its side.

  “It is healing well,” he growled, his voice tinged with relief.

  “Of course it is,” she replied. “I have been taking it easy.”

  He looked pointedly over at the hay bale. “Easy?”

  She sighed. “The north is –”

  “No place for the frail,” he finished for her. “I know.”

  He stood and paced a few feet toward his horse, then turned again.

  “And I am a man of honor,” he added, as if he had held a long discussion in his head and was now finishing it.

  A shadow pulled through her heart. He had stayed away from her for two long weeks; he had cut off all contact with her. His honor was surely beyond all reproach.

  “Who has said otherwise?”

  His eyes flashed. “If I did not share my feelings with Anna, it was because I did not want to upset her.”

  Understanding flooded in on Lucia. “Surely Anna deserves someone she can trust completely,” she countered.

  He took a hard step forward. “She can trust me with her life.”

  “How can she trust you if you lie to her?”

  He gave his head a shake. “I would never lie to Anna.”

  Lucia crossed her arms. “Where will you live when you are married?”

  His answer came back without hesitation. “My lands, to the north.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And where does Anna think you will live?”

  His face shadowed. “She has her heart set on Kendal, but with time -”

  She leant forward. “So you are letting her build fantasies and plan for them, because it is easier than helping her understand and prepare for reality?”


  His mouth opened … and then slowly closed again.

  Lucia eased back against the tree. “If I were going to have that kind of life-altering change happen in a mere two months, I would want to know about it.”

  * * *

  Anna’s eyes held a baffled confusion, and she made the same stitch four times in a row before putting down her fabric. “I am not sure I understand,” she offered at last. “I think he is actually serious.”

  “He wants to live in his family lands,” stated Lucia. “I would agree, he seems set on it.”

  Anna shook her head. “But surely he is just confused. I have this all planned out.”

  “Not all plans end up the way one thought they would,” suggested Lucia gently. “You could learn to be happy in -”

  Anna shook her head, her eyes focusing in determination. “It is a test of some sort,” she decided. “I just need to figure out how to get him to change his mind. I always win in the end.”

  Lucia pursed her lips. “Be honest with him,” she advised. “Everything will work out as it should.”

  Anna shook her head vigorously.

  Chapter 13

  Lucia stared in confusion around the empty courtyard. James was not there waiting to meet her. She had grown so accustomed to the young page knowing her schedule that she stood there for several minutes wondering where he might be. Finally she headed over to the stables on her own. She was certainly capable of saddling her own horse.

  She had just finished cinching up the straps when James burst into the stables, his face red and swollen from crying. Lucia turned in surprise, then ran over to him and took the young man’s face between her hands.

  “James! My God, what is wrong?”

  James shook his head, stubbornly refusing to talk. His face a mask of agony, he looked down at the ground.

  Lucia’s heart went out to the lad who had so loyally helped her all this time. “Was it bullying from one of the boys in the area? I can have Marcus give him a talking to without revealing that you said anything to me. Was it a fight with a girl you are fond of? Or maybe trouble with one of the castle folk?”

  James flinched slightly, but for Lucia it was enough. She dropped to one knee and looked the boy in the face. “I know it can be hard on servants who speak against their masters,” she consoled in a soft whisper. “Remember that I do not have ties to this place, nor would I ever reveal anything you told me. Please, just tell me this … is there some way in which I can help?”

  James seemed torn, and looked around to ensure there were no others in the stables. Then, finally, he asked in a low, hesitant voice, “Do you know anything about … mending cuts?”

  Lucia nodded promptly. “I have been wounded more times than I can count – tending cuts is second nature to me by now,” she promised solemnly. “I can do quite well as long as they are not life threatening. Please, let me help, and we will see what we can do.”

  James didn’t need any further encouragement. He grabbed her hand and dragged her behind the stables, past the keep and toward the back of the walled area. After a few minutes they came to one of the small huts which held the cattle in inclement weather. It was an isolated spot, and nobody else was near.

  As they approached, Lucia heard a soft sniffling noise. Turning the corner, she found a young girl, perhaps fourteen, lying in a pile of hay. Her clothes were torn, and there were numerous cuts and bruises on her body.

  Lucia dropped to her knees besides the girl, aghast. “Who did this to you?”

  James’ voice was hoarse. “This is my sister, Lily,” he grated. “Please, do not ask us anything further. Just help her.”

  Lucia bit her tongue and nodded. She set her mind to the task at hand. “Fetch me some water and fresh, clean rags,” she instructed James. “I am sure the laundry room has some lying on a shelf. Also, get a spare dress from my room.”

  He was off in a flash. Lucia spent the time calming the girl and removing her remaining clothes. James returned far more quickly than she had imagined possible, and soon she was carefully cleaning the various cuts and bruises. Her mind ran over numerous possibilities as she worked, but she honored James’ request and did not ask any further questions of them.

  When she was finished she sat back, sighing in relief. “None of your injuries seem serious,” she told Lily. “You should heal up without any problem.” James gave his sister a tender hug at the news and kissed her on the forehead.

  Lucia helped Lily into the dress and, once she had it on, there was barely any sign that the girl had been hurt. There was a small bruise on her forehead, but a re-parting of her hair made that disappear.

  Lily took her by the hand, pressing it gently. “My Lady, I do not know how to thank you,” she confessed in a soft whisper. “You have been so kind to me.”

  Lucia blushed and looked at the young woman. “I only wish I could do more,” she admitted quietly. “Please know if there is anything else I can do. I am quite willing.”

  Lucia hesitated a moment, not wanting to pry. Was it an abusive courtier who had unleashed his rage on an innocent maid? Had the cook beat her for dropping a precious tureen? Or was it something more personal? Looking between the two, Lucia had the feeling that the young pair could use a guardian angel. “I am not a part of the family here. I am not involved in the politics or power struggles. If things are this bad, I can take you with me when I leave for Harwich.”

  Lily quickly shook her head. “I appreciate that, but the situation will be fine now,” she promised. “I cannot leave my family. They need me.”

  Lucia was torn between interfering and allowing the girl her privacy. “Whoever did this to you, he or she could lash out again, and next time -”

  Lily gave a short, cynical laugh. “That is not likely,” she responded curtly. “He has what he wanted. I am sure I hold no further interest to him.” She climbed to her feet and brushed the straw off of her dress.

  A cold shaft of fear plunged through Lucia’s core. Her mind raced as she worked through the possibilities.

  Lily caught her eyes and her face steeled. “You must promise me – promise us both – that you will never speak one word of this,” she insisted hotly. “I am fine. There is nothing to be done now. It is critical for us both – and for our family – that this entire incident be forgotten completely.”

  Lucia hesitated, but Lily took her hands between her own. “Please, you must promise.”

  Lucia felt guilty at such a bargain, but she reminded herself that she had no place in telling others what to do. She had helped the girl as best she could, and she had made herself available for any other assistance she could render. It could very well be that the girl was right – that her family and future would be best served if this situation was never mentioned again.

  “I promise,” vowed Lucia solemnly.

  * * *

  She had just hobbled Troy when Stephen came riding into the clearing. He swung down from Prince, glanced at her, then his eyes sharpened and he came striding over to stand before her.

  His voice was tight with concern. “What happened?”

  She looked down. There were large spatters of blood on her dress. She flushed, wiping at them with her hand.

  He went pale. He took up her left hand and pulled her sleeve back. He carefully ran his fingers along her arm, looking for the source of the blood.

  The closeness of his body, the scent of him, it was all she could do not to lean into him. She took a step back, pulling herself free, her breath coming in deep draws.

  His eyes scanned her body, and he pressed again, “Where are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. “I am fine.”

  He waved a hand at the blood. “But surely –”

  She put her hand over the larger stain, shielding it from view. “I do not want to talk about it.”

  He took a step forward, staring at her, and she flushed.

  His voice dropped lower, gaining a note of confusion. “You refuse to tell me why you are bloody?
”

  She found she could only nod in answer.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Lucia, I do not understand.”

  Her throat closed up. They had always been so honest before, so open, but she had given Lily her word.

  She looked down. “You will have to trust me.”

  His eyes sharpened at that. “So you want me to trust you, even though you refuse to share your thoughts with me?”

  She flushed hard at that, realizing that this was exactly what she had challenged him with two days ago.

  Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  Saturday dawned with a deluge of spring rains, sending a fresh, sharp tang through the air. The sewing room was full as all the women took refuge from the storm. Lucia found her quiet sanctuary full of bright, amused chatter, and took a place by Anna with a nod.

  Anna looked up at her friend with sparkling eyes. “Oh, Lucia, you have got to hear,” she chuckled. “Ian was seen with that redheaded barmaid from the tavern two towns over. What is it called?”

  Nicole leant forward, a dense bandage on her wrist. “The Waddling Goose,” she chimed in, her eyes glowing with delight. “Abigail swore she was his only one – and then the very next day he had that blonde from the Pickled Herring in his lap!”

  Anna grinned. “That is only because Lucia here resists his overtures,” she confided to the group. “She could make an honest man of him, if she only tried.”

  Lucia shook her head. “Surely there are enough women in this keep to entertain him,” she objected.

  Nicole’s mouth set in a pout. “Oh we try, believe me,” she commented. “Every woman I talk with says the same thing. He will court you hot and heavy for two months, maybe three. Then – poof – his interest will fade. No matter what you do, he will move on to a new woman. The harder you try to keep him, the more quickly he will run.”

  Lucia looked back to Anna and shrugged. “See? If he has already worked his way through the keep, and is now taking on nearby villages as well, I doubt I have a chance to tame that wild spirit. I will continue to have lunch with him; he is the son of my host, and I owe a great debt to gratitude to this family for their support. But it seems he is a wild stallion, and wild stallions must run free.”