The Very Thought of You

by Lynn Kurland

  He paused and a look of panic descended on his features.

  "How about 'And all ended astonishingly well'?" Alex asked.

  Baldric paused, frowned, and then muttered under his breath for several moments. Alex looked around and saw that the entire household was holding its breath. Well, all except that jerk scraping his bowl with his spoon. Even wooden spoons and bowls made a great deal of noise when scraped, especially when you were listening to them on an only partially full stomach.

  The prisoner was left in the hole,

  to rot and soon go on off to hell,

  as befitted his dark, noisesome soul,

  And hell welcomed him with its fanciest bell!

  Baldric looked exceptionally pleased with himself. "Well done!" Alex exclaimed, clapping to cover up what surely would have been something less than complimentary from the porridge eater. The man was holding on to his bowl, looking very condescending. All right, so the last wasn't all that great. There had definitely been some good things about torture. Alex was very tempted to suggest Margaret take Baldric's advice and use a few pinchers on the man standing next to her.

  Baldric clambered down off his stool and patted Alex on the head. ' 'Any time you need aid with your prose, lad, I've an ear you can bend. Verse isn't for the faint of heart, no indeed! Sweets, m'lady! I've a need for several sweets!"

  Margaret took Baldric by the arm and led him over to the high table. Alex got to his feet through sheer willpower alone, then looked at the well-fed lout standing in front of him.

  "And you would be?" he demanded.

  "No one interested in making your acquaintance," the man said stiffly. He turned and looked for Margaret. "Lady Falconberg, we must make our plans."

  "Hey," Alex said, reaching out to grab the other's arm and missing by quite a distance. He felt himself falling. "Oh, no—"

  Miraculously he found himself holding on to Margaret instead of the floor. He smiled weakly.

  "Thanks."

  "You were to remain abed," she said, frowning.

  "I'm feeling much better. Besides, you might need my help."

  The filthy one snorted. "And what help could you possibly offer, bard?"

  "I beg your pardon?" Alex said, blinking.

  "And I pity you if that is your master," the other added. "Saints above, but his verse is foul!"

  Alex kept an arm slung around Margaret's shoulders for support as he leaned over and gave the well-fed snob a healthy shove.

  "His prose is just fine, and who the hell asked you?"

  The man regained his balance and reached for a nonexistent sword. "I'll see you repaid for that insult!"

  "If I survive your smell long enough to cross swords with you!"

  "Enough!" Margaret exclaimed. "Alex, this is Sir Walter of Brackwald—"

  "What's he doing out of the dungeon?"

  "—a comrade-in-arms of Edward's," Margaret finished, frowning at him. "Sir Walter, this is Alexander of Seattle."

  Sir Walter frowned. "You're Lord Alexander? From Edward's description, I expected someone more"—he paused and looked Alex over critically—"um, fearsome."

  "I've had a fever," Alex growled.

  "It would have killed a weaker man," Margaret added. "Now, let us retire to my father's solar and speak in private."

  Alex didn't miss Walter's pointed look at his arm slung around Margaret's shoulders. He merely gave the other man an unpleasant smile and let Margaret help him up the stairs. Impressing Walter would have to come later. Showing Margaret he was a man who could stand on his own two feet would also come later—when he thought he could stay there for an extended period of time without help. He would eat, then hopefully regain a more intimidating air.

  He made it to the solar and into a chair without any mishap. He spent the next little while concentrating merely on breathing and trying not to pass out. It was touch and go. A second breakfast arrived in short order, and Alex made quick work of finishing it. Once he felt slightly more human, he leaned back and tried to pick up the thread of conversation that he'd lost somewhere between the porridge and the green-tinged cheese.

  And it was then that he knew he really didn't care for the way Walter of Brackwald was eyeing Margaret.

  He felt every proprietary cell in his body stand up and demand to be counted. He did so, and then decided he had enough of them to let Sir Walter know in no uncertain terms just which way the wind was blowing.

  He took a deep breath, ready to plunge into the verbal fray. He opened his mouth to demand Sir Walter back off, then felt his world begin to spin again.

  Fifteen

  Margaret heard Alex's gasp for air and looked at him in time to watch him turn a pasty white and pitch forward.

  "Alex!" she exclaimed, jumping forward to catch him before he hit the floor.

  He caught himself with his hands and gingerly righted himself. "I'm fine," he wheezed. "Really."

  Margaret frowned at him. "You have risen too soon. Perhaps another few days in your sickbed would serve you."

  "I'm perfectly fine," he insisted, clutching the arms of his chair for support. "Let's get on with this."

  He obviously had no intentions of returning to his bed. Though she was tempted to haul him there herself, she refrained. She had no liking for Sir Walter or the sorry tale he had told her. Perhaps Alex would have the same opinion of the man's story, if he could remain upright long enough for the retelling of it. It would be interesting to know what Alex thought of the man. She turned to Sir Walter.

  ''Perhaps you would be good enough to repeat what you told me below."

  Sir Walter shrugged. "As you will." He looked at Alex. "I traveled to Brackwald a se'nnight ago to find Edward in his brother's dungeon."

  "What?" Alex exclaimed. "How did that happen?"

  "Ralf has accused him of treachery. It would seem that Edward had imagined up an entire list of grievances against Lord Ralf and forced his scribe to put them to paper. Lord Ralf fully believes that Edward intended to send the lies to the king."

  "Well, isn't that interesting," Alex murmured.

  "Lord Ralf believes that the lady Margaret and his brother are conspiring against him to thwart his coming nuptials"—he nodded at Margaret—"and cause him to lose Falconberg lands."

  Alex's expression was completely unreadable. Margaret had no idea what he was thinking, but she sincerely hoped he was thinking something. The saints pity her if his brain was too ravaged by fever to make sense of Sir Walter's words. She sensed the man was not what he professed to be, but it would take more than her word to convince others of that.

  "Help me understand this," Alex began slowly. "You and Edward are comrades, right?"

  "Aye."

  "Good friends?"

  "Nigh onto brothers."

  "So, of course you don't believe what Ralf is saying about him." It wasn't a question.

  "Of course not," Sir Walter said blandly. "Edward is not capable of betrayal."

  But you are, Margaret thought instantly. She glanced briefly at Alex only to find him looking at her. His face was impassive, but she could see in his eyes that he shared her sentiments. He turned back to Walter.

  "Then if you don't think him capable of betrayal, why did you leave him in Brackwald's dungeon?"

  "I didn't want to," Sir Walter said. "Edward said to leave him there until I could fetch you to aid him."

  "How flattering," Alex said with a smile. "I'll admit he was very impressed with my swordplay."

  "Indeed, he was."

  Margaret forced herself not to flinch at that blatant lie. The night she and Alex had discussed what he would say to Edward, he'd told her that Edward thought him completely incapable of lifting a sword, much less wielding it with any skill. Was Sir Walter truly so foolish as to let something so obvious slip out?

  "Well, this is a little more complicated than I'd thought originally," Alex said with a yawn. "As you can see, I'm not back to fighting shape yet. I would need another couple of months to regain
my strength." He smiled, but it wasn't a very pleasant smile. "We had a little skirmish with ruffians a few days back. I imagine Margaret and I are lucky to be alive."

  "We live in perilous times," Walter agreed.

  "Do you think you can keep Edward alive for a few more weeks?"

  Walter nodded slowly. "Perhaps we can feign negotiations for your release from Falconberg. That could take up a goodly amount of time, yet leave Lord Ralf with something to gnaw on."

  "Excellent idea." Alex put his hands on his knees as if he intended to rise, then paused and looked faintly puzzled. "There is something I don't understand, though."

  Margaret looked at Walter. He didn't seem troubled, but she noticed that he had begun to sweat. Perhaps he was merely suffering the aftereffects of a se'nnight in her dungeon.

  "How is it," Alex asked, "that you and Edward are such good friends, yet he is the one in the dungeon and you are not? It would seem to me that Ralf would have thrown you both in."

  Walter shrugged. "I told Ralf that Edward and I no longer saw eye-to-eye. 'Tis a strategy we've used often enough with him. Happily he believed it as readily this time as he has in the past."

  "Interesting. One other question, though. If I am unsuccessful in freeing Edward from the dungeon, what will Ralf do with him?"

  "Likely put him to death."

  "That seems a little drastic," Alex said.

  "The king is far away. He will learn eventually of Edward's unfortunate hunting accident and the tale will be finished."

  Margaret felt a chill go down her spine. "Hunting accident?"

  Walter looked at her without flinching. "Aye. It happens quite regularly in these parts."

  Margaret felt the chamber begin to spin. Indeed, she thought she just might lose her meal. Aye, she knew much of hunting accidents, for hadn't her eldest brother died of one?

  It had been an accident, hadn't it?

  She suddenly found her hand in the grip of a large, warm hand. Alex wasn't looking at her, but he was squeezing her hand hard enough to make her flinch. She leaned back against her chair and let out her breath slowly. She wouldn't give Walter the satisfaction of knowing how deeply his words had upset her.

  "This has been a most interesting morning," Alex said, "but I believe our lady Margaret should have a rest. Wounds from our skirmish, you know."

  "Tragic," Walter said with a nod. "Now, perhaps we might discuss how Edward's release will be accomplished?"

  "Oh, why don't you give me your thoughts on it," Alex deferred. "I'm sure you've given this a great deal of thought out of anxiety for Edward's welfare."

  Margaret studied Walter as he outlined to Alex his plan for distracting Ralf with some imagined attack on his border while Alex entered Brackwald and fetched Edward from the dungeon. He seemed concerned about Edward and anxious enough to have Alex's help, but somehow none of it rang true.

  He finished with his words and looked at her with a smile. That made her uncomfortable all over again. It was a look akin to the looks Alex gave her from time to time, but such a look from Walter made her blood run chill.

  "Well, I'll give that some thought," Alex said, rising.

  He leaned heavily against the chair. "I'm sure we can work out the details over the course of the next few weeks." He smiled. "Wouldn't want anything to go wrong."

  "Of course not," Walter said, rising also. "Perhaps the lady Margaret and I can discuss it while you rest. You seem quite overcome."

  "Actually, as I said before, the lady Margaret needs rest as well. We'll have Sir George show you the way out." Alex walked to the solar door, giving Walter no choice but to follow. ' 'Give me a fortnight to regain some of my strength, then we'll begin our negotiations. Perhaps you'd like a visit to Margaret's kitchens before you return home."

  "But we should plan," Walter protested.

  "Oh, we will," Alex said, opening the door. "Margaret and I will speak together privately, then inform you of our decision."

  "But—"

  "If you'll excuse us?"

  Alex's tone was so dismissive, Margaret felt the urge to leave.

  "Aweks!"

  Margaret caught sight of Amery the moment before he flung himself through the door and wrapped himself around Alex's leg.

  "Bloody babe!" Walter exclaimed. "Saints, I almost tripped over him." He pointed furiously at Frances who stood hovering at the doorway. "You, there, get this wretch away from me!"

  Alex scooped Amery up, then pulled Frances into the chamber. "Sir Walter, it's been a pleasure. We'll talk soon."

  And with that, he pushed Walter out into the passageway and closed the door behind him. Frances was trembling so badly, her teeth were chattering. Margaret watched Alex put his arm around the young girl and pull her close just as tenderly as he had Amery.

  "He g-gives me a f-fright," Frances said.

  "He gives all of us a fright," Alex said with a sigh. "Frances," he said, stroking her hair gently, "you're not to go anywhere near him, understood? You and Amery will sleep with the lady Margaret until Sir Walter is gone. And when you're tending Amery, you'll stay in the kitchens near Cook at all times."

  "Cook is very handy with a knife," Frances offered.

  Margaret met Alex's gaze and found a sudden spark of humor there.

  "How could we expect anything else? Go curl up in one of those blankets while Margaret and I talk. Come on, Meg. I've used up all my standing energy for the day."

  Frances didn't have to hear that twice. She was bundled up in a blanket and curled up in a chair before Margaret could find her own seat. Alex drew up his chair and sat next to her. Amery turned, looked her over, then held out his arms imperiously.

  "Ah," Margaret said, stalling.

  "Magwet," Amery demanded.

  Margaret frowned at Alex as she took Amery onto her lap and arranged his small frame comfortably. "You've spoiled the lad."

  "Me? I've been asleep for the past five days. He was perfectly behaved before that."

  Margaret frowned some more. " 'Twas only a treat or two from the kitchen. Cook is notoriously stingy with the children. I had to remedy that."

  "Of course."

  Alex leaned his head back against the chair. Once Margaret was certain Amery was well settled, she turned a critical eye on his rescuer.

  Alex was pale and his breathing was labored. She didn't want to feel concern for him, but she could hardly help herself. How could she feel anything else? The man was obviously daft, obviously still weakened from the fever, and she had the feeling that he was Ralf's next target for murder. How could she not be concerned?

  "I think you have overdone this day," she stated. "You should be abed."

  He didn't open his eyes, but he lifted one eyebrow and smiled faintly. ''Think so?"

  "Aye, I do."

  "Are you going to watch over me some more?"

  "I should," she said grimly. "The saints only know what Sir Walter would do if he found you unattended. Likely plunge his dagger through your heart."

  Alex rolled his eyes. "He's some piece of work. Did you hear that bit about Edward wanting me to rescue him because I'm such a fine swordsman? Walter should have checked his facts more carefully. You know Edward thinks I can't tell one end of a sword from the other."

  Margaret frowned thoughtfully. "I must admit I wondered the same thing about you."

  "Your confidence in me is staggering."

  Margaret shrugged. "What was I to think?"

  He waved away her words. "Nothing other than what you thought. I didn't give you anything useful to judge me by." He opened his eyes and looked at her solemnly. "Have I apologized for not telling you the entire truth from the beginning?"

  "Nay, you have not."

  "Then I apologize. I should have trusted you. I shouldn't have let you think I was a knight. I should have told you where and when Seattle was. Not," he added, "that you would have believed me then."

  "And I certainly don't believe you now," she reminded him. "But it is a weakness of
yours I will tolerate. I certainly cannot send you out into the world unprotected. At the very least I will stay near you to do that."

  "Protect me?" he choked. "I don't need you to protect me!"

  Margaret wanted to point out to him that he could barely remain upright in his chair, but she resisted the impulse. No doubt his manly pride was suffering and that would lead him to more bellowing if she didn't concede the battle now.

  "Of course not," she said mildly. "Now, what think you of Sir Walter? For all we know, he was sent here with the express purpose of luring you to Brackwald."

  "Ralf must not be too happy with me."

  "I daresay he cares nothing for being duped, and he no doubt feels you have done just that."

  "Probably. I just can't believe he thinks I'm stupid enough to come."

  Margaret shrugged. ''Perhaps he thinks Walter will convince you he truly intends to betray Brackwald." She shook her head and wished Ralf of Brackwald were safely wed—to someone besides herself. "I daresay he only understands treachery and assumes that's all others understand as well."

  Alex looked at her seriously. "You really don't think he had anything to do with your brother's death, do you?"

  "Don't you?" she asked, feeling the truth of it cut through her again. "One more soul in the way of his desire for my land."

  "I'm sorry, Margaret."

  Margaret tightened her arms around Amery.

  "We'll win, Margaret. I'll make sure of it."

  She laughed, but it was without humor. "Win what? Your life? My freedom? I surely don't know how."

  "We'll go to the king and tell him of Ralf's schemes."

  Margaret sighed. "Richard is captive in Austria and couldn't help us even if he wanted to, which I daresay he wouldn't. Neither he nor his father were that fond of my sire."

  "Richard isn't in Austria."

  She blinked. "How do you know?"

  "It's old history." He smiled faintly. "1998, remember? I know what's going to happen."

  Margaret could hardly believe her ears. Indeed, his words shocked her so, she clapped her hands over Amery's ears to spare him.