by Alexa Aston
“I see something ahead. On the ground.” The squire drew his sword and Tristan did the same.
They crept closer until they came upon two bodies at the edge of the forest. Drew rolled one over while Tristan went from one to the other.
“Do you recognize either man?” Drew demanded.
“Nay. I have never seen them before. They are not Leventhorpe men.”
“Then what are they doing on your lands?” Drew asked. “Wait.” He bent and picked up something.
Tristan saw it was a baselard. His eyes roamed the ground and saw a sword also lying nearby.
“God’s teeth!” Drew ground out as he gazed at the dagger.
“What?”
Anger flashed in Drew’s eyes. “This is Nan’s blade. I gave it to her. I had Ancel inscribe it.”
He held it out and showed Tristan the inscription engraved upon it. He also saw the blood staining the weapon. Retrieving the abandoned sword, Tristan saw it, too, had blood on its blade.
“Nan would never go anywhere without this in her boot. And if she withdrew it and used it, she is the one who killed these men,” Drew said. “But she would never willingly leave it behind.”
“Unless forced to,” Tristan said dully.
“I’ll fetch David. Stay here,” the squire said.
As he waited for the two men to return, nausea spread through him. All Tristan could visualize were the bodies of his murdered family strewn about the great hall, their blood soaking the rushes beneath them. Panic seized him.
What if the same had happened to Nan?
Tristan could no longer deny his feelings. He thought he had kept her away from his heart, but Nan de Montfort had wriggled under his skin until she possessed him, body and soul. He’d only pretended to himself that he didn’t love her when, all along, she was the very reason he breathed. His life would have no meaning, no purpose, without Nan in it.
David and Drew returned and Tristan knew the squire had explained the situation to the knight.
“I fully admit I have been a damned fool. I love Nan. I need her in my life. I have to get her—and Gillian—back.”
“Who would wish to take them? Does someone bear you a grudge?” David demanded, his anger evident by his stance. “Who are your enemies?” His voice broke. “I love Gillian more than words can say. I cannot lose her. I can’t.”
“I know of no enemies but that does not mean they do not exist,” Tristan said. “Let’s go back to Thorpe Castle for horses and men.”
As they ran toward the castle at full speed, he tried to think of who might want him harm. The best way to hurt him would be through injuring Gillian. Or Nan.
Tristan decided they would start their search with his closest neighbor, Sir Archibald, and move on from there. Then he stopped in his tracks.
The women hadn’t been on the road. They’d been either in or near the forest so it couldn’t be highwaymen who attacked and took them. Only one man in the area had met Nan and knew she staying was at Thorpe Castle.
Lord Petyr Medford.
He remembered how the baron had been more than interested in Nan. How something ugly had passed between the two, enough to make him swear never to allow the nobleman on Leventhorpe lands again.
But would the nobleman go so far as to steal Nan—and Gillian—away?
Tristan’s gut answered in the affirmative. He came to a halt. His companions did the same.
“You know?” Drew asked.
He nodded. “I think I do.”
They reached the gates to the castle, which swung open, and the three men rushed inside. Sir Dawkin met them.
“Gather every soldier in the training yard,” Tristan ordered. “Even those atop the wall walk.”
The captain left to do his bidding. Tristan shared his suspicions with his companions.
“But why kidnap them?” David asked. “Would he seek ransom?”
“Lord Petyr is very influential throughout Essex. He is not a man who accepts rejection. From what little I know, he cornered Nan in the stables during his recent visit to Thorpe Castle and made an unwelcomed advance toward her.”
“Holy Mother of Mary!” cried Drew, balling his hands into fists.
“I came across her right after the incident occurred,” Tristan explained. “Nan did not elaborate, only saying she had taken care of the matter. I never had an opportunity to press the baron because when I went to confront him, he rode by me swiftly and left the castle grounds. I assured Nan that Lord Petyr would not be welcomed at Leventhorpe ever again.” He shrugged. “If he took a fancy to her and she turned him down, it might be enough for him to . . .” Tristan’s voice faded.
“For him to want to possess her,” David finished. “I know men such as that. They are vile to their core. I agree, my lord. I believe this nobleman ordered Nan brought to him. Gillian probably accompanied Nan to the woods and unwittingly became part of the plot.”
“Come,” Tristan said and they followed him to the training yard.
Torches had been lit. Every soldier in service to Leventhorpe filled the area. He climbed onto the platform and scanned the crowd.
“Lady Gillian and Lady Nan have gone missing. I believe they have been taken by men sent by the Baron of Wycliffe.”
A rumbling rustled through the yard.
“Lady Gillian is the only family I have left. Words cannot describe how dear she is to me. And you all know Lady Nan from these past two weeks. She fought hard. We found the bodies of two men who attacked her and my sister. Lady Nan’s weapons were drenched in their blood.”
The murmurs grew in volume. Tristan let them play out for a moment.
“I have had a hard time accepting a fact that many of you seem to recognize. For years, I have closed my heart from any kind of emotion, even while my sister did her best to understand me and try to love me. But meeting Lady Nan has changed everything.” His voice broke.
Tristan saw the sea of faces before him, hanging on his words, and couldn’t disguise the raw pain rushing through him. “I bare my soul to you tonight. Nan de Montfort is the woman I love. The woman I want to make my countess. She is the one who brought me back from the blackest pit of darkness that invaded my soul. My life means nothing without her in it. Nothing.
“I ask for you to ride with me now to seek their return. Gather your weapons and saddle your horses.”
As one, the soldiers surged forward from the training yard, eager to do their liege lord’s bidding.
Sir Dawkin stepped up. “We will get them back, my lord, and give you the happiness that you deserve. These soldiers are loyal to Lady Gillian and they truly respect Lady Nan. There’s not a man here who doesn’t recognize how good she is for you.”
Tristan prayed his captain would be proven right this night.
Chapter 21
As Nan began to labor over the knot, she abruptly stopped and sat up.
What if this was a test?
Lord Petyr Medford might be more clever than she realized. If she freed herself too quickly, he could be waiting to pounce. She forced herself to sit perfectly still, eyes closed, waiting to see if he would reappear. Her thoughts drifted first to Gillian. She hoped her friend’s terror had calmed since the baron had instructed his man to free her from the ropes. Nan told herself that, soon, she would find Gillian and they would make their escape. Together.
Though he was the last person she wanted to think about, Tristan’s handsome image invaded her mind. Nan longed to touch his face. Brush her lips against his. Feel his hands caressing her body. She bit her lip, silently begging herself to concentrate on other things. Anything besides Tristan Therolde. Then pictures of Kinwick and her loved ones rushed through her head. A few tears escaped and cascaded down her cheeks.
This wouldn’t do. She needed to clear her mind. Nan decided to count in her head. She began counting by threes, trying to soothe herself. Gradually, it began to work.
Then she heard a slight noise, followed by an almost imperceptible breez
e. She forced her face to remain a blank and her breathing to continue to be even and steady. Petyr Medford had opened his bedchamber door and now stood next to her. She could feel his body’s heat. Smell the wine that had been on his breath when he’d drawn near her earlier. Nan continued to breathe slowly, in and out, over and over.
Then a small rustle sounded as the nobleman turned away and left her. She counted to one hundred before she opened her eyes again.
His door was shut as before. Nan was almost glad she had cried so he could see the evidence of how distraught she was. If he thought she had given up hope, he would stay in his bedchamber.
Now, it was time to go to work.
She labored carefully over the knot. When Hal had first showed it to her years ago, he had let her tie it and then undo it dozens of times until it became second nature. He had warned her a time might come when she found herself in a bad situation. Because of that, she needed to practice in a different way. That was when Hal had lashed her wrists together and told her to free her feet, which had been shackled with the trick knot. It proved harder to do with her wrists incapable of movement, but Nan had practiced enough until, once again, she could easily free her ankles from the rope. Thank goodness for a brother who’d taught her such a useful skill.
The knot finally gave way and she wound the loosened rope around until it could be slipped over her feet. She stood, looking about the room for a way to free her hands since she’d had to leave behind her baselard. Lord Petyr had fastened the silk cord firmly. Her search proved fruitless. Nothing in the solar would help her cut through the restraint. She would have to find Gillian and have her help release the binding.
Tiptoeing to the door, she found the solar unlocked and unguarded. The least the baron should have done was put a guard at the door. Did he expect so little from her? For once, Nan was glad she was a woman since men such as Petyr Medford underestimated the fairer sex.
Then she remembered that he had placed a sentry at Gillian’s door, which Roland had said was three doors’ distance from the solar. How was she supposed to get past an armed man? The guard would see her the minute she left this space.
Unless he was distracted. Nan knew she had to venture far enough outside the solar to catch a glimpse of the soldier and where his gaze fell. If he looked down or in the other direction, she might be able to slip inside another chamber, either across from the solar or next door to it. If she could do so, she might be able to find a way to free herself before confronting the guard.
Nan’s lips moved in a silent prayer, begging the Virgin to intercede on her behalf and keep her safe so that she and Gillian could escape from the fiend who held them against their wills. She had never prayed with more fervor than in this moment. Finishing, she opened her eyes and leaned her head out as her body hugged the doorframe.
By the Christ!
No one stood guard in the hallway. Nan’s heart pounded fiercely as she slipped from the solar and gently shut the door. She would find Gillian and then return and take care of Lord Petyr Medford. A plan was beginning to formulate in her mind.
Nan went to the bedchamber and hoped Gillian had not been moved elsewhere. She opened the door and slipped inside as quietly as she could. No candle burned in the darkened room.
She hesitated a moment and then softly said, “Gillian?”
“Nan? Is that you?”
“Where are you?”
“On the bed.”
“Stay there. I am coming to you.”
With her feet free now, Nan stepped slowly, thrusting her tied hands in front of her to feel for any obstacles that might be in her path. She finally bumped into what she hoped was the bed.
“Nan?”
“I’m here.” She used her hands to push up so that she could sit upon the mattress.
Arms went about her. Gillian buried her face in Nan’s neck. Nan could feel the hot tears dripping along her skin.
“How did you get free? Where are we? Why were we brought here?”
“My brother, Hal, taught me a trick knot. I used it when I secured the rope about your wrists and ankles, hoping they would place us together. I could have told you how to free yourself and then help loosen me.”
Gillian’s hands slid down Nan’s arms. “Oh! Your hands are still tied together.”
“Aye. Roland, the man who took us, had me tie my own ankles. I used the special knot then but Lord Petyr was the one who tied my hands.”
“Lord Petyr? He is the one that ordered us taken?” Gillian hiccoughed.
“He is.”
“But why?”
“Later, Gillian. For now, we need to find a way to break my restraints and then escape.”
“But how, Nan? I know it must be late and the castle bedded down for the night. But even if we could flee the keep, there will be sentries along the wall walk. Someone would see us.”
“I will figure something out, Gillian. I need my hands free, though. See if you can untie me.”
She lifted her hands in front of her and Gillian’s fingers found them in the dark. After some minutes, Nan felt the cord begin to loosen.
“That’s right, Gillian. Keep up whatever you are doing,” Nan praised.
At last, her friend pulled the binding away. Nan slipped the cord inside her cotehardie and rubbed her aching wrists.
“We need to go back to the solar.”
“No!” Gillian cried.
“Hush,” Nan warned. “No one was guarding your door when I came, but that could have changed.”
“The one you called Roland told me that a guard would remain outside my door all night.” Gillian sniffed. “And that if I tried to escape, he promised he would . . . hurt you.”
“They said that to frighten you.”
“Well, it worked, Nan. I am still terrified, despite you being with me. Why do you want to go to the solar? Won’t Lord Petyr be there?”
“He is fast asleep by now. I need to keep him there and hold him hostage while you ride for help.”
Gillian grabbed her hands. Nan felt Gillian’s nails digging into her skin. “I can’t, Nan. I’m scared.”
Nan took a deep breath. “After going through what you have tonight and coming through it, you’ll never be frightened of anything again. David awaits you, Gillian. You and he will have an amazing life together. But to live it, we need to secure Lord Petyr and you will need to bring help.”
Gillian’s hands eased. Nan sensed the calm descend upon her friend. “You’re right, Nan. I want to be brave. Like you.”
She touched Gillian’s cheek. “Remember, David already loves you as you are.”
“You really believe I will see him again?”
“I promise.” Nan’s voice was resolute. She needed to bolster Gillian’s courage. It would take both of them to pull off what she wished to accomplish. “We will need to bind Lord Petyr so I can manage him. We can take the silk cord he used on me but I’ll need more. Help me strip the bed. We can tear the bedclothes and use that to secure him.”
They worked quickly in the dark, feeling their way and gathering long bits of material to use as Nan revealed her plan. If they needed more, she thought they could do what Roland had, this time using pieces from Gillian’s smock, if necessary.
Nan opened the door again and saw the dimly lit corridor was still empty. She thanked the Virgin for watching over them as they returned to the solar. The candles in the first room she’d been held in burned low. Nan saw Gillian wavering between fear and determination and gave her an encouraging smile. Her friend returned it and Nan saw that Gillian’s resolve increased.
Opening the door that led into the bedchamber, Nan held her breath. The first thing she heard was steady snoring. She glanced to the bed and saw the curtains had been drawn aside and the nobleman had been too lazy to pull them around the bed again. That would make it easier. She had feared having to ease the curtains away to reach him. As they sneaked inside the room, she was grateful that two candles still burned. That allowed her
to hunt for the baron’s sword. She found it and silently withdrew it from its sheath as she crept toward the bed.
A naked Petyr Medford slept on his belly, his hairy back thick as a rug. Nan pressed the tip of the sword to the base of his neck and spoke to him.
“My lord, you need to awaken. Now.”
Part of his face was buried in his pillow but the one eye she could see opened—and then widened as he recognized her.
“Keep still or I will drive your own blade through your neck and out your throat, pinning you to the bed. And you know I have no qualms about killing. Ask John. Or Fitch.”
He blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend his position. She could almost see the wheels turning inside his head, looking for a way to outwit her.
Nan motioned to Gillian to toss the bedclothes aside. She did so, wrinkling her nose at the sight of the man’s hairy buttocks and skinny legs.
“First, place your hands behind your back, wrists together.”
The nobleman did as she asked, though Nan caught a few of the curses he mumbled.
“Use the silk cord that Lord Petyr used on me, Gillian,” she instructed as she slipped it from her cotehardie and placed it on the bed. “Loop it around his wrists several times.” To the nobleman, she warned, “Do not move. Do not breathe.”
Watching Gillian, she nodded her approval. “Tie a knot and loop it again. Good. Tie another knot. We don’t want him to get loose.”
Gillian concentrated, knotting the cord twice more for good measure before she grinned at Nan.
“Do the same with his ankles.”
Gillian took some of the torn bedclothes and did the same with the nobleman’s ankles and then his knees. Nan began breathing more easily now that the nobleman was trussed. Flipping him over, she held the sword just below one nostril.
“Give me a reason, Lord Petyr. Even the smallest one will force me to slice off your nose before you take your next breath.”
A mixture of fear and anger flashed across his face. The anger won out and he stared defiantly at her.