“Aye,” Nicholas smiled. “I will introduce you later, my angel. Right now I want you to go with Eric and these two knights. And try not to worry. We’ll find Walford.”
He bent his head and took her lips in a sweet, tender kiss. A kiss that rapidly deepened into a fevered excavation of her mouth as his tongue swept in, hot and demanding. Need surged through him in a tide, dark and wild and desperate. Need that mingled with a deep-seated fear he was struggling to keep under control.
Uttering a small whimper, she responded with needs of her own, terrified of the new danger they now faced.
He broke away, placing his forehead against hers and lifting his hand to cup her cheek. They both closed their eyes. Rolf stepped toward them and Nicholas released her, turning her to him. She went easily into his embrace, lifting her face for his kiss. Nicholas came up behind her, placing his hand on her shoulder as if he couldn’t bear to lose contact with her. If any of the onlookers were scandalized by such an open display of affection among these three people, no one gave any indication. Nicholas bent his head, so his next softly spoken words went directly into her ear. “Go with Eric, beloved. Rolf and I will come to you as soon as we find Walford and put him where he can cause no harm.”
Still in Rolf’s embrace, her cheek resting against the hard wall of his chest, she made no move to leave until Nicholas said, “The sooner you go, beloved, the sooner we’ll find him.” He turned his head. “Jamie,” he said, addressing his young page, “make haste and find Thomas Parsons and Ewan McGarrity. Tell them I have urgent need of them. We will await them right here.”
Jamie took off at a run.
Kathryn could not hide the fear shining in her eyes as she reached out and touched first Nicholas’s, then Rolf’s cheek. “I love you,” she said to each, before turning to follow Eric. “By the by,” she called back over her shoulder, “I would make a terrible widow. Pray see to it that I do not become one.”
Nicholas smiled and both he and Rolf watched her diminishing figure until she disappeared into the great hall.
“I can see why both of you love her so much,” the tall pilgrim said in French, a note of admiration in his deep voice. “Elle a beaucoup de courage. Et elle est très belle.”
“Elle est ma vie,” Nicholas said simply, pushing his voice through the thick knot of tears suddenly clogging his throat. “Si je la perds…” He shook his head, unable to finish the thought. If he lost her, he would lose himself. It was as simple and as complicated as that.
“You will not lose her,” the other man said as Thomas Parsons and his fierce Highland in-laws came rushing toward them.
Quickly Nicholas gathered several dozen additional knights and organized four search parties, assigning each group a different quadrant to be searched. “Look in, under, and behind everything,” Nicholas ordered. “We must find him. And whoever finds the driver of the cart, bring him to me immediately for questioning.”
As one, they drew their swords and set out to find Robert Walford.
When Eric and Kathryn reached the bottom of the stairs leading up to the solar, Eric held up his left hand to stop her as he drew his sword with his right. Jack and Geoffrey took up their position on either side of the stairwell to prevent anyone from following them up.
A quick search of the solar revealed it was uninhabited. No one was there, not even Ellen or William or Mary. Kathryn was standing in the middle of the room, feeling lost and forlorn, when a sound in the stairwell had Eric putting his finger to his lips and running back to the doorway. Holding his sword in both hands, he raised it over his head, ready to strike whoever came through the door. To everyone’s relief, it was his younger brother, Jamie, bringing up the food Kathryn had asked for on their way through the great hall.
She and Eric sat at the table before the fire as Jamie placed the tray with some roasted chicken, two loaves of soft white bread, a pot of butter, and two pots of jam, one strawberry and one apricot, in the center of the table. He filled two silver goblets with hippocras, set the pitcher back on the table, bowed low, and left.
Eric ate with great gusto, but Kathryn just picked at her food, eating only a few tiny bites of chicken and basically mangling the bread. After the leftovers had been cleared away, they played endless games of checkers and draughts until she felt like screaming with boredom and worry.
Rolf and Nicholas returned in time for the evening meal. At the grim expressions on their weary faces, she jumped up, her hand at her throat. “You didn’t find him, did you?”
“Nay, beloved.” Nicholas pulled her almost roughly into his embrace, then loosened his hold on her as Rolf came up and put his arms around her from behind, crossing them just beneath her breasts. For a long time the three of them simply stood without moving, without speaking, just holding each other and rocking gently back and forth, letting their bodies soothe and comfort each other.
Finally Kathryn let out a massive sigh. “So what happens now?” Her voice was barely audible, muffled by Nicholas’s chest, but neither man had any difficulty hearing it.
“Now,” Nicholas said quietly, his tone even despite the rage and exhaustion roaring through him, “we go eat our dinner. And start again in the morning.”
Dinner was a somber affair, the sole exception being Lady Margery Salton, the Countess of Wendover, who proved to be a highly entertaining companion, regaling the other diners at the high table with harrowing tales of her various journeys to the shrines of Canterbury, Beauvais, Notre Dame de Paris, and Santiago de Compostella.
When Nicholas, Rolf, and Kathryn finally adjourned to their solar for the night, they undressed quietly and got into bed. They didn’t even make love. The two men just spent the night holding Kathryn, murmuring words of comfort every time she woke from a nightmare.
Chapter Sixteen
The next day the manhunt continued, with mixed results. The cart driver was located and questioned, but it soon became apparent that he knew nothing about the false bottom in the rented cart. He was, nevertheless, detained and not permitted to leave the castle. Robert Walford remained elusive. It was as if he had vanished from the face of the earth.
Before dawn on the third morning, as soon as Eric arrived to take up guard duty, Nicholas and Rolf, already dressed and anxious to get started, gently kissed a still-sleeping Kathryn and left to conduct another exhaustive search of the entire castle and its extensive grounds. A few hours later, frustrated and weary, they returned, shoulders slumped in defeat. As soon as she saw their grim expressions, she burst into tears.
“Nay, beloved, weep not,” Nicholas said, enfolding her in his arms and pressing his cheek against the top of her head. “We’ll find him. ’Tis just taking us a little longer than I had anticipated.” He let out a sigh, closing his eyes, allowing himself to savor the feel of her against his body. A little longer my ass, it’s taking a lot longer. We should have found him by now, God damn it. Where is he? And what is he up to with this little escapade?
He has to be after Kathryn. He has to know that if he captures her, he’ll be able to force my immediate surrender. By the same token, he also has to know that I will do everything in my power to prevent such a thing from happening. That I would place her under heavy guard around the clock. How can he possibly hope to get close enough to grab her without being killed himself?
It seemed an impossible task on the face of it. And yet, the man had somehow managed to conceal himself right under the very noses of several hundred people dedicated to the sole task of finding him.
“Come, yndling,” Rolf said as Nicholas turned her over to him. He cradled her face in his big hands, looking into her eyes, holding her gaze for a long, breathless moment. Then he leaned forward and placed his lips against hers, gently at first, but becoming more urgent as need raced through them, stealing their breath away.
He pulled back, ending the kiss.
Breathing heavily, she stared up into his ocean-blue eyes, transfixed by the undisguised hunger she saw there. The answering ti
de of her own hunger flooded her senses, carrying her into a whirlpool of clenching needs.
“Rolf—”
“Sorry, beloved,” Nicholas said, coming up behind her and putting his arms around her. “No time. We must go and break our fast. I’ve asked the cook to prepare your favorite—frumenty.”
“Oh—” Moved to tears by such thoughtfulness, she looked up at him, her love shining from her eyes. “You did that for me?”
Chuckling, he bent his head to place a gentle kiss against her lips. “My love, I would do anything for you. But ’tis hearty fare. Will you be able to keep it down?”
“I believe so. For the first time in a week, I’m hungry enough to eat a hog.”
As they were finishing their simple, but nourishing meal, one of Nicholas’s knights appeared in the doorway. When Nicholas motioned him over, he bowed and said, “Walford’s siege engines are moving through the village high street, Your Grace. The first of them are just beginning to crest the hill.”
Even though she’d known for weeks that this was going to happen, Kathryn could not hide her tiny gasp of fear.
“Thank you, Stephen. Warm yourself by the fire and get something to eat before you go back out to the barbican.” Nicholas lifted Kathryn’s hand and placed it atop his thigh, covering it with his own. “Fret not, beloved, we were expecting this. ’Tis all part of our plan.”
She ducked her head, “I know, but—”
“No buts. We will prevail.” He leaned forward to place a reassuring kiss on her lips. “Now, back upstairs with you while we get our archers in place and find Walford, so we can bring all this to an end.”
“Must I remain indoors?” she asked plaintively. “May I not walk about the bailey?”
“We will keep her safe, Your Grace,” Eric spoke up, “Jack, Geoffrey, and I.”
Nicholas and Rolf exchanged a glance that seemed to go on forever. Then, lifting one hand to his chin, Nicholas pursed his lips and turned back to look at Kathryn. He opened his mouth to say no, but at the hope shining in her eyes, he relented. “Very well,” he finally said. “I see no harm in it. But Rolf and I will accompany you. That way we can show you our final preparations and put your fears to rest.”
After donning their fur-lined mantles, Nicholas, Rolf, and Kathryn, accompanied by the three young knights, warm enough in the heavily quilted gambesons they wore beneath their chain mail, stepped outside. As soon as they emerged, dozens of barking dogs came bounding toward them, but a sharp, one-word command from Nicholas brought them up short and sent them slinking away, whining, their tails tucked between their legs.
Progress through the crowded inner bailey was slow and halting, because everyone had a warm greeting for their young Duchess, which she returned with equal warmth. By the time they climbed to the top of the allure, Kathryn was out of breath, a condition that was not improved by the sight which met her eyes. A seemingly endless line of catapults, mangonels, and trebuchets rolled inexorably along the road through the village and up the hill toward the castle, their heavy wheels rumbling like thunder rolling through the valley. As they crested the hill, they turned alternately to the left and right along the flat hilltop, lining up at the forest’s edge to mirror the line formed by the curtain wall of the castle.
“They will most likely begin their attack tonight,” Nicholas murmured, adding, as he pointed to the hundreds of archers beginning to assemble along the crenellated battlements atop the wall, “but we are more than ready for them.” Each archer carried a dozen or so of their specially fitted arrows, along with a quiver full of others, plus extra clay pots filled with the combustible mixture known as Greek fire.
“What happens if they break one of the jars or accidentally spill the contents?” Kathryn wanted to know.
Nicholas pointed to the barrels that were placed between every other merlon, alternating with the small campfires, which would later be set alight. “Those barrels are full of sand,” he explained. “That’s the only thing that will extinguish the flames. Other than urine,” he added, his lips quirking at the expression of disgust on Kathryn’s face.
Rolf and Nicholas left shortly afterward to rejoin the search for Robert Walford. But, since it was such a beautiful day, sunny, with a hint of spring warmth in the air, Kathryn remained with Eric, Jack and Geoffrey, watching the siege engines crest the hill in a never-ending tide. They watched until it was time to go inside for the midday meal.
After eating, Nicholas and Rolf searched their solar, before allowing Eric to escort Kathryn back upstairs. Then they left to complete preparations for the upcoming assault and to direct the ongoing search efforts.
Kathryn and Eric were once again alone in the large chamber, but Kathryn was too restless to pass the time playing endless games of checkers, backgammon, and draughts. She tried reading, selecting a book of chivalric love poems by Christine de Pizan, but soon lost interest. She sent for the recordist and the juggler, but her inability to concentrate caused her to abandon those activities as well. As the afternoon wore on and darkness fell, her restlessness increased. Pushing the game board away, she began pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. Damn it, where was Walford? Why was it taking so long to find him? In spite of the fire roaring cheerfully in the hearth, she could not suppress a sudden shiver.
“Eric,” she said suddenly, “Could you please run downstairs and see what is taking them so long to serve supper? I’m starving.”
“Nay, Your Grace. I am under orders not to leave you alone.”
“But what could possibly happen to me?” she asked, spreading her hands to encompass the empty solar. “I am completely alone. No one is hiding under the bed. The two guards at the foot of the stairs will prevent anyone but you from coming up. Even you will have to admit I’m perfectly safe. Besides,” she cajoled, “you’ll only be gone for five minutes. What could possibly happen to me in five minutes?”
Eric shook his head, a worried frown knitting his brow. “I dare not disobey my Liege Lord, Your Grace. He has given me his orders, and I intend to follow them to the death.”
“Well, I am your Liege Lady,” she said, stopping short of stamping her foot in a childish display of temper, “and I am giving you new orders. Please go and tell the servers we want our supper. And tell them to include plenty of hippocras. I’m so parched I could drink an entire pitcher full myself.”
“Nay, Your Grace,” Eric said, his chin firming as he hung onto his patience by a thread. “I promised on my oath as a knight that I would not leave you alone. If aught were to happen to you, His Grace would have my head on a platter.”
“Naught will happen to me.” She made shooing motions with her hands, giving him the full benefit of her most winsome smile. “The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back,” she added in a coquettish, sing-song voice.
But Eric crossed his arms over his chest and stood his ground, refusing to be swayed.
Kathryn went back over to the fireplace and held her hands out toward the flames. In spite of her heavy clothing she was cold. Cold to the very marrow of her bones, shivering in great uncontrollable spasms. She feared she would never be warm again.
“Well, if you are not going to go find out about supper,” she said with more than a trace of asperity, “then kindly bring me a fur from the bed. ’Tis so cold in here it’s a wonder icicles are not hanging from my nose.”
Blessed Virgin, that was no exaggeration! Why was it so cold in here? And not just cold. Drafty. Almost…breezy. She turned her head to the right and looked up at the ranks of stained glass windows to see if by any chance one of them had somehow been broken. Moonlight spilled through them into the room, painting great slabs of silver light on the floor. Eric approached, carrying a beaver coverlet, which he draped over her shoulders.
Turning her head to the left to smile her thanks up at him, she sensed, too late, the movement just beyond them. She heard a sickening sound, like that of a club striking a melon, and suddenly Eric slumped to the floor, as limp as the
fur coverlet that slid off her shoulders and fell down on top of him. Before Kathryn could turn, someone grabbed her left arm and wrenched it high up behind her back. She opened her mouth to scream.
“Silence, or he’s dead,” hissed a reptilian voice in her ear, turning her blood to ice as her heart plummeted to the floor. Walford! She couldn’t stop the small yelp that ripped from her throat as a knife blade glinted in the moonlight and touched the right side of her neck.
“My lord, you’re hurting me!” The smell of stale beer, onions, and rank sweat assailed her nostrils and the contents of her stomach threatened to heave themselves up into her mouth. She swallowed convulsively as saliva gushed, preparing her body to vomit. She held herself very still, willing herself not to throw up, keeping her breathing flat and shallow in an effort to ease the wrenching pain in her wrist, arm, and shoulder. Fresh pain shot through her still-splinted little finger. She stared in horror at Eric Fordyce lying so still on the floor. Blood pooled beneath his head, an obscene stain against the brilliant blue of the Portuguese tiles. “Eric! Oh, my God, Eric!”
“Silence, whore!”
“He’s dying! You must let me tend to him!”
“He’s already dead,” Walford sneered, “beyond your care.”
“Nay, you must let me see to him!” He continued to hold her. “Release me at once, you bastard!” She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp but only succeeded in increasing her pain and nicking her skin on the sharp blade of his knife.
“Now, why would I want to do that?” Walford sneered in her ear just seconds before he stuck his tongue in it.
She gasped, but couldn’t wrench her head away lest she slit her own throat on the knife he was holding against it. She was forced to stand and endure the revolting act as he slobbered all over her ear. He grabbed her tender lobe in his teeth and bit down hard. She couldn’t control her yelp of pain. Nor the shudders of fear and revulsion that wracked her body.
Dark Warrior (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 38