“Not hidden, but not announced either,” Logan said, glancing at Alexander meaningfully.
Alexander grinned. “I’ll keep quiet.”
“Of course,” William said. Then he threw back his head and laughed. “What are you doing back here anyway? I thought you weren’t returning until you could say Fulton was yours.”
The gentle mocking tone in William’s voice irked Logan, and the dark cloud that had hovered about him since leaving Fulton returned. Logan took a long drink from his cup. He sloshed the liquid around in the mug. Barclay that cur, he thought. I’ll have Fulton back, this I vow. It was a long moment before Logan realized William was staring at him. He raised his eyes.
“You’re still obsessed with reclaiming the castle, aren’t you?” William wondered.
Logan grunted softly.
“You would have been a lot more fun if you weren’t so single-minded.”
“I’ll have plenty of time for fun once Fulton is in my hands.”
“Logan, give it up, man!” William pleaded. “It’s been thirteen years! Get on with your life!”
“I can’t. Not when my mother and father were murdered. Not when –”
“It wasn’t your fault, Logan,” William said softly. “How could you have known?”
“It was my fault!” Logan said, slamming the mug of ale onto the table. “If I had been there…”
Alexander lifted the mug of ale to his lips, ignoring their fight.
“You’re wasting your life! Don’t make it one of hate,” William said.
Logan glared at William. Some things never changed. Finally, he looked away from his cousin, battling his anger. “I don’t want to fight with you again, William.”
William sighed. “What will it take to make you see how few days we really have?”
“Don’t you think I’ve seen it? I’ve been in wars and sieges that have killed hundreds of men. I’ve seen people killed in the streets of London for nothing more than the clothes off their back. I’ve wasted enough time sitting and waiting. I have to get Fulton back now.”
William stared at him until Logan turned away, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. William leaned in closer to Logan, gazing at him with an intense frown.
Logan’s fists tightened as he prepared himself for one of William’s lectures. Finally, he turned to his cousin, fighting the anger racing through his veins.
“God’s blood!” William exclaimed. “That’s an ugly mark! Matches your ugly face!” A smile eased its way across William’s good looks.
Surprise rocked Logan and he burst out laughing. Alexander sputtered with a mouth full of ale before his guffaws joined the merriment.
It was good to be home.
***
Despite William’s best attempts to draw Logan into the celebration of his homecoming, including a game of chess and a lusty wench, Logan resisted, choosing to separate himself from the others.
Alexander watched Logan’s brooding, pensive mood with curiosity. All the while Alexander had known him, Logan had a single purpose, a focused goal. There was only one thing he wanted, and that was Castle Fulton. Women, for instance, never held the same appeal for Logan as they did for other men. He never wooed women. When they sought him out, he used them to satisfy a need, never bedding one more than once, never thinking back upon the night of lovemaking.
Alexander had to admit that he had never seen Logan like this. It was as if he were at odds with himself. And Alexander knew it had nothing to do with Fulton.
It wasn’t until everyone had retired for the night that Alexander approached Logan as he sat before the hearth, the light from the flames flickering over him. Alexander seated himself in the empty chair to Logan’s right and stared at the fire for a long moment. “You miss her, don’t you?” he asked, tipping back in his chair.
“No,” Logan snapped. “She can do whatever she wants. It’s of no concern to me.”
The force of his denial told Alexander he had hit the mark. “You know I stopped over in Westhaven on my way from Lexington.” He watched Logan’s expression harden, his eyes flash with just the right amount of interest and coolness.
“What’s your point?” he demanded.
“I just thought you might want to know there’s some boy in Westhaven you might consider joining forces with.”
“Boy?” Logan echoed.
“Or should I say a woman disguised, very badly I might add, to look like a boy.”
Logan’s fingers tightened over the arm of the chair, his eyes pinning Alexander with a hot glare. “Is this one of your poor jokes?”
“She tried to hire me for the army she was mounting against Barclay.”
Logan’s face paled to an ashen gray.
Alexander scowled at him, feigning ignorance. “Do you know her?”
“Solace,” he groaned.
“Very courageous. It’s too bad she won’t get to see her plan come to pass.”
“What do you mean?” Logan wondered.
“She’s trying to recruit mercenaries, Logan. With no coin. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. And not all mercenaries are as fine and respectable as I.”
Logan rose from his chair, moving toward the hearth. He grabbed a stick resting against the brick wall of the hearth and absently rolled it between his fingers. “She’s going to get herself killed.”
Alexander shifted slightly in his chair. “I thought you didn’t care.”
“I don’t,” Logan snarled. He shoved the stick into the burning logs and the flames exploded upward with a hissing screech.
THE LADY AND THE FALCONER
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Solace sat in the far corner of the Wolf’s Inn, staring at the motley assortment of men who inhabited the tables. One, a hooded monk garbed in a dark brown robe, probably on his way to the Abbey of St. Michael, sat at the table closest to the door. Another was a peasant with a mug of ale clutched tightly in his fist as he lay slumped over a table, sleeping soundly. A third man was a fighter, from the looks of his scarred face. He ate with his head down, shoveling the food into his mouth.
Solace stared at the man, ignoring the rabbit stew in the bowl before her. She gently bit her lower lip, pulling the cloak around her face. She hated having to bind her breasts, but she kind of liked the breeches. They had been itchy at first, but two weeks later she had become accustomed to them and was enjoying the privacy they offered. Her friends, Mitch and Geoffrey, had taken her in immediately, and she had come up with the disguise of an apprentice.
Now, if she could only recruit a mercenary, she would be on her way to taking back her castle. She knew she had to be careful. She couldn’t just walk in and hire the first mercenary she saw. She had developed a plan. She would sum up the inn early in the evening, before most of the patrons had retired. Then she would approach one man a night until she had an entourage.
The door opened, letting in the last rays of the setting sun. A chill wind weaved its way into the inn, twirling around Solace until the fire warmed it and it disappeared. Autumn was coming to a close; winter was almost here. Solace knew she couldn’t mount a successful attack against Fulton in the dead of winter. Her time was running out.
A man filled the doorway. He was two heads taller than the innkeeper who greeted him. His face was hidden by a hood. Solace’s eyes narrowed slightly. He had a sword strapped to his waist. One of Barclay’s men? Solace wondered. But he wore no colors, no crest.
The innkeeper pointed to a table just in front of her. The man made his way toward her, and Solace’s breath caught in her throat as he moved. Each step was filled with graceful power. He paused just before he got to her table, and Solace could have sworn he brushed her with a guarded look before he swept his cloak out and sat in the chair.
She couldn’t see his face at all, but she could see his hands as they eased his sword to the side.
He must be a mercenary, she thought. Wearing a sword and chain mail. A mercenary who was doing quite well. He would be an asset
to her army.
The innkeeper brought him an ale.
Solace waited until the man had a few sips of his drink, then stood and approached him. His face was hidden in the shadows cast by his hood, as she imagined her own face was. She noticed how his large hands encircled the mug. The image of those hands around a neck came to mind, and she shivered. But she needed him. The moment stretched out, and she indicated the empty chair across from him. “May I?” she inquired.
She saw the hood move and took it as a nod. She slid into the chair opposite him, folding her hands in front of her. She tried to see into the recessed depths of the hood, but couldn’t. She should have taken comfort in knowing this because that meant he could not see beyond her disguise, but somehow not being able to see his face made her all the more cautious. She could be dealing with the devil for all she knew.
“You’re a mercenary?” she asked, knowing the answer.
Again, he nodded his head.
Solace frowned slightly. Couldn’t he talk? “I’d like to hire you,” she added.
The man was silent for a long moment, then slowly lifted his head a bit higher.
Solace could feel the gaze of his hidden eyes penetrating her to her very soul.
“I’m a killer,” he told her, his voice a deep, menacing rumble. “I’m just as likely to slit your pale throat as to have a cup of ale with you.” He took a drink from his mug. “Depends on my mood.”
The timbre of his voice shook her from head to toe. “And...” she started, somewhat hesitantly. “Do you feel like another ale?” She placed a coin on the table top.
He slammed his hand down atop hers, trapping the gold beneath her palm.
Unnerved by his actions, Solace yanked her hand back, hiding it in her lap.
He took the coin and put it into the worn leather pouch at his waist. “I’m not thirsty,” he said.
Solace swallowed hard, her stomach knotted tight with trepidation. She dredged up every last ounce of courage to ask. “Are you for hire or not?”
“Maybe I’ve already been hired. Have you thought of that?” He took another drink of ale and slowly set the cup down on the table.
A feeling of alarm made the nape of Solace’s neck tingle. “Then, if you’re already hired, I’ll be going,” she said and rose. There is no way he could know who I am, she told herself, trying to calm her pounding heart.
The man thrust his arm across the table and grabbed her wrist, forcing her back down onto her seat. “I didn’t say that I wasn’t available.” He released her wrist and tapped the leather pouch at his waist. “Besides, where there’s one, there’s usually another.”
Solace took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to tell him she had no coin to pay him with. “Are you for hire or not?” she demanded a bit sharply. He was making her nervous.
“Let’s just say I’m intrigued.” The man flashed her two rows of white teeth in what could have been either a snarl or a smile; she wasn’t sure which. “You obviously haven’t done this kind of thing before,” he told her. “Terms aren’t discussed in a public place. You never know who might be listening or watching. Do you have a place where we can talk?”
His words bothered Solace more than she was willing to admit. It was true, she knew nothing of hiring men. Nonetheless, she wasn’t a fool. She wasn’t going anywhere with this man. It was too dangerous. “No,” she said, trying to sound sure of herself. “This place will do fine.”
Suddenly, she felt the sting of a sword against her belly beneath the table. “Listen...” The man paused. “... boy. Put all your gold on the table or I’ll run you through.”
Solace gasped, her mouth falling open. The tip shoved into her belly and she blurted out, “I -- I don’t have any gold. I don’t have any coin at all. You took the only one I had.”
The man again flashed his teeth at her, and this time she was certain it was a snarl. “You want to hire me with no coin! Are you mad, boy? Does a demon afflict you? I ought to run you through just for aggravating me. I’ve killed men for less.”
“Please,” she whispered, a note of fear edging her voice. “I’m desperate. I can feed you for however long it takes. I can give you all the gold you want when my task is complete.”
Even though it was dark beneath the man’s hood, she could sense his eyes narrowing. “How can an ugly boy like you pay me all the gold I want? What kind of task will reward you with untold riches?”
She opened her mouth to tell him her father was rich, but closed it immediately. This man would, no doubt, take her for ransom. She could tell him who she was, but that might be even worse. With the price Barclay put on her head, he might very well hand her over to him. The tip of the sword pressed against her abdomen. “I plan to take Castle Fulton,” she finally whispered.
The man was silent for a long moment. “Would you mind telling me that again? I think my ears must be full of wax. I could’ve sworn that you, an ugly boy with no coin, just told me you are going to attack Fulton.”
The words spoken back to her sounded utterly ridiculous. Everything he said was true. She had no coin, no army. A sense of defeat swelled inside her, but she pushed it back with a strong sense of determination. She refused to be ridiculed and intimidated by him. She straightened her shoulders, drawing forth all of her courage to face him. “That’s what I told you,” she retorted. “Rome wasn’t built in a day. Either join my cause or let me get on with my recruiting.”
“You’re a damn fool!” the man hissed. “Rome was built by breaking the backs of thousands of slaves.”
“The men I employ will not be slaves,” she reminded him. “They will be well rewarded for their efforts. Now remove your sword.”
The man hesitated for a long moment, then abruptly removed his sword and set it on the seat next to him. He looked out into the tavern at the patrons, the fighter, the monk and the drunk peasant. “Gather round, men!” he called out. “The boy here promises us all gold! Bags of gold! All we have to do is risk our lives without pay! He assures me we shall all be rewarded in the end!”
The monk raised his head slightly, but then turned back to his food. The fighter eyed the pair with disinterest.
“Bastard,” Solace hissed, rising. “I wouldn’t call food and board ‘without pay.’” She had to get out of there. She couldn’t be seen dealing with mercenaries. All sorts of suspicions would be aroused.
The man dismissed her with an impatient wave of his hand.
Solace quickly took the rear door out of the Wolf’s Inn. A cold breeze accosted her as she exited into the street behind the inn, catching her hood and almost pulling it from her head, but she grabbed it before it could blow off. Damn, she thought. Now I’ll have to wait a couple of days, perhaps a week, before I can return to the inn. She paced two steps one way and whirled, pacing the other way.
She paced for a few moments longer, trying to get rid of the fear and anxiety and anger gripping her. The honorless blackguard! How could he rob some helpless boy? This was the type of man she was dealing with. She rubbed her hand along her forehead. Where is Father? she wondered. Where could he be?
Solace turned toward the blacksmith’s shop. The streets at this time of night were vacant, the shops lining them all closed. She refused to give up her plan, no matter how outrageous it sounded!
“It isn’t safe to be out alone after dark. Even for a boy who thinks he can command an army of mercenaries.”
Solace whirled, hearing the voice. She couldn’t see where it was coming from, but she was sure it was the mercenary from the inn! What did he want of her? Whatever it was, she wanted no part of it! A shiver of dread shot up her spine. She took a step backward, scanning the dark street, the shadows near the shops for the owner of the ominous voice. But it was useless. The night’s blackness was all around her, enshrouding her in its impenetrable cloak.
Solace turned and ran.
A dark shape stepped in front of her, moving out from behind a store front, and she slammed into a solid wall of flesh
. Terror seized her in an icy hold. She barely noticed her hood had slipped from her head. She jerked back from the man, trying to move around him.
The man clamped a hand over her mouth and ensnared her waist with his free arm, trapping her against his body. “Barclay has a very high price on your head,” the man whispered hotly in her ear.
THE LADY AND THE FALCONER
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Solace struggled uselessly against her captor, pushing against his strong chest with powerless fingers. The heavy hood he still wore hid his face deep in its black shadows, giving him the appearance of an executioner. Finally, desperation overpowering her fear, she brought her knee up, driving it into his groin.
The man doubled over, releasing her mouth for a moment. Solace inhaled for a scream, but the man shoved his hand over her mouth again, grabbing the nape of her neck roughly. Cursing, he pulled her toward a dark alley, stumbling as he moved. She tried to fight, but his hold tightened, bruising the back of her neck. He stopped in the darkness of the alley, gasping and still partially bent.
Solace pulled at the strong fingers clamped over her mouth, trying to break free of his hold, trying to call for help. He pushed her back against the rear of the inn, snarling, “Shut up!”
For a moment Solace could barely breathe. He held her still, one hand clamped over her mouth, one at the back of her neck. Solace watched him with wide eyes. But his gaze was not on her. It was on the street.
Then she heard it. Footsteps. Had someone else been following her? What was going on? The footsteps faltered just before the entrance to the alley.
The man released the nape of her neck, and his hand dipped to the handle of the sword at his waist.
For a moment everything froze. She instinctively knew the danger was not from the cloaked man who held her against the wall, but from the person at the entrance to the alley.
Then the footsteps moved off. With a sigh that sounded more like a groan, the man dropped his hand from her mouth and leaned against the wall beside her. “That was a pleasant greeting,” he murmured.
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