Indeed, when his gaze met her own, she felt the familiar pull, along with a new yearning, sharp and insistent. ’Twas so tempting that she might have taken a step towards him, if not for the arrival of Guy, who stalked by her with a frown, then turned towards his master.
‘Where’s Emery?’ he asked.
The long, charged moment was broken, and if Emery felt a twinge of disappointment, it was replaced by amusement and delight at Guy’s reaction. Whirling towards him, she spread out her hands, as if to prove her existence, and enjoyed his stunned expression. She suspected ’twas the first time in their association that the talkative squire was struck dumb. But he soon recovered his voice and both of her companions were fulsome in their compliments.
’Twas the beginning of an enchanted evening. Although her fortunes would change soon enough, tonight she was served her meal in her chamber, just like the lord and lady when they wished to withdraw from the hall. And Emery had never tasted such fine fare as that laid before them. Fat capons, meat balls in aspic, fruit compote, and cheese tarts were followed by almonds and sugared dates.
The company was fine, as well. Instead of harping upon the Templars, Guy related amusing gossip he had heard below. And when they had eaten their fill and the tall tapers were lit, the servants filed out, leaving them alone with the last of the wine and sweetmeats.
They were able to speak freely then, but all seemed loath to broach the topics that had consumed them for days. And, for a time, murder and mayhem and madness were forgotten as Lord de Burgh began recalling a previous visit to Stokebrough. The various members of the Strong family were considered, and then, somehow, the conversation turned towards Emery.
Although the transition seemed natural enough, Emery was wary of the interest she saw in Lord de Burgh’s dark gaze, and after a brief mention of her father, she deflected the questions back to him. At first he seemed no more comfortable than she at being the subject of discussion, but when she asked him to compare Stokebrough to Campion, he stirred to life.
Emery saw Guy’s look of surprise, quickly masked, as the knight started to talk about his home. Then, ’twas as if a well had been tapped, setting pent-up memories to flow as he introduced Emery to his brothers.
Dunstan, thirteen years his senior, was old enough to be his father and, thus, a rather distant figure, though much revered as a tracker and a warrior. The next in line, Simon, was also skilled in battle, but more volatile than the first-born. And Stephen, well, even Emery had heard of his reputation with women, though Nicholas claimed that now he was devoted to his Welsh wife.
’Twas the siblings closer to his age of whom Nicholas spoke most warmly: Reynold only a few years his elder, Robin, the jester of the family, and Geoffrey, the scholar, with his sharp intellect and steady temperament.
‘I bet he would know what you’ve got in the pouch,’ Guy said, breaking the mood of reflection with the stark reminder of their situation.
Although Lord de Burgh nodded briefly in agreement, he returned to the stories of his youth, enthralling Emery with tales of Geoffrey’s experiments, Robin’s tricks and Stephen’s efforts to dupe the unwary. As expected, a household of seven boys was known for mischief, injuries, misbehaviour and staunch loyalty.
The de Burgh name stood for something, but it also engendered deep devotion amongst those privileged to bear it. In fact, Lord de Burgh spoke so lovingly of his home that Emery wondered why he was travelling. Had she interrupted his return? she wondered, with a pang.
‘How long have you been gone?’ she asked.
As if a cloud passed over his handsome face, Lord de Burgh dropped his gaze, his long fingers fiddling with the silver spoon that still lay upon the table. When the silence lengthened without a response, Guy spoke.
‘We set out last spring to visit Reynold,’ he said. ‘We left his manor house in summer and have been on the road since.’
Emery glanced from one man to the other, confused by the sudden tension between them. ‘Have you been visiting your other brothers since then?’ she asked, for it seemed that all the de Burghs except Nicholas lived elsewhere, with demesnes of their own.
‘No,’ Guy said.
Lord de Burgh glared at his squire, as if bidding him to silence, and Guy said no more.
‘Why?’ Emery asked. ‘You obviously miss your home and love your family. What keeps you from them?’
Lord de Burgh did not answer; he would not even look at her. And for the first time since meeting him, Emery began to wonder about the man she thought she knew. She had been so focused on her own problems, on Gerard and the consequences of her decision to search for him, that she had not even considered the possibility that all was not well with the man who would aid her.
And why should she? The son of a powerful earl, Nicholas de Burgh had been raised by a loving family in luxury that only now could Emery begin to imagine. In truth, he seemed to have so many advantages that Emery found it hard to believe that anything was wrong.
Had he suffered a rift with his siblings? Disobeyed his parent? Fallen from favour? Emery was forced to hazard guesses, for he obviously had no intention of enlightening her. In fact, without giving her an answer, he rose to his feet.
‘’Tis late, and we should seek our beds,’ he said. ‘I’ll send the girl in to stay with you.’
Emery could only gape as he strode to the door, without a glance backward, an uneasy Guy at his heels. In the quiet that followed, she was shocked to realise that this man who had seemed so open and good-natured might be hiding something from her. The very notion was painful, for she thought they shared something more profound than a few kisses and lingering gazes.
Yet how could she blame him for keeping secrets when she so zealously guarded her own?
* * *
The next morning Emery faced the arrival of her companions with concern, but the strain and awkwardness of the night before seemed to have been forgotten. Guy was in fine spirits and even Lord de Burgh had regained his usual temperament. Yet Emery wondered how much of it was genuine. He had seemed so easygoing and imperturbable, but now she wasn’t so sure. Had she been blind, or had he buried his problems so deep that none could see them? And what could she do to help him?
Apparently, she was to cut his hair.
Grinning like an idiot, Guy brandished a pair of shears, which he presented to Emery with a flourish. ‘’Tis time to take you at your word, mistress.’
Emery might have argued that she had given no such promise, but she was grateful for the light-hearted mood, so she accepted the shears with a nod.
It appeared that Guy had not warned his master of what he was about, for Lord de Burgh looked startled. ‘I’m sure we can find a barber,’ he said, perhaps leery of her skills.
‘You are long past a barber, my lord,’ Emery said, as Guy urged him towards the settle. ‘I hope you are not one of those knights who fears a trim will rob you of your strength, like Samson himself.’
Guy laughed. He was acting positively giddy and Emery wondered whether this was his normal behaviour when he wasn’t looking over his shoulder for Templars. She shook her head at his antics while Lord de Burgh took his seat. But when she moved to stand behind the great knight, her own fine humour dissipated.
The nearness of his dark head made Emery regret her hasty assent. All too easily she recalled the feel of his thick locks when she revelled in his embrace, his mouth upon her own. Frowning, Emery tried to dismiss the memory, but all she wanted to do was repeat it.
‘I’ll be back later for my turn,’ Guy said. He headed towards the door, jerking Emery’s attention from the past to the present.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Lord de Burgh’s normally smooth voice sounded as strained as Emery felt. Was he, too, recalling the last time he had held her? Emery shivered.
‘I told the groom that I would check on our horses this morn,’ Guy said, reaching for the latch.
‘No.’ Lord de Burgh’s single word rang out rather sharply, st
opping Guy in his tracks.
‘But, my lord, I—’
The knight must have ended his protests with a look, for the squire scowled and dropped his hand.
While the argument had provided Emery with a brief respite from her task, now she was aware of the slow passage of minutes while she stood, immobile, staring at Lord de Burgh’s wide shoulders and the back of his head.
She took a deep breath, but that only filled her nostrils with his scent, deep and rich and inviting. She nearly sagged against him then, but instead she forced her hands upwards, only to realise they were shaking. Flushing, she glanced around guiltily, but Guy was not watching. He seemed intent upon the tiles at his feet. And Lord de Burgh was not facing her, though her long hesitation and trembling fingers might soon draw his scrutiny. They certainly could not instil confidence in her abilities.
Steeling herself against the urge to slip her arms over his shoulders and hold him close, Emery finally touched his hair. It was just as she remembered and she felt her nervousness disappear, replaced by a warmth that spread and settled low in her belly. She took a long lock between her fingers, rubbing it back and forth between them, as though she might commit the smell and feel to her memory for ever.
In front of her Lord de Burgh remained still, seemingly frozen in place, but beyond him, Emery saw Guy head towards the door again.
‘I’ll be right back,’ he muttered. ‘I need to visit the—’
Again, Lord de Burgh cut him off. ‘You. Stay. Right. Here.’ He spoke through gritted teeth, as though he were caught in the grip of some great emotion. Did he feel what she felt, or did he only want to prevent Guy from avoiding a trim?
And then Emery realised Lord de Burgh might simply dread the shears and, if so, she was discomfiting him with her long delay. The suspicion set her to work and she managed to cut the ends, at least, making them more even, though her heart was pounding wildly. And whenever her knuckles brushed against his neck, she shivered, awash with a heat and want that she could not acknowledge.
When she was finished, Emery loosed a low sigh filled with both relief and regret. She might be dressed as a woman, in finery fit for a great lady, but she was still Emery Montbard. Her circumstances had not changed with her clothing and neither had the future that awaited her.
Setting aside the shears, she reached out to brush the stray hairs off his wide shoulders, stealing one last touch before stepping back and away.
* * *
In comparison, cutting Guy’s thin, ginger-coloured hair took only moments and left Emery undismayed, although the squire’s mood seemed to have soured. Perhaps he had hoped to escape from his duties while she was busy with Lord de Burgh, but his master had not allowed it. And once she finished, Guy no longer was in a hurry to go anywhere, lagging behind as he accompanied them to the solar.
If Emery thought she had become accustomed to Stokebrough Castle’s beautiful appointments, she was soon disabused of that notion. The solar was even larger than her bedchamber and boasted a thick, colourful carpet and a large round window that filled the room with light. On either side, two massive cupboards, burnished until they practically glowed, were filled with written works, so well kept that Emery stared in amazement.
She and Gerard had been well educated, but the family had owned few books and Emery suspected Harold had sold those, rather than donate them to the Hospitallers. She could not imagine possessing the large number collected here, which included works in English, French and Latin.
Although most were religious volumes, there were romances and histories, as well, and it was upon these last that they focused. Unfortunately, most concerned their own country and were unlikely to contain any mention of a statue of foreign origin. Their choices were winnowed to a precious few that they divided amongst themselves.
Having seen such a small number of books, Emery was enthralled by the illustrations, so intricate and bright that they seemed to leap off the page. And even though the tales of events long past in places far away were just as compelling, she forced herself to concentrate on the search. But she had barely settled into reading when Guy interrupted with more talk of checking upon the horses, an errand Lord de Burgh again dismissed as unnecessary.
Silence fell over the group then, but it wasn’t long before the squire claimed he needed to use the garderobe. Without waiting for a nod from his master, he made his exit swiftly, shutting the door behind him. And suddenly Emery was aware that she was alone with Lord de Burgh, at ease in a patch of sunlight that gilded his dark hair.
Oblivious to her scrutiny, he frowned at the door that cut them off from the rest of the castle’s inhabitants and finally rose to his feet to swing it wide once more. When he muttered something about Guy, Emery bit back a smile.
‘Your squire seems restless this morn,’ she said. ‘I begin to suspect he longs to shirk his duties on such a fine day.’
‘I begin to suspect some castle maid has caught his eye,’ he countered drily.
Indeed, Guy was gone for such a length of time that Lord de Burgh finally hailed a passing servant, asking the young man to look for the squire.
‘Shall I bring you dinner, as well, my lord?’ the servant asked. ‘’Tis no longer warm, but your squire told all and sundry that you were not to be disturbed.’
Something flickered on Lord de Burgh’s face, though he was most gracious when answering the servant. ‘I’m sure he was concerned that we be able to read quietly, but you may disregard any such cautions.’
When the man had gone to fetch their meal, Lord de Burgh returned to his chair, shaking his head.
‘Perhaps you were right about the maid,’ Emery said, her lips twitching with amusement.
‘I wonder,’ he said. But he kept his thoughts on the matter to himself.
* * *
When Guy reappeared, along with the cold dinner, he seemed oblivious to Lord de Burgh’s displeasure. Giving some vague explanation for his absence, he set about enjoying the meal, especially the ale, with gusto. ’Twas obvious the squire did not fear his master’s wrath, and as Emery thought the infraction minor she took delight in his high spirits.
But Lord de Burgh eyed Guy suspiciously and when they had finished eating, he insisted they return to their search, much to the squire’s dismay. ‘Reading is for nobles,’ Guy said, grumbling. ‘And those born to the manor,’ he added, when Emery raised her brows at such a claim.
‘I am not needed, for you two are well versed in all these languages. The solar is peaceful and sunny. Make yourselves a cosy berth amongst the pillows to read at your leisure,’ Guy said, motioning towards the large cushions that were scattered upon the two chairs and the carpet itself.
Emery swallowed hard at the suggestion, which reminded her of an illustration she had seen of a knight reclining upon a grassy slope, his lady’s head resting upon his stomach. But such things were the stuff of romances, not her experience. And she flushed at the thought of lying with Lord de Burgh in an improper pose, no matter what her circumstances.
Apparently, the knight agreed. ‘What are you up to, Guy?’ he asked, his eyes narrowed.
‘I am up to nothing, my lord,’ the squire protested, assuming a look of such innocence that Emery had to bite back a smile. But Lord de Burgh gave his squire a speculative look and Guy suddenly took an interest in the manuscript he had earlier abandoned.
Did the squire want to enjoy the day out of doors or visit with a comely young maid or snatch a game of dice with the other young men who served? Emery didn’t know, but she blamed herself for his restlessness. ’Twas her fault Guy was cooped up inside, spending long hours searching for mention of a statue that had nothing to do with him.
* * *
By the time a servant appeared to ask them about supper, Emery felt as discouraged as Guy appeared to be. Unlike Guy, she enjoyed reading, but that had not helped her discover anything useful. None of them had, after a whole day of study. And more pages lay ahead tomorrow, making her aware of the enormity o
f their task.
If they went to an abbey where scribes devoted themselves to copying manuscripts, they could spend weeks or months looking through a collection and still, they might find nothing about Gerard’s parcel, while he remained missing, perhaps growing more ill or more vulnerable to enemies.
Emery set aside her work and eyed the others bleakly, but Guy seemed cheered, now that he could put down his manuscript. ‘Shall we sup in the great hall this evening, my lord?’ he asked, rubbing his hands in anticipation. ‘’Tis said we shall have the entertainments of a travelling troop that arrived earlier.’
Already feeling guilty, Emery did not want to deprive the squire of his pleasure. ‘You should go, my lord,’ she said. ‘I am content to enjoy my meal in my chamber.’
‘If you two wish to eat in your chamber, my lord, I would beg leave to go below,’ Guy said, looking like an eager pup at the prospect.
Lord de Burgh frowned, his eyes narrowing as he gave his squire another speculative glance. ‘Perhaps we should all eat in the hall and enjoy a few moments of well-deserved distraction from our quest.’
Emery felt a rush of excitement at the promise of a fête, however small, at the grand castle. This was her only chance to experience, however vicariously, the world that was so familiar to Lord de Burgh. Yet she hesitated, unsure.
’Twas one thing for her to stay hidden away in the private rooms and quite another to boldly appear amongst others, where questions might arise. Emery was certain that none would know her or know of her in any of her guises, but she was here under false pretences and even her companions were not aware of her real circumstances.
Emery swallowed hard. ‘Perhaps it isn’t wise for me to join you,’ she said. ‘Won’t people wonder who I am?’
Lord de Burgh shrugged. ‘There are always guests at Stokebrough and the steward knows you are under my protection,’ he said. ‘Just stay close to me.’
Emery nodded, though she needed no urging to do so, no matter where they might be. Indeed, ’twould be easier than staying away from the man. And that realisation was more worrisome to her than facing a hall full of strangers.
The Last de Burgh Page 13