The Last de Burgh

by Deborah Simmons

  Chapter Ten

  When they reached the great hall, Emery’s nervousness disappeared, swallowed up by her wonder at the size and splendour of the place, the arches above seeming to reach to the very heavens. They sat near the head of the table, amongst a few knights and even fewer ladies, yet Lord de Burgh managed to deflect any conversation about Emery. As a son of the Earl of Campion, he attracted nearly all of the attention anyway, though Emery suspected he did not relish it.

  Once the meal was over, they drew away to sit upon a bench by themselves, though Guy soon appeared to ply them with more wine. He took a place at their feet, ready to fetch them sweetmeats and fill their cups, his mood giddy. The three of them settled back to watch and listen.

  Although Emery had seen minstrels perform, few travelled to the isolated area where she had made her home, so ’twas a rare treat. This group was small, but well skilled, demonstrating feats of juggling before singing and dancing with a little dog while one of them played the lute.

  Emery clapped with delight at the spectacle, made even better by the man at her side. His broad back leaning against the wall behind them, Lord de Burgh seemed more interested in her reaction than the entertainment itself and Emery felt absurdly aware of herself.

  Had she ever been a woman? Or known such leisure? She had learned a man’s skills alongside her twin and then taken care of her father during his long illness, never once wishing to be anywhere else. But now she realised what she had missed—not the luxuries of a noble household like this one, but the opportunity to look her best and enjoy the company of a handsome man.

  Yet the time for such things had passed and, even through her euphoria, Emery knew that she had no business engaging in them now. She shook her head, feeling a bit dizzy, especially since Guy kept replenishing her cup. He hovered nearby, and if he had his eye on a maid, ’twas not apparent.

  It wasn’t long before the listeners were urged to join in the singing and some rose to dance, as well. They clasped hands to form a circle about the minstrel and stepped in unison to a sprightly tune. When Guy leapt to his feet, Emery laughed aloud, certain he intended to prance and jape, but ’twas only to turn to his master with some urgency.

  ‘My lord, you must lead Emery out upon the tiles,’ he said, his face flushed as though he, too, had had his fill of wine.

  Emery refused even before Lord de Burgh could comply, for she had no experience with dancing and feared her head might spin should she attempt it. Just how much wine had she drunk? She had forgotten how little she had been provided this past year. Perhaps tonight’s supply had gone to her head?

  ‘Hoodman’s Bluff, then,’ Guy said. ‘Let us call for a game!’

  ‘Isn’t that for children?’ Emery asked. If she was thinking correctly, a boy or girl wearing a hood tried to catch hold of someone, which could make for some roughness. She had never seen it played by adults, but she suspected the game took on quite a different tone should a maid or a man use their hands to blindly seek out another.

  ‘’Tis not so restricted at Campion,’ Guy protested. ‘Why, the earl himself has been known to play during Christmas celebrations.’

  Lord de Burgh seemed ill pleased by the reminder. ‘We are not playing Hoodman’s Bluff.’

  ‘Then you must dance,’ Guy said.

  Emery saw wariness flash in the great knight’s dark eyes, but before she could protest, Guy had pulled her to her feet. The sudden motion was unexpected and she swayed precariously, steadied only when Lord de Burgh came to her side.

  Aware of his reluctance to dance, Emery would have returned to her seat, but it was too late. The circle broke apart to include them and one of her hands was grasped by a sweaty young page while the other was taken by Lord de Burgh himself.

  Although Emery had known his touch before, there was something about his hand grasping hers, strong and sure, that was different. The calloused palm was familiar, hard, yet soft, the contact conveying a sense of companionship and, more, an intimacy that set her heart to pounding. She imagined the fingers entwined with hers moving elsewhere, to brush against the turn of her wrist and long swathes of skin that were hidden from view, secret places that throbbed and pulsed at the thought.

  Another sudden memory of Nicholas de Burgh stripped to the waist and sliding soap across his torso made Emery falter in her steps and he reached out to steady her once more. She looked up and in his eyes she saw her fevered yearnings magnified tenfold. For a long moment, they stood, gazes locked, while the hall and all of its revellers fell away, leaving them in their own world, silent and aware only of each other.

  ’Twas the jostling of their fellow dancers and a few loud calls from the audience that finally broke the spell. Appalled at her own display, Emery would have fled immediately, but Lord de Burgh made light of the laughter that attended them as he led her away, ignoring a few unsavoury shouts.

  ’Twas only when they reached his grinning squire that Lord de Burgh made his displeasure known. ‘In case the wine has chased such concerns from your head, I would remind you that we are trying not to attract attention,’ he said in a low voice directed at Guy.

  The knight’s words were sobering and gave Emery even more reason to regret her behaviour. ’Twas one thing to enjoy the entertainment from their out-of-the-way position in the hall; ’twas quite another to participate, for all to see. Were they watched only by harmless gossips, which was bad enough, or someone more dangerous?

  Emery shivered as what had been a lovely gathering took on sinister overtones. She glanced around her, especially at the people in the shadows, and wondered whether they were looking back. If Gwayne were here, would they recognise him without his Templar robes? And what of Lord de Burgh’s suspicions of another pursuer?

  Suddenly, the arrival of the minstrel group seemed ill timed and Emery eyed its members warily. But what did she expect to see? Although afraid to admit the answer, even to herself, when she stared into the faces of the strangers, she couldn’t help searching for her brother’s amongst them.

  This night she had forgotten why she was here, but those who murdered her uncle would not be distracted by merriment. Emery drew in a deep breath, her delight in the festivities gone. ‘’Tis late, and I should seek my chamber.’

  Lord de Burgh nodded. ‘I think ’tis an opportune moment for us all to retire.’

  ‘I’ll be along in a moment,’ Guy said.

  ‘No,’ his master said firmly. ‘We will stay together, for now, at least.’

  Guy frowned, but Emery could see why Lord de Burgh might not trust the squire in his absence. Who knew what Guy would do or say, especially if he’d had too much to drink?

  Emery was relieved to find that she felt better once she was moving and she longed to walk outside in the fresh air. But thoughts of their pursuers had shaken her and she did not mention her wish to Lord de Burgh, only following as he led the way to her chamber. When he paused to open the door, Emery glanced behind her, expecting to see the squire, only to find the narrow passage silent and empty.

  ‘Where’s Guy?’ she asked as Lord de Burgh opened the door.

  ‘Where’s your attendant?’ he said.

  Emery looked inside and saw the tapers had been lit and a pleasant aroma filled the air, but there was no sign of Alda. And the perfume was not all that was out of the ordinary, for Emery spied wine and two cups. Had someone been here? She thought of the people below and wondered whether one of them had watched and waited for an opportunity. And should anyone have searched the room, they would have found some odd possessions for a young lady. Emery swung around abruptly, slamming into Lord de Burgh’s solid form.

  ‘What of the parcel?’ she asked, alarmed.

  ‘’Tis well hidden,’ he said, with his usual calm.

  ‘But someone might have sent Alda away in order to look for it—or me,’ Emery said.

  Lord de Burgh lifted his dark brows. ‘I hardly think anyone intent upon mayhem would leave the place so cosily arranged—unless a di
fferent sort of mayhem was intended.’

  ‘So you think Alda did this earlier?’

  ‘I’m certain of it,’ he said. Obviously, he did not share her concerns about intruders, yet he still seemed ill pleased.

  ‘What of Guy?’ Emery asked. ‘I thought he was to follow us. Do you think he has been waylaid, or is he with a maid, after all?’

  ‘Oh, he’s with a maid, all right,’ Lord de Burgh answered. ‘Your maid.’

  Emery was confused.

  ‘I suspect that we will find the good squire with your servant, though I’m sure he has more interest in her absence rather than her presence,’ Lord de Burgh said.

  Emery shook her head dizzily. Had the great knight consumed too much wine, too? But ’twas hard to imagine Lord de Burgh laid low by anything, even drink. And he looked the same as always. In fact, with the wine singing in her veins and her fears abating, Emery suddenly was aware of how close she was standing to him. She had only to lift her hand to touch his broad chest...

  Swallowing hard, she tried to make sense of his speech. ‘What are you saying?’

  For once, he looked uncomfortable and glanced away, rather than meet her gaze. ‘I realise you do not know my squire as well as I do, nor do you have a suspicious nature. But think upon his behaviour this day, from his efforts to closet us together in the solar to his insistence upon us dancing. And now, both he and your servant are missing, leaving you unattended and your bedchamber beckoning.’

  He gestured behind her, drawing Emery’s attention to the cosy setting, and she realised the circumstances could not be better for a tryst. If Lord de Burgh had not paused on the threshold, she would have followed him inside, her thoughts muddled by too many cups and the nearness of him. And then? Temptation, hot and heavy, settled within her, making her mouth dry and her pulse pound.

  Aghast, Emery swung back towards him. ‘But, my lord, I—I can’t—’ Her speech faltered and she paused to take a deep breath. Although she did not know why Guy would try to throw them together, she knew well enough not to encourage it in any way. Alternately hot and cold, light-headed and panicked, she managed to shake her head at last.

  ‘I’m sorry, but ’tis impossible,’ she said.

  Instead of arguing with her, as Emery might have expected—or hoped—Lord de Burgh nodded, his expression rueful.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘’Tis impossible.’

  * * *

  The muscle in Nicholas’s jaw would not stop twitching, but that was better than overt violence, he decided as he stretched the fingers that had tightened into fists. Most of his brothers were more prone to bad temper than he. A lifetime of watching their misbehaviours had curbed his own. But right now Nicholas felt like throttling Guy within an inch of his life.

  He was not sure what angered him the most, for the squire’s conduct was appalling on so many counts, not the least of which was putting him in such an awkward situation with Emery. Worse yet was the fact that Guy had endangered her. Although Nicholas did not expect the attack that she appeared to fear, he had not liked leaving her alone while he went in search of his wayward squire.

  Thankfully, she had barred the door, remaining safe until he returned with a tearful Alda in tow. At least the serving girl had been sober and none the worse for the experience. However, the same could not be said for Guy, who must have poured himself two cups of wine for every one he’d pushed on Emery. He was in no condition to protect himself or the secrets entrusted to him, let alone fight.

  And Nicholas desperately wanted to fight, to release some of his pent-up emotions in a good brawl like the kind he’d had with his brothers years ago. Grabbing Guy by the neck of his tunic and lifting him a good foot off the ground had done little to calm the tempest raging inside.

  Now, Nicholas watched as the youth finished emptying the contents of his stomach into a basin in the chamber they shared. And it only angered him further, for if he could not fight a drunk, then he could hardly fight a sick boy. All he could do was stalk the length of the room, tightening and flexing his fingers while his jaw muscle twitched.

  ‘I’m sorry, my lord.’

  Guy’s pitiful whine had Nicholas rounding on him. ‘Why? What on earth would prompt you to such nonsense?’ Nicholas paused to draw a hand through his hair as he tried to gain control of his volatile mood.

  ‘’Twas only a bit of harmless matchmaking, my lord,’ Guy said, in a tone that hinted Nicholas was responding with excessive spleen.

  ‘Harmless? You would have me disregard my noble name and dishonour a young woman under my protection, an innocent who appears to be alone in the world?’

  ‘No, my lord,’ Guy said. ‘I would have you realise, by fair means or foul, that Emery is the best thing that ever happened to you.’

  Nicholas turned and stalked away, wondering when his private life had become a subject of debate, but the past year had left few secrets between them. Still, his relationship with Emery, with her bright blue eyes and soul-deep gaze, felt private and precious, not something to be manipulated by a drunken youth.

  ‘’Tis none of your concern,’ Nicholas insisted.

  ‘’Tis more my concern than searching for a man who does not want to be found,’ Guy retorted.

  Nicholas rounded in surprise, for Guy seemed too occupied with his matchmaking to contribute any useful insights. Yet the possibility that Gerard might not want to be found had occurred to Nicholas, as well. The Hospitaller had seemed to disappear, perhaps by choice, when unable to retrieve his parcel. And ’twas no wonder, considering the contents.

  The golden statue was no small trinket and Nicholas was not sure what aid he could provide, should Gerard prove to be a thief. However, ’twas Emery he had promised her brother to help, though he had not known her identity at the time. And helping Emery meant trying to find her brother, a task that had appeared simple at first. It had grown ever more complicated until Nicholas wondered whether ’twould be best for all if Gerard was not found.

  But then, what of Emery’s future?

  As if aware of his thoughts, Guy turned apologetic. ‘I am only looking out for your welfare, my lord,’ he said, a claim so ludicrous that Nicholas snorted in response.

  ‘’Tis more likely that you are amusing yourself at my expense,’ Nicholas said. ‘And I won’t have it.’

  ‘Amusing myself? You think it’s easy to try to push you two together?’ Guy said. ‘For days I’ve watched you ogle each other and exchange fervent glances even when you thought her a boy! Yet now, when you have a bit of privacy, you shy away from each other, unwilling to take advantage of it. I was just giving you both a little nudge.’

  A nudge that Nicholas did not need. He told himself that it was enough just to have met her, to enjoy her company for whatever length of time he might have, but ’twas only human to want more. And being human and a de Burgh, Nicholas was inclined to reach out and take what he wanted, to hold and to keep. The urge was there, simmering just beneath his calm exterior, and kept at bay by force of will.

  ‘Into what?’ Nicholas asked. ‘A night of selfish pleasure that would ruin a young woman’s good name?’

  ‘No, my lord,’ Guy said, shaking his head as if Nicholas made no sense. ‘I had a more permanent arrangement in mind.’

  Nicholas felt as though the wind had been knocked from him. ‘’Tis impossible, as well you know,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Why?’ Guy said, unrepentant. ‘’Tis obvious how you both feel about each other. You’d be a fool to let her go—and the de Burghs are no fools.’

  ‘You know why,’ Nicholas said, ignoring Guy’s outrageous claims. He could not believe they were having this conversation after all they had been through together. ‘’Tis too late,’ he said, putting an end to it.

  But Guy would not be deterred. ‘Even you cannot know the future, my lord.’

  Nicholas loosed a low breath, suddenly weary. ‘Sometimes you have to accept what will be, rather than struggle against it.’ Hadn’t Guy d
escried his previous reckless behaviour? With acceptance came a kind of peace and a certain appreciation of unexpected pleasures, like Emery.

  ‘The de Burghs don’t give up,’ Guy said, his expression fierce.

  Nicholas shook his head. ‘Sometimes it takes more courage to face the inevitable.’

  Guy would have protested, but Nicholas held up a hand to stop him. His squire had pulled him back from the brink more than once and sometimes Nicholas had not been grateful for it. Now he had enough sense to appreciate Guy’s dogged determination and devotion, however misguided.

  But while the night’s events would be forgiven and forgotten, there could be no real accord between them because Guy possessed something Nicholas no longer did: hope.

  * * *

  The next day a grim group gathered to resume reading. The young woman who had blossomed at Stokebrough now more resembled the quiet boy Nicholas had once thought her, ducking her head and refusing to meet his gaze. Guy was sulking like a child whose best-laid plans had been thwarted. Even the weather had taken a turn for the worse, and the solar that had been warm and sunny became dreary as rain lashed against the castle walls.

  While Nicholas could ignore his squire’s ill mood, the change in Emery was harder to overlook. He had not realised how much she buoyed his own spirits, how he treasured her soft voice and rare laughter and the seeming bond between them. Had he imagined it? Desperate for a connection, had he forged one with a woman who did not share his feelings?

  Although Guy’s accusing glances and disgruntled frowns made it clear he blamed his master for the failure of his matchmaking, the squire had not been privy to the conversation between him and Emery that resulted. And Nicholas had no intention of enlightening him. Guy probably would roar with laughter to learn that the woman from whom Nicholas had vowed to keep his distance had refused him outright. And Nicholas had enough of his de Burgh pride left to find it wounded.

  ’Tis impossible, she’d said. And while Nicholas knew his own reasons well enough, he was left wondering just why Emery thought so. As he watched her bent head, he knew a sudden urge to take her by the shoulders and demand an explanation, a reckless action that only the remnants of his good sense prevented.