The Lady and the Falconer

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Logan leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. A grin came to his lips as he watched her stomp back and forth, a bloom of hot red coloring her cheeks. She was enchanting in her anger. His eyes devoured her slender form as he heard her mutter, “How dare he? Order my own men to keep secrets from me? My people are in danger!” He watched her storm five steps and spin like a little whirlwind to march the other way. She was one whirlwind he wouldn’t mind being caught in.

  “Practice your embroidery. I’d like to practice my embroidery -- around your neck!” she whispered harshly.

  Logan’s grin widened into a full-fledged smile. She was spirited! He had to give her that.

  “Thinking he could find a murderer!” she gritted out between clenched teeth. “He can’t even find his own sword in a siege!”

  Logan laughed out loud, his pleasure rolling from his throat in a low timbre.

  Solace gasped and whirled to face him.

  Logan pushed himself from the wall to approach her. Those brilliant green eyes flashed like precious emeralds caught in torchlight as she glared at him, the remnants of her anger seeping into her whiplash greeting. “Do you always spy on women?”

  “Spy?” he asked in shock. Spying was something he had never been accused of where women were concerned. There were so many other things to do with them. Especially women with large green eyes and full, kissable lips. “No,” he answered in a low voice.

  Solace stepped away from him as a flash of unease crossed her features. “What do you want?”

  A dangerous question, Logan thought. His gaze brushed her lips before rising to her eyes. “I came to offer my services,” he said softly.

  Solace frowned slightly. “Services?”

  He would gladly offer her his services -- any services -- if only she would tell him where Peter was. “Protection.”

  “Protection?” Solace echoed in disbelief. “You’re a falconer!”

  “If there’s a killer in the castle, it might be dangerous for you to be walking around alone in the courtyards so late at night.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Have you been watching me?”

  Logan’s laugh was low. “No. I was in the courtyard and I saw you.”

  “Oh,” she said, fidgeting slightly, averting her gaze at her erroneous assumption. “Well, thank you very much. But I’m safer in Castle Fulton than anywhere else.”

  The amusement suddenly left Logan. She was too naive, too trusting. “Don’t be too sure. A murderer can be anyone. Someone you trust, even.” He saw the change in her immediately. Determination clouded her eyes; her chin rose in defiance. He knew instinctively what the little spitfire planned to do. His brows furrowed. “You’re going after him, aren’t you?”

  Shock rocked her body and she stepped away from him, bowing her head to conceal her thoughts. “Don’t be silly.”

  His hand shot out, capturing her chin and lifting it until her eyes met his. Radiant orbs challenged him, dared him to contradict her. They were so vibrant, so full of life and courage. “Solace,” he murmured. He’d hate to have to extinguish that life if she got too close to the truth. He dropped his hand. “Be careful.”

  She nodded once and backed away down the hall. Logan watched her go until she was swallowed by the darkness.

  Chapter Six

  Solace stared down at the map of Castle Fulton spread out on the table before her.

  “All the outer walls are stationed with extra guards,” Captain Montgomery said.

  Solace watched the captain of the guard’s finger trace an area on the map. She turned her gaze to him as he ran his hand over his blond mustache and down his beard. His brown eyes gazed intently at the detailed sketch for a moment before shifting to Solace. “I expect that the arrow attacks will start any time now, and it appears the trebuchet might be ready tomorrow, at the earliest. With any luck it will rain and slow the production.”

  “You’ve doubled the men at the gatehouse?”

  The captain nodded. “And we have men in the storerooms listening for sappers. No one’s going to tunnel into Castle Fulton without us knowing about it.”

  “Well done, Captain,” Solace congratulated. “I’m certain Barclay will have a very difficult time finding entrance to Castle Fulton.”

  “Thank you, m’lady,” the captain replied.

  “Has lady Alissa met with you?”

  Montgomery nodded. “She didn’t say anything. She knows nothing of protecting the castle.”

  “Keep an open mind to her suggestions, if she has any. And let’s keep our meetings a secret.”

  Montgomery bowed. “As you wish, m’lady.”

  “A messenger was dispatched to my father with word of Barclay’s siege?”

  “He left as soon as we received word Barclay’s army was heading our way.”

  “Then I’m sure Father will be here with his army soon to stop all this madness, and that coward Barclay will flee into the dark hole where he came from. All we have to do is hold the castle until his arrival.”

  Montgomery studied the map for a long, quiet moment, his brow wrinkled in concern.

  “Is there something else?” Solace wondered.

  He hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know what Barclay has planned, but it seems strange to me he is not building a temporary housing for his men. Usually, by now a siege castle would have been constructed, but I see no sign of one. And they haven’t erected any palisades. Something just doesn’t seem right.” He scowled deeply. “It’s as if he doesn’t expect to be there for very long.”

  Anxiety slithered up Solace’s spine. “Let’s just make sure he’s wrong,” she answered, trying to suppress the uneasiness that gripped her.

  ***

  After attending morning services at the chapel, Solace strolled into the outer ward beneath a gray sky. The air was fresh with the hint of coming rain. She missed Gwen terribly. She had no one to discuss her plans with. But she understood why Gwen and her father had left Castle Fulton when they’d heard the siege was imminent. They didn’t want to be trapped in the castle for months. But that didn’t prevent Solace from missing her friend.

  As she walked the grounds, she stopped before Tom Reed’s pig pen. He was busy feeding a bucket of slop to his sows. She glanced at the nearby wall of the castle, shaking her head and scowling. A simple fence for the pigs wasn’t enough. Solace knew she had to prepare the castle and her people for the arrows and boulders that would soon fly over the castle walls.

  “It won’t do,” she said, moving to Tom’s side. He glanced up at her. “One arrow attack and the pigs will be slaughtered,” she continued. “You have to build an enclosure for them with a sturdy roof.”

  Tom nodded. “Very well, my lady.”

  “If you need tools or help, ask Ned,” she added.

  “M’lady?” Tom called, then hesitated for a moment. “Do you think the Baron is going to try to starve us out, or do you think he’s really going to attack?”

  Solace stared at him, sympathy tugging at her heart. He had no way of knowing what was happening beyond the walls other than the exaggerated tales that uninformed gossip produced. “We have to be prepared for either,” she replied. “So you keep those pigs safe. Our lives could depend on it.”

  Tom nodded.

  Solace continued her stroll through the ward. Her hair was braided behind her, and the dress she had picked out was a simple brown cotton smock with a beige sideless surcoat. It was comfortable, and Lillian couldn’t complain too much if she ripped it. She knew she had a lot of work to do today.

  Solace lifted her head, and her gaze came to rest on the closed drawbridge, the lowered portcullis. What was once an inviting entrance teeming with visitors was now a formidable blockade, barring the access of any travelers. Solace wondered where the wandering monks would stop on their pilgrimage to the Abbey of St. Michael now that Fulton’s gates were closed. She looked around the ward, noticing the absence of the brown-cloaked monks. She felt a surge of anger toward Barcl
ay. Not only had he driven Gwen and her father away, but the monks had also fled. The castle didn’t seem whole without them.

  She glanced toward the keep and the dungeon. She had meant to get to the dungeon and speak with some of the prisoners, but had not had an opportunity to do it yet.

  Solace rubbed a hand over her eyes. She had spent half the night lying awake in her bed. A killer in Castle Fulton. It could spell doom for them. Her people needed to be protected. She had to find him. Her gaze swept the crowd of peasants and soldiers around her. She knew most of the people, and those she didn’t know by name, she at least knew their faces. Had Barclay somehow bribed someone? The thought made her scowl. Even though she knew the attraction of coin was strong, she liked to believe her people and men were loyal and they wouldn’t betray Fulton so easily.

  But strangely, it wasn’t the thought of a killer that had kept her awake. It was the offer of protection. Protection proposed by someone with deep gray eyes.

  She wiped a strand of hair from her eyes as her gaze swept the outer ward. She saw the falconer immediately. He stood a head above everyone and wasn’t hard to miss as he spoke with old Ben across the courtyard. The falcon perched majestically on the leather patch sewn onto the shoulder of his brown tunic.

  A man carrying an armload of wood toward the kitchens crossed Solace’s vision. She leaned her head to the side, looking around the man to get a better glimpse of the falconer’s powerful physique. Even when he was standing still, the muscles in his arms strained against his tunic. A hot flush spread through her body as she remembered the feel of his hands on hers.

  Then, she saw him turn slightly and followed his gaze to see Beth heading in his direction. Her half sister wore the lowest cut dress she had, a pale blue velvet to match her eyes. Her dark hair was curled tightly over her ears in the latest fashion. Beth held out a hand to the falconer, and he promptly took it and brought it to his lips. Solace had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Disappointed, her shoulders slumped. Was there no man who could resist Beth’s beauty?

  Old Ben had moved away from the two. Solace could only see Logan’s back, his rich, dark hair rivaling the darkest feathers of the falcon on his shoulder.

  Beth raised a hand to touch the falcon. The bird nipped at Beth’s fingers. Solace found some satisfaction as her half sister quickly withdrew her hand. Serves her right, Solace thought, and was surprised at her own viciousness.

  Suddenly, the falcon spread its dark wings and took flight, screeching loudly.

  A cry went up from one of the guards stationed on the battlements.

  Solace’s grin slipped a notch as she saw every muscle in Logan’s body tense. He turned and their gazes locked. Solace read the warning there, the alarm. Then, suddenly, a whooshing filled the air. She quickly lifted her head to see a swarm of arrows blanketing the sky, heading straight for them!

  Chapter Seven

  Shouts of warning crescendoed around Solace as the arrows descended on their deadly paths. Screams of pain and cries of death rose from all around her. An arrow landed in the ground beside her, scattering the chickens in the coop. A mad dash followed as the villagers raced for the safety of the inner ward.

  Instinct told her to run. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder to see the falconer hurrying Beth through the open gates that led to the inner ward.

  Solace followed the crowd. Then, she saw a young woman screaming, bending over an older man who had an arrow sticking out of his chest. Solace recognized the miller and his daughter, Jenny. She dodged the peasants running for cover and moved toward the fallen man. Jenny’s outstretched hand was smeared with blood, her tear-filled eyes pleading with Solace. Solace turned her gaze to the miller. The blood on Jenny’s hand was not from the arrow wound, but from the blood the miller was coughing up.

  “Go to the inner ward,” Solace ordered Jenny, bending over the miller.

  “But my father –” the girl sobbed.

  “Go!” she ordered. When Jenny hesitated, Solace turned to her with kind eyes. “I’ll stay with him.” She wiped some of the young woman’s tears from her cheeks before urging her toward safety with a gentle shove.

  As soon as the girl was moving, Solace turned her gaze back to the miller. She had seen sword wounds and arrow wounds before, and she knew enough to realize that bleeding from the mouth almost always preceded death.

  The miller coughed again, splattering her dress with blood. She took his hand in hers and smoothed some hair back from his forehead. His eyes locked with hers for a long moment, his hand tightening convulsively around hers, before his eyes glazed over and he went limp, his hand slipping from hers. Solace stared at the man for a long moment. Then she lifted a shaking hand and wiped it across his brow in a final good-bye.

  Suddenly, she was pulled up... into the arms of the falconer! His gray eyes stared intensely at her for a moment, and strangely, the look calmed her racing heart. Then, he pulled her after him, grabbing a large wooden half-barrel and dumping the water out as he moved. Before she knew what was happening, he shoved her against a building and lifted the barrel before them as a protective barrier. She jumped as an arrow slammed into it, its metal tip erupting through the wood inches from her face! She stared at the sharp, deadly arrowhead for a long moment, fear closing around her heart in an iron grip. She turned a terrified gaze to the falconer.

  He threw the useless half-barrel to the ground and pressed her back against the wall, shoving her there with his body. Solace pressed her cheek against his chest and squeezed her eyes closed as he cocooned her head in his arms. She heard the quick beating of his heart, felt the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. Her fingers curled into his tunic, clenching it tightly in her trembling fists.

  Loud thunks sounded to her left and right.

  Then the falconer pulled away from her. He grabbed her arm and bolted for the inner ward. Solace couldn’t match his large strides. If he hadn’t been holding her arm, she would have stumbled and fallen. Finally, they dashed inside the inner ward and the gates closed behind them.

  Dorothy ran up to Solace, crying, “M’lady! Are you all right?”

  The falconer released Solace’s arm, and as she turned to thank him, he melted into the shadows. Solace opened her mouth, but a protective crowd of peasants encircled her, cutting her off from him. Her gratitude went unspoken. She anxiously searched the darkness near the wall, but the falconer was gone.

  ***

  Logan watched the peasants convene around Solace. Like bees to honey, he thought. At least she was all right. He was surprised that his own concern for her felt genuine.

  He turned away and moved toward the mews. The falcon floated down from the skies to perch again at his shoulder. He knew that eventually he’d have to seek out the lady Solace and somehow gain her confidence. But he would have to tread carefully. Suspicions were running high since the dungeon guard was found slain. Even old Ben had been looking at him strangely. He would have to wait a few more days.

  It will give me time to think, Logan thought. Perhaps too much time.

  The image of long dark hair, a defiant upturned chin and shapely body rose in his mind. He cursed silently. Why did Solace have to be so damned... He shook his head fiercely. She was the enemy. She was a Farindale. Still...

  Fool, he berated himself. He knew he had risked enough by opening the gates for her. And then, later, he had been ready for a fight, waiting for the castle guards to come and imprison him. But it had not happened. Somehow, lady Alissa had not seen fit to have him clapped in irons for disobeying her direct command. Somehow...

  He entered the courtyard that housed the mews. Old Ben had the door to the small house that sheltered his prize birds open and was sweeping out droppings and uneaten bits of food. Logan turned and moved toward his small room which was attached to the mews, hoping he could sneak by old Ben. But the man turned to him, calling out. Logan winced. The old man had the blasted hearing of a falcon.

  “Out strollin’
about again, hey?” the old man asked, scratching his stubbly chin as he approached. “Yer no falconer,” he mumbled for the thousandth time.

  Logan hid his irritation easily enough. The old man had been suspicious of him from the beginning. But despite his annoying habit of talking too much, the old man was an honest worker and Logan respected him for that. Old Ben worked diligently to keep the mews scrupulously clean and the falcons well fed.

  “Are the birds all right?” Logan asked.

  “Birds,” old Ben grunted. “Me darlin’s are fine. No thanks to ya. Where were ya? Out whorin’?”

  Logan stopped, his back straightening. He had never needed to pay for favors that were freely given. The old man is just irked because I wasn’t here with him to protect his darlin’s from the arrow attack, Logan thought. He turned to Ben, but said nothing.

  Old Ben snorted. “Ya know we’re in a siege. Need every good sword arm we can get. ‘Cause that’s what I think you do.”

  The remark unnerved Logan and he had to turn away, moving toward his quarters.

  “It’s nothin’ ta be embarrassed about. Whatever ya done before coming here is history. Ain’t nothin’ ta me. ‘Sides, I said it before, I’ll say it again. Ya ain’t no falconer, even if ya do go round with that beauty on yer shoulder.”

  Logan ignored the old man and continued to his room. It was a small room, not much bigger than a stall. No better than a horse would have, Logan thought grimly. And colder, too. He slept on a bed of old straw in the corner of the room. At least it’s private, he thought as he shut the door on old Ben’s harangue.

  The bird immediately flew to a small wooden perch Logan had carved for it. It fluttered there, watching him with those round brown eyes. He lit a candle and placed it on a table beside the bed. Feeling the bird’s gaze on him, Logan glanced impatiently at it. “What are you looking at?” he demanded. But there was no answer. It just continued to watch him.