Kieran shrugged. “I also used him to mine. In this way we are equal in our sins.”
“But his is the greater evil,” she said insistently. “You do not know him well, as I do. I tell you, Sir Anton will see you dead if it serves his purpose, and most likely it does. If we do not find ourselves in some manner of danger once we reach York, I vow I will shave my head until ’tis full bald.”
Kieran laughed aloud. “Now that would be a great pity, mistress. Your hair is a thing of true beauty, as well you must know. ’Twould be a grievous sin to destroy a single strand.”
Even sitting behind her, he could see her cheeks darken with pleasure, and Kieran, being a man who liked to please women, was glad for it.
“That is all foolishness,” she said, striving to sound stern and not succeeding at all.
“Nay, ’tis the merest truth.” Kieran took up a lock of her now loosely bound hair. She’d left it unbraided following her bath that morn so that it might dry more easily. The welcome warmth of the day had nearly completed that task, and now the glorious red-gold strands were only a bit damp, as cool and smooth as fine silk. “I do not think I have ever seen any more beautiful, nay, not once during all my travels. Many women I know would sell their very souls to possess the like.” He let the soft strands fall from his fingers, shaking away his fixed contemplation and pulling his mind back to the duty of guiding Nimrod. “Do you have it from your father?”
“My mother,” she answered, feminine pleasure yet heavy in her voice. “Her hair was the same. She was from the north, very different from the rest of my family. Daman has his dark looks from our father.”
“And a good thing it is, for ’twould be a waste should a man be blessed with such hair. From the north, you said. Do you mean Scotland? Your mother was Scottish?”
She nodded. “Aye.”
“Ah,” Kieran said. “Now I understand.” She turned her head to look at him. “What do you understand?”
“A great many things,” he replied. “Now, tell me about the chess piece. She looks like a small carving of Boadicea. Is that who she was meant to be?”
Glenys hesitated a long moment, holding his gaze, before turning her face forward once more and beginning to speak, answering his questions in a calm, if not perfectly willing, manner.
The afternoon was warm, a pleasant change from the cold, damp day before, and Kieran led them along at a comfortable, steady pace. They kept away from the main roads, riding mainly through oak forests and still muddy fields. In time, Glenys began to yawn. Without knowing what she did, she also began to rest more fully against Kieran, her body relaxing into the curve of his arm. And finally, when Kieran noted how weary she was, and ceased his endless questioning, she fell asleep, her cheek against his chest, her long, unbound hair falling in a curtain over her eyes. So soundly did she slumber, and so carefully did Kieran make certain of her comfort in his arms, that Glenys only came awake when he at last brought Nimrod to a stop two hours later, in the place that was their destination for the night.
Chapter Eight
Glenys never would have believed it possible, but Kieran FitzAllen had managed to find an inn that was even worse than Bostwick’s had been.
In truth, Glenys wasn’t certain that the dwelling she woke to find herself blearily gazing at could even be called an inn. It looked far more like a poorly built barn meant to provide shelter for animals. There was no actual door to the dwelling, only a wide opening at the front, with so much darkness beyond that Glenys couldn’t tell what lay within.
It was a dark, heavily wooded place they had come to, so strange and remote that she couldn’t imagine anyone living within it—at least, no one who was normal. It could only be some kind of thieves’ den, which, considering who and what Kieran FitzAllen and his servant were, seemed likely.
“See if you can find Xander, Jean-Marc,” Kieran said as he swung down from Nimrod. “He and his men must be lying in wait, else they would have made themselves known by now.”
Jean-Marc had already dismounted and was pulling Dina down to the ground. Setting her on her feet, he said, “I’d rather stick my hand down a snake hole, but it must be as you say, my lord.” Glenys noticed that he withdrew the dagger at his waist before approaching the opening to the dwelling.
Two warm hands settling at her waist caused Glenys to look down, to find Kieran FitzAllen ready to pull her from his steed. His handsome face was etched with lines of weariness, and his blue eyes were grim.
“Please tell me that we’ll be sleeping elsewhere tonight,” she said.
“There is nowhere else.” He tugged her forward, until she set her hands on his shoulders. “Though I assuredly wish there were.”
“In the forest?” she suggested as she slid downward, her feet coming to rest on the ground. “Dina and I would not mind it.”
He shook his head. “The ground is too wet from yesterday’s rain. I had hoped to go some miles farther before nightfall, but ’twill be dark within the hour, and your maid looks as if she can scarce keep her eyes open. I beg your pardon, mistress.” He reached past her and slid his sword from its scabbard, which hung on Nimrod’s saddle. “I believe our hosts have come to greet us.”
He wielded the heavy weapon gracefully, swinging about and lifting it to the ready just as a rustling from the tree above produced a number of men leaping to the ground with their knives drawn. There were five of them, Glenys saw, dark, swarthy and rough looking. The man who was their leader stood taller than the rest, handsome and cunning, though his garments and boots were beyond shabby. He was smiling at Kieran, and lifted a hand to indicate the long sword that was pointed at him.
“This is how you greet old friends, Kie?” He spoke smoothly and pleasantly, just as if he weren’t pointing an equally deadly blade at his visitor.
Glenys dared to glance at her captor’s face. It was set as if made of stone. In the past two days she had seen a number of expressions on Kieran FitzAllen’s countenance, but this one made her shiver. He might be a knave and a dallying rogue, but ’twas clear that he was not a liar. He had told her that he knew how to fight, and as he stood before her now, powerful and intent, clearly skilled at handling his sword, she knew it was the truth.
“This is how I greet enemies, Xander. I name a number of thieves and liars among my friends, but I’m not such a fool as to count murderers with them.”
The man named Xander grinned unpleasantly, baring his teeth, which were starkly white against his dark skin.
“A pity you’re so particular, Kie. ’Tis strange in a bastard, but you always have been thus. I might have kept Jean-Marc if it had been otherwise. You’ve brought the little traitor with you, I suppose?” His dark eyes shifted toward Glenys, who nervously moved closer to Kieran. “And someone else, I see.” He took a step toward her, to find the tip of Kieran’s sword lifted to his throat.
“The woman and her maid are in my care. Touch either of them and you’re a dead man, Xander. And your men along with you.”
Slowly, Xander stepped back, still gazing at Glenys, his eyes glittering. “And you speak with contempt of murderers? Is she your whore? Not as pretty as your last one, but her body is…perfect.” He looked as if he’d devour Glenys whole, given the chance. She began to tremble. “We have gold aplenty if you wish to take some of it,” he added. “We’ve had no women here for nigh over a month. We’ll pay well for her time and skill.”
“Nay,” Kieran said tightly. “We only require shelter for the night. Nothing more.”
“You can have it,” Xander said, “and gold, as well. Let us have your whore for an hour and you may ask what you wish. We’ll bring her no harm. Once each only, eh?” He glanced back at his men, who all nodded and murmured in agreement. Glenys discovered, to her terror, that they were all staring at her now. She moved right up against Kieran and set a hand at his waist, pressing herself into the strength of his body.
“She is not a whore,” Kieran stated slowly, “and I mean what I say. Touch h
er and I slit your throat.”
“Give us the other one, then.” He nodded toward Dina, who stood beside Jean-Marc’s mare, her face white with fear. “She is smaller than this one, but if we act with care she might be able to pleasure us all without harm.”
“Xander!”
The cry came from one of his men, who suddenly found Jean-Marc’s knife at his throat. Somehow Jean-Marc had managed to sneak up behind all of them without being seen, but perhaps, Glenys thought, that was because he had some measure of experience in dealing with them.
“How good it is to see you again, Roald,” Jean-Marc said, pressing the sharp blade even more tightly against the frozen man’s throat. “As ugly as you ever were. I broke your nose when last we saw each other. What shall I do to you this time? Eh?”
“Call your little hound to heel, Kie,” Xander said. “We’ll not touch the women.”
“On your honor, Xander,” Kieran insisted. “’Tis all you possess that’s of value. And I’ll hear your men make their oaths as well. Their honor is not as certain as yours, but you’ll make sure of them, I have no doubt. All our acquaintances will hear of it, if not, and you’ll be forever shunned even by the worst of them.”
“He is the worst of them,” Jean-Marc muttered, tightening his grip on his captive so that the man sputtered and squeaked. “Xander!”
Xander made a sound of disgust, then sheathed his dagger in one abrupt, swift movement. “Very well. You have my word of honor, and that of my men. Speak aloud!” he commanded, and his men obediently murmured their agreement. Roald was released and shoved to the ground, and Jean-Marc strode away toward Dina, who readily let him set an arm about her in comfort.
Slowly, Kieran lowered his sword and relaxed his ready stance. “We’ll stay the night and share your roof, and in the morn we’ll be on our way. Give us no trouble, and we’ll give you none in turn. If the women hadn’t been weary from travel, you may believe that Jean-Marc and I never would have come within a mile of here.”
“But you have come,” Xander noted, “and now will be our welcome guests. All of you.” He looked pointedly at Jean-Marc. “Even the traitor.”
“Do you have food?” Kieran asked.
“Food and drink,” Xander replied. “We’ve just now returned from the hunt. There are only rabbits, but enough for all.”
“We’ll pay you well.”
“That,” said Xander, motioning for them to enter the dwelling with the sweep of one hand, “we will discuss in the morn. For now, come and be warmed. The fire has died down, but we’ll soon have it burning bright again. Come in and have some wine.”
He walked in ahead of them, followed by two of his men, clearly expecting them to follow.
Glenys set a hand to Kieran’s arm, drawing his attention.
“How can you trust him? They’ll murder us in our sleep!”
He gave her a weary smile. “Nay, for I’ll remain awake and guard you well, Mistress Glenys. You have naught to fear.”
She shook her head. “You’re as tired as Dina and Jean-Marc. I’ll stay awake and keep guard.”
He looked fully shocked for the length of two seconds, and then he laughed. “Mistress, I pray you, this is not the time for jests.”
“I mean what I say!” she insisted. “I’ve slept for hours, and ’tis only right that I should be the one to remain awake and keep a watch on…on Master Xander,” she said, not certain what to call the man.
“’Tis not Xander I fear,” he told her, moving to slide his sword into its scabbard. “There is a certain honor among thieves, little though you may believe it. If Xander should go back upon his word and attack us, all who are common to us would know of it and disdain him. That is as bad as death among my people. Nay, ’tis not Xander I worry o’er, though he or one of his men may strive to outwit us without breaking their word. ’Tis you and Mistress Dina sneaking off again that holds me afeard.”
Glenys looked at him with disgust. “Can you think us such fools as to try to leave you now? We have no protection, no way to get back to London. I don’t even know where we are, and less how to find a decent road.”
Taking Nimrod’s reins, he led him toward a small, three-sided shed. “I can’t take the chance of losing you,” he said. Then, looking over his shoulder to where Jean-Marc yet stood with his arms about Dina, he added, “Take her inside, Jean-Marc. She’s nigh on fainting with weariness. Find the cleanest corner in the dwelling and try to make her comfortable. I’ll take care of Strumpet.”
“Strumpet?” Glenys repeated, watching Dina disappear into the dwelling beneath Jean-Marc’s guiding arm. “God’s mercy, is that what he calls his horse?”
Kieran chuckled as he led Nimrod toward the feeding trough. “Wouldn’t you, seeing how she behaves?” He began to loosen Nimrod’s saddle.
“Kieran.” The word felt strange on Glenys’s tongue, and clearly sounded just as strange to him, for he turned to look at her. “Master FitzAllen,” she corrected at once, feeling foolish. “I will give you proof that I speak the truth, that Dina and I will not strive to escape you this night, or in the morn. If a time should come in future when ’tis safe, then of a certainty we will make the attempt…I would be a liar if I told you otherwise. But we will do nothing until that moment comes.” She looked about at the small yard and poor dwelling. The sun was fast going away, and lengthening shadows made everything before her eyes seem even more eerie and frightening. “We both know it will not come tonight in this horrible place. I’m afraid even to sleep within the dwelling, let alone try to walk through these strange woods. But if that is not enough to make you certain, then you must take this.”
She dug a hand into her inner pocket and, looking about to make certain that none of Xander’s men were watching, withdrew the queen piece.
“Here,” she murmured, taking Kieran’s hand and setting the chess piece in his open palm. “I have told you that my uncle gave me this and what it means to him, also that it is meant for Caswallan, as a way to regain the Greth Stone. You know that I will not leave without it.”
He stared at the delicately carved lady. “Glenys,” he said softly, shaking his head, “’tis not necessary.”
“Aye, but it is, for you do not accept my word as true.” She hated giving the piece into anyone’s care, but set her hand over his own and folded his fingers about it. “Give her back to me come morn. I will trust you to do so, if you will trust me, as well.”
He tried to press the piece back toward her. “I accept your word, Glenys. Take it back.”
“Nay, I will not.” She felt foolish, and could feel her skin heat in consequence. If he gave it back she feared she would burst into tears, and knew not why. “Only in the morn, when we have left this place.”
His fingers tightened about the piece, and he drew nearer to her to say, “I will keep it safe. Upon my life, I will.”
She couldn’t find the strength to look at him, but fixed her gaze on the ground. “And I will keep watch?”
He sighed. “You will keep watch. And if Xander or his men should do so much as gaze upon you while you do, you will wake me. At once. Give me your word upon it.”
“I give you my word.” She looked at him at last, to find him gazing at her with a troubled expression. “Do you not trust me to do so?”
“I trust you, Glenys,” he said, carefully placing the queen piece in some inner pocket within his tunic, “but Xander and his men are clever. They’ve given their word of honor to leave us in peace, but they will spend the night striving to find a way to keep that promise and still make mischief. I fear you do not know what you ask when you offer to keep watch. But it will be as you desire. The matter is settled.”
The food that Xander and his men provided was, as promised, simple and somewhat crude, but they were grateful for it. Kieran and Jean-Marc took the two roasted rabbits Xander offered them on the end of a sword and deftly cut them into several pieces, giving the best parts to Dina and Glenys. The wine they drank out of coarsely ca
rved wooden cups was bitter and sour and wretchedly old, but it soothed their dry throats and warmed their stomachs.
The decrepit dwelling had two parts—one main room, with a heavily smoking fire pit in the middle of it, and one area that was separated by heavy velvet bed curtains that Glenys suspected had been taken from some wealthy victim rather than bought and paid for out of Xander’s ill-gotten riches. Xander grandly offered them this small, private area to sleep in, and Kieran accepted.
The tiny room was very dark, as the heavy curtains kept out most of the fire’s light, as well as its warmth, but it was somewhat cleaner than the rest of the dwelling. The packed dirt floor had recently been swept free of the filth that filled the rest of the building, and with their cloaks laid out they were able to fashion places upon it to sleep. Dina and Jean-Marc fell into slumber almost at once, but Kieran, despite his evident exhaustion, sat beside Glenys.
“Are you certain that you wish to do this?” he asked. “I’m of a mind to bear you company in the watch.”
She might have accepted the welcome offer if he hadn’t looked so weary. His face was pale and heavily lined, and his blue eyes were rimmed with red. If he would but lie down, Glenys suspected he would be asleep almost before he could think of it.
“Nay, you must rest if we’re to leave this place in the morn. ’Tis in truth most self-serving, for I confess I wish to be away from here.”
“I’m flattered,” he said with a laugh, “that you prefer my company to that of Xander’s. ’Tis not much of a compliment, but ’twill do. Look, the stone glows.” He touched her cloak, beneath which the small stone put out its gentle glow, illuminating their faces but not penetrating the curtains. “May I see it?”
“If I bring it out into the light, Xander and his men will see it.”
The Prisoner Bride Page 9