Mystique

by Amanda Quick

  “Aye, sir.” Dunstan heaved a sigh of regret. “That he has. ‘Twould appear he has gone against Harold of Ard-more. That won’t be much of a contest. Vincent will ride straight over the top of young Harold.”

  Hugh’s jaw tightened but his voice remained as calm as though they had all been discussing the latest farming techniques. “I regret that you must content yourself with whatever booty you find on these two thieves today, Dunstan. ‘Tis plain that due to certain recent events we will not have the opportunity of taking more lucrative victories in the jousts.”

  Dunstan shot a hooded glance toward Alice. “Aye, m’lord.”

  Hugh tossed the reins of the war-horse to Benedict. “Summon the sheriff and tell him that I will wish to question this man later.”

  “Aye, sir.” Benedict seized Storm’s reins. The stallion gave him a flat stare.

  Hugh looked at Alice with unreadable eyes. “You are certain that you are unhurt?”

  “Aye,” Alice whispered. For some idiotic reason she felt as if she were about to burst into tears. She had the most ridiculous desire to throw herself into Hugh’s arms. “You saved my life, my lord.”

  “That would not have been necessary had you obeyed my instructions to attend the jousts.” Hugh’s voice held no inflection.

  Alice went cold. Mayhap it was true what they said about him, she thought. Mayhap Hugh the Relentless lacked all the warmer feelings. The weight of the rag-wrapped stone was suddenly very heavy in her hands. Belatedly she remembered that she held it.

  “I have discovered the green stone, my lord,” she said, hoping that knowledge would break through the invisible steel hauberk he wore over his emotions.

  “Is that so?” He gave the object in her hands a cursory glance. “I am not pleased with the price you very nearly paid for it.”

  “But—”

  “I had already made inquiries concerning the whereabouts of Gilbert the troubadour. He was to have entertained certain knights and their ladies this evening. The stone would have been safely in my hands by morning. There was no necessity for you to risk your neck for it.”

  Alice’s precarious emotions underwent a sudden shift. She was outraged. “You should have told me of your scheme before you went off to the jousts, my lord. We are partners, if you will recall. We made a bargain.”

  “Our bargain, as you term it, has nothing to do with the fact that when I give instructions, I expect them to be obeyed.”

  “By the Saints, sir, that is most unfair.”

  “Unfair?” He started toward her. “You think I lack a sense of fairness merely because I object to your taking foolish risks?”

  Alice stared at him in amazement. “You are angry.”

  “Aye, madam.”

  “I mean truly angry,” she breathed. “Simply because I put myself in danger.”

  “I do not consider that such a simple matter, lady.”

  Hugh’s forbidding expression should have deepened Alice’s alarm, but for some reason it did not. A tiny flame of hope flared to life within her.

  “I believe that you are actually more concerned about me than you are about the green stone, sir.”

  “You are my betrothed wife,” Hugh said evenly. “As such, you are my responsibility.”

  Alice smiled tremulously. “My lord, I do believe you are something of a fraud. You are not nearly so cold as people claim. Today you saved my life and I will never forget it so long as I live.”

  She set the cloth-shrouded stone on the ground, straightened, and rushed straight into Hugh’s arms.

  To her astonishment, they closed around her.

  The meshed steel links of Hugh’s hauberk were cold and hard but the strength in him was oddly comforting. Alice clung to him.

  “We will speak more of this later,” Hugh said into her hair.

  • • •

  Hugh waited until after the evening meal had been prepared and eaten around the fire before he went to Alice’s tent.

  It was a very nice tent, he thought wryly as he walked toward it. Large, commodious. Quite comfortable. It even had a partition down the middle inside. It was the only tent that had been brought along on the journey.

  It was his tent.

  Hugh had assigned it to Alice without bothering to inquire whether or not she would be so gracious as to share its close confines with him. He’d known in advance what her answer would be to such a question.

  Last night he had slept near the fire alongside his men. Tonight he had every expectation of doing so again while Alice enjoyed the comparative luxury and privacy of the tent.

  Thus far Alice had not only slept alone in the tent, she had taken her meals there, too. As her uncle had sourly noted, she did not appear to have any interest in the conversation of knights and men-at-arms.

  Hugh thought of her snuggled into his blankets and had to stifle a groan. A deep, restless need settled into his lower body. He had been too long without a woman. As a man of discipline he refused to be governed by his own lusts but he paid a price.

  He knew the gnawing ache of unfulfilled sexual desire all too well. He had experienced it often enough over the years. He cheered himself with the thought that things would be different when he got himself a wife.

  That notion naturally led to the all-too-obvious observation that he very nearly did have a wife. For most couples a betrothal was so close to a vow of marriage that few objected if the man and woman chose to consummate the union. In fact, such a consummation virtually ensured that the wedding would take place.

  It was Hugh’s ill fortune to be betrothed to a lady who considered herself his business partner rather than his future spouse. He wondered what it was going to take to convince Alice that marriage would be an interesting alternative to the convent.

  The problem troubled him. It had all seemed so simple at first. Now he was starting to have doubts.

  He had many abilities, Hugh thought. He was not without wits. Erasmus of Thornewood had seen to his education and Hugh was well aware that he was far more widely read than most men. But when it came to understanding women, especially a woman such as Alice, Hugh felt his skills to be sadly lacking.

  “My lord?” Benedict rose from where he had been sitting near the fire and hurried over to Hugh. “May I have a word with you?”

  “Not if it’s about your sister,” Hugh said.

  “But, my lord, I would have you comprehend her better before you go to her. She meant no harm this afternoon.”

  Hugh paused. “She very nearly got her throat slit this day. Do you wish me to encourage her in such foolishness?”

  “Nay, sir, but I’m certain that she will not do anything so rash again. I must point out that you have gotten what you wanted. The green stone is now safely back in your possession. Can you not let matters rest?”

  “Nay.” Hugh studied Benedict’s worried face in the flickering shadows cast by the fire. “Calm yourself, lad. I do not beat women. I will not strike your sister.”

  Benedict looked unconvinced. “Sir Dunstan has explained that you are angry because you were unable to go against Vincent of Rivenhall in the jousts this afternoon.”

  “And you fear I shall take out my irritation on Alice?”

  “Aye, that is exactly what I fear. Alice has a way of annoying men who seek to order her about, my lord. My uncle was forever losing his temper with her.”

  Hugh stilled. “Did Sir Ralf ever strike her?”

  “Nay.” Benedict smiled ruefully. “I do not think he dared do so. He knew she would have her revenge in some fashion that he could not predict.”

  “Aye.” Hugh relaxed. “I gained the impression that Ralf was somewhat intimidated by Alice.”

  “At times I think he was actually afraid of her,” Benedict diet said quietly. “Alice believed it was because of our mother’s reputation.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Aye. She was a great student of herbs, you see. A true mistress of the lore of plants.” Benedict hesitated. “Sh
e knew the properties of many strange and unusual species, the ones that could heal as well as those that could kill. And she taught Alice about them from a very early age.”

  An icy sensation chilled the skin of Hugh’s arms. “In other words. Sir Ralf feared that Alice might have learned enough from your mother to poison him, is that it?”

  “Alice would never do anything so terrible.” Benedict was clearly shocked by the notion. “My mother taught her to heal., not to cause harm.”

  Hugh reached out and gripped Benedict’s shoulder. “Look into my face, lad.”

  Benedict’s anxious eyes met his. “Aye, my lord?”

  “There are things that must be made plain between Alice and myself. Among them is the fact that as my betrothed wife, she must abide by my instructions. I do not give orders for the sake of whim. I give them for the safety of those in my charge.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Alice and I may argue over this matter but I give you my oath that I will never strike your sister. You must be satisfied with that.”

  Benedict searched Hugh’s face for a long moment, as though seeking to see clearly through the shadows. Then some of the rigid tension went out of his young shoulders. “Aye, my lord.”

  Hugh released Benedict. “She will come to understand that while she is in my keeping, she must obey me just as everyone under my command does. Unfortunately, there may be times, such as today, when her very life depends upon her obedience.”

  Benedict groaned. “I wish you good luck in convincing her of that, my lord.”

  Hugh smiled slightly. “Thank you. I suspect I shall need it.”

  He turned and continued toward the black tent. It was a fine night, he reflected. Cool but not cold. Campfires dotted the darkened landscape around Ipstoke. Sounds of drunken revelry, loud laughter, and occasional bits of song drifted on the evening air.

  It was a typical evening following a day of jousting. Victorious lords and knights were celebrating their triumphs in ballad and story. The losers were negotiating the generally friendly, but often expensive, ransoms that would be demanded of them.

  More than one man would be impoverished by the day’s events. Several would be nursing bruises and the occasional broken bone.

  But after this fair at Ipstoke was concluded, most of the winners and losers alike would hurry off to the next joust, wherever it was to be held. Such meets were a way of life for many men. The fact that jousting was technically illegal in England did nothing to quell enthusiasm for the sport.

  Hugh was one of the few who took little pleasure in the business. For the most part he indulged himself in tournaments only when he wished to provide his men with the training such contests supplied.

  Or on those rare occasions when he could ascertain that Vincent of Rivenhall would be his opponent.

  The glow from within the black tent told Hugh that Alice had lit a brazier for warmth and a candle for light. He eased aside the flap and stood quietly in the opening. Alice did not hear him enter. She was seated on a small, folding stool, the only one that had been brought on the journey.

  Alice had her back to him. The line of her spine was graceful and achingly feminine. Her head was bent intently over an object cradled in her lap.

  The dark, burnished copper of her hair was bound up in a net. It glowed more richly than the coals in the brazier. Her skirts flowed in elegant folds around the legs of the stool.

  His betrothed wife. Hugh drew in a deep breath as a wave of sharp desire crashed through him. His fingers tightened around the flap of the tent. He wanted her.

  For a moment all he could think about was his startled reaction earlier that day when Alice had thrown herself into his arms. His emotions at the time had teetered on some unseen brink. He had been torn between rage at the risk she had taken and a gut-wrenching realization that she had almost gotten herself killed. He had very nearly lost her.

  The sense of possessiveness that seized him made his hand tremble.

  As though she had sensed his presence, Alice suddenly turned her head to gaze at him. She blinked and Hugh could almost see the thoughts in her head shift from one subject to another. Then she smiled at him and Hugh had to close his hand into a fist to keep from reaching for her.

  “My lord. I did not hear you come in.”

  “You were obviously concerned with other matters.” Hugh called forth every shred of self-mastery that he could claim. Deliberately he let the tent flap fall closed behind him.

  “Aye, my lord.”

  He walked across the tent carpet and looked down at the object in her lap. “Still studying my crystal, I see.”

  “I am still studying my crystal, sir.” She stroked the heavily faceted green stone with her fingertip. “I am attempting to comprehend why Gilbert the troubadour and those two thieves thought it so valuable.”

  “We won’t learn much from the troubadour. Gilbert has vanished.” Learning of the troubadour’s disappearance had been yet another source of annoyance that day. Nothing seemed to be going right, Hugh thought morosely.

  “I’m not surprised,” Alice said. “There was something quite oily about Gilbert. I never cared much for him or his songs.”

  Hugh watched her face in the candlelight. “I’m told that women find him attractive.”

  Alice gave a ladylike snort. “I certainly did not. He tried to steal a kiss one evening while he was staying in my uncle’s hall.”

  “Did he, indeed?” Hugh asked softly.

  “Aye. It was most annoying. I dumped a mug of ale on his head. He did not speak to me after that.”

  “I see.”

  Alice looked up. “Did you learn anything from the one-eyed thief?”

  “Very little.” There was no point searching for a second stool. Hugh sat down on one of the heavy wooden chests that contained Alice’s collection of stones. “He talked freely enough, but he knew only that his companion had made a bargain with someone to recover the crystal. I believe that the one-eyed man and his associate killed the peddler in Clydemere.”

  “Oh.” Alice’s voice sounded a bit unsteady.

  “Unfortunately, the man who went down beneath Storm’s hooves was the one who actually struck the bargain. He is dead and therefore can tell us nothing.”

  “I see.”

  Hugh narrowed his eyes. “Those two men would have murdered you without so much as a second thought.”

  She gave him a brilliant smile. “But you saved me, sir.”

  “That is not the point I wish to make.”

  She grimaced. “I know what point it is you wish to make, my lord. But look at the positive side. One of the murderers is dead and the other is in the sheriff’s safekeeping. We are both safe and the stone has been recovered.”

  “You’re forgetting one thing.”

  “What is that?”

  “Whoever hired those two men to find the crystal is still out there somewhere and we have no clue to his identity.”

  Alice’s fingers tightened around the crystal. “But whoever it is must know that his attempts to steal the stone have failed. It is back in your hands now, my lord. No one would dare to try to take it from you.”

  “I appreciate your confidence,” Hugh muttered, “but I don’t think we should assume that all potential thieves will have the same faith in my skills.”

  “Nonsense. My uncle assured me that you are well nigh a legend, sir.”

  “Alice, I regret to inform you that what constitutes a legend in out-of-the-way places such as Lingwood Manor or Ipstoke amounts to no more than a moderate reputation elsewhere.”

  “I do not believe that for one moment, sir,” she said with a wholly unexpected show of loyalty. “I saw the way you dealt with those thieves today. When that tale gets back to the one who hired them, he will most certainly think twice before making any more attempts to take the stone. I am certain that we have seen the last of his handiwork.”

  “Alice—”

  She tapped the crystal with her forefinge
r. Her brows snapped together in a contemplative expression. “Do you know, sir, I would very much like to find out why someone stole this stone in the first place.”

  Hugh’s attention was briefly caught by the ugly crystal. “‘Tis possible, I suppose, that someone mistakenly believes it to be a valuable gem. It is, after all, said to be the last of a great treasure.”

  She eyed the stone with evident skepticism. “To judge by the low price he placed upon it, the peddler who sold it to my cousin Gervase certainly did not think it valuable. He believed it to be merely an unusual object. A trinket of interest only to a student of natural philosophy.”

  “I suspect that the thief was motivated by a belief that the stone had a far different sort of value.”

  Alice looked up sharply. “What sort of value is that, sir?”

  “I told you that possession of the crystal is linked by a legend and a curse to the lordship of Scarcliffe.”

  “Aye. What of it?”

  Hugh shrugged. “Mayhap there is someone who does not wish me to become the new lord of Scarcliffe.”

  “Who would that be, sir?”

  Hugh absently drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Mayhap ‘tis past time that I told you about Vincent of Rivenhall.”

  “The man you sought to go against in the jousts today? My brother told me that you were most annoyed because you were obliged to miss the contest. Indeed, I am well aware that it was my fault you found it necessary to forgo the joust.”

  “Aye. It was.”

  She gave him a dazzling smile. “But in the end you must admit that regaining the stone was the important thing, my lord. And we have done that, have we not? All is well, so we can forget about the unfortunate incidents of the recent past.”

  Hugh reluctantly decided that it was time to deliver his little lecture on obedience. “It is not my way to forget unfortunate incidents, as you term them, madam. Indeed, it is my belief that one must use such events to teach firm lessons.”

  “Never fear, sir, I have certainly learned mine,” she assured him cheerfully.

  “I wish I could believe that,” Hugh said. “But something tells me—”

  “Hush.” Alice held up a hand to silence him. “What is that?”