She Walks in Love (Protectors of the Spear Book 2)

by Marylu Tyndall

  That old friend now appeared in the light, staggering and snapping at a servant to draw one of the benches closer to the fire. Aside from a few lanterns and rushlights near the hearth, the rest of the hall lay in shadows, musty, moldy shadows, if Jarin’s nose told the truth of it. As his eyes adjusted, the distinct shapes of four trestle tables and a long sideboard formed out of the shadows. A single banner, no doubt bearing the family crest, hung from the high oak ceiling while two tapestries sat askew on the walls.

  “Bring some bread, cheese, and wine at once!” Quinn shouted at a nearby serving girl, who scampered off, stirring up rushes spread across the floor. He faced Jarin, firelight shining off his tunic of brilliant emerald slit at the sides, revealing a white cote underneath. A belt of golden circles sat around his waist, the lavish attire at odds with the condition of the house. Yet the face was the same, just as handsome, yet bearing more harsh lines than before. “Prithee, sit.” He gestured toward the other chair whilst he took the bench.

  “Fire.” Thebe, awake now and sitting on Cristiana’s lap, pointed at the flames ere shoving her thumb into her mouth.

  A thousand questions stampeded through Jarin’s mind. Not the least of which was how had his friend fallen so low? The house, obviously once a beautiful manor home, stood in a state of disrepair inside and out.

  “How is it with you, my friend? Where have ye been so long?” Quinn grabbed a nearby mug and took a sip, which, from the way he slurred his words, was what he’d been doing ere they arrived.

  Setting down his sack, Jarin removed his cloak and approached the fire, holding out his hands to the warmth. “I became a knight, as I am sure you heard.”

  “I did! A King’s Guard. Vak, quite an accomplishment for one so lowborn.”

  Jarin bristled, not at the insult, for he’d come to expect such, but from the tone his friend took. One that held no joy at his good fortune and accomplishments.

  Quinn tossed the remainder of his drink to the back of his throat, then shouted over his shoulder. “More mead!”

  Lady Cristiana jumped at the sound, and Thebe began to whimper, fussing to get down and walk.

  Quinn glanced their way, his eyes scanning the lady in a way that disconcerted Jarin.

  “And you, Lord Quinn. I see you inherited your father’s manor,” Jarin said, by way of drawing his attention back to him. “A baron! Who would have expected it?”

  “Not I! Sadly, my older brother died, and the duty fell to me. Alas, it has given me naught but headaches.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and grinned. “Ah, the times we had at Tegimen, did we not? I oft think fondly on them. ’Tis good to see you, Jarin. How many years has it been?”

  Thebe finally won the battle against Lady Cristiana and took off running across the hall.

  “Oh, my.” Grabbing her skirts, she charged after her, making both Jarin and Quinn smile.

  “Eight, I believe. Far too long.” Jarin smiled at Quinn, seeking the lad he once knew beneath his now solemn exterior. “And you, lord of a manor! ’Tis the dream of many less fortunate.”

  Quinn rubbed his dark, pointed beard as if he were contemplating the truth of such a thing. “Aye, a true blessing.” He forced a smile as Cristiana returned, hand in hand with Thebe and halted beside Jarin.

  “My lady, pray, tell me from whence do you hail and how did you come to be in this rogue’s company?”

  Seated once more, Lady Cristiana looked up at Jarin then over at Quinn. “I am Lady of Luxley in Northland Goodryke, fallen on difficult times and forced to leave my estate for a time. Sir Jarin was tasked with my recovery and return.”

  “Ah, Luxley. I have heard of it. Yet why send a single knight? Why not a carriage and host of knights to escort the lady of the estate safely home?”

  Thankfully, two servants arrived with platters of bread, cheese, and grapes, along with cups of water and wine, for Jarin was unsure how the lady would answer, and ’twould do them no benefit to tell of the danger following close behind them.

  “Food, Cristi. Hungry.” Thebe followed the servants as they spread the plates over a sideboard.

  “What need have I of more than one King’s Guard, my lord?” She smiled sweetly at Quinn ere she started after the girl, but Jarin gestured for her to remain seated as he went to gather the child and a trencher of food. Returning with both, he set Thebe in Cristiana’s lap and the trencher on a table to the side.

  “Thank you, Lord Quinn, for this repast,” Cristiana said. “I fear we have not eaten today.”

  Quinn chuckled and took another sip of his mead. “Gadzooks, my lady, ’twould seem you have at least a need for a cook as well as a knight.”

  Jarin took some bread and cheese and returned to his seat as a servant refilled Quinn’s cup. Grabbing it, he clutched it in both hands as if ’twas more precious than gold. But all their gazes focused on Thebe, who entertained them with oohs and ahhs as she delighted in every bite. Grapes were her favorite, and she consumed them with gusto and giggles, exclaiming, “I love gapes,” until the entire cluster was gone.

  “No more, my darling.” Lady Cristiana held up a cup for the child to drink.

  Then as happy as a well-fed cat, Thebe leaned back against the lady with a smile.

  “Ah, to be young again, Jarin. When simple things brought such pleasure.” Quinn’s tone bore a sorrow he’d not known in the man. But then, of a sudden, his mood lifted, and his face lit as he began to reminisce of their time at Tegimen, including myriad questions of its present state. What brothers were still in residence? Did Father Godwin speak of him fondly? Were the grounds the same, the wine cellar in the place they’d left it? Jarin answered what he could, then set aside his plate, casting a glance at Lady Cristiana and the child, both of whom appeared to be sinking lower into the chair by the minute.

  “My friend, would it be possible to escort the lady and child to a chamber where they might sleep? ’Tis been a long day.”

  “By all means. Forgive me!” Quinn pushed to his feet, swayed slightly, then clapped for one of the servants to come forth.

  “Mistress Arlette, please show Lady Cristiana to the west wing chamber and provide her with whate’er she needs.”

  Hoisting Thebe in her arms, Cristiana cast Jarin a wary glance, to which he returned a nod of assurance. His friend may have overindulged in drink this night, but Jarin trusted him. They would be safe here. Her eyes acknowledged his unspoken pledge ere she followed the maid up a winding set of stairs.

  And he felt the loss of her more than he wished to admit.

  “A most lovely creature, Jarin.” Quinn’s eyes followed her. “I will place you in the chamber beside hers with a connecting door.”

  A sudden rush of indignation flooded him at the insult to the lady’s honor. Why, he could not say, for he and Quinn had oft spoken thus of women when they were young. “No need. Ours is not… I am not…we…” Oh, Bosh! He was behaving like a foolish stable boy.

  “You tease me, Jarin! You, a known philanderer and with every opportunity alone with such an exquisite beauty on your journey. Egad, did you take a vow of celibacy at the abbey I am unaware of?”

  His friend’s words cut, but only due to their truth, for even in his days at Tegimen, Jarin had tasted the forbidden fruit of a local farm girl.

  “I will admit to many indiscretions in my past. However”—swallowing, he glanced up the stairs where Lady Cristiana had left—“some ladies should be honored.”

  As if in defiance of his statement, Quinn grabbed the young woman pouring more wine into his mug and threw her on his lap. She giggled and squirmed as he put his hands in places they ought not to be.

  Jarin looked away, the food souring in his stomach.

  “Never fear, my friend. I will order one of the serving girls to your chamber later.”

  “Nay, I fear I am far too tired this night.”

  Quinn shook his head as if he could not imagine such a thing, whilst the girl in his lap gazed at Jarin with seductive eyes.
>
  “Off with you!” Pushing her from his lap, Quinn slapped her behind as she started away. “I wish to speak with my longtime friend. More wine?”

  “Nay.” Jarin needed to keep his wits about him. They were still being pursued, and ’twas not the time to let down his defenses. Though he had to admit, merely seeing his friend brought back memories of reveling and roistering, luring his thoughts back to a time without restraint. Why they hadn’t been both tossed from the abbey was beyond him. Alack, ’twas because Father Godwin knew naught of their antics. Or at least most of them. Why did that thought suddenly pinch him with guilt?

  Quinn gulped down more wine and stared at the fire, eyes that once had sparkled with mischief now dull and lifeless.

  “What happened here, Quinn? Surely you bring in enough from the manor farms to live comfortably?”

  He took another sip. “It provides enough, aye, but my father left me steeped in debt.”

  Jarin seemed to recall that Savoy Manor had been quite profitable. “It grieves me to hear such news. But take heart. I am sure you will recover in time.” Though surely he’d had enough time already.

  Quinn raised his glass. “’Tis the life we both dreamed of as we drank our troubles away in that wine cellar. No responsibility, no rules, no God to follow, and as lord of this manor, I have my pick of the young women in town.” He blew out a snort. “Each one with hopes of marrying and improving their station.”

  “And none that has made you wish to settle, to wed and have children?”

  “A most damnable folly, Jarin! Do you not remember our pact to remain single and free to sample any feminine delight we wish?”

  Jarin did remember, and he had done just that these past years. Yet, in truth, not a single dalliance remained embedded in his memory, just a passing mirage of women and wine. And in the end, loneliness.

  Jarin stared at his empty cup. “We were but young fools back then, were we not?”

  “I marvel you would say so, my friend.” Quinn looked up, his face creased with confusion. “As for me, I will not be settled. As the Holy Scriptures say, ‘a man hath no better thing under the sun than to eat, drink and be merry!’”

  Jarin remembered not that particular Scripture. “But are you happy, Quinn? Is this the life you hoped for?”

  “Faith now! Put by this mad talk. What else could a man want—wealth, station, power, wine, and women?” The last word he slurred as he laid his head back upon the chair and closed his eyes.

  Moments passed as the fire crackled in the hearth and Jarin’s thoughts twisted in his head. A chill raked over him despite the flames, and he glanced at his friend, who lay with head back and mouth open, snoring. A shadow, black and fluctuating, stood behind him, then disappeared. Jarin rubbed his eyes, and yet when he opened them, more shadows slithered over Quinn, wrapping him in a ghostly restraint.

  Jarin was no doubt more exhausted than he thought, for when he stood to confront them, the shadows vanished.

  Two male servants approached. “I’ll show ye to yer room, sir,” the smaller one said as the larger one flung Quinn over his shoulder as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

  Mayhap he had. Which brought more sorrow to Jarin than he expected. Why did it seem that his good friend had everything in the world, and yet in the end, nothing at all?

  Chapter 22

  Cristiana brushed a curl from the little girl’s face, then pulled the covers up over her shoulders. A chill permeated the chamber, which the small fire in the hearth did little to assuage. A chill permeated Cristiana as well, one she could not shake. Rising from the bed, she approached the flames and hugged herself, the night dress the maid had given her shifting about her ankles.

  Quinn of Savoy…a handsome enough man, tall and muscular, with hair the color of the night, a strong jaw, and chiseled nose. But she sensed something sinister beneath the well-groomed exterior, something akin to the same feeling she got when Lord Braewood had been near, an uneasiness, a heightened awareness that put her on her guard. Foolishness! He was a good friend to Sir Jarin, and if the knight trusted him, so should she. No doubt ’twas merely exhaustion from the day’s journey and the tension of being chased through the countryside. A new day’s light would bring clarity and assurance.

  Spinning about, she lifted the coverlet and slipped onto the bed beside Thebe, snuggling close to keep her warm. Before too long, her worries abandoned her in the sweet oblivion of slumber.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, she awoke with a start. The chamber sat in darkness, all save the glowing coals in the hearth. Movement directed her gaze near the door, yet she could see nothing but shadows. The door snapped shut.

  Her heart sprinted, crashing against her chest. Pushing to her elbows, she scanned the room as more things came into focus. No one was there. But someone had been there.

  She was sure of it.

  ♥♥♥

  Grabbing the reins of the spirited horse, Quinn of Savoy handed the missive, sealed with his signet ring, to his servant. “Deliver this to Bishop Montruse at Luxley Castle at once. Ride through the night if you must.”

  The man nodded and slipped the letter inside his cloak. “Aye, my lord.”

  “When you return, I will pay you handsomely,” Quinn added, though he knew not how. His coffers had long since been empty. But how else to inspire the man to make haste?

  He released the reins, and the man nudged the horse forward and then urged him into a gallop down the path and out the main gate of Savoy Manor.

  Dust flew into Quinn’s face as a chill raked over him, and he stared up at the quarter moon frowning down upon him. Only adding to his shame. A shame that now rampaged through him, stealing every ounce of goodness that remained.

  Shoving aside the feelings, he stiffened his jaw. He hated to betray his longtime friend, but what else could he do? Did Jarin not know that the bishop had posted a bounty on his head in the sum of twenty pounds? Quinn scrubbed a hand over his chin. That would go a long way to pay off his gambling debts and bring back some of the servants he’d been forced to release. Not to mention, once again position him in a respectable standing with nobility.

  Aye, he’d be a fool to turn down such an opportunity…one that had willingly come knocking on his door.

  Spinning about, he marched into the manor. Now, all he had to do was convince Sir Jarin and his lovely companion to stay long enough to be caught.

  ♥♥♥

  Morning sun beaming through the open window slats lit the chamber with hope and good tidings. Or mayhap ’twas Thebe’s smiles, giggles, and songs that made Cristiana forget the strange visitation during the night. Though she had slept little after the event, Cristiana had come fully awake by kisses on her cheek and little hands shaking her by the shoulders.

  “Wake, Cristi, wake! Where Jarn? I’m hungry.”

  Smiling, Cristiana rubbed her eyes as a row of tiny white teeth came into view before her, along with the excitement sparkling in Thebe’s blue eyes and curls the color of soft oak jiggling about her face.

  And a world full of troubles vanished before the child’s innocent exuberance.

  “Hungry again?” Cristiana pounced on the girl, tickling her beneath her arms and over her sides.

  Giggles bubbled throughout the room, chasing away all shadows of the night.

  And also bringing the lady’s maid, who aided them in getting dressed after Cristiana changed Thebe’s soiled cloth. The maid, per Cristiana’s request last night, also brought a stack of clean cloths for their journey.

  After she thanked her, the woman left, and Cristiana took Thebe by the hand. “Shall we go find Jarn and get something to eat?”

  The little girl nodded her head up and down with a beaming grin as Cristiana opened the door and started out into the hall. A figure advanced toward them from her left. She barely had time to turn to see who it was when Quinn of Savoy intruded upon them so close, Cristiana took a step back.

  “Lord Quinn. I didn’t see you ther
e.”

  “Nor I you, my lady.” He bowed, grabbing her hand for a kiss ere she could withhold it. Cold lips pressed upon her skin, even as she gazed down the corridor and realized he would have had no trouble seeing her emerge from her chamber. In truth, by all appearances, ’twould seem he had waited for her to do just that.

  With but a cursory glance at Thebe, he extended his elbow to Cristiana. “May I escort you to the hall, where I have ordered a feast to break your fast?”

  His breath, a mockery of the morning, stung with the scent of spirits, which gave her pause. Yet how could she refuse him?

  “Very well.” Forcing a smile, she slipped her hand onto the crook of his elbow and followed him down the winding stairway, searching the hall when it came into view for Sir Jarin. She could not deny the relief, and dare she say joy, she felt when she saw him standing before the fire, one boot on the hearth, wearing his long leather hauberk, complete with sword and knives attached. Dark wavy hair fell over his cheek, brushing against his trimmed beard as he appeared to be in deep thought. Upon hearing them approach, he turned, eyes and smile lighting upon seeing her, but then frowning at Quinn so close beside her.

  Her sentiments exactly, though she wondered at his reason when the man was his friend.

  No time to ponder as Thebe tugged from Cristiana’s hand and dashed toward Sir Jarin, flinging her arms open as she went.

  Cristiana watched, concerned the powerful knight would shove aside the child’s attentions, for Thebe’s desires had never been tempered by decorum. But Sir Jarin knelt and received the babe with as large a smile as she’d seen on the man. Then swooping her up in his arms, he tapped her on the nose. “Sleep well, little one?”

  And a warmth swept over Cristiana akin to a breeze on a summer day.