“Hardly alone,” Miriam snapped, afraid Catherine might be more perceptive than she had supposed. “Or had you forgotten Percy was with us?” Well, most of the time. “Believe me, I was perfectly well chaperoned.” With a sly smile, Miriam added “Or is your attack an attempt to divert attention away from yourself, sister dear. After all, I wasn’t the only one alone in the wilderness with only two men for company.”
Catherine’s eyes narrowed to pale blue slits. “Surely you don’t imagine I carry a secret flame for either of my escorts? Sir Hugh must be at least fifty, and Fergus is… well, Fergus.”
“So you say.” Baiting Catherine wasn’t much fun. She’d always been much too easy to reel in. It was hardly worth the bother.
“Ugh.” Catherine wrinkled her nose. “As if I could ever be attracted to such a grim, sullen youth or his elderly friend. Unlike some ladies, I do have certain standards.”
“Your meaning?” Miriam asked quietly, preparing herself to do battle.
“If your memory is as dreadful as your taste in men, then allow me to spell it out for you, sister. Not content with falling in lust with a murderous pirate, now it seems you’ve transferred your fickle affections to a common turncoat; to a man hardly fit to own the name of ‘knight’. By all the gods, Miriam! What must it be like to be you, to expect so little from a man? Surely even a doxy is more selective in her clientele.”
A flash of anger lit Miriam’s blood. Yes, for Fabien, she deserved to be punished. But she would not stand by in silence whilst Catherine attacked the character of the man she—
Loved?
Was that how she felt? Did she… love him?
Whether she did or not, she would have to mull it over at some other time. For now, there was Catherine to be put back in her place.
“Now just you harken to me, m’lady.” Miriam strode toward her sister as she sat nursing her goblet of chocolate by the fire. “Those four men—Sir Anselm included—risked a good deal to save the two of us. For that act alone, they deserve our sincere gratitude. All of them do, no matter how old, or surly, no matter what their past might hold.”
“Is that so?” Catherine scrambled to her feet, answering the challenge.
“Yes, it is.” Although Catherine had a slight height advantage, Miriam was undaunted. “If you have any sense in that silly head of yours you will never again disparage any of those men, especially while in my presence. Do I make myself clear?”
“And if I do?” Catherine wasn’t cowed by her younger sister. “What then, hmm? What can you possibly do to me?” She actually laughed, and Miriam experienced an overwhelming urge to punch her sister right on her perfect nose. “Now, let me tell you something, sister dear. Despite your brave words, you know as well as I do that your precious knights are beneath your notice in every way. Especially him.”
Miriam did not need to ask who Catherine was referring to. Bitch.
“In a few days’ time—if the spirits are merciful—we’ll be back with our family, and your precious Sir Anselm and his odd assortment of cronies will be gone from our lives, hopefully forever. If you have any sense, you would be turning your thoughts as to how we might restore our virtue.” A sly look crossed Catherine’s beautiful features. “Since you’re on such good terms with our rescuers, perhaps you might use a little of your… influence to persuade them to say nothing of our time apart.”
“What do you mean?”
Certain she had Miriam’s attention, Catherine sat down again. Perching on the very edge of her seat, she studied her pearly nails. “Come now, sister. Don’t be so dense, dear. After you and I became separated, we were alone in the wilderness for many days, utterly unchaperoned, with men who were not family. How do you think that would look, hmm?” Catherine buffed her perfect fingernails upon the skirt of her gown. “I don’t know about you, but I intend to make a good marriage some day. However, if certain details of our journey were to become common knowledge, what man of worth would ever want us?”
“So?”
“So, I want you to speak to your… friends. Do all in your power to coax a promise of silence from each of them.”
“What do you suggest I do?”
“Whatever it takes to insure word of our disgrace doesn’t get out. Do this, and I will never again mention your appalling taste in lovers. And, to sweeten the deal, from this moment onward I will be as grateful and respectful to our rescuers as even you might wish.”
Miriam frowned. “And if I don’t?”
Catherine sighed. “Then I suppose I shall be forced to tell our dear brother everything. Perhaps with an added embellishment here and there. After all, Rodmar needs little excuse to execute your precious Anselm.”
This was nothing short of blackmail. Miriam was trapped and Catherine knew it.
“You’re despicable.”
Catherine laughed and tossed her golden hair. “Look on it this way, Miriam. If you were to persuade them to make but a small alteration to the story of their daring rescue, your favorite knight will not only live to see his honor fully restored, but he will earn the respect and gratitude of a king. Even better, you and I will still have our virtues intact.”
The she-devil. She knew she’d won.
“You credit me with too much influence, Catherine. What if I can’t persuade them? What then?”
“Oh, I’d concentrate my efforts on Sir Anselm, if I were you. He seems to be the leader of his little rabble of brothers, and he already seems quite devoted to you.” Catherine smiled in that superior way of hers. “Convince him and the rest will surely follow. You’ll see.”
At dawn the following morning, they finally boarded the ship that was to bear them across the great sea to the Norlands.
Although the vessel possessed none of the sleek grace of the corsair ship, it looked sturdy enough to weather any storm, albeit rather compact in design. Indeed, Miriam couldn’t imagine how such a seemingly small ship could possibly hope to accommodate all of them, let alone their horses.
Despite Miriam’s fears, they sailed with the tide. Horses, baggage, and all.
At the stern of the ship, she gripped the wooden rail and watched the last bit of land shrink away. Smaller and smaller, until it vanished, swallowed up somewhere in the place where the rolling gray ocean met the dark, sullen sky.
This was it, then. The life she’d known was gone. Perhaps forever. Now she must turn her thoughts to the future.
A brisk fresh wind snatched her breath and billowed her cloak playfully about her shoulders, making it dance like the ship’s sails that flapped and snapped far above her head. Obeying the barked commands from their captain, an army of tanned, painted sailors scurried about the intricate web of rigging, battling to tame the vast folds of canvas which defied them at every turn.
The last boat she’d set foot on had been the one belonging to Fabien.
Fabien. The man she’d vowed to love until the sands of time ran out.
So much for eternity.
Turning her head, she saw Anselm talking with Sir Hugh a little further along the rail. How distant he seemed now. Gone was the teasing, arrogant stranger. In his place was another, far quieter man.
Oh, to be able to read his thoughts, to penetrate the deep shadows of his mind that hid him from her. What was he thinking of? His lost love? The voyage home?
Miriam still hadn’t had the opportunity to discuss Catherine’s demands with him. In the rush to depart, there simply hadn’t been time. The tide didn’t wait for anyone. But now they were finally on their way, they had nothing but time. There was nothing else to do but watch the sea and sky.
And to think.
Out on the rolling ocean, there was much too much time to think. It was enough to send a person out of her wits. How wonderful it would be, to have the ability to close down her mind for a while.
From the corner of her eye, Miriam
saw Sir Hugh turn and depart. Ducking his head, the big man entered the doorway that led below decks leaving Anselm all alone.
This was it. The chance she had been waiting for. There would be no better time to approach Anselm for Fergus and Percy were still settling the horses in the hold, while Catherine was—goodness knew where she was. Probably preening herself or carping to someone, knowing her.
Stomach flipping alarmingly—which Miriam immediately blamed upon the motion of the ship—she gathered her courage and went over to where Anselm stood by the rail, scowling out to sea.
He appeared not to have noticed her, so lost was he in his private reverie. But this might be their last chance to speak freely. Unsure how to begin, Miriam politely cleared her throat.
“Sir Anselm?”
“Hmm?” Anselm turned. His silvery eyes widened a little when he saw Miriam standing there.
“I-I wondered if I might have a word with you?”
“Have as many words as you please, Princess,” he answered with a shadow of his former teasing manner, but Miriam wasn’t taken in. His smile was too quick and did not quite reach his eyes. He seemed… troubled. Afraid, even.
Ridiculous. Anselm wasn’t afraid of anything, least of all her.
“Thank you,” she said, deciding to take his words at face value. “Perhaps we might take a turn about the deck together?” Her brain usually ran more smoothly while she was on the move.
“Of course.” Anselm offered his arm but with a quick shake of her head, Miriam declined. As much as she wanted to touch him again it would be far too dangerous.
“So,” Anselm prompted as they set out together along the wooden deck. “What would you like to discuss, m’lady?”
“It’s… rather a delicate matter.” Miriam frowned, floundering to find the right way to proceed. “In truth, I hardly know how to begin.” Damn Catherine and her bright ideas.
“You, m’lady? Struggling for words? I am all amazement.” This time his smile was more genuine. “What a momentous occasion this is.”
Unable to help herself, Miriam smiled back. “Yes, yes. Most amusing, I’m sure.”
“Ah, there she is. Hello, Mirry. Welcome back.” Without asking for permission or consent, Anselm took her hand and tucked it away snugly into the crook of his arm. “That’s better, is it not? No more of that silly awkwardness between us, do you hear? Come what may, we shall always be friends, you and I.”
Miriam’s heart fluttered wildly. As much as his words warmed her, was that really how he saw her, as a friend? Friendship was all well and good but it could never be enough. Not with this man. She wanted… needed so much more.
“Come, sweeting,” Anselm urged softly. “Tell me what’s on your mind. Just spit out the words and make a start. I shall not interrupt you.”
And so she did. Stumbling over the words to begin with, Miriam quickly found her rhythm. Soon the words were spilling from her lips in a breathless rush; Catherine’s hopes for a good marriage, her terrible threats. All of it.
Just as he’d said he would, Anselm listened without interruption, although he did pat her hand from time to time when the heat of her anger threatened to bubble over. Guiding her silently around the coils of rope and other obstacles on the well-scrubbed deck, he gently steadied her with his strong arm as the little ship pitched and rolled. But still, he listened.
At last, her words were spent, and there was nothing more to be said.
Only then did Anselm speak, and his expression was unusually grave. “I see.” The way he said it assured Miriam that he really did see. That he understood her completely.
Together, they paused by the ship’s rail, each staring toward the horizon. “For myself, I do not care a fig about my reputation, but Catherine is not like me.” Now that she’d begun, Miriam couldn’t seem to stop talking. “To marry well has long been her greatest desire, and she will not willingly let go of her dream.” Miriam darted a look at Anselm’s solemn profile. How had he managed to become so dear to her? “I couldn’t bear it if you were made to suffer for the ruination of all my sister’s grand plans.”
Anselm turned to look at her. “And why is that, do you suppose?”
“I c-cannot say.” Her cheeks burned beneath his scrutiny, but she did not look away.
Taking her hand from its snug place on his arm, Anselm slowly raised it to his lips and kissed her fingers with an exquisite tenderness that warmed her soul and made her vision blur and shimmer.
“So it would bother you, then, if your brother were to send me to the gallows?”
Unable to speak for the plug of tears lodged in her throat, Miriam could only nod vigorously.
Turning her hand over, Anselm pressed a gentle kiss into her palm.
Miriam shivered. By all the spirits! What was this strange power he had over her? She was melting. Drowning.
“Then you would mourn your Northman, dearest?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I wo-would.”
Anselm nodded. “I believe you.” He gently touched her cheek and caught a stray tear upon the tip of his thumb. “Do not vex yourself so, sweeting. Not over me. I am not worthy of your tears.”
Raising the shimmering droplet to his lips, Anselm kissed the tear away then he tucked her hand back into the fold of his arm. “Your hands are cold. Don’t you have any gloves?”
Miriam managed to give a feeble laugh. “Why would I? I was born in the desert, remember?”
“True enough.”
“So what will you do, Anselm? In just a few days we will arrive at court and I… we need to know what you will say to my brother.”
“Leave the matter with me until I have spoken to the others. Trust me, dearest. All will be well. You’ll see.”
Relief made her giddy. “Oh, thank you.” Without thinking of the consequences, Miriam stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss upon his tanned cheek. “Thank you!”
Anselm had the grace to blush.
“But first I would have you know this, Princess. What I do is not for your sister. I do this for you and you alone.”
“For me?” Fearing yet longing for his answer, she hardly dared to ask him, but the urge to know was too powerful to resist. “B-But why?”
“Were it within my power, I would do anything for you, little bird.” He smiled sadly. “Yes, even claim the moon and stars from their heaven if you asked it of me.”
Miriam could scarcely believe her ears. Such tender words as this she had not expected. Did it mean what she secretly hoped? Did Anselm love her, even just a little?
Seconds later—albeit with great gentleness—he shattered all her foolish dreams.
“One day,” Anselm said, cupping her cheek, “you will meet a man worthy of your love, and I will not have you lose him for something so trivial as a questionable virtue.”
“Oh.” Her heart plummeted from the stars and crashed into the bitter northern sea.
“Let me speak with the others,” he said. “They are all good men, even Fergus.” His mouth curved in a brief smile. “They would not want to see any harm befall you, especially when the means to protect you lay within their grasp.”
Miriam nodded. Swallowing back her tears took all the strength she possessed, but somehow she managed to do so. Anselm must never know how much his words had affected her.
“Th-Thank you so much, m’lord. You are most k-kind.”
“’Tis my pleasure. Now,” he said briskly, “shall I escort you back to your cabin? The wind is beginning to pick up a-pace, and I would not want to have to break the news to the king that his most beloved sister had been washed overboard.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
As expected, Anselm’s friends were only too happy to commit themselves to the princesses’ cause. Indeed, the slight bending of the truth was hardly a proper falsehood. Each one of them knew the truth of what ha
d happened on their respective journeys, and so the ladies’ pristine reputations remained intact.
Task performed and promises duly secured, Anselm left the others to continue with their board game while he wandered back outside onto the deck. Swaddled deep within the cozy folds of his cloak, he took a seat upon a pile of neatly coiled rope, absently watching the crew as they scurried about the deck following orders.
As always, his thoughts returned to Miriam.
Anselm had no expectations. The princess probably considered him nothing more than a light dalliance, a mere flirtation, a way to brighten the tedium of the journey home. Indeed, not so long ago, he might have been of the very same mind. After all, what real harm was there in a kiss or two?
But for all that Miriam had seemed to enjoy those all too brief moments in his arms, doubtless, she would forget all about her devoted Northman once she was back in the bosom of her family. Her partiality for him was sure to vanish as quickly as it had begun, what with all those noble suitors lining up, waiting to dazzle her into wedlock.
No, the princess would do very well without him. Who knew? Perhaps in time, she might even recall their brief adventure together with a smile of fondness. He hoped so.
As for himself, Anselm didn’t like to think about how he would go on without her. One thing was certain. Once they reached the Norlands, he must never be alone with Miriam again, for Court was a dangerous place.
Behind the smiles and laughter lurked many eyes and cunning spies. All watching, waiting, to see who would be the next to fall. Every action was fair game, subject to scrutiny and deep discussion. A look that lingered just a heartbeat too long would fuel the palace gossip for weeks.
All those plots, schemes, and currying of favor were elements of a most complex game. One Anselm could not afford to play. The risk of discovery was much too great and, to his deep regret, he was not a good enough actor.
Not where Miriam was concerned.
He scowled at a swooping gull, momentarily resenting the creature its carefree existence, especially when he was so lost with neither a course nor a decent plan to aid him. But how could he think about the future? He couldn’t. Not while his heart was still so raw.
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