“Is that how you really feel?” he asked incredulously.
“It is.”
He shook his head slightly. “It was me, not this fine husband of yours who came in search of you, does that not tell you all you need to know about his motivation?”
“It tells me you still believe me some cosseted princess in need of coddling,” she answered dryly. “Despite the fact I have not been so since I was fourteen and forced out of the palace. As for Armand,” she shrugged. “We have total frankness between us, which I find refreshing.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, broth—” She corrected herself. “Otho … that we have vowed to be ideal traveling companions together on our adventure. I am fulfilling my end of the bargain,” she said, gesturing to the sack of food. “If our marriage continues on these lines, I will be vastly satisfied with it.” Seeing her brother’s troubled expression, she added lightly, “He did not expect to win that tournament, Otho, or take a wife that evening.”
He snorted. “From what I saw, he could win precious little glory in the field.” He sighed. “He is not a fit husband for you, but at least he bested those two last night. After seeing his woeful performance on May Day, I would not have thought him capable.”
Una winced. “He was beset by robbers the day after we were married and fought them off with aplomb. I think perhaps he is better in a brawl than in a formal match.”
Otho shrugged. “Curious for a knight, but if you say ’tis so, then I will accept it.”
She regarded her brother thoughtfully. “Otho, what were you planning to do, after you had won that competition? You took such a risk. If your imposture had been found out, I do not like to contemplate what your fate would have been.”
He flushed and would not answer for a moment. “There is a convent near Woodcote, with a monastery at the foot of the hill. I thought I could take you to the abbey and I would enroll with the holy brethren nearby. You would be safe, and though we would not be together, we would be close by always.”
Una felt oddly touched. She reached out and touched his sleeve. “That was sweet of you, but I have never aspired to be a holy sister, Otho,” she said gently. “I want children and a home of my own.”
“You think De Bussell can give you that?”
“Yes,” she answered simply. “He has a pleasant personality, open and genial. I think with time he will grow accustomed to the fact he has a wife not of his choosing. He bears no grudges that he was forced into marriage with me.”
“No grudges!” spluttered Otho. “It is an honor he does not deserve!”
“There we must agree to disagree,” she said with a wry smile. “But I think all will work itself out. For the first time in my life, I feel optimistic about my future, Otho. You have no idea how freeing that feels.”
Her brother looked hard at her for a moment and then turned away. “I’d better go back and help him,” he growled. “We only have an hour at most before dawn.”
Una nodded. “I will be perfectly fine down here by myself,” she assured him. “Unless you think I should come up and help?”
He looked appalled at the notion. “Take your ease while you can,” he recommended sternly. “You’ve not had a full night’s sleep and you’ll be flagging by noon.” He hesitated. “Do you think you could get your head down for an hour’s sleep?”
She shook her head. “Absolutely not. I will just sit here quietly and await you.”
He left her with a nod, and she heard his quick step on the stair. It was only then that she caught sight of a pair of shiny eyes under the table, peering up at her. Una started and then realized it was a tiny little dog, shivering in the shadows.
“Hello there,” she said in a kindly voice. “Where did you come from?”
The animal cringed away from her, looking frankly terrified. He was a malnourished little thing, his every rib sticking out, his gray fur matted and tangled in tufts.
“Come here, I won’t hurt you,” she promised him softly, but he could not be persuaded. Thoughtfully, Una stood up from the bench and walked through to the kitchen where the remains of the pork joint were on the side. It had not been cooked with any spices or seasoning, so she fancied it would be bland enough for the dog’s palate. Cutting some non-fatty pieces, she placed them in a napkin and walked back through, reseating herself on the bench and setting the napkin on the table.
Selecting one piece she threw it under the table. “Here boy,” she crooned, though in truth she had no idea if it was boy or girl. The little dog hesitated and then darted for the meat, gobbling it down as if he had not been fed in a month. She took another piece and dropped it at her feet. He stared at it a while before dragging himself over to retrieve it and then scurrying back to eat it at a safe distance.
Una dropped another piece at her feet, and the little dog was quicker to come forward this time and did not retreat as far back to wolf it down. “Good boy,” Una told him approvingly. “You can see you need not fear me, for I am your friend.” She dropped another piece, and this he ate at her feet, looking up at her hopefully. “Yes, there is more,” Una assured him.
By the time Armand and Otho started carting the sacks of ill-gotten gains down the staircase, the little dog was eating from her hand.
“Who’s this? Found a friend?” Armand asked with a grin. “He’s a poor little scrap.”
“He’s half-starved,” Una corrected him. “And has been most cruelly treated for he has cuts and bruises all over his poor little body. I’m sure that with good food and nourishment he will fill out nicely.”
Otho snorted, but Armand seemed resigned. “If you’re bringing him with us, you’ll need to wash him. I can smell him from here.”
Una looked down at the little shaking dog. The men’s voices seemed to have set him in a new quake. “There’s nothing to fear,” she soothed him. “You’re among friends now.” To her surprise he suddenly sprang up and placed his two paws against her skirts, asking to be taken up.
Una reached down tentatively, not wanting to touch him anywhere he was sore. Picking him up she placed him on her lap and he cowered there, leaning against her, in what she could only guess was an appeal for protection. Folding her arms around him, she drew the shivering dog into a gentle embrace. “Yes, she said with decision. “Abelard will be coming with us.”
“Abelard!” echoed Otho, looking critically at the animal. “He hardly seems to embody noble strength!”
“A lofty name for so timid an animal,” observed Armand.
“It took great strength to survive in such a household as this,” Una said coolly. “Have you not many more sacks to carry down?” She saw Armand smother a laugh at her pointed words. Standing up with the animal cradled in her arms, she announced her plans with dignity. “I shall wash him in the kitchen. There were some soap flakes there, though they cannot have been often used.” Then she stalked out of the room.
*
It had taken them a good deal of time to get the horses loaded up and with their booty. They found three horses in the stables that they appropriated for their needs. Otho proved himself a very able hand as he carted the sacks out and strapped them securely to the beasts.
Armand wondered that Una’s brother had foresworn his share of the loot. From what Una had told him, he had nothing but the clothes on his back and the sword at his hip. You would think he would have jumped at the chance to set himself up with some security for the future.
Then again, Armand eyed him as he helped Una up into her saddle, he could be playing a deep game. After all, his intent could be to take off with both treasure and the princess and leave Armand in the dust. He would have to keep his eye on Master Otho.
It was still dark when he eventually led the way out of the courtyard. Seeing the three loaded horses and the bulging sacks, he had soon changed his mind about the tournament at Tranton Vale. He could hardly put up in a pavilion with all these valuables to guard. With some reluctance, he came to the conclus
ion that the only thing for it was to head for his own estate, Lynwode. He saw the light spring to Una’s eye when he announced this and winced.
He had not seen the place in five years, and even then it had been a shambles. The only resident had been a deaf housekeeper on her last legs. He sent the odd bag of coins her way every once in a while, when he was flush and in funds, but she never wrote to him and indeed he had never expected her to. Most likely the old woman was illiterate. She could have dropped dead in the place for all he knew which would mean introducing his wife to yet another corpse! Then there was his family to consider, he thought darkly. If they caught wind he was in residence, there would be hell to pay and he would have no peace whatsoever.
Still, there was nothing he could do about it now. He had little choice in the matter and in truth, he had enjoyed five years of giddy freedom doing as he pleased and never once thinking about his duties back home. He should be rejoicing at the large fortune that had fallen into his lap, however grisly the circumstances. Wymer had not seen fit to dower Una, so he would simply view this as its equivalent. If his family questioned his newfound wealth, he would tell them his bride came heavily dowered. Neither his father nor brothers had any connections at court, so it wasn’t like they would ever learn otherwise.
He glanced over at Una now, with the little dog swaddled against her breast like a baby. He had tried to object, pointing out the little cur might piddle all over her gown, but she had been resolute, insisting she would wrap her mantle about her shoulders and secure him to her.
In the end, he had glanced at Otho who had merely shrugged, and let her have her way. The dog’s eyes were closed, and he seemed to be enjoying the proximity. Armand couldn’t really say he blamed him as Una did have a fine pair of breasts. It was one of the first things he’d noticed about her. Suddenly, a memory came back to him of lying against Una’s naked bosom. He sat up in his saddle. She had stroked his hair. Was he reading too much into this, or could it mean he hadn’t been too contemptible a bed partner for a sheltered virgin? He felt a rush of relief and was encouraged to hope that was the case. Thank the gods that he had not remembered her crying or trying to push him away.
At least he now knew why she had looked so stricken when he had asked if she had ever been set about by robbers. She must have seen a good deal of brutality in her time. Of course, soldiers sacking unprotected communities was nothing new and was done on all sides, but he had not thought such facts would console her.
His eyes traveled over her critically, now some light was creeping into the sky. In truth, she was not a bad-looking woman. Her build was not diminutive as he had always preferred, but her tall, upright bearing was admirable in its own way. Her face would not be displeasing, if only her expression was not so grave and weighty all the time as though she had too many cares.
He did not think he had heard her really laugh, but when she smiled, it often lit her up in a pleasing way. Her eyes, which were in truth more gray than blue, were not at all watery like in that ghastly portrait of her everyone knew. They must have modelled the likeness to that of her sire, he supposed, to show she was a chip off the old block. Any woman he knew would have thrown a fit if they had been so misrepresented on canvas.
Then again, she had been going about in that awful yellow frizzed wig and wearing that peculiar gown that stole any womanly shape from her body, so mayhap she had wanted to conceal her comeliness. He knew from experience that she had ample charms when her clothes were off. He shifted in his saddle and forced himself to think of other things.
On reflection, he rather thought it was the right decision to take her to Lynwode and establish her there. Though the place was in considerable disrepair, maybe he could set this wife of his to its renovation? She seemed capable enough in her own quiet way. His thoughts brightened. Maybe then, once he had given her time to adjust and made the necessary introductions, he could be off again, living his merry, touring life?
The idea appealed to him. Perhaps by supposedly taking a rich wife, even his family would think he was taking his duties seriously for once? A smile twisted his lips, anticipating their stunned reaction to the news that he was married. He was in no hurry to impart such tidings, but it would have to be done even if it meant them all converging on him.
The thought of his disapproving father, and two joyless brothers, soon wiped the smile from his face. No doubt Henry was as penny-pinching a miser as ever and Roger the same old sober bore he had been since childhood. As for his twin sister, Armand had not felt close to her for years, if ever. Anne had married a wearisome country squire and then produced what he was sure would be a pair of equally tedious, fractious children. He sighed. Family was the devil.
They kept riding till noon, without much event, then left the path for a rest in a shady orchard. Una produced a bag of provisions. As neither he nor Otho fancied the tasteless pork, she fed it to her little mutt, and they all had bread and cheese. Otho watered the horses and then leaned his shoulders against a nearby tree. Armand lowered himself onto a fallen trunk where Una sat.
“How are you feeling? Tired?” he asked in a low voice.
She looked across at him quickly. “You must not worry about me, Sir Armand. I am used to long hours in the saddle.”
“Armand,” he corrected her, and she flushed.
“Yes, of course,” she said hastily and fed her dog another piece of meat. He had been freed from her mantle and was now at her feet.
“I know we have not yet had much time to get acquainted,” Armand continued. “But hopefully once we are at Lynwode, we will have time for that.”
“I’m very much looking forward to seeing it,” she replied warmly.
“I should probably warn you that the place will be in need of a good deal of work, I have not seen it in some five years now …”
She nodded, still looking keen. “That does not daunt me, I look forward to setting to work.”
“Do you speak true?” he asked, a smile quirking his lips. “Or is this merely part of your promise to be amenable in all things?”
“Oh no!” she protested. “Indeed, I am entirely sincere, I assure you.”
“My family too will not be far from us,” he told her glumly. “I am sure they will come poking and prying before long.”
“I look forward to meeting them also,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “For I feel sure they cannot all be as dull as you describe them.”
He laughed and saw Otho scowl at their cozy conversation. “Your brother still does not seem reconciled to me,” he said in a low voice. “He’s a good deal squeamish for a soldier, isn’t he?” When she frowned, he added, “Refusing his share of the treasure. Which seems strange after what you told me of your own soldiers’ looting and sacking.”
Her brow cleared. “Otho’s an idealist,” she replied. “Even in the face of the starkest evidence to the contrary, he still retains his beliefs.” She hesitated. “He had a hard upbringing and had little to cling to. What little he did have, he refuses to let go of.”
“You think I can trust him not to plunge a knife in my ribs at the first opportunity?” Armand asked dryly.
“Oh yes,” she said quickly. “He has always been very honorable. Once he gives his word, he would never go back on it.”
He nodded, squinting his eyes against the sun as he gazed the length of the blossom-filled orchard. “I did not thank you for waking me so precipitously in the early hours.” He gave her a swift glance.
“Did my nails leave a mark on your arm?” she asked ruefully.
“If they did, it’s of no matter and infinitely preferable to a dagger wound. To my regret I am a heavy sleeper—always have been.”
“That has caused you inconvenience in the past?” she asked lightly.
He grinned. “Aye. As boys we used to play all manner of tricks on one another. My fellow squires soon learned the best time to take revenge on me was at night. I often woke to a bedful of frogs or slugs.”
Una wr
inkled her nose. “I notice you say revenge,” she remarked. “And deduce you were the initial culprit.”
Again, he laughed. “I was a mischievous boy,” he admitted with a shrug.
She looked at him thoughtfully a moment. “I can well believe it. Who were you squire to? Your father?”
“Gods no, my father has no love for knights. I was squire to Sir Jesmond Chevenix over at Greater Derring. He had two sons and a nephew, so there were always plenty of us racketing about the place.”
“You mentioned Derring before, I think in connection to your younger brother attending a religious seminary there?”
“That was Upper Derring, but they are less than an hour or so’s ride from each other.”
“And close to your home?”
“Yes. Lynwode is just outside Little Derring. My father’s place is over at Derring Lacey. They are all within easy distance of each other.” His mouth twisted. “Vastly cozy.”
Otho cleared his throat. “Should we not get back on the road,” he rumbled. “This isn’t the time for confidences. We need to put as much distance as we can between ourselves and that accursed inn.”
Armand felt a twinge of annoyance at the interruption, but in fact the surly fellow spoke no more than the truth. He stood and held his hand out to Una, who took it, and he pulled her to her feet.
“Has that dog—” Otho started, then bit off what he had been about to say.
Armand nearly laughed. “Relieved himself?” he suggested. “And yes, he has. I saw him piss up that tree you’re leaning against,” he answered straight-faced.
Otho loosed an oath, whipping around to gaze at the trunk with disgust.
“He’s jesting, Otho,” Una assured him. “Abelard would not stray so far from me. Indeed, he piddled on this very log. I think ’twas where Armand was sat.” Armand chuckled at this, leading her over to her horse, where she set about arranging her mantle in a sling for the little dog. This time it was he that helped her up into her saddle.
They carried on their way late into the afternoon when Armand let his horse drop back to draw level with Otho. “What do you say to riding through the night?” he asked quietly. “If we rode through, we could reach Little Derring before noon tomorrow.”
The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok Book 3) Page 11