Читать книгу The Quest - Lyn Stone - Страница 11

Iana instructed the boy to mind Tam for her, and hurried away into the night. She had warned him that his master’s fate rested upon how well he minded the child. His lack of reluctance for the task surprised her and made her feel guilty for the untruth. She hated lying.

It was no lie she had told the knight, however, saying that she was free. This heaven-sent bargain of his had granted her that freedom. He did not need to know how long she had considered herself unfettered, now did he?

Iana felt fairly certain she could keep him alive, and devoutly hoped she would succeed in doing so. The wound was not deep, nor had it festered. However, the loss of blood or fever might well take him yet, unless she dosed him heavily with herbs and kept him warm and dry for several days before attempting to travel.

It certainly would be more advantageous for her if she did not arrive at his brother’s home with a dead body. Besides that, she rather liked the lad, Everand, who doted on his master and was kind to Tam. Iana did not want to see him grieve.

Taking the man to her cottage at the edge of the village was not possible. He might be discovered there. If it became known that she entertained a man within her temporary home, her brother would likely do more than beat her when he found out. And if they remained there until the knight was fit to travel, it would be time for Newell to come for her answer. They had but three days to get well away.

’Twould be best if they repaired to a nearby cave. She knew of one that would suffice. It was where she had planned to go with Tam and hide from her brother until he gave up searching. Getting the knight there would be the problem. He could not walk and she had no beast for him to ride. Her only recourse was to obtain one somehow.

Or why not three? She’d pay no more dearly for them than for a single animal if she were caught. Hanged was hanged. Besides, she did not fancy trudging the breadth of Scotland with Tam on her back, dragging the knight on a litter with only the help of a lad.

The nearest village to Whitethistle stood at least two leagues distant. She knew it well, for it rested upon the estate of her dead husband, the demented old lout who had never given her anything before he died other than two years of abject misery.

His family had taken all of her jewelry from her and kept her dowry as well, so surely his cursed sons by his first wife owed Iana something for enduring their father without complaint. There should be at least three mounts enclosed in a stable somewhere thereabout.

Iana lifted her skirts and quickened her pace. If she was to become a reiver tonight, then she had best be about the business of it before good sense took hold.

Henri opened his eyes to total darkness. There were no stars above him. No moon. Nothing. For a moment, he believed death had claimed all but his awareness and the ever-present pain. He sensed he was enclosed somehow, not out in the open. Then he heard Everand’s almost inaudible snoring nearby, interspersed with the distant, soft whuffle of a horse. Was this a stable?

“Ev?” he whispered.

A cool hand brushed his brow. The woman. He drew in her scent, that of sweet grasses and the underlying essence that marked her gender. “Where are we?” he asked.

“In a cave,” she answered, her voice dulcet and comforting. She placed something to his lips. “Chew upon this. It will aid your rest and cool your fever.”

He accepted it and tasted green bark. Foul stuff, but given that she had sewn him up and rescued him from the elements, he granted her that modicum of trust. Henri chewed for a few moments, then removed the bitter residue from his mouth.

“We leave here come morning,” he told her.

“So eager,” she commented with a soft laugh. “I fear it will be at least another day before you are well enough to ride, good sir.”

“I have sailed the entire length of England in worse condition. I daresay a few days on horseback will not prove any more life-threatening.”

“As you will, then,” she replied softly. “But now you must sleep, sir.”

“Henri,” he whispered, groping about for her hand until he found it and threaded his fingers through hers. It helped to feel grounded here in this dark place, so he would not go flying off into the beyond. The feeling of hanging suspended in purgatory when he’d awakened must have affected him more than he realized. “My name is Henri.”

He realized he must be more fevered than he thought, to invite this informality with a woman. Even his mistresses did not address him so, and he had never before encouraged such a thing. However, she thought him but a simple knight, apparently. That made sense, for when they had set out upon their voyage, he had instructed Everand not to call him “lord.” Most of the time Henri preferred the simplicity of being a knight among other knights, instead of the heir to the Trouville dynasty. It afforded him more friendship and camaraderie. He definitely wished a friendship with this woman, he thought with an inner smile.

“I am Iana,” she said.

“I remember. Iana,” he added, for no reason but to say it, tasting her name on his tongue. Like honey, it sweetened the bitter taste of the bark. “Your father is called Ian, I would wager.”

“My grandfather,” she replied. He could hear the smile in her voice.

“I know an Ian,” he told her idly, his words slurring as his mind grew heavy with fatigue. “A rogue, he is.”

Again, she laughed, a mere flutter of sound that soothed him immeasurably. “Rest now…Henri,” she advised softly.

The sharpness of his aches had subsided. The coolness of her palm seemed to draw the heat from him. “Magic,” he commented, smiling into the dark.

He listened, imagining he could hear her heart beating a steady rhythm, or mayhaps it was his own. A horse whuffled again and Ev made a sleepy sound of protest, likely in response to a dream. For the first time in weeks, Henri felt safe enough and well enough that he could willingly embrace sleep without thinking of death.

“These are your horses, lady?” Everand demanded. He stroked the neck of the smallest mount, a mare who tended to nip.

She shrugged. “They are now.”

He grinned impishly, showing fine white teeth and dimples. “You stole them, did you not? I knew it last night when you returned after so many hours. Did you kill someone for them?”

“Of course,” she said, then wrinkled her nose at him in jest. Iana held tightly to the rope attached to the large cob, allowing only enough slack for the horse to bend its neck and drink from the stream. “In truth, I left a link of the silver for payment.”

With her free hand, she patted the knight’s chain, coiled within the sack attached to her belt, and took pleasure in the clinking. “When the moment arrived to take the beasts, I found I could not become a thief.”

“Aha,” he acknowledged with a sage expression. “An honorable soul. I do admire that in a woman.”

The lad’s sudden transformations from child to jaded gentleman and back again amused Iana. ’Twas hard not to laugh at his pretentiousness. “How old are you, Everand?”

“Fourteen summers. And you, lady?”

She did laugh then, but answered him honestly. “You should not ask such of a woman. I am two and twenty.”

He looked aghast. “I swear by the saints, I would have guessed not more than ten and seven. How well you wear your years!”

Iana could not contain her mirth. “An accomplished flatterer. I do admire that in a man,” she declared, giving him back his compliment. “Now come, we must get these mounts back inside that cave ere someone happens along and sees us with them. I should not enjoy swinging from a gibbet!”

“But you paid more than their worth,” he argued. “What is to fear?”

She turned to lead the cob and the roan back to their hiding place. “Aye, but I did not strike a deal with their owners. It may be they were not willing to sell. Now hurry along, your master will be waking soon and wonder where we are.”

Everand paused to fill the wooden bucket Iana had appropriated from the stables where she gleaned the horses. Hauling that with one hand and leading the mare with the other, he followed her.

“Two and twenty, eh? You said you have no husband. Have you never wished to marry, lady?” he asked as they walked. Though he had had the care of Tam the night before, he still avoided mentioning the existence of the child, who now lay nestled against Iana’s back.

“No, I never wished to wed, but I did so all the same,” she answered curtly, unwilling to lie to the boy, but also disinclined to share her tale of woe. If he and his master knew the entire story and the plans her brother now had for her, they might well leave her behind to avoid trouble. “My husband perished last year, and I will speak no more of him.”

“Aha,” the lad said, “so this is how you became impoverished. Poor lady. You should marry again, this time to one who would have a care to provide for your future. And that of your child,” he added, commenting for the first time on Tam’s presence. Iana supposed the fact that he now thought the bairn had a father made her acceptable enough to mention.

“’Tis none of your affair,” she snapped. “Be silent ere I box your ears.”

“Ooh, a woman with pluck,” he crooned in that too-adult voice of his. “I also like that about you.”

The impudent little nodcock. Iana was still shaking her head when they arrived back at the cave.

She had chosen well their place of concealment. The hollow extended deeply into the side of the hill, its opening a crevice barely wide enough to squeeze the mounts through. The interior widened to a cavity nearly the size of her small cottage, offering plenty of room to house the horses. Through another narrow passage there lay a chamber half the size of the first, but still adequate for her, Tam, the lad and his master to sleep without crowding each other.

She had dared not build a fire inside. If there existed an opening for the smoke to waft out, it might be spotted. If not, they would surely choke on it.

The only light within their sleeping chamber was a small oil lamp that she had brought from the cottage. How she would replace the oil when it burned away, Iana did not know. She had left it burning, half-full, so that the knight—Henri, she recalled—would not awaken in darkness while they were gone.

“Water, berries and dry oats,” she announced to Everand and the man, who had dragged himself up to sit against the wall of the cave. “That must do for today.”

The knight’s gaze immediately locked upon Tam, whom Iana could feel peeking over her right shoulder. He said nothing about the child, but looked somehow relieved and puzzled and disappointed all at once. Shifting slightly, she felt Tam curl into a ball against her back, hiding herself.

“Why can we not buy food?” the squire demanded, plopping down beside his liege. “You have the silver. Your village is nearby.”

Iana sighed. How could she explain why they must remain hidden without giving them the real reasons? If she were indeed a free woman, what was to stop her from adequately provisioning them for the trip and setting out upon it without this subterfuge?

The knight’s bargain was that she deliver him to Baincroft in return for the silver. If they did not want to trouble themselves with a runaway lady whose brother might be offended enough to punish them if they were caught together, she would be forced to relinquish what was left of the valuable chain, and remain behind. Newell surely would find her then, she would be wed and Tam would likely die when taken away from her.

Iana busied herself apportioning the food as she considered whether she should lie. She could sell the horses and go her own way. But no doubt the owners would be looking for them, expecting the one who took them to try to sell or barter them somewhere. Women did not make such trades or sales. She would be conspicuous, and therefore remembered.

Newell would track her that way as surely as if she left a trail apurpose. No, she must remain with this knight and squire, travel with them for her own protection, and do so in secret. Her brother would be searching for a woman alone.

They both watched her, waiting for her to answer. A half-truth, then, she decided, a play upon their knightly inclinations to protect the weak.

“There is this cruel man who wishes me to marry. If I simply disappear, mayhaps he will forget I exist. However, if he hears that I have acquired silver, the greedy fool might chase me to the ends of the earth.” Her brother might do that anyway.

And Douglas Sturrock might, as well. She still did not know what Newell had promised the man to make him consider the match. Her youth and beauty were gone now, and Duncan had left her nothing, not even her dower lands.

Neither knight nor squire said a word. They merely watched her as though waiting for her to continue.

“This is why I brought you here instead of to my cottage,” she added. “This man would see your presence there as a challenge. I do not wish to be taken by force and made wife to a man who would mistreat me and this child. Nor would I wish you harmed on my account. So we must hide.”

The one called Henri stirred slightly, resettling to make himself more comfortable, she supposed. His measured words surprised her. “This fellow you speak of has not forced you to it yet. And I know the law here prevents wedding a woman against her will.”

“Aye, true enough,” she replied. “But there are many ways to bend one’s will, especially a woman’s.”

“Some men are not kind to their wives, that is true.” He seemed to consider that before he asked, “But why would you worry for the child? Surely this man would not risk the wrath of your husband’s family by harming it. A clan war is nothing to court, so I understand.”

“The child is not of my husband,” she answered, offering no explanation.

“Ah, I see.” He cleared his throat and seemed at a loss for words after that.

The boy spoke instead. “Whose child is she?”

Iana pressed her lips together and looked away. Then she declared defiantly, “Thomasina is mine.”

“What would you have done had we not arrived and given you means to hie yourself away?” the knight asked her.

There was a very good question. Iana shrugged and grimaced. “Eventually surrender, I suppose.”

The lad laughed gleefully and slapped his upraised knee. “Ha! When the snakes return to Eire.”

“What mean you by that, Ev?” the knight demanded.

Everand turned to his master and explained in a condescending voice as he shoved his upraised palm in her direction. “Here stands a woman who has buried one husband, endured living in a hovel among peasants, and breached propriety by sleeping in the wild with two men. She also stole away three mounts from sleeping villagers. You believe such a brave spirit would lie down for some sluggard without stones enough to have taken her already?” He crossed his skinny arms over his chest and tossed her a wink, then added sagely, “I think not.”

Iana saw the knight bite back a smile. “Two men in the wild?” he repeated. “I would say that alone qualifies her as most daring. As you say, it appears she has spirit. Now eat your berries, Ev, and govern that mind and tongue of yours.”

The lad readily obeyed, wearing the smug expression of one who had divined all the answers necessary when no one else present was wise enough to do so.

“You seem much better, sir,” Iana observed, desperate to change the topic of their discussion. “How fares the wound?”

He lightly touched the wrapping, which remained free of new blood. “Painful, but healing, no doubt. I feel much stronger after sleeping for so long. Again, I thank you for your care and for agreeing to accompany us.”

She measured out the oats into her metal pan and added water to soak them soft. “I shall need more than the silver as reward for tending you on your journey,” she dared tell him.

His narrowed eyes warned her against greed, though she did not think what she would ask counted as that.

“I will require employment in this new place. You must speak for my skills with this lord of Baincroft who is your brother.”

“In all truth, we have no blood tie, save that we share a half sister. Our widowed parents wed when we were but lads. So we have a bond forged early that is as unbreakable as true kinship. Robert will make a home for you and the babe at Baincroft if that is your wish.”

If they could only reach the other side of Scotland, all would be well, Iana thought. Newell would never think to look for her so far afield. But the chain’s rich links would not last forever. “I must have your promise of this work, sir, for I shall have no other means of income once the silver you gave me has been used up.”

He looked offended that she would demand his word. “I give you my vow that I will ask my brother to make a place for you. However, he might already have a healer in residence. If so, I do swear that I will provide for you myself.”

“For what services?” she asked, sorely afraid she could guess. His brother was a lord, which meant he must be the younger, making his way as best he could fighting for the French. Such a one would not hand out his hard-earned coin in charity any more than she would whore for it.

Everand growled a suggestive chuckle. Apparently, the thought of her working on her back had occurred to him as well, but the knight’s hand on the lad’s arm cut short whatever he might have said.

“Whatever services you choose to bestow,” Sir Henri answered. “Have I offered by any look, word or deed to besmirch your honor?”

Iana would not be put off by his lofty indignation. Men, noble or ignoble, were not to be trusted. “Nay, I’ll grant that you have not.”

She flicked an accusing glance toward Everand, who certainly had done so. He had the grace to lower his impudent gaze as she continued, “However, you are in no shape to offer me insult at the moment. How am I to know what you might expect of me once you are hale? I should make clear at the outset that I will be beholden to no man, be he gentleman or rogue. Find me work, sir, of an honest nature or I shall be obliged to call you knave to all, and ’twill be your fine honor besmirched, not my own!”

She immediately saw she had pricked his anger to a rolling boil, damn her quick tongue. Now he would want to be quit of her for certain. Desperate, she attempted to sweeten his temper. “I beg you do not take offense, sir…Henri. A woman with no defender must needs use what means she has to enforce—”

“Cease this foolish prattle!” he barked. “I have no designs upon your person, lady. And I can see you are a lady. Or were at one time. Rest assured, you have nothing to fear from me.”

“And the cub?” She nodded toward Everand. The lad’s fair head jerked up, and he glared at her in disbelief that she would even think to fear his advances. Or mayhaps he was simply offended that she had called him cub.

She noted the quiver of Henri’s lips, as though he had squelched a sudden burst of laughter. In an instant, he had schooled his features into a mask of solemnity. “Everand will not offer you abuse. My son does as I bid him do.”

“Son?” she and Everand asked in unison.

“Son,” Henri repeated, looking directly at the lad. “I have told you I would call you mine. You wear my signet. Why do you question me?”

“Well, you are not going to die now.” The lad’s voice cracked, betraying his uncertainty.

“So much the better. You’ll not be orphaned twice in the space of a year.”

Evarand cleared his throat and sat straighter, twisting the gold signet ring he wore on his middle finger. “I am unused to it is all. My apologies, sir…Father.”

“Accepted. Now give this lady your promise to protect her body and her virtue, so she will not suspect you of plotting evil deeds against her.”

Everand turned to Iana and scrambled up so that he knelt before her. “I so promise. You have naught to fear, lady.”

“My eternal gratitude, Everand,” she replied formally, struck by the silliness of his gesture. He was so small, she could flatten him with a slap if he dared to touch her, which she was certain he would never do in any case.

“That’s settled then,” Everand announced, scooting back to sit beside Sir Henri. The lad shrugged and grabbed another handful of the berries as he added in a deep, gravelly voice, “I never care to sport with unwilling wenches, anyway.”

Henri collapsed in a fit of coughing and Iana laughed outright. Everand chewed his berries and smiled.

It boded well, she thought, that fate had sent her these two. In truth, she had no fear of the knight. She could outrun him easily in his condition, and probably even after he had recovered. He was of such tall stature, she doubted he would prove very agile. The lad, she liked immensely, impertinent as he was. He was scarcely old enough or big enough to offer any true threat.

Though she admittedly found Henri handsome and possessed of a quick wit, Iana had no intention of granting him any favors, now or in future.

That devil’s minion, James Duncan, had soundly cured her of wishing to cohabit with a man for any reason, be it lawful matrimony or otherwise.

Now there was no need to worry. She had decided. She was free forever of any man’s will.