So Worthy My Love (11 page)

Ramonda's disdaining gaze descended over the rough garb of the girl. Though the shabby gown was not what a lady might wear, the creamy skin, the regal bearing and carefully tended nails gave evidence of the girl's true station in life, and it nettled Ramonda sorely that she could never be where the girl was already. “ ‘Igh-falutin' ye may well be, missy,” she jeered, “but ye can bet life won't be so foin where ye're goin'.”

“Where am I going?” Elise lifted a delicately sweeping brow in curiosity, hoping the answer would come, though at the same time knowing it would not.

Enjoying a small slice of revenge on her rival, Ramonda chortled, “Ta ‘ell, maybe.”

The younger woman responded to the jibe with a casual lifting of her slender shoulders. “I suppose ‘twould be no worse than this place.”

Ramonda's eyes narrowed into a glare. Revenge was not so sweet when her words were cast aside
with a mere shrug. She was tortured by envy and wanted to wreak vengeance upon the girl for all the misery she was now suffering, but she dared not, knowing she could never endure the humiliation of his lordship learning of her deeds. In truth, if the blame could be cast elsewhere, she would even allow the chit to escape.

“I'm s'posed ta fetch ye some vittles,” she announced sharply. “Would ye be wantin' some gruel now . . . or later?”

The offer was unappetizing, and Elise declined with a bland smile. “I believe I can wait until later.”

“Suit yerself then,” the woman snapped. “I ain't gonna force no ‘igh an' mighty liedy like yerself ta eat me gruel. It might spoil yer ap'tite for all ‘at rich fare ye're used ta.”

Too tired for further argument, Elise remained mute beneath the other's sneering regard, and finally Ramonda snatched up a candle and strode out, locking the door behind her. In much relief Elise sagged onto the cot, thankful there would be no physical abuse laid upon her, to which she would have to respond. It was not that she was afraid of the woman though Ramonda was at least half a head taller and outweighed her by a good two stone. It was just that she distinctly remembered the advice of the scullery maid's son, that if she could not avoid a challenge or a fight, then at least choose the time and place to her advantage.

Elise slipped the hide shoes from her feet and curled up beneath the coverlet. She had not realized until now the depth of her fatigue, for she felt totally drained and sorely in need of rest. Her eyelids
sagged, and her mind began to wander aimlessly until sleep overtook her, then she drifted in a dreamless void that was bereft of all knowledge and awareness.

Of a sudden Elise found herself staring at the low ceiling, and she lay listening to the creaks and groans of the place as her eyes slowly searched the small cubicle for the cause of her disturbed slumber. The tiny flame of the candle burned steadily, then strangely began to dip and flutter, as if'teased by a current of air. Elise's gaze flew to the door, the only source through which a breeze could flow and there she saw the portal moving inward. Her heart began to flutter. She could only think of the countless doors she had passed downstairs, and behind each she knew not what.

Elise almost breathed an audible sigh of relief when Ramonda came through the doorway, but she lay without stirring, watching from beneath lowered lids as the woman crossed to the table, carrying in a trencher of meats and bread and a mug of some unknown brew. Immediately Elise's eyes flicked to the open doorway, and her heart began to race again. She saw a chance to escape, and she knew she must seize upon it without delay. Whatever the outcome, it was well worth the attempt!

Elise, that sprightly spirited one, did not hesitate another moment. Leaping to her feet, she dashed toward the door, giving Ramonda a quick shove as she ran past. Though she had meant to use all her strength, the action seemed to take only the briefest touch to send the woman stumbling with the food-laden tray into the far wall. Elise did not stop to
question her own prowess, but flew through the portal and slammed it shut behind her. The key was still in the lock, and she twisted it in frantic haste to bar the passage of the other. Only then did she dare breathe and attempt to quell the trembling that had suddenly taken hold of her.

She swallowed hard against the dryness in her throat and crossed hurriedly to the stairs. She was shaking as she began the descent, for she had no idea what she might encounter on the lower levels. She remembered only too well Ramonda's warnings to be silent on the second floor and prayed she would be able to pass down the hallway without being discovered.

Nearing the bottom of the stairs, Elise slowed her steps and cautiously approached the door. She pressed an ear against the wood to listen for any sign of activity beyond the portal and felt a dulling sense of disappointment when she heard shuffling footsteps and the muted voices of several men in the corridor. She waited, fervently hoping they would enter a room and leave her a way to escape. The footfalls came ever nearer, and her mind began to race, for she was now confronted with the likelihood of the men opening the door. A thousand questions assailed her. What was she to do? Where was she to hide? Where could she go when she could not even hope to gain the upper hall before the men entered the passage? Her eyes flew upward, measuring the distance in a swift glance. Impossible or not, it was her only option!

Her slender feet flew on the stairs, racing in time with her swiftly beating heart, but alas, the feat was
beyond her ability. Before she had climbed half the distance, the lower door swung open, and if that was not enough to make her heart stop, then Fitch's cry of alarm was.

“Eh! ‘At's her! She's escapin'!”

Thundering footsteps shook the weak and rickety stairs, and in rising panic Elise shot a glance over her shoulder. A tall, pale-haired stranger came up the stairs first, with Spence following close on his heels. Behind them, hurrying as fast as he could, was Fitch, toting a large chest on his back.

Elise forced every measure of strength she possessed into her frantic climb, but the long-legged stranger lengthened his strides and leapt up the steps three at a time, quickly overtaking her. A long arm stretched out and closed tightly about her thin waist, snatching her from her feet and pulling her back against a wide, solidly unyielding chest. Elise was not one to silently or meekly abide this rude handling of her person. Kicking her bare heels against the man's shins, she gave vent to a loud, indignant screech of outrage.

The scream reverberated within the narrow space, seeming to ricochet off the very walls, and was successful in raising Fitch's hackles. Of a sudden he could envision a large troop of snarling men charging through the lower doorway in a zealous quest to rout any and all strangers. Any common, decent-looking man could be bludgeoned into incoherency before explanations could be made and suspicions could be appeased. In growing apprehension Fitch glanced around to see if the door behind him was still shut, forgetting about the length of the
clumsy chest. The piece bumped against the wall, jolting the handle from his grasp. He swept his arm about to catch it as he felt the weight of it slide down his back, but in the process he lost his balance. Helplessly teetering on the edge of a step, he saw the chest tumble noisily down the stairs, and a helpless, plaintive mewl escaped his lips a fraction of a second later as he followed its thudding descent.

A large hand clamped over Elise's mouth, stifling her cries before she was lifted from her feet by a sturdy arm. Against her struggles to escape, she was carried up the remaining steps and whisked effortlessly down the hall. At the small chamber door, the stranger stepped aside to let Spence unlock and throw it open. Ramonda whirled from the window where she had watched so expectantly and stared in roweling disappointment as the one she had hoped to see fleeing on the street below was hauled back into the room. Wildly tangled torrents of auburn hair masked the girl's face, but Ramonda had no need to see the creamy visage to be crushingly aware that her ploy had failed.

The stranger cursed suddenly and snatched his hand away from the sharp teeth that tested the flesh of his palm. He set the slender maid to her feet and then jerked back abruptly as her small fist swung around with vicious intent. Catching the fine-boned wrists, the man gathered them together and gripped them easily in one hand against her furious efforts to yank free.

Elise flung her long hair back from her face, sending it spilling down her back, and glared into
the ice-blue eyes that fairly sparkled with humor behind a fringe of pale lashes. The man was dressed as wealthily as a lord, wearing velvet doublet and puffed breeches of dark blue corded with threads of gold. Slowly his gaze descended, sweeping boldly down the length of her and stirring forth a blush to her cheeks as his appraising eye paused momentarily upon her heaving bosom. When he looked into her face again, his grin had widened in obvious approval.

“Now I understand,” he murmured as if to himself and, in a somewhat louder voice, introduced himself. “
Kapitan
Von Reijn of the Hanseatic League, at yur service,
urouwelin.
” His speech was curiously marked by the flavor of the Teutonic tongue. “Or if yu've a vish to be better acquainted . . . Nicholas, to yu and to my friends.”

“You . . . you jackanape!” she snarled in rage. “Let me go!”

“Nein, nein.”
Captain Von Reijn waggled a long finger chidingly in front of her slim and winsome nose. “Not until yu are made safe behind a locked door.”

Glancing at Spence, he jerked his head, sending the man out to help Fitch who was bumping his way back up the stairs. Shortly the frazzled Fitch entered the room, backside first, dragging the chest behind him.

“Step aside now,” Spence bade from the other end. When his companion lumbered limpingly aside, he gave it a last hefty shove into the chamber.

Grimacing, Fitch hitched himself around to slam the door, and there he leaned, mopping the glistening
sweat from his reddened face. His hat was oddly crumpled and from beneath its edges, his hair stood out on ends, as if he had been frightened by a screaming banshee on his flight down the stairs.

“Yur pleasure,
vrouwelin
.” Captain Von Reijn grinned as he released his captive.

“A curse on all of you!” Elise railed as she snatched away. She rubbed her wrists and sneered at the captain. “And you! For all of your fine clothes and fancy twisted tongue, you're no better than these blackguards who do your bidding.”

“Of course,” Nicholas agreed and chuckled at her darkening glare. “Ve are a very select group, are ve not?”

“Oh, indeed.” Elise's tone clearly conveyed her sarcasm. “Very select . . . for Alsatia.”

“Yur kindness overvhelms me,
vrouwelin.
” Nicholas swept her a flamboyant bow.

Ramonda sidled nearer the door, hoping to take her leave as inconspicuously as possible, but the Hansa captain suddenly bestowed his full attention upon her. “Vere yu not promised a purse for keeping this maid secure?”

“The lil' twit bashed me noggin,” Ramonda charged, rubbing her head. “Ye can sees for yerself ‘at she's a witch. She waited ‘til me back was turned an' ‘it me from behind.”

Elise tossed her head and scoffed at the twisting of the tale. “Well, me dearie,” she mimicked, “the way ye left the door wide open, I thought ye were askin' me ta leave.”

“Ye lie!” Ramonda shrieked, drawing an arm back to strike the girl, but the cold, deadly dare in
the deep, jewel-blue eyes made her pause. Though the twit was not heavily muscled, there was something in those eyes which promised dire recompense if she was attacked. Fitch had found cause to be wary of the girl, and in view of that fact Ramonda thought it unwise to test her fortitude. Rather, it would be better to let the matter cool, and hopefully all would be forgotten before it was reported to his lordship.

Captain Von Reijn had raised no hand to halt the threatening blow, but watched the two women with amused interest until Ramonda's gaze faltered and finally lowered in defeat. He chuckled softly as the woman turned her back to the smaller maid and began petulantly picking up the food from the floor.

Reaching down to the chest, Nicholas loosened the hasp and lifted the arched lid, then frowned as he ran a hand over the wooden interior. “Unfit though it be, it vill have to do.”

In mild curiosity Elise peered into the interior of the piece and asked with rampant scorn, “For your treasure, milord?”

The captain chuckled at her gibe and returned a question to her. “Vhat is yur guess,
vrouwelin
?”

Elise plucked at the clothing she was presently wearing and remarked with satirical snideness, “I can hardly believe you brought it to accommodate my vast wardrobe.”

“It is neither for my treasure nor for yur raiment,” he replied, “but yur conveyance to my ship.”

Elise laughed in a derisive display of humor until she realized he was serious, then she stared at him agog. “Sir! You are either daft or well-besotted!
Come, let me smell your breath, for I would know which it be.”

“I am quite sane,
vrouwelin
, I assure yu,” he stated. Suggestively he caressed the end of a belaying pin which he had tucked in his sash. “And though I am not one to mistreat a lady, yu will go vhether avake or sleeping. The choice is entirely yurs.”

Elise raised her brow in an arrogant arch and met his gaze squarely, trying to dominate him as she had Ramonda. The captain's gaze never flinched or wavered, though his lips twisted slowly upward. His interest in this fetching, but troublesome, wench was growing apace with his admiration of her undauntable spirit.

The longer Elise stared, the wider his grin became until it was she who turned aside in confused discomfiture. Noticing the food Ramonda was gathering on the trencher, she found an excuse for delay. “I have not eaten for some time,” she protested. “Indeed, ‘twas so long ago I am hard-pressed to recall just when it was.”