After the Storm (18 page)

bowstring he was holding taut. "I doubt the lady has any interest in my guts," he said.

"She lusted after you for all to see," Father John accused. "Now she'll have Rolf of Gesthowe to tame her sinful cravings."

"I wish you luck," he said to Rolf. But he couldn't keep his thoughts away from the man's meaty fists and the knowledge of what they could do to tender flesh.

He wondered just what sort of salacious lies the vengeful priest had told this man about Isabeau. "The lady's none of my business," he said, and forced himself to believe it. He shifted his grip on the bow slightly and quickly checked the positions of his men. All was secure. He gave Rolf a dangerous smile. "It's your possessions that I take an interest in. Take your hand off your sword, Rolf. In fact, take off your sword. Get to work," he said to his waiting men. "Once we've relieved you of your valuables," he promised his prey, "you're free to go about troubling Lady Isabeau's life with my blessing."

Libby knew what the phrase "watched like a hawk" meant. She'd grown up with a sharp-eyed father who was aware of every scrape his too-clever children could possibly get into. Sir Reynard reminded her a lot of her father, only she was too old to appreciate his protective impulses now. She'd been trying to get out of the castle for days. Every time she did he was there. It was like the man had a built-in sensor set to her readings. Oh, he would have been perfectly happy to accompany her on any trip into Blean Forest, but since she had no intention of leading him to Bastien she always had to decline his kind offers.

So she stayed home and fumed, watched the progress of the rebuilding, lectured Matilda on self-esteem and feminism, and tried to avoid Henry's inexpert advances. Actually, Henry's seduction attempts were becoming less frequent, but he was still keeping up a token effort while Matilda was making advances in holding his attention.

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

"Aren't those kids ever going to go home?" she wondered sourly as she glanced at the young couple.

"More importantly," Marj answered as she leaned close to her, "are we ever going to go home?"

"Are you saying this mission isn't exactly a success?" Okay, so the presence of locals was preventing Joe and Ed from setting up the timegate equipment, Sir Reynard was blocking access to the outlaws she needed for her research, and her and the men's memories were still leaky as sieves, but that didn't mean they should just pack up and go home. Did it? Yeah, it probably did. So what?

"It's not my place to say what you should do, my lady," Marj said with humility that was belied by the sparkle in her blue eyes.

Libby didn't answer. There was nothing to discuss. She had no intention of leaving the past just yet. Not until she found a way to help Bastien.

She turned her attention back to her embroidery while Marj continued to whirl a top-shaped spindle, transforming clumps of undyed wool into coarse thread. This domestic scene was taking place while they shared a bench underneath the shelter of the eating pavilion's awning. Matilda and Henry sat nearby playing a game of draughts while Sir Reynard looked on and offered them advice. Around them buildings were going up and people were busy with daily chores. There were chickens and geese in the bailey and the dogs were getting plenty of exercise chasing the cackling birds. Libby was considering getting up and chasing the dogs, just to have some physical outlet for her restless spirit. Being a medieval lady entailed far more sitting around than she was used to.

She pushed away the embroidery stand and stood up. "I'm going for a walk."

Sir Reynard was at her side almost instantly. "Lady Marjorie and I will accompany you."

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

"And I," Henry declared.

"As will I," Matilda added.

Libby fought her exasperation and gave the lot of them a wan smile. "Of course,"

she said unenthusiastically. "I wouldn't think of going anywhere without all of you."

She was going to have to kill all of them, Libby thought as the group trooped out into the courtyard. It was the only way. Or maybe she could borrow a large supply of opium from her godmother and brew up a giant-sized sleeping potion.

She was smiling at this thought as she went through the outer bailey. She looked toward the open gate and the false promise of freedom in the forest beyond, just as a group of riders rode through the castle entrance. The newcomers were immediately surrounded by Sir Reynard's guards. The sheriff hurried forward, Libby came with him. At least it was something to do.

"Stay clear, my lady," he warned.

She ignored him, and wished she hadn't when a burly man jumped down from a very big horse and strode purposefully up to her. "So, you're Isabeau," he declared and grabbed her before anyone could stop him. "I'm told you're a whore. Good. I like my women lusty."

The next thing she knew she was being kissed. The experience was far from pleasant.

He should never have let Rolf and Father John go. Bastien paced the length of the camp, then back, all the time his thoughts worried at the mistake he'd made.

His initial impulse had been to chase them out of the forest. He should have acted on it. Instead he'd left them with their clothes and their mounts and sent them off to harass the woman he knew to be his enemy.

But it wasn't their job to torment Isabeau, it was his. He wanted revenge, but Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

what good was revenge if he didn't inflict it?

"She deserves better than Rolf," Cynric said as Bastien passed his hut, though Bastien hadn't said a word to him about what was bothering him.

Bastien halted. "She deserves no better than any other noblewoman."

Cynric shook his head at Bastien's attitude. "A husband who beats her and breeds on her and beds the servants in front of her? I've seen it break many a gently reared lady. My quarrels with the nobles have never been with their women. The women I pity."

"Putting up with the men is the price they pay for their soft lives. I'm not worried about Lady Isabeau being broken." Though if she was broken, he thought, he ought to be the one to do it. He was the one she owed.

Then again, what exactly did she owe him? Something deep inside him screamed that he'd lost everything that meant anything to him at Lilydrake, but could he really hold Isabeau responsible? She'd done him no harm, give or take a shove off a castle wall.

In fact, he owed her. She could have easily turned him over to Reynard while he'd been lying helpless with pain inside the church. She hadn't.

He wanted to know why she hadn't.

"I still say the girl deserves better," Cynric said. "She's not like other nobles. She helped us back at Passfair."

He didn't want to be reminded of her virtues again. "Enough." He ran his hands through his hair. "This Rolf worries me. I should never have let him go."

"He means trouble for us," Cynric agreed. "More than Reynard of Elansted."

"Elansted's too clever for his own good. He lurks and waits like a spider. But this Rolf looks to be a typical knight. He may well mean to burn the forest just to Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

have things his own way. Damn." Bastien shook his head. "I want word sent to Sikes. We may need his help."

"That's a hard thing to admit."

"That it is," Bastien agreed. He put his hand on the old man's shoulder. "Move the camp again. Further into the forest. Then move it again every few days. I don't want this Rolf to be able to track us down. Keep away from the forest villages. If the peasants don't know where we are, they can't tell him."

"That won't stop him from pillaging them when they don't give him answers,"

Cynric pointed out.

"Maybe it won't come to that," Bastien answered, but he had no hope that Rolf would leave innocent people to go about their business.

"Maybe he'll be too busy playing the besotted bridegroom to worry about us for a bit," Cynric suggested.

Fury shot through Bastien like a bolt of lightning. Never mind that it was none of his business, the thought of Isabeau wed to another did not sit well with him at all. He remembered Rolf's arrogance, the cruel look in his eyes, his thick features and ham-sized hands. Bastien wanted Isabeau of Lilydrake, and he'd be damned if any man would have her before he took both pleasure and revenge by making her love him.

"No," he answered Cynric, voice cold when all the rest of him was burning with fury. "I don't think so."

Cynric was unruffled by his temper. "You think not? A woman like Isabeau could make any man forget himself for a while. That is if the man has sense enough to see that she has more to offer than a place to plant his—"

"I don't want to hear it," Bastien cut him off. "I've had enough of forgetfulness.

It's some memories I want."

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

Memories to match the dreams that haunted and aroused him. He craved them like life-giving water, like food and fire and shelter. He was sick of dark dreams, of phantom lovers. He wanted a real life. He wanted the reality of the woman's touch. He wanted to run his hands through her dark hair and down her body, he wanted to see her eyes lit with passion, her mouth open for his kiss. He wanted to make her his and not forget the experience when he awoke at the break of day.

New memories for old, he thought. Perhaps that was what he needed, perhaps that was what the heiress of Lilydrake owed him. She could never replace what he'd lost, but perhaps she could fill up some of the emptiness inside him. "See to moving the camp," he told Cynric. "I'm going to Lilydrake."

The old man cackled. "I thought you might be."

He didn't care what Cynric thought, nor did he care about the man's schemes to make him lord of Lilydrake. He had his own plans for Isabeau, and marrying her wasn't one of them. But for many, many reasons he owed her a visit.

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

Chapter 10

"Thanks."

"My pleasure," Reynard said, and rubbed his knuckles. He looked down at the prone man. "I assume you're ready to apologize to Lady Isabeau now."

Libby touched her swollen lips. She was almost numb with surprise at what had just happened. At the same time she was nauseated and bruised from the way the man had handled her before Reynard pulled him away and hit him hard enough to knock him to the ground. She seriously considered adding a few well-placed kicks to Sir Reynard's handiwork, but managed to refrain from such unladylike behavior for the moment.

She looked around to see that Henry had his sword out, as did all of the sheriff's men, and that Ed and Joe had their staffs in their hands. Marj, and even shy Matilda, stood protectively at her side. The castle servants were gathered around the other men who'd arrived with the intruder. She was surrounded by a crowd, all willing to defend her. She felt a warm glow of appreciation for these people, then the glow went cold as Father John pushed his way through the crowd.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. "Get out of my castle."

He ignored her as he helped her assailant to his feet. "Leave the man be, Elansted," the priest ordered the sheriff. "He's here at the king's command. As am I."