Margaret Moore - [Warrior 14] (8 page)

“Perhaps you’re a bad shot, after all,” Becca allowed.

“So do you wish to try again or will you accept your victory?”

“Since you are willing to confess that you hit the famous Sir Urien, I am willing to accept that I won fair and square.”

Blaidd relaxed, then their gazes met and held for a moment, until they both blinked and looked away.

Out of the corner of her eye, Becca saw Meg hurrying toward her.

She was glad for the interruption, she told herself, as the girl came to a halt. Meg cast a quick glance at young Fitzroy, and a longer one over Sir Blaidd, be
fore addressing Becca. “The wine merchant’s come, my lady.”

“Oh. If you’ll excuse me, Sir Blaidd, Dobbin.” She surveyed the rest of the soldiers. “And you, too, men. I must see to ordering wine. Or I could stay here and try to get another bull’s-eye—”

“No, no, my lady!” various voices called, some loud, some muted. “You won, fair and square.”

“And nobody else gets the wine you do from that old snake!” another voice called from the back.

“Your soldiers have wine, not ale?” Sir Blaidd asked, obviously a bit surprised.

“Both. My father says men with full bellies and good drink are more apt to be grateful, and loyal. Treat them well and they’ll protect you and your land as if they’re family. But wine is served only on Sunday. The rest of the time they have ale.” She raised her voice. “Or my father would be a pauper, the way they drink.”

A chorus of cheerful denials filled the air, and Becca laughed, enjoying the easy camaraderie she shared with the soldiers, even though she knew that what they most appreciated about her was the food and drink she ensured was provided for them.

“Men come from all over England to serve Lord Throckton,” Dobbin confirmed just as proudly. “We’ve got the best soldiers in the land here.”

“Yes, I can tell he’s got an excellent garrison,” Sir Blaidd agreed. “And the wine I’ve enjoyed has been most excellent, too.” He bowed. “I thank you, my lady.” And then the impertinent fellow winked. “And
I trust I shall continue to enjoy fine wine, excellent food and good company for the rest of my stay here.”

“How long might that be, Sir Blaidd?” she asked without thinking.

His dark brows rose. “Are you suggesting I’ve overstayed my welcome?” he inquired, causing the men all around them to fall silent.

“Not at all,” she hastened to assure him, anticipating what her father would say if he heard she’d asked such a direct question to a guest. “I simply need to know how much of the best wine to get.”

“I hope you’re not implying I drink too much?”

“No, no!” she protested, getting a little flustered. “We always keep a store of good wine, but I’m sure my father will want you to have the very best Bartram has, so I should know how much to purchase. I meant no criticism of you.”

“I just wanted to be sure,” he said, breaking into a wide smile.

She stared at him in disbelief. “Were you teasing me, Sir Blaidd?”

He gave her a rueful grin and his deep brown eyes fairly sparkled with good humor. “Forgive me again, my lady. I couldn’t resist the temptation.”

A man like him should never, ever speak of temptation to her.

She should be furious with him for getting her so upset despite his smiles and his eyes and his good-humored loss at archery.

She
was
furious with him. She
had
to be furious with him.

“Good day, then, sir knight,” she said as she turned on her heel and limped quickly away, Meg scurrying along behind.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Dobbin said as he joined Blaidd. Behind them, the soldiers began to remove the butts and targets, and make their way back to the castle.

Blaidd noticed that the disgruntled Trev didn’t linger. “You taught her well.”

Dobbin grinned. “It’s easy when the pupil’s eager to learn.”

“Still, it’s an unusual skill for a lady to acquire. I’m surprised her father allowed it.”

Dobbin colored and shifted his feet. “Well, he didn’t exactly know about it.” The older man caught Blaidd’s eye and hastened to explain. “It was after she hurt her leg. They was all weepin’ and wailin’ and sayin’ she’d never walk again. She was that glum, lying abed, so I tried to think of something to help her.” He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I’m just a soldier, sir, and could only think of soldierly things.”

“Clearly it was a suggestion that met with her approval.”

A shy smile lit the man’s face. “Aye, it did.”

Blaidd decided to take the opportunity to ask a few questions. “I gather she fell out of a tree?”

“Aye, sir, aye. Up to a bit of mischief, she was, like always. Oh, she was a one for capers and larks!”

“Wild, was she?”

Dobbin looked offended. “Spirited, more like.”

“I suppose her father was often angry with her?”

A troubled expression flitted across Dobbin’s face. “Aye, sir, and sometimes still gets right put out. Mind, I’m not saying he don’t care about her. He was some upset when she fell, as we all were, what with her wee bones sticking out and all. Makes me ill just to think of it. I’ve heard grown men screaming from less, but not a sound did she make, not even when the apothecary set her leg as best he could.”

Blaidd had seen plenty of broken bones himself, and he silently agreed that the ones where the bone pierced the skin were gruesome—and often deadly. “It’s a wonder she lived at all.”

“Take more than a broken leg to kill her, even one like that,” Dobbin said, as proudly as if she were his own daughter. “And she was that determined to walk again, she wouldn’t stay still.”

“Perhaps because a kind man had offered to teach her something usually reserved for boys?”

Dobbin’s blue eyes sparkled. “Well, that might have been one reason.” He reached for the bow Blaidd still held. “I’ll take that back to the keep for you, sir.”

“Thank you.”

As Dobbin joined the other soldiers heading into the inner ward, Blaidd suddenly realized that he should have questioned him about the garrison and fortifications, not Lady Rebecca, no matter how intriguing he found her.

S
urveying the empty cot in their bedchamber, Blaidd swore under his breath. Where the devil had Trev got to? The lad had imbibed more ale than he should have, then stumbled out of the hall before Blaidd could speak to him. After that, Blaidd had excused himself as quickly as possible and left the hall. He’d hoped Trev had gone to bed, but obviously, he hadn’t.

Maybe he’d gone to the barracks to spend some time with the friends he’d been making among the soldiers, including Dobbin. Maybe he’d gone to pay back a wager or two, for if he’d bet on the archery contest, he would have bet on Blaidd, and lost.

Maybe he’d gone to the stables to see the horses, perhaps even fallen asleep on a pile of hay. He’d looked drunk enough to pass out almost anywhere.

Blaidd turned to leave the chamber—and found himself face-to-face with Meg. He breathed a sigh of relief that Trev wasn’t with her.

The girl blushed and wrung the end of her apron
in her hands as she stammered, “I—I’ve come…that is, I’d like a word with you, sir, if I may. Please.”

Although he was curious to know what she wanted to talk about with him, he was more anxious to find Trev. “Can it wait until morning?”

She shook her head, and her expression grew truly desperate. “It’s important.”

He thought of a possible explanation for her presence, and her uneasiness. This wouldn’t be the first time a lady had sent her maid to act as her envoy. “I’m sure Lady Laelia will appreciate that I can’t…” He hesitated because Meg looked almost disgusted. “You weren’t sent by Lady Laelia?”

“No!”

Another explanation gave him a very pleasant jolt. “Did Lady Rebecca send you?”

“God’s wounds, no!”

So much for his ability to guess what was going on. “Meg, why exactly are you here?”

“I came to tell you….”

She looked even more nervous, as if she was about to reveal serious secrets.

God save him, maybe she was, secrets that had nothing to do with either Lady Laelia and Lady Rebecca. Maybe he’d been woefully neglecting a potential source of information. “Yes?” he prompted gently, not wanting to scare her off.

Meg took a deep breath and the words flowed out in a torrential whisper. “Lady Rebecca’s the finest lady I know, and she likes you and I think you like her, and you
should.
She’s a hundred times better than
her sister, and a really clever man ought to want her instead. You do like her, don’t you?”

This wasn’t what he’d expected, and he wasn’t sure how to answer. He couldn’t risk telling this serving girl—or anyone else—that he preferred Lady Rebecca to Lady Laelia, whom he was supposedly still courting. “I do, but—”

“But nothing, sir, begging your pardon!” Meg persisted. “I hope you ain’t thinking that just because she’s not a beauty like her sister, you don’t think she’ll do. Lady Laelia’s spoiled and selfish and…” Her whole body tense, she flung the last words at him as if daring him to deny it. “She’ll probably be barren, too!”

In her desperate words Blaidd heard a fierce loyalty. He could admire both the servant who expressed it and the woman who’d earned it. But he dare not reveal anything of his true feelings, especially not to a servant, and a loquacious one at that. “I realize you are acting in what you think are your mistress’s best interests—”

“I’m telling you, you ought to marry her and get her out of here!”

There was a different desperation in her voice now, one that roused his suspicions. “Why do you think she has to get away from her home, her family?”

Meg’s gaze faltered. “Because they don’t appreciate her as they ought. They treat her like a drudge.”

“There’s no other reason?”

The girl raised her hazel eyes to regard him steadily. “I want her to be happy, and I think you’d
make her so. Otherwise, I’m afraid her father’ll marry her off to somebody who’ll make her miserable.”

“Nothing else?”

“What could be worse than that?”

He could think of one thing. A traitor wasn’t the only one who suffered when he was caught. All his land and goods would be forfeit to the crown. If Throckton was guilty of treason, Lady Rebecca and Lady Laelia would be impoverished. He would be stripped of his title, and so would they. They would be left to fend for themselves in a world that had few choices for unmarried women with few skills. It would either be marriage to a merchant or someone from a lower class, or the convent.

That was if they were considered innocent of any involvement in their father’s schemes. If such was not the case, it would be imprisonment and death for them, as well.

Blaidd told himself he mustn’t think of that. His oath of loyalty and his duty were to the king. He was here to safeguard Henry, not Lord Throckton’s daughters.

Nevertheless, Meg’s assertion that there could be nothing worse for Lady Rebecca than an unhappy marriage gave him some relief, for if Meg thought a miserable marriage the worst fate that could befall her mistress, she must not be aware of any more serious danger.

He put a smile on his face. “I should point out, Meg, that in spite of your fervent belief she’d be bet
ter off married to me than living here, the lady herself might disagree.”

“She might at first, but I’m thinking you could persuade her.”

“What of love, Meg? Shouldn’t I love her?”

“You don’t?”

Her demand took him completely aback. But then, Meg was a loyal servant who obviously cared a great deal for her mistress. Otherwise, what would make her think that he loved Lady Rebecca? “As I said, I like her, Meg, but that doesn’t mean I love her.”

Meg eyed him with what looked surprisingly like skepticism. “If you say so, but that’s a start, at least. If you spent more time with her, you’d see she’s deserving of a better life.”

“What if she decides I’m not the man for her?”

To his further surprise, Meg grinned, as if he’d just asked a very silly question. “Oh, I don’t think that’ll be a bother. She likes you, too. I can tell. And she respects you. There aren’t many men beside her father and Dobbin she respects.”

Meg started to sidle away. “You won’t tell her I said anything, will you, sir? I don’t think she’d like it.”

“No, I daresay she wouldn’t. Nevertheless, I shall definitely bear in mind all that you’ve told me.”

With a nod, the maid scurried away like a mouse, leaving Blaidd with much to occupy his thoughts as he left his quarters to find Trev.

He headed first for the stables. Above, a few clouds hid parts of the night sky, but there was no rain upon
the breeze. Tomorrow would likely be a fine day. Perhaps he would take Aderyn Du out for another gallop. Maybe Lady Rebecca would likewise decide a ride was in order. Maybe he could catch her, as Trev had, and this time he would be the one she laughed and joked with. She would let him help her dismount. He’d put his hands about her slender waist and let her body slide along his to the ground.

As he pushed open the stable doors, Aderyn Du whinnied as if in greeting. Blaidd went to his horse and patted his muzzle, then searched the stalls and the loft, sneezing from the chaff.

Sneezing again, he stepped back out into the courtyard and wondered where the young scamp had got to. He doubted it was far—but then again, Trev was young, and the worse for ale. Blaidd could recall a few nocturnal adventures of his own when he was sixteen and in his cups—

“Damn!” he muttered as an explanation came to him. Sir Urien would never forgive him if his son got a disease, or was beaten and robbed.

Blaidd strode toward the gate and up to the guards, who were leaning on their spears. “Is this the way you protect this courtyard, leaning about like old fish-wives gossiping?”

The men hastily straightened. “Sorry, sir,” the younger one muttered.

“Did my squire come this way?”

The men exchanged looks. “Aye, my lord, he did.”

Blaidd addressed the older one, who was likely to
be senior in rank. “Couldn’t you see the lad was in no fit state to be wandering about?”

“He seemed all right to us, sir. Polite as could be.”

“He was drunk!”

“A bit wobbly,” the younger one admitted, “but not too bad, sir. He could talk clear enough.”

Discussing Trev’s condition was hardly helpful. “Did he go into the village?”

The two guards nodded, and the oldest pointed with his spear tip. “That way, sir.”

Of course.

“You won’t…you won’t report us to his lordship, will you, sir?” the youngest one asked worriedly.

“Not this time,” Blaidd growled as he hurried through the gate. He broke into a trot as he crossed the outer ward, and then slowed to a more dignified pace as he reached the outer gatehouse, where he’d first encountered Lady Rebecca. Dobbin was talking to the guards there, and when he saw who was approaching, came to meet him.

“It’ll be your squire you’re after, I expect?” Dobbin inquired, grinning.

“Yes.”

“Bit in his cups, eh?”

“Definitely.”

“And looking for sport?”

“I expect so, yes,” Blaidd answered grimly, fearing he knew exactly what kind of sport had tempted Trev, and where.

“Well, sir, if you don’t mind me asking, why not leave him to it?”

“Because I’m responsible for him, and we both know what can happen in a whorehouse.”

Dobbin nodded, but made no move to get out of the way. “A proud, high-spirited lad like that, he might not take it kindly if you come after him,” he observed, as one mentor to another. “Maybe it’s best to let him have a taste. He’s a bit old to be tied to anybody’s apron strings, isn’t he?”

“How would you feel if it were Lady Rebecca going to visit a young man?”

“Well, that’s different, ain’t it? He’s a lad, she’s a woman.”

“Not to me, it’s not. Trevelyan’s father is counting on me to take care of his son, and that means keeping him out of trouble—and a whorehouse spells trouble, in a host of ways.”

He didn’t wait to hear Dobbin’s answer, if he made one, before he hurried through the gatehouse, then broke into a jog.

Maybe the boy was in one of the inns, just talking or drinking, Blaidd thought hopefully. Or getting in a brawl. That would be slightly better than the whorehouse.

Cursing himself for not keeping a tighter rein on his squire, Blaidd decided to go to the whorehouse first. If Trev wasn’t there, he’d go to the inns next.

He burst through the door of the stew and came to a halt, hands on his hips. Half-dressed whores stared, while a few men obviously waiting a turn jumped to their feet. The blond girl wasn’t there.

The one he recalled as the boldest among them,
plump and dark-haired, was standing at the bottom of the stairs. She sashayed forward now, and he realized she must be the madam.

“Well, well, well, my man, impatient, are we?” she purred, a greedy gleam in her black eyes.

“Is my squire here?”

“Who?”

“You know who I mean. Is he with that blond girl?”

“Maybe they’re upstairs and maybe they’re not. What’s it to you if he pays his own way?”

Blaidd faced her, feet planted, arms akimbo. “Woman, I’ve come to fetch him, and you’d better tell me which room he’s in, or so help me, I’ll tear this place apart until I find him!”

The woman scowled and nodded toward the stairs. “First one on the right.” As he dashed up the rickety steps, she bellowed a warning. “Hester!”

Blaidd threw his shoulder against the door and stumbled into the room. The girl was fully clothed and so was Trev, who was lying facedown on the filthy bed.

“He passed out,” Hester said, obviously afraid, as Blaidd strode forward. “I didn’t do nothing to him, I swear.”

“Did he do anything
with
you?” Blaidd demanded as he yanked Trev up to a sitting position and put his shoulder under Trev’s arm. He didn’t see any cuts, bruises or blood, thank God.

She shook her head. Judging from the state of their respective garments, he believed her, and relief
flooded through him as he hoisted the unconscious boy to his feet. He’d have to half drag, half carry him back to the castle. “Where’s his money?”

She pointed at the pouch still tied to Trev’s belt.

“If any’s missing, I’ll be back,” Blaidd vowed as he started toward the door. Trev muttered something, but didn’t wake up.

“Why don’t you come back, anyway?” the girl said, her voice smooth as honey. “By yourself.”

“I don’t use whores,” he growled.

“Too good for us, are you?” she charged. “Well, aren’t you the exception, then.”

He paused on his progress to the door. “If your name is Hester, Lady Rebecca told me about your plight. I’m sorry.”

Her eyes widened, and he could see what a pretty, innocent girl she must have been.

“I’m going to ask you a favor, Hester. If Trev comes here again, send him back. His first time with a woman shouldn’t be…well, not like this.”

The innocent transformed into hard-edged practicality. “I won’t make much money sending customers away.”

Blaidd reached into his own purse and tossed her a silver coin. “Then I’ll make it worth your while. And again, I’m sorry for what happened to you, and ashamed of any man who debases his rank by such behavior.”

She stared at the coin, then him, then wordlessly went to hold the door open for him. A few of the women had gathered at the top of the stairs.

As he passed her, Hester caressed his chest and let loose a throaty laugh. “Do come back, sir, without the baggage. I’ll make it worth
your
while.” As the other women laughed raucously, Hester’s expression changed again, to something serious and sincere. “For Lady Rebecca’s sake, come back,” she whispered. “I’ve got something important to tell you.”

Then she laughed as coldly as the most hardened prostitute imaginable. “By all means, sir, come again,” she said, “and bring your friends, but only if they can hold their ale.”

Blaidd wondered if the girl really had something important to tell him, or if she saw him merely as a customer who needed a little more persuading.

Yet if so, why would she mention Lady Rebecca?

First Meg was worried about her mistress, and now this girl seemed worried about her, too.

Perhaps there were indeed secrets in Throckton Castle.