Wildewood Revenge (21 page)

“I have no nun here. The members of my household remain here of their own free will and none of them should interest you or His Eminence. I would ask that you enjoy my hospitality before it’s withdrawn and leave when your horses are rested.”

“What of the ransom?” Mayflower withdrew a bag from his voluminous robe and clashed it onto the table. “Think what you could do with that, Miles of
Wildewood
.” The corners of his mouth were white with drool, the man was repulsive. Miles pitied the maid who would have to lay out his cold, naked body when it was time for him to meet his maker.

Miles gritted his teeth, the bag was large the contents heavy. If only. If only she’d been ugly or stupid or cruel - or even a real nun. But she was none of these things and there would be no sale.

“You may keep your ransom, Master Mayflower I have nothing to exchange.”

A movement on the stairs behind the bishop’s aide caught Miles’ eye and he froze. Grace had paused on her downward journey to scan the room. She must have woken and wondered at his absence. She was wrapped in a coverlet which had slipped to reveal one bare shoulder. Her feet were also bare and he noticed distractedly how she hopped from one foot to the other on the cold stone. She opened her mouth as if to call to him and in that split second before a sound was made, he willed her to stop. She closed her mouth slowly and locked eyes with him. Over such a distance he wasn’t even sure she could see the warning in his.

Mayflower began to rise. Fortunately his bulk made any movement laboriously slow and as he heaved himself to his feet and made to reclaim his loot, Miles tried to communicate across the expanse of the hall. Grace shrugged her shoulders questioningly and casually retrieved her cover as it slipped to almost reveal one naked breast.

Mayflower dipped his head to give thanks for his food and Miles took the opportunity to run his finger across his own throat, an explicit warning for Grace. Grace either misunderstood or chose to ignore him for she merely smiled and continued down the stairs. Was the girl mad thought Miles
wildly.
She would be seen; any second, the odious whale of a man would turn and see her. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and looked from one to the other.

At the exact moment that
Philibutt
of Mayflower turned and set eyes upon her, Grace’s face lit up with a beautiful smile and she descended the last of the stone steps in a ruffle of linen. Miles groaned inwardly. What now? - What was she up to?

“Aha!” Exclaimed the bishop’s aide, “My missing nun no doubt?” He noted her state of undress with a shudder. “I trust she has not been compromised.”

Grace fairly skipped across the stone flags. “Good morrow,” she trilled, offering her small, pale hand which the man snatched and kissed wetly. Grace smiled, looked at the drool and then wiped her hand delicately on her sheet.

“My dear child, I have come to rescue you from the clutches of this wayward knight.” He huffed and puffed with the excitement of having outwitted Miles. “His Eminence the Bishop has kindly provided the required ransom; you will soon be safely, back at Kirk
Knowe
.”

Miles looked questioningly at Grace and shrugged.

“I see,” replied Grace as she rearranged her coverings, rather inexpertly observed Miles, as the swell of her breasts was clearly visible. She shuffled on the cold floor balancing one foot on top of the other in turns. “I’m sorry. Miles is remiss as a host and has clearly failed to introduce us.” She glanced at Miles and he was sure he caught the ghost of a smile.

“This is
Philibutt
of Mayflower,” said Miles. “He comes on behalf of the Bishop of Durham with a ransom which he claims I have demanded in return for a nun, whom I don’t have.”

Grace arched one delicate brow. “How very thoughtful of the bishop,” she cooed and Miles swallowed his disbelief. She was playing the man. Some innocent!

“I am Lady Grace, niece of Sir Hugh de Reynard of Normandy, no doubt you will have heard of him.”

Both men stared at her open-mouthed.

“I am a guest in the home of my uncle’s favourite protégé. He is
such an honourable man.” She turned to bestow a grateful smile on the bewildered Miles. “Like you, I too am here on Gods business, you might say.”

She took a seat opposite the bishop’s aide who also reclaimed his seat with an alarming creaking of wood under considerable stress. Grace leaned forward provocatively, and the man went a peculiar shade of puce.

“I seek funds for the benefit of the orphaned children of Normandy, poor children. Without an orphanage and the strict care of the church I fear they will all be lost to the devil. The bishop will no doubt share my concern.”

Mayflower wrung his hands, his face a picture of confusion.

“Perhaps word of my arrival and my charitable undertaking to secure funds for these poor children has become confused in the telling. We all know how peasants love to embellish a tale. Do
we
not,
Philibutt
?” she inclined her head coyly, “May I call you,
Philibutt
?”

Mayflower spluttered and Miles shook his head in disbelief.

“I see a solution to this confusion, if I may suggest it?” Grace continued.

The bishop’s aide dragged his protruding rheumy eyes from her flesh. “Of course, my dear, any confusion must be hastily clarified.”

She gently weighed the ransom bag in her delicate hand. It was heavy, rather too heavy for one nun. “It occurs to me that His Eminence the Bishop, would think highly of anyone who could recover such a delicate and embarrassing situation; and you must agree,
Philibutt
, you’re coming here and making scurrilous accusations against a fine and honourable knight, a knight who has fought at his king’s side; is embarrassing for his eminences reputation?”

“Yes of course,” muttered Mayflower. “I can see how this situation could be perceived.”

“Then I suggest that as the bishop has already allowed for the giving of these funds on behalf of the church, that we do not deny his generosity but allow their donation to the orphan children of Normandy.”

Miles stared at her in growing wonder; Mayflower, merely stared.

“Are we in accord?” She drew the bag towards her, “Of course if you do not have the authority?”

Inner turmoil was written all over the man’s face. “Madam,” he snorted. “Take the bag. I will inform the bishop of your gratitude.”

He struggled to his feet and knocked over his seat. Miles bent and set it to rights. As he brushed past the bishop’s man, Mayflower caught his arm and held him fast with an icy glare.

“This is not finished,” he spluttered.

Miles returned his glare with one of his own. “Then I look forward to our next meeting.” He took the man by the arm and frog-marched him out of the hall.

John was waiting by the gate.

“Have Edmund saddle the horses. Our guests are leaving.”

John nodded and went in search of Edmund who waited by the kitchen and watched the men at arms who supped at Martha’s table. They had far too much of an interest in Belle. She fluttered her eyelashes and swished her skirts, enjoying their attentions. Edmund kept out of sight, but near enough should he be needed. He had to speak to Miles.

The bishop’s aide and his escort left
Wildewood
shortly after, the gate soundly barred behind them. Edmund caught up with Miles as he crossed the yard.

“Those men, I recognised them, my lord.”

Miles stopped and looked at Edmund. He too had thought them familiar but could not place them, “From where, Edmund?”

“Normandy, my lord, they are Guy’s men.”

Miles hand went subconsciously to his side where he carried the mark left by Guy’s sword. “How did I not remember them?”

“
Yer
did not recall much after ye suffered
yer
wound, but they were the ones who robbed ye when
yer
lay
bleedin
’ from Guy’s sword.”

Miles did not recall much from that episode. He had spent many weeks recovering before their journey home could be resumed. If Guy’s men were in Northumberland then it seemed apparent that Guy was in league with Gerard. If
Philibutt
of Mayflower was in fact the Bishop of Durham’s aide, then he must be currently in the employ of Gerard and it was therefore Gerard’s money lying in a velvet bag in the great hall.

“Good lad.” He patted Edmund’s shoulder. “Keep your wits about you, and make sure no one comes through that gate.”

Chapter Twenty Three

The velvet bag was still on the table when Miles re-entered the great hall. Snatching it up, he crossed to the stairs and taking them two at a time, he went in search of Grace.

“I didn’t send for him,” he announced as he entered her chamber, to find her dressing in the clothes in which she’d arrived.

“I believe you.” Grace buttoned her trousers and turned to face him. Her breasts barely covered by lace. She reached for her vest laid on the rumpled bed and began to pull it over her head.

Miles found himself distracted by her state of undress, the soft glow on her skin, and the glimpse of indigo butterflies, that fluttered tantalisingly as she stretched. He shook himself. “Where are you going?” He gestured at her clothes.

Grace smiled and crossed the room. Reaching up she placed her palms against his chest and planted a long, wet kiss on his lips. He tried to prolong it, instantly and shamelessly distracted, but she pulled away with a grin. “I’m not going anywhere; I just want to be comfortable when I ride the filly.”

Miles stood perplexed. She’d just schemed her way into a fortune and she was going riding? She was far too sure of herself.

“How much is there?” Grace reached for the bag.

“Enough for more than a few orphans,” replied Miles holding the bag aloft. “What do you know of Hugh?”

Grace grinned.

“Just what Martha told
me.
His was the only name I could come up with on the spur of the moment. That awful
Philibutt
creature, what an arrogant little man, he needed taking down a peg or two, and now you
have the money for
Wildewood
.” She paused at Miles expression, “What’s the matter, did I do the wrong thing? I thought you’d be pleased.”

“Pleased? Stunned is the word I’
d use.
I didn’t realise you were so accomplished an entertainer.” He recalled how well he’d been entertained in this very room. His eyes strayed to the bed, a wicked smile spreading slowly across his face.

He should be pleased. He now had the money for
Wildewood
. Money to pay for the renovations, to restock, and do all the things he wanted. Unfortunately, he also had more trouble than he cared to have. If Gerard had Guy and his henchmen on side and was willing to pay out the kind of money Mayflower was carrying, then he’d be unlikely to give up and go away. Particularly when he realised he’d been bested by a girl. Gerard was not a good loser.

“That was Gerard’s man you just fleeced. He won’t be pleased about it and neither will he believe your story,
anymore
than Mayflower.”

“
Philibutt
believed me. Why else did he give me the money?” exclaimed Grace. “That was the whole point; to make him believe I was someone else, not the nun he was looking for.”

“He wasn’t looking for a nun. He was looking for the king’s spy. He gave you the money because you outwitted him, it doesn’t mean he believed you. Do you really think the bishop cares about orphaned children?” He cocked his head and studied her. “The bishop cares for naught but spreading the word of Christ. If you’d asked for coin to further the Crusade and crush the Saracens, then, Mayflower would likely have swallowed your tale. But he’d not sully his hands to save one child, let alone a litter of parentless Norman brats. You did, however, confuse him by mentioning Hugh. He likely believed that, no
reason not to, I suppose. But he’s not going to return to Gerard and admit he gave the ransom to a pretty girl because he couldn’t keep his eyes off her flesh.”

Miles paused, his gaze also drawn to her flesh. His grin widened when he caught her raised brow. He shrugged his apology. Temptation and imagination...twin sins...and he was guilty of succumbing to both.

“I don’t know whether bringing Hugh’s name into this has made things better or worse.” He closed the door behind him and stepped closer to the bed. “By all accounts Hugh is back in favour with the king and that may well play into Gerard’s paranoia. If he continues to believe you’ve been sent by Edward, he may think all three of us are in collusion. I may resort to using Gerard’s money to pay for our own defence.”

“Have I made things worse?” asked Grace. Concern flitted across her face.

Her sense of alarm affected him, in ways he couldn’t explain. His first response to hold and protect, was fuelled by their closeness the previous night, and his continuing desire for its repeat. But deep in his gut, caution warred with passion and together they churned mercilessly.