The Loyal Heart Part 20

The maid turned to her, eyebrows shooting up as a dazzling smile spread across her full lips and rosy cheeks. "It's about time you woke up in earnest." She lay the dress she had been brushing over the small table and hurried to the side of the bed, adding a quick, "My lady. Sorry."

Aubrey stared at the beautiful young woman, mouth open. "Um. Oh. No, it's okay. You don't have to 'my lady' me."

"Actually, I do, my lady." The grin that brought flecks of light into the woman's large brown eyes made Aubrey want to giggle. "Sir Crispin has appointed me your lady's maid."

"Oh." Aubrey fought the flutter in her chest as she pushed the bedcovers off and swung her feet around to the floor. She tested her weight before standing. A dull ache throbbed in her side but it was nothing compared to the pitiful weakness in her limbs. She glanced to her maid before throwing aside modesty and lifting her nightgown over her head. The maid had to help her. Aubrey untied the bandage around her middle and peeled it away from her wound. She sighed and slumped her shoulders. A thick, crusty scar ran from her ribs to her hipbone on her left side, the flesh surrounding it pink but calm.

"The wise woman, says you had a lucky escape, my lady." The maid returned with a bowl of scented water and armful of towels.

"She does, does she?" She had escaped nothing. The maid helped her to bathe and replace the bandage over the healing wound. All the while Aubrey shot nervous glances to the door, dreading the possibility that Crispin would return when she was naked. She scolded the b.u.t.terflies in her stomach at the thought and bullied them back into silence.

"You're Toby's sister, aren't you?" She made conversation to distract her rebellious thoughts.

"I am, my lady, Joanna," she grinned. "Do you know my brother?"

"I do. We've been on a few adventures together." She grinned at the memory of the dungeon escape.

Joanna took the wet rag from Aubrey, handing her a towel. "Is he still following Lord Ethan around like a puppy?"

Aubrey blinked at the woman's tone. She would have expected one of Ethan's servants to speak of him with respect, with love, but Joanna shook her head as if he were a disobedient child. "Didn't you see them at the wedding?"

Joanna's eyebrows shot up in surprise and she dropped her arms to her side. "I was in the kitchen. Toby was at the wedding?"

"He ... he tried to stop it." She swallowed over the tightness in her throat and the hollowness of the memory.

When she glanced up, curious at Joanna's silence, the woman stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the ceiling and biting her lip as she shook her head. "He'd drown himself in the fish pond if Lord Ethan told him to."

Aubrey's jaw dropped. "But ... Ethan is your master!"

Shock washed over her at Joanna's merry peals of laughter. "Sure, if riding a fine horse and having a pretty smile makes a man someone's master."

"But he loves Windale! He's trying to get it back. He was going to call for a vote at the Council of n.o.bles, challenge Buxton's authority to give the land to Crispin."

"He can't do that!" Joanna blanched. "It would be.... All the work of the last years.... Does Sir Crispin know about this?" Aubrey opened her mouth to reply but the woman charged on with, "He can't just march in here and destroy everything we've worked so hard for!" Joanna wrung the rag in her hands and paced. "Maybe if we pet.i.tioned the prince to stop it."

"What?"

"If the people of Windale went to the prince on behalf of Sir Crispin."

"What!"

"You can't let Lord Ethan do this!" The anxious fury in Joanna's eyes as she clutched the towel froze Aubrey.

Maybe she was still asleep and dreaming the whole conversation. Nothing she was hearing from Joanna fit with what she had believed to be true for so long. Forget the pain in her side. It was her mind that hurt now. "I think ... I think I'm going to need help dressing."

"Which one of your kirtles would you prefer to wear?" Joanna's voice was laced with mock cheer as she forced herself away from the volatile talk.

Aubrey glanced at her garments spread across the table and chest. "The black one." The last time she had worn it was when she was in mourning for her father. It seemed appropriate to wear it now with her heart and mind in such turmoil. She pressed her hand to her forehead and winced.

Crispin was striding up from the mill when he saw Joanna a.s.sist Aubrey through the front door of the manor and into the sunlight. He stopped, heart leaping in his chest, then quickened his steps. Her skin was pale against the black kirtle she wore, but as he approached her eyes flashed. She was already in a temper about something. He wanted to laugh in relief.

"Aubrey." He nodded as he offered his arm to her. Joanna curtsied and fled into the house.

"Crispin," she mumbled. She glared at his arm, flinching her hand to it then dropping it to her side only to reach for it again. He fought not to smile as he closed his hand over hers and lead her towards the oak.

"I have news for you, from Coventry." He ignored whatever pleasantries he was supposed to make.

"What news?" Her hand squeezed his arm.

"Your friends returned safely to their convent. Sister Bernadette has been treated at the hospital and deemed fit." He'd been waiting a week while she healed to give her the news. He had been waiting a week for a lot of things.

"Has she?" She broke into a smile and he matched it before he could stop himself. "How did you hear this?"

"I sent a man to Coventry."

Her smile faded as she contemplated the admission. "And what about the Council of n.o.bles? Did Ethan make his stand?"

Crispin cursed himself for getting his hopes up only to have her crush them. "No." He didn't care if he sounded cruel. "He never showed."

Aubrey dropped his arm. "You're lying."

Her words crackled but her eyes were dull. His throat constricted. "I told you I would never lie to you again."

She crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lip as she stared across the village instead of at him. "I hope you're satisfied."

Yes. He was. Immensely. "Aubrey." He stepped into her line of vision so that she was forced to look up at him.

"What."

Part of him wanted to throttle her for her petulance. He stared at his ring on her hand as she gripped her arm. "I have a wedding present for you."

"A wedding present?" She relaxed her arms.

His heart pounded in his throat but he ignore it. He had been weighing this move all week. "Windale."

She shook her head in confusion. "Windale?"

"Yes." He spoke faster when he saw that she was disarmed. "I want you to run Windale."

Her eyes widened and her arms dropped. "What, Windale Manor?"

He shook his head and glanced out over the common for a moment before looking back to her. "I want you to administrate the manor and the village for me."

She started to say something that came out as a strangled grunt then gave up as she looked out over the buildings and people. "What do you mean?"

He wanted to reach for her, to take her in his arms and beg for her forgiveness for his past wrongs. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. Standing in the sunlight with her wavy brown hair loose on her back and a pink flush to her cheeks he could hardly resist the impulse. She would accept none of that from him, but there was a chance she would accept this.

"I want you to be lord of Windale. That means you would manage the farms, settle disputes, make sure people have enough to eat when winter sets in."

"I know how to run an estate, Crispin." She rolled her eyes at him. "I ran Morley for years."

"Windale is ten times bigger." He saw no reason to feign modesty. "It's a much bigger job. The people would look to you as their master and protector." He paused and watched her eyes flash as she absorbed what he was saying. "It would mean you would be responsible for collecting their taxes."

She flicked her glance to him to see if he was teasing her. "Collecting their taxes?" Her saucy grin made his heart hammer.

"In whatever way you see fit, so long as Buxton gets what he asks for."

"Buxton," she scoffed. "What will you do while I'm running your land?"

He shrugged, folded his arms, and glanced out over the village in tandem with her. "What I always do. Serve Buxton."

He wasn't surprised when she exploded. "I should have known! Serve Buxton. Who are you going to kill for him next?" He winced as she brought up old shame, but he deserved the jab. "You continue to serve an evil man, you know," she railed on.

"Yes I do!" Her words only made his true feelings about Buxton burn hotter. "But with a difference."

"What difference?"

"The difference," he turned to face her again and drew her eyes to his, "is that I will not break a law or kill again while in his service." He had planned this gift to her in the days he had sat by her bedside, knotted with fear and guilt. "Unless it is to save your life or mine."

For a moment she worked her jaw in stunned silence, then she squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her forehead. "You're not serious."

"I am absolutely serious," he snapped back. "I promise you that I will never kill another man unless it is to defend you or myself."

She met his eyes with delving fierceness. Crispin was reminded of the duels he had had with the Bandit. She could crush him with the force of her will alone if she had a mind to. When she sighed and dropped her shoulders a thrill of victory pulsed through him. "You are serious."

"I am."

She continued to rub her forehead as if she had a headache. He was on the verge of asking what was wrong when she growled in frustration and dropped her hands. She sighed. "I ... I accept your offer."

"It wasn't an offer, Aubrey, it was a promise. I would have stuck by it even if you had told me to go to h.e.l.l." He forced himself not to smile at the feeling of satisfaction that poured through him. "I have work to do."

He wanted to lean over and kiss her before striding off towards the house again, but he didn't. Instead he nodded to her, let his arms drop, and left her to sort through the promises he had given her.

Chapter Sixteen.

Crispin paced the length of the Great Hall, face expressionless. Buxton sat in his high-backed chair at the end of the table barking orders to one of his guards, "I want eight men at least guarding all caravans through Derbywood, no matter which direction they're going. Windale and his men have been making far too big of a nuisance of themselves."

"Yes, my lord," the haggard guard nodded and shifted in his spot in front of the table.

"Just because he couldn't be bothered to show up at the Council of n.o.bles is not an excuse for him to go playing highwayman."

"Yes, my lord."

"And why are there so many men with him all of a sudden?" Buxton whined. "I thought he only had two or three, but the last report said that there were a dozen or more. What's going on!"

"I don't know, my lord."

"If hide or hair of him is seen anywhere near Derby Castle I'll skin you like the dog you are and use your hide to polish my boots!" Buxton banged his fist on the table and chastised the poor man.

"Yes, my lord."

"Windale hasn't been seen outside of the forest in three weeks, my lord," Crispin reminded him in a low voice as he paced past the chair. Buxton shooed the guard, who bowed and fled from his presence.

"Ha! That's right. Another unexpected benefit of your recent nuptials, I'm sure." Buxton glared at him. "Poor little Windale, heartbroken at the thought of his beloved Aubrey wriggling in Crispy's pa.s.sionate embrace." He punctuated his comment by making pained grunting noises and thrusting his hips in his chair. Crispin hid his grimace of disgust but clenched his fists at his sides. "Well he can stay heartbroken forever as far as I'm concerned. Prince John's visit is less than a month away. I don't want some moony ex-n.o.ble lousing things up."

Crispin froze. "Prince John? Visiting?"

"What? Upset that you're not in the loop on this one, Crispy?" Buxton launched himself to his feet. His dark eyes glowed with malice as they raked Crispin from head to toe. "You'd have heard if you'd been spending more time at the castle lately."

Crispin pushed through the danger that p.r.i.c.kled his skin. "Preparations need to be made. Preparations for the Prince's safety. One month is hardly-"

"It serves you right!" Buxton smashed him across the jaw before he knew the blow was coming. He stumbled backwards, eyes wide. "So what if I don't tell you everything. You're the one who betrayed me!"

"My lord, I have not betrayed you." His stomach churned.

"You and that ... that wh.o.r.e!"

"You go too far." There was no mistaking the threat in his voice as he pulled himself to his full height before his master.

Buxton swayed in his spot, watching him through narrowed eyes. He held perfectly still, waiting for the inevitable melt in Buxton's eyes, the sickening affection that always followed.

It didn't come. "Prince John is coming here for a very quick, very specific visit, Huntingdon." Ice crackled in his voice. "I told you to kill Windale once and you failed. Do not fail me again."

His promise to Aubrey, never to kill again, stuck hard in his throat. "No, my lord." He lowered his head so that Buxton wouldn't see his double meaning.

"John's visit must go smoothly." Buxton brushed on. "I want celebrations, a week of celebrations leading up to it."

"Yes, my lord."

"I want games, compet.i.tions, ribbons and bells. I want the people distracted."

The hard lump of suspicion spread from Crispin's throat to his gut. "Yes, my lord."

"Ah!" The coo in his master's tone made him glance up at last. "Is Crispy upset at being kept in the dark?" Buxton slid forward and stroked the angry bruise that throbbed on his jaw. "Crispy should know by now that he has nothing to fear so long as he does what I say!" He tapped the bruise harder with each word, punctuating his statement with a stinging slap. "Get out of my sight!"

"Yes, my lord." He rubbed his forehead in an unconscious imitation of the gesture Aubrey used as he strode to the door. He had no choice but to put Buxton's dangerous antics out of his mind. A royal visitor was on his way to Derby, Windale was marauding in the forest, and he had a week-long festival to plan in less than a month.

As he pa.s.sed through the castle's front doors and along the long stone stairway into the courtyard and out into the city his thoughts turned to Aubrey. Prince or no prince, she was his first priority.

For weeks he had shared a bed with her, unable to sleep for listening to her breathe. Her scent was everywhere around him. Her face stared back at him across the supper table every night. But he couldn't have her the way he wanted to. He couldn't touch her and love her and make her his. And even though she was shaking off the initial gloom of their marriage she was still distant. He had to find a way to bridge that distance, to be with her.