A Knight's Vengeance (35 page)

"Of course, milady."

He executed a graceful bow, then strode away to speak to the guards blocking the door to the bailey.

As soon as his back was turned, Mildred joined Elizabeth at the cutting table and started breaking the sage leaves from the stems.
"By the blessed Virgin."

"When you suggested we brew sleeping potion," Elizabeth said between her teeth, "you failed to warn me of the stench."

"'Tis the valerian.
I did not remember myself, for when I use the braziers in my workshop, I open all the doors to circulate the air." Mildred gave a bright, toothy smile.
"'Twas clever of you to burn the chickens to try and disguise the odor."

"The hens scorched by accident, as well you know." Elizabeth grabbed the knife, swept the herbs into the middle of the table, and chopped them with a vengeance, drawing a wary glance from Dominic and the guards.

Mildred touched her arm. "The accident was timely, then."

Elizabeth grunted. Perspiration dripped down her nose. Over the knife's rhythmic
thud,
she heard Mildred lift the lid of the copper pot, and the ladle clank against the side.

"'Tis done.

A smile warmed Elizabeth's lips. "Good. Now, if you will rinse the salted pork we left to soak earlier, we can cook it and set it on the platters."

At last, the meal was ready. Elizabeth dried her clammy palms on a linen towel and forced herself to draw
slow
, even breaths. Soon she and Mildred would be free.

She was pouring a fresh white sauce, only a little scorched this time, into bowls when she heard Geoffrey's clipped strides. Her pulse jittered. At the same time, a shameful ache reminded her of his body pressed against hers.

Did his tongue still taste of berries?

She shut her mind to the thoughts. She must focus on escape, not on what, in her silly dreams, might have come true.

Geoffrey came to an abrupt halt. He looked through the smoke to where she stood at the serving table, and threw up his hands. "What mischief have you been up to?"

She ignored a nervous tingle. "We prepared a meal, milord, as you asked." With the edge of a cloth, she wiped drippings from the side of a bowl.

He set his hands on his hips. "What did you cook?"

"Salted pork with an herbed mustard sauce."

His mouth flattened, and he strode around the cutting table to peer into the pots over the fires. "You created this

amount
of mess, not to mention the vile stench, to serve salted pork?" He sniffed the steam over the sleeping potion. "What is
that?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Mildred stiffen.

"'Tis . . . well, a surprise."

"I do not like surprises," he growled. "Not from you. I warn you, do not think to deceive me."

Misgiving shivered through her. She must divert his suspicions, now, before he ordered one of his men to taste the potion and ruined the chance to escape.

Tossing aside the cloth, she planted her hands on her hips and matched his defiant stance. "How could we trick you, with the guards keeping watch? If you must know, Mildred has been most kind. She brewed a special herbal tonic for you and your men. She planned to present it to you when finished, but, of course, you have spoiled that now."

"'Tis medicine?" he asked with the faintest hint.of a smile.

"Of a sort."
Elizabeth smothered an uneasy giggle. "It eases many ailments, including headaches, stomach pains, and"—she arched an eyebrow-—"wind."

"Ah." He grinned.
"'Tis good she made some, since we will be eating your cooking."

Dominic and the other guards chortled, and Elizabeth snapped her jaw shut. Let them laugh. Moments from now, they would be snoring into their salted pork as she and Mildred ran to freedom.

The rogue had the gall to chuckle, too. "Dominic, have

the
ladies take the food to the great hall."

"With pleasure, milord."

Mildred caught Elizabeth's gaze and tipped her head toward the steaming pot behind them. They had yet to put the potion into the ale.

With brisk strides, Elizabeth walked around in front of the chopping block. Her ploy worked. Dominic's gaze followed her and not Mildred, who hurried to the wooden cask and began filling pitchers with ale.

Elizabeth pointed to the serving table. "
Dominic,
would you and the guards help us with the platters? They are heavy."

The knight's cheeky grin faded. "Must I?"

Pasting a smile on her lips, Elizabeth looked at him and the other men, who also looked disgruntled. "Please."

"Do not look at me so," Dominic grumbled. "I will summon the serving wenches."

"Lord de Lanceau assigned them other duties today."

With a sigh, Dominic nodded.
"Very well.
I will help. Yet, if I do not quench my thirst this instant, I will not reach the hall." Leaning past her, he grabbed one of the frothing pitchers Mildred had just set on the serving table, poured a mug, and downed the ale in one swallow.

Elizabeth gasped. The matron shot her a fierce look,
then
resumed her task, pretending that naught out of the ordinary had happened. Covering her open mouth with her hand, Elizabeth pretended her outburst was a big yawn. The

distrustful
guards looked away.

Dominic burped and slammed down the empty mug.
"Much better.
Now, if you will come with me, milord is waiting."

Gnawing her lip, Elizabeth looked at Mildred. Worry shadowed the matron's eyes, but as she came to Elizabeth's side, she smiled. Scooping up two pitchers, Elizabeth followed Dominic out of the kitchens, aware of Mildred behind her and the tread of the guards in the rear bearing the platters.

She entered the crowded hall and her mouth went dry. Men, women, and children awaiting their food and drink looked up at her. Elena waved and a little boy, sitting on the bench beside her, thumped his fists on the tabletop.

Sweat chilled Elizabeth's brow. Fear whined in her stomach. If all went as planned, she and Mildred would escape.

If it did
not.
. .
if aught went wrong . . . Her throat constricted into a painful knot, and she tightened her hold on the ale jugs.

She looked at Dominic. He shooed a pair of dogs out of his way, then walked toward the dais where Geoffrey sat polishing his eating dagger on a table linen. Dominic showed no signs of succumbing to the potion. Under her breath, she prayed the potent brew would not begin working until all the meals were served.

Stopping at a table near the dais, Elizabeth set down the ale pitchers.

Crockery shattered behind her.

She whirled around.

Dominic fell to his knees. The platter lay broken, the salt pork strewn across the rushes. Snapping, barking mongrels converged on the food. Dominic groaned, a sound so horrible, she went numb with fear. He doubled over, clutching his stomach. "Milord," he choked out. "Ale . .
.poisoned
."

A convulsion shook him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he crumpled to the floor.

From a great distance, Elizabeth heard Mildred cry her name. A chair crashed against a wall. Without looking at the dais, she knew Geoffrey had leapt to his feet.

Panic shrilled inside her. She bolted for the stairwell.

Behind her, footfalls pounded.

Her pursuer grabbed her braid.
Yanked her back by her hair's roots.

She screamed.

Geoffrey spun her around, her hair twisted around his arm, his face contorted with rage. "What have you
done?"

Words refused to form on her tongue.

He grabbed her arms and shook her.
Hard.
"Answer me!"

Elizabeth trembled. "I—"

"You poisoned the ale, aye?" he bellowed.
"Aye?"

She could not deny him the truth. She nodded.

With an angry roar, he threw her to the waiting guards. He looked at the servants and men-at-arms who knelt beside Dominic's motionless body, whispering and shaking their heads. His gaze narrowed on Mildred. "You"—Geoffrey pointed at her—"will care for him. You will watch over him day and night. You will do whatever is needed to ensure he lives. By God, he had better live, or you will rue the day you were brought to this keep."

His head swiveled. He stared at Elizabeth, his gaze so bitter, so pitiless, she fought a sob. She struggled against the guards' hold, but they pinned her arms to her sides.

"Take the lady to my solar," Geoffrey snarled. "If she tries to escape, lock her in the dungeon."

*
    
*
    
*

As the guards escorted Elizabeth from the hall, Geoffrey hurried to Dominic's side. The circle of castle folk stepped back, parted, and gave him space to crouch down on the soiled rushes.

Dominic's face looked white as a shroud. His jaw hung slack. Thank God he still breathed.

Geoffrey bowed his head, and his eyes squeezed shut. Rage, guilt, and gut-wrenching fear boiled inside him in a violent tempest. How many times he had awakened in the hospital at Acre, to find Dominic sitting by his bed, a calming presence in Geoffrey's world of physical torment and emotional anguish.

Dominic was the one person Geoffrey trusted with his life. He would not let Dominic die. He had not been able to save his father or his brother, but he would save his friend.

Shoving to his feet, he gestured to the men-at-arms awaiting orders. "Take him to his chamber. Make sure he is comfortable."

Mildred fought the guards that restrained her. "Lady Elizabeth and I did not plan to hurt him or anyone else. You must believe me."