Margaret Moore - [Maiden & Her Knight 03] (33 page)

“Osburn fell on his knife after I pushed him away.”

“He died as he lived, then—a fool.” He shook his head. “I would wager my sword that DeFrouchette is sorry he didn’t get to run the man through. I think he’s wanted to do that from the first time he saw the way that little rat looked at you.”

“Then you’d lose your sword.”

Ingar’s demeanor changed to one unexpectedly serious. “I thought you were clever, my lady. Can you not see how the Norman cares for you? Why, his feelings are as plain as the sail of my ship.”

Not wanting to hear about Alexander’s feelings—even supposing she believed Ingar—she turned away. “Only for the ransom.”

“But there will be none. He is going to set you free without it.”

Dumbfounded, Isabelle faced Ingar again. “What?” Then her eyes narrowed with suspicion, for she certainly wasn’t about to trust a Norseman’s words. “I assumed he was going to share the ransom with you, the price for our passage.”

Ingar chortled. “It is what I would have done, but he has some odd notions of honor.”

“Then why are you helping us? You aren’t doing it out of the goodness of your heart, I’m sure.”

“You’re right,” Ingar answered without offense, his gray eyes twinkling. “He has offered to sail with me for the rest of his life. Men like him are hard to find, so naturally, I agreed. He makes many sacrifices for you, my lady, and apparently for nothing in return except knowing you are safe.”

She was not willing to accept that Alexander DeFrouchette did anything solely for her. “He will also get whatever he can pillaging with you.”

“Yes, there is that,” Ingar conceded.

“If he cares for me in any way other than as a thing to be bargained for, it is lust and nothing more.”

“Is it? Well, you may think so if it is easier for you.”

She briskly stepped away. “Easy? Nothing has been easy for me since the day DeFrouchette abducted me.” She put her hands on her hips. “And since when has a Norseman concerned himself with anybody’s
feelings
?”

Ingar didn’t look upset by her question. “A captain has to know his crew, and a good captain learns to read men the way he reads the stars in the sky. Alexander DeFrouchette cares for you the way few men ever do for a woman. He is willing to risk his life for you, and he is willing to give you up. He says it is for honor, but there is another reason. He does it because he thinks that is what you want. Is it?”

She flushed beneath Ingar’s steady gaze, then looked away. “Of course!”

“Good. He has given his word to return to my ship after he takes you back to your family, yet if there is anything on this earth that could make him break that vow, it would be his love for you. But if you do not want his love, then he will keep his word, and I will have a fine fighter in my crew.”

She stared at the planks beneath her feet.
Love?
He thought Alexander
loved
her?

A word that was obviously a curse flew from Ingar’s lips, startling her. “Olaf!” he shouted at the man holding the steering board. “What are you doing? You are going too far to the west!”

With that, he crossed the deck, clouted the unfortunate Olaf on his head and resumed his position at the steering board, leaving Isabelle looking unseeing at the waves rolling past the ship, thinking about all that Ingar had said and all that Alexander DeFrouchette had done.

Ingar guided his ship into the small, secluded bay. The water was calm, and there was no sign of any habitation. Indeed, it looked as if nobody had set foot there from time immemorial. The ground sloped up from the shore, and nothing could be seen beyond the grassy ridge.

Ingar ordered his men to hold their oars steady in the water, so that the ship was barely moving.

Isabelle, Kiera, Denis and Alexander stood near the mastfish, Alexander a little apart. He held a small bundle containing his extra tunic, some bread and cheese, a wineskin, and a flint and steel. Denis had a slightly larger bundle, and of course, Isabelle had brought nothing.

“You will have to jump, for I can’t get closer to shore,” Ingar declared as he left the tiller to Olaf and strode toward them. “You should be safe enough here. No one lives nearby.”

“You seem very familiar with this part of the country,” Isabelle noted.

Ingar chuckled. “I have been here before, as you guess. But have no fear, my lady. After we return for Alexander, we will not venture this way again. I have no wish to encounter your brother-in-law. Alexander tells me he rode with King Richard on the Crusade, and then was a champion of tournaments. A good warrior learns to avoid another.”

Isabelle darted a look at Alexander. She had wondered what they had been talking about, deciding it must be strategy or some such business.

Ingar grinned again. “And do not think to tell this Sir Connor where we will be, for this is not where we will return for Alexander. I doubt Sir Connor has enough men to watch miles of coast.”

He didn’t, but she wasn’t about to admit that.

“So, farewell, my lady.” Ingar reached out and pulled her to him. Fearing another kiss, she turned her head. He didn’t. Instead, his beard tickled her cheek as he whispered, “Remember what this has cost him, my lady, and be kind.”

He let her go. “A little kiss, DeFrouchette,” he called out to Alexander, whose dark brows had lowered like the clouds gathering on the horizon. “Her payment for the voyage.”

Taken aback by Ingar’s actions and words, Isabelle rubbed her cheek and watched as Ingar bussed Kiera heartily. Denis didn’t look any happier than Alexander at this particular form of farewell, or payment, but both said nothing.

“To the steering board side!” Ingar shouted, and suddenly all his men went to that side of the ship, making it heel so that the gunwale was mere inches above the water.

Denis looked back at the Norseman. “My thanks, and may you always have a fine breeze,” he said before he lowered himself into the shallow water.

Kiera eagerly leapt from the ship into his arms.

As Isabelle prepared to go over the side, she looked back at Ingar. The breeze gently brushed her hair across her pink cheeks, which were ruddy from the voyage. In the simple blue gown she wore, and despite her short hair, she looked like a nymph risen from the sea.

For a moment, Alexander thought she was going to curse Ingar, but she didn’t. Instead, she regarded him with a studious mien. “You’ve made a better bargain than you know, Ingar, and gotten far more than you ever would have if you had sold me.” Then she smiled, a bold, brazen smile that made Ingar and every man on that ship stare at her. “It isn’t only a captain who learns to read men, Ingar. If you had tried to take me against my will I would have lain there like a dead fish, and you would have been even limper.”

As those in the crew who could understand laughed with glee and began translating for those who could not, Ingar stared at her, openmouthed. Then she jumped into the water.

“By Thor’s hammer, what a woman,” Ingar muttered as he turned to Alexander. “Enjoy your time alone with her, DeFrouchette, and I hope she will be generous in her gratitude.”

Alexander flushed. “That’s not—”

“As if you would fear an English patrol!” Ingar scoffed, grinning.

Alexander scowled as he went to the gunwale. “I will be at the rendezvous in two nights, Ingar, or I’ll be dead.”

Ingar nodded. “Two days, Norman, and then for as long as you live, your sword is mine to command.” His eyes twinkled with merriment. “And may your night with her be worth it.”

Ingar would reduce everything to a bargain or payment for services rendered, Alexander thought as he went over the side and began wading toward the shore.

Behind him, he could hear Ingar shouting orders and the splash of oars in the water as the ship turned and headed back out to sea. Ahead, Denis, Kiera and Isabelle waited for him on the sandy beach.

“Well, my friend,” Denis said as he shook the hem of his tunic as if that would help it dry. “Here we are, alone in some desolate spot.”

“And here we must part.”

Denis stopped shaking his tunic and stared at him. “Here? Now?”

Alexander nodded.

“Well, of course I knew that we must go our separate ways,” Denis said, his face as mournful as the statue of a dead saint. “But I did not think it had to be today.”

“The sooner we part, the safer it will be for you.” He stole a glance at Isabelle. “I’m sure Lady Isabelle’s brother-in-law has as many patrols out as he can mount. We have shown him how vulnerable he was. You and Kiera must not be found with us.”

“Alexander.” Denis took him by the arm and led him a little way from the women, so that they couldn’t hear him. “You
are
going to go with Ingar, aren’t you? You aren’t planning on letting yourself get caught out of some notion of justice, are you? Because if you are, I won’t leave you.”

Resting his hand on the hilt of his sword, Alexander gave his friend a weary smile. “No, I do not plan on getting caught. I promised Ingar I would return, so I will. Nor do I wish to die or spend my days rotting in a cell. I struggled too long to live to give up easily now. So have no fear, Denis, and leave me with a happy heart.”

Denis looked appalled. “A happy heart?
Mon Dieu, non!
I leave you because I must, but I do it with a heart as heavy as a lead ball. Happy? How can you even say such a thing? I am devastated … horrified … shocked…”

“And talking too much,” Alexander said with another sad, wistful smile. “Take Kiera and go. Ingar says there’s an inn to the west. Make for that.” He reached into his tunic and pulled out his thin purse. “There is enough here for a few nights’ travel and passage to France.”

His hand on his heart, Denis recoiled. “I cannot take your money!”

“I won’t need any for awhile, and you will.” Alexander pressed the purse into his friend’s hand. “Take it for Kiera’s sake, if not your own.”

Denis looked down at the purse, and sighed. Then his hand wrapped around it, and he looked up at his friend. “If I had any money of my own…”

Alexander clasped the hand holding the purse. “I know.” He managed a smile. “And who knows? We may meet again, in some southern clime, perhaps. Ingar tells me they sail very far south, to Greece and Italy sometimes.”

Denis’s dimples appeared, but his eyes were moist with unshed tears. “
Oui
, it is possible. I shall live in hope, my friend who saved the life of a stranger.”

With a heavy heart, trying to conquer his sorrow, Alexander watched his friend trudge toward the women. Denis spoke briefly to Lady Isabelle, saying good-bye, no doubt, as did Kiera. Then, arm in arm, the couple slowly walked up the rise through the scrubby grass and disappeared from sight.

It was time for them to be gone, too, Alexander told himself. They had a long walk ahead of them, and walking would warm them. He was not the only one shivering in wet clothes. “Come, my lady. We must be on our way.”

She silently obeyed, and he led her east, the way Ingar had told him. There would be a road soon, and they could follow it.

By the time they reached the top of the hill, the sun was warm, and he was no longer cold. He glanced back at Lady Isabelle and was pleased to see that her lips—her lovely, full lips—were not blue any more.

A bracken-covered meadow ran toward a wood, just as Ingar had said, and the road was along its edge. He made for the road, wading through the bracken as he had the water, glancing back occasionally to make sure Isabelle had not fallen behind.

Maybe she would run off. She might think he didn’t mean to keep his word and decide she should take matters into her own hands, as she had so many times before.

He dropped back so that he was beside her. She slid him a wary glance but said nothing.

By the time they reached the road, he was perspiring, and so was she, but she was smiling, too. “I think I know where we are,” she said. “We are closer to Connor’s lands than I expected. But I don’t think we’ll reach the border of his estate today.”

“I’m sure there will be patrols on the neighboring estates, too. We should see one tomorrow, and when we are close enough for you to hail them, I will leave you.”

“Oh.”

“As I told Denis, I don’t intend to be captured or killed.”

“Oh.”

She sounded neither pleased nor displeased. He had expected delight. But he would not puzzle over the difference, because in the end, it could make none.

They walked on. The road was dusty and edged with bramble bushes in bloom, their pink blossoms moving gently in the breeze. In other places, the bushes parted, revealing the shady trees of the forest: elm, oak, rowan, chestnut, alder. Beneath them, in the dappled sunlight, foxglove and violets grew, as well as gooseberry and elder and hazel. With an instinct born of long and hungry practice, Alexander instinctively recalled when each would bear nuts or berries suitable for augmenting meager meals—another potent reminder that his life had very little in common with that of the woman walking so stoically beside him. Yes, she had known trouble and dismay, but surely the only time she had ever lacked for food had been when Osburn had locked her in that cell. She had never had to wait for an overseer’s permission before getting a drink.

As if she had been reading his mind, she broke the silence. “I’m very thirsty. I think there’s a stream just through those trees.”