Authors: Kathleen E. Woodiwiss
Slowing Eddy to a walk, Maxim deliberately directed his attention to the hunt. He nudged the stallion across a shallow expanse in the frigid water where a series of ripples gave evidence of a rocky base that would permit a crossing. Upon gaining the far bank, he dismounted and tied the steed beneath an ancient oak which spread its barren branches across a narrow glade. Slipping the bow from across his back, he braced the end in a soft-booted instep and, in one easy motion, strung the weapon. He nocked a blunt birding arrow and, with practiced, silent tread, made his way toward the pond where a muted gaggling gave evidence that a flock of late geese were feeding in the open water at the edge of a growth of reeds. Drawing the bow, he sent the arrow unerringly on its way. A gander took the blow, flopped once, and slowly spread its wings to float in still repose upon the surface of the breeze-riffled water.
Maxim retrieved the goose, tied its legs with leather thongs, and secured his prize behind the cantle. A movement in the trees across the stream caught his eye, and as he scanned the low brush that bordered the bank, a stag in its third season or so stepped out, cautiously surveyed the area, then lowered his head to drink from the river. Streams of light from the mounting sun lit the mists of the icy glade, seeming to bring each color and sound to the perfect pitch of excitement. Maxim went down upon one knee and, setting an arrow with a sharp broadhead to string, took the shot from beneath Eddy's neck. The stag coughed with the impact as the shaft pierced his heart and leapt forward, then crumpled to his knees and collapsed, felled in one swift stroke.
Maxim considered his fallen prey, musing in rueful reflection. If not wary, he could be taken down by the cruel arrows of that enticing little vixen. Indeed, she would lead him about by the nose as she did that great oaf, Von Reijn, and where would he be but cast upon the rocky crags of frustration's shore and left to flounder on the reefs of despair?
Elise drummed her fingers against her hips as she stood with arms akimbo in the great hall. She had primed herself to lay the sharp side of her tongue upon the pompous pride of the lord and master of this crumbling keep, and was raked with peevish disappointment to find him gone.
“And where has Lord Seymour hied himself this early morning hour?” she demanded of Fitch.
“ âIs lor'ship's gone a-huntin', 'e âas. Gone out ta fill the larder wit' fresh meat for the cook,” the man replied. He had been around the girl long enough to sense when she was annoyed about something, and in an effort to lighten her mood he pointed out the fact of their much-improved state of circumstance. “Aye, ye can be sure whilst âis lor'ship is âere, we won't be starvin'. An' for yerself, mistress, the master âas bade me tell ye âe'll be takin' ye ta âAmburg when 'e comes back âround the noon hour. 'E asked for ye ta kindly be ready.”
“As his lordship commands,” Elise returned with ill-feigned meekness.
Her testy reply made Fitch wary of testing her disposition. He hastily made his excuses and took his leave, seeking out the security of the stable. There, he began to groom the lady's horse as his lordship had bade. Hopefully, by improving the nag's appearance, he could lift the maid's spirits and thereby prevent another confrontation between his master and his charge.
Elise had no immediate desire to return to her chambers or to garb herself in finery. It would be a while yet before the Marquess returned, and she felt in need of a short respite in which she could detach herself from the keep and roam the hillside at her leisure.
Her dream of the previous night came back to haunt her as she donned her cloak. She could not place any degree of reliance on the meanderings of her mind, nor could she accept any part of the dream as truth until she could delve into the matter. She had no real evidence that her father had been
seized by the Hansa, yet the chance of such a coincidence happening was well within the realm of possibility, for he had gone to the Stilliards frequently in the months prior to his abduction. She would have to keep an attentive ear and eye upon those cities she visited, in the hope that she would glean some small bit of knowledge about her father.
Pulling the woolen hood of her cloak over her head, Elise stepped out onto the front stoop and looked about. Though the sun was shining brightly, reflecting off the windows and patches of crusty snow, blustery winds chilled the air and gave strong evidence of the crispness of this early December morn. Slowly she descended the steps and made her way across the courtyard. No hue and cry was raised as she crossed the bridge, and once past the moat she followed a path along its edge where the castle wall gave protection from the frigid blasts of air.
On a sun-swept hillock Elise paused, seeing her way barred by thick brambles and briars. Clumps of snow weighted down the dense thatch of grass growing beneath the thorny bushes and she could see no sign of a trail though her gaze ranged far afield. Finding no haven to tempt her progress, she turned back upon the path, but a sharp prickle against her ankle made her pause. She lifted her skirts to pluck the thistle from the top of her hide shoes and flinched as the tiny barb pricked the flesh of her finger. She stared at the tip of the digit as her mind began to roam along a devious course, and a slow, wicked smile began to grow and widen. Of a sudden she wondered how the mighty lord of the
castle keep might react if he found spiny barbs in his bed. Oh, what sweet revenge she could extract from him, and there would be no need to place herself in jeopardy or to suffer any qualms about him overtaking her in her flight to safety. She would be securely ensconced in her chambers with the door well-bolted and braced against
his intrusion.
Laughing aloud, Elise raised her skirts, unfastened a string tie, and shook herself out of her petticoat. The quickest way to gather the burrs was to whip a cloth over the grass and bushes, allowing them to attach themselves to the piece. It was certainly a less painful method than picking them separately. In no time at all she had gathered enough to meet her purpose, and she wrapped the undergarment into a ball to protect herself from the discomfort of the tiny barbs as she hurried back along the trail. She must hasten now. Maxim could return at any moment.
Once more Elise crossed the courtyard and assured herself that both Fitch and Spence were out of the keep before ascending to her chambers. Fetching the comb Maxim had deigned to give her from her chambers, she continued her climb to the third floor. Stripping the furs from the bed and turning back the sheet, she set herself to her labors. Carefully she combed the burrs from the petticoat and shook them over the coarse ticking of the mattress, liberally covering the surface. When this was done, she spread the sheet and replaced the furs exactly as they had been.
Tiptoeing stealthily to the door, she assured herself that the passage was clear before she left the
lofty chambers. It was time now to get ready for the trip to Hamburg, and she wasted no moment in her haste to do so. Her mood had taken on an impish bend, and she was quite happy and pert when, some time later, Maxim rapped on her chamber door.
“I'm coming,” she promptly called and, catching up her cloak, swung open the portal. She paused as his eyes swept down her, taking in every detail, and a curious, questioning quirk lifted her brow as he met her gaze. “Next time you undress me, my lord, at least leave me my shimmy,” she chided. “ âTis rather drafty in the hall.”
“I was merely admiring the gown,” Maxim excused. And all within it, his mind accused.
“I realize you intended the clothes for Arabella,” Elise needled, deliberately setting the spurs to him. “But under the circumstances I'm sure she won't mind, since she has a husband to buy her such costly garb.”
Maxim scowled harshly. It disturbed him to be reminded of Arabella, but strangely it was not for reasons he might have expected. His feeling of guilt goaded him. It was as if he had turned his back on every commitment he had ever made to Arabellaâand yet, it was she who had accepted another on the very heels of his purported death. When he thought back upon it, she had not mourned his loss for very long at all.
Maxim directed a curt nod toward the stairs. “Shall we go?”
Hurrying past him, Elise swept down the hall and began her descent, leaving Maxim to stare after her in some confusion at her haste. His easy strides
brought him swiftly to her side, but Elise dared not glance at him for fear he might glimpse something akin to admiration in her face. He looked quite dashing and debonair in leather-trimmed green doublet and trunk hose, and though he was the one whom she had the most cause to hate, she had to admit he was probably the most handsome man she had ever met in her life.
“Allow me,” Maxim bade at the front portal as he took her cloak. Settling the fur-lined garment upon her shoulders, he reached past her to swing open the door and executed a brief but courtly bow.
Elise was taken aback by his gentlemanly display, and felt a certain unease when faced with the gallant side of his nature. It was far easier to remain aloof and distant when he ranted and raved. She swept through the portal with a small nod of gratitude and paused on the stoop in a place where it was protected from the probing winds. Maxim followed a moment later, having donned a cloak, and descended the stone steps.
Fitch was waiting with Eddy and gave the reins over to his lordship, then ran back to fetch the lady's steed. In response to a gentle nuzzling Maxim rubbed the stallion's velvet-soft nose affectionately. He paused as his lingers traced small, raised weals on either side of the animal's nose and leaned back slightly to carefully examine the pattern of scars. Four thin lines ran together, such as a small, furred creature might make in an attack “What is this?” he asked as if questioning his steed. “What have you tangled with, old boy? You look as if you've run afoul of a cat.”
Eddy rolled his eyes, and Elise felt them pause on her for an accusative moment. She shrugged off the idea of the mute condemnation and, pulling on a pair of gloves, made her descent. She glanced around as she heard Fitch coming with her mount and stared in amazement at the sight that greeted her. The short, squat, shaggy white mare she had dubbed “Angel” would certainly have been a shameful palfrey for any lady of quality to claim, especially when brought in sharp contrast to the powerful black steed, but now, with a festive array of tiny bells and colored rag ribbons twined through the stiffly rebellious white mane, the mare looked utterly ridiculous.
The sight broke Maxim's demeanor and elicited a burst of uproarious mirth from him until he caught sight of Fitch's puzzled expression. Immediately he squelched his laughter as he realized the man had probably labored most of the morning in an effort to groom the mare and make it presentable for the lady.
Elise's indignation had been sparked by Maxim's amused guffaws and she might have vented her rage right then and there if not for the fact that Fitch had thought he was doing a kind service for her. She could not abuse his tender heart in such a fashion. It was the not-so-noble lord she wanted to wreak her anger upon, and she settled a withering glare upon that one before graciously extending her hand to the bemused servant.
Elise seated herself upon the decorated nag and adjusted her cloak and gown for a moment before accepting the reins and quirt from Fitch. Applying the
short whip, she encouraged the animal to its fastest pace and rode forward without even a brief glance toward her escort. The small hooves clattered across the bridge before the heavier hoofbeats of Eddy's bold trot were heard behind her. Chuckling as he passed her, Maxim took the lead and then slowed the stallion to match the plodding gait of the mare. Now and then he turned in his saddle to take in the sight, and his laughter would echo back from the hills.
The winds died down, as did finally the sounds of his lordship's amusement, and with the sun high in the sky, the day warmed to a most comfortable degree. The snow became wet and the path softened beneath Eddy's hooves. Elise's short-legged steed splash-plopped along in the deeper tracks, and with each step the small hooves threw up splauerings of muddied snow until the lower belly and legs of the mare were no longer white.
The tinkling of the tiny bells echoed in the hushed silence of the hillocks and forests as they passed along the trail. It was not an unpleasant sound, and Elise found her irritation easing by slow degrees as she began to enjoy the outing. Though Von Reijn's heavy escort had brought home to her an awareness of the dangers that might abound when traveling this far from the well-used paths, a strange security suffused her which made her wonder at its source. Perhaps she had faced too many threats of late and grown contemptuous of them all. Or could it have been the presence of her companion that eased her qualms?
A stout English bow and a quiver of arrows were slung behind his saddle. A sword hung from his
side, and there was an alert readiness in his manner and the bold erect way in which he sat his horse. That black beast in himself was enough to stir caution in the stoutest of hearts. The great hooves lifted and fell with ponderous regularity, yet with an ease that only hinted of a fair turn of speed.
Elise focused her attention more closely upon the man, and though he seemed at ease, she saw his head turn slightly as he scanned each bush, copse, or thicket where danger might lurk. If a bird flushed, his eyes followed it. If a branch moved, he assured himself it was only the wind. She pondered on his silence and the attitude he displayed. He seemed quite responsible about her safety and comfort and glanced about often to assure himself of both.
Elise almost cringed at the remembrance of the burrs beneath his sheet, but she shrugged off the brief pang of conscience. He was due much more than she was able to deliver him. To be certain, when taking into account what she had suffered because of him, she should listen with eager ear for his reaction.
After a time Maxim halted and pulled Eddy aside. When she drew abreast, he paced her for a moment. “All is well with you, Elise?” he queried solicitously and, at her nod, questioned further, “You're warm enough? And comfortable?”