Her trees!
"No!
No
!"
She ran, but Orlando and Monk reached
the archway first. What she saw cut her deeper than any blade could. Walter
Cowdrey swung an axe at the trunk of one of her oldest, strongest orange trees.
Wood cracked and groaned. The tree toppled, scattering unripe oranges and
leaves onto the ground as it hit. Nine other trees lay beside it. Only two remained
standing.
Susanna's knees buckled. She fell
to the ground. "
No
!"
Orlando tackled Walter before he
swung the axe at the next trunk. Walter grunted as his face slammed into the dirt
and Orlando forced his arms behind his back. The axe lay out of reach. Monk must
have taken over after that because Orlando was at Susanna's side in a heartbeat,
holding her.
A terrible shrill cry spewed from
the depths of her. "My trees!" All Mama's years of hard work, gone in
moments. The planting, pruning, fertilizing, harvesting, loving, and the nights
spent covering them, worrying if they'd made it through the frost. All gone.
"Mama."
She shut her eyes, bent over and
sobbed into the earth. It felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest
and smashed by Walter's axe. The pain was so immense it pushed her down and
finally buried her altogether. Not even Orlando's arms holding her made a
difference.
Her beautiful trees were dead.
Eventually, when there were no
more tears inside her, she looked up and fixed a glare on Walter. He stood
beside Monk. Dried blood smeared his nose and mouth and fresh blood dripped
from a graze above his eye. His gaze focused entirely on Orlando and he snarled
like a wild dog. He looked like a man who didn't yet know he'd lost.
"You filthy, heartless
wretch," she said, swiping at her wet cheeks. "How could you do this
to me?"
Slowly he turned to her. There
was very little of the Walter Cowdrey she knew in his eyes and a lot of
Margaret. "How could
I
do this to
you
? What about what you
have done to me? I have loved you forever, Susanna. I have waited and waited. I
have given you every kindness, offered you a comfortable life at Cowdrey Farm,
and you have repaid me by humiliating me and whoring yourself with...
him
."
Susanna's limbs weighed her down
but she hauled herself to her feet with Orlando's help. There would be no reasoning
with Walter in his current state. She turned to leave, Orlando supporting her.
"Come back here!"
Walter shouted. "I haven't finished! Do not walk away from me, woman."
She didn't have the heart to
argue with him. She just left. At the archway, her three trusted servants
waited silently, their weary brows furrowed in concern. Orlando passed her into
Bessie's arms, and the three servants steered her away from the walled garden.
She didn't realize Orlando hadn't followed until she heard Walter shout.
"She's mine!" It was
followed by a blood-curdling scream like an ancient tribal battle cry.
Then nothing.
"Orlando?" she called.
No answer.
She pulled free of Bessie and ran
back to the garden. "Orlando!"
He caught her beneath the arch,
lifting her off the ground, and she buried her face in his neck. Her body shook
uncontrollably. She couldn't stop crying. "I thought he hurt you,"
she said, clutching at his jerkin.
"No." His voice sounded
thick and unnatural, not at all like his usual deep, self-assured one.
"He's gone, Susanna."
She peered past him. Walter lay
on the ground beside the last tree he'd felled. Monk stood beside him, a
blood-soaked knife in his hand. He looked up, and she was surprised to see so
many naked emotions in his eyes, from shock and horror to disgust. He swallowed
hard, blinked, and they were gone. His gray eyes were clear once more.
Orlando lowered her to the ground
and clasped her face in his hands. He gently kissed her. It was excruciating in
its sweetness because it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. She craved him and
the comfort only he could offer.
"You need to go inside and
warm up," he said. "Cook, some broth for everyone if you can. Bessie,
see to Susanna's needs. Hendricks...take the ladies inside while I help Monk
here."
Susanna wiped her cheeks. She was
still crying. She couldn't seem to stop. Where before her heart felt like it
had been ripped out, now it was a pulpy mess. Her trees were gone. Margaret and
Walter were dead after trying to do her harm. And above it all was the
knowledge that it was time for Orlando to leave.
***
Orlando watched the little party
until they were inside the house. They passed Lynden on the way. He'd remained
inside with Margaret's body, but now he approached the walled garden with a
frown.
"Why is Susanna
crying?" Lynden asked as he approached.
"Take a look in there,"
Orlando said without removing his eyes from the door through which Susanna and
her servants had disappeared. He'd seen unhappiness in others before, but never
had it echoed within him as it had done watching Susanna grieve for her trees.
His very bones ached with it and his heart couldn't bear any more of her tears.
If he could banish her sorrow, he would do it in an instant.
"Not another one," said
Lynden, from inside the garden. "What happened this time?"
Orlando passed under the arch and
his gaze connected with Monk. The man had turned out to be a swift, capable
killer. When Walter had grabbed the axe and made to throw it at Orlando and
Susanna, Monk had slit his throat cleanly. If Orlando didn't already know it was
Monk's first kill, he would have discovered it from his reaction afterward.
He'd looked ill.
Orlando could sympathize. It may
have been some years since his first kill, but he remembered it vividly. And if
he hadn't, killing his first woman today would have been enough of a reminder.
He still couldn't unknot his tangled feelings on the matter of Margaret's death,
and he doubted he ever would.
"It doesn't get
easier," Orlando told him, "but you will grow used to how it feels and
find a way to justify it to yourself." He clapped Monk on the shoulder.
Monk looked down at Cowdrey's
body. "He tried to kill Lady Lynden," he said. It wasn't quite true—it
had been impossible to know if it was Susanna or Orlando he wanted to hit—but
Monk was right to tell Lynden that she was the target. His sympathy probably
wouldn't stretch to an attempt on Orlando's life.
"That's the problem with
beauty," Lynden said on a sigh, turning away and wrinkling his nose.
"It breeds jealousy. She needs to be married. It'll make everyone's life easier,
including her own. Her father will be able to die in peace knowing a husband is
taking care of her again."
"I'm not sure she'd agree
with you," Orlando said. He wasn't sure he agreed with him either, but
there was a logic in his words that couldn't be denied. He wished it wasn't so.
"I suppose it'll be up to me
to find her another husband," Lynden said. "With Walter gone, she'll
need to look out of the parish to find an eligible man. I know a knighted
gentleman who may soon be in need of a new wife. His current one is on her
deathbed. He already has children too. Susanna might like that." He
nodded, pleased with himself.
"She doesn't want to marry
anyone," Orlando said, dully. "Nor does she have to."
Lynden snorted. "Don't be
ridiculous. She does have to. Look what happens when a woman like her doesn't
have a husband." He waved at Cowdrey's body without looking at it.
"Utter chaos."
Orlando's fists closed at his
sides. He needed to work off some excess tension and thumping Lynden would make
him feel better. He stepped toward him, but Monk caught his arm.
"Not now," Monk said
quietly. He nodded at the arched entrance. "We have company."
Hughe and Cole stood just inside
the walled garden, taking in the scene. Cole appeared unaffected by the sight
of the body, but Hughe gasped and pressed his long fingers to his mouth. He
wrinkled his nose and turned away. It was almost the identical way that Lynden
had reacted and Orlando would have laughed if he was in a better mood.
"Good day," Lynden said,
bowing. "Lord Oxley isn't it?"
Hughe nodded and flapped a hand
at the body. "Is that...blood?"
"I'm afraid so," Lynden
said. "There's been an unfortunate accident. Or two."
Hughe made a gagging sound in his
throat. "Perhaps I'll return at a better time. Come, Cole."
"Wait!" Lynden trotted
over to him and bowed again. "Come inside for refreshments. Stoneleigh's
parlor is warm and contains no dead bodies."
"You might want to avoid the
hall, however," Orlando said.
Cole, still dressed in the
disguise of fat servant, raised an eyebrow at him.
"Ugh," Hughe said. "Perhaps
I'll remain out here in the fresh air."
"The lady of the house, my
cousin by marriage, would be very pleased to have you call upon her. I think if
you meet her you'll want to stay a while longer, my lord Oxley. She's
quite...charming."
Orlando could hit him before anyone
could stop him. It would be done in the blink of an eye.
"Ah, yes, The Beauty,"
Hughe said. "I've heard of her. Perhaps you could bring her out here to
me. I'd like to inspect her."
Lynden bowed elaborately and
backed out through the arch. "I'll fetch her now, my lord."
Once he was out of earshot,
Orlando turned Hughe around to face him. "Inspect her? She's not a horse."
Hughe cleared his throat and raised
both brows at Monk.
"Don't mind me," Monk
said. "I'm practically one of the family."
Orlando introduced them. "I
think he could replace Rafe well enough," he said about Monk.
"No one could replace
Rafe," Cole said. Of all of them, he seemed to feel the loss of their
friend the most, which took Orlando by surprise. Cole was the loner of the
band. He never discussed his past, never let his feelings show. When it came to
killing, he did it without emotion or regret. In their quiet moments, they
shared their hopes for the future, but not Cole. Perhaps he didn't have any.
"That's glowing praise
coming from Orlando," Hughe said to Monk. "I'm staying at The Plough
until tomorrow. Come and see me if you're up for adventure."
"And a little bit of
killing," Cole added. "It's not easy. The training alone is rigorous
and Hughe is a cruel task-master when he wants to be."
Monk laughed. "Him?"
"Don't let the lace and
feathers fool you," Orlando said. "He may look like a dandy, but his
heart is made of impenetrable rock."
"And I have the strength to
match," Hughe said lightly.
"Do you think you have the
stomach for it?" Cole asked.
"That depends," Monk
said.
"On what?"
"How much is the pay?"
"Probably more than you've
ever seen in your lifetime," Hughe said.
"Then I'll take it."
"You think money will buy
you respectability?" Cole asked darkly. "Trust me, it does not."
"That's what everyone who
has
money says," Monk said, equally dark.
And with that simple observation,
Monk had quite possibly struck a trait of Cole's that Orlando had never seen.
He would have a lot of money saved from his work with the Guild, but hardly
enough to be considered wealthy, not like Hughe. Yet he gave money away at
every village, or sometimes he simply gambled it and once, left some behind.
Money never concerned him. Did he have more than he was willing to admit to?
While Monk and Cole glared at
each other, Orlando confronted Hughe. "Now that you have another
member," he said, "I don't feel so bad to be leaving."
"What?" Hughe blurted
out.
Cole swore. "Not you
too."
"I broke the pact. I had to
tell Susanna."
Cole sighed. Hughe dropped his
head, so that Orlando couldn't read his face.
"I don't understand,"
Hughe said, finally looking up. He looked drawn, exhausted. "Why?"
Orlando shrugged. How could he
explain the need to tell Susanna everything? It had been a compulsion, and in
the end, there had been no choice. If he hadn't told her about himself, he
might have ended up as mad as Cowdrey. "Because she deserved the truth
from me, and I simply couldn't lie to her anymore."
Hughe closed his eyes and drew in
a deep breath. He opened them again and Orlando was a little saddened to see
the bleakness in their depths. "Very well. But you can't stay with us.
Your identity has been compromised."
"I know." Orlando
clasped the arm Hughe offered.
Cole shook his head and stalked
off, but he got no further than the arch and returned. He clapped Orlando on
the shoulder then quickly embraced him. "I always knew you were a bloody
fool."
"Goodbye, Brother," Orlando
said. "Stay out of trouble."
"Unlikely." Hughe also
gave Orlando a parting embrace then they both left.
Lynden rushed across the gravel
toward them, waving his hands. "Stop! My lord, where are you going? You
haven't met Susanna yet!"
"Another time," Hughe
called out then spurred his horse onward.
Lynden puffed heavily as he
watched them go. "She would have been ready in a few minutes. If only he'd
waited."
"She wanted to come out and
meet him?" Orlando asked, more disturbed by the thought than he should be.
"No. But I could have
coerced her."
Monk gripped Orlando's shoulder,
hard. "Help me get the bodies onto the cart. I'll drive them back to
Cowdrey Farm."