The Loyal Heart (14 page)

His smoldering eyes delved into her. “Aubrey, promise me you will not do anything foolish, like going out into the city again without protection.” She huffed a sigh and crossed her arms. “Aubrey,” he repeated her name. “Do I need to remind you there is a murderer on the loose?”

“No, thank you.” She gave him a tight smile.

She marched through the cloister and darted into the dim hallway of the castle. But he still followed her. When she realized that he wasn’t going to let her be she turned to him, planted her fists on her hips, and began, “Crispin-”

“What in God’s name are you talking about!” Buxton’s furious bellow came from the chapel at the end of the hall.

Aubrey and Crispin stood fixed to the spot for a moment, then doubled their pace as they hurried along the hall and around the corner to the chapel. Four of Buxton’s elite guards stood in the hallway outside of the chapel with swords drawn. Crispin pushed them aside as he and Aubrey ran into the room. The sight that met them was enough to make Aubrey stop for a heartbeat in the doorway before sprinting forward in a rage. Buxton stood at the front near the chancel holding a fist full of Sister Bernadette’s habit as he lifted her half off her feet looking like he was going to pummel her.

“My lord, stop!” Crispin lunged forward to catch Aubrey before she could do anything rash. He lifted her aside as he strode down the aisle and held a hand out to calm Buxton.

Buxton let go of the nun. She collapsed with a cry of pain. Buxton kicked her aside and turned his fury on his man.

“Do you know what she said to me, Huntingdon?” A jolt of dread shot down Crispin’s back. Buxton glared at Sister Bernadette as Madeline lunged to help the injured nun to her feet. “She said that
my
statue belongs to her! My statue! The one that was a gift from Prince John!”

“It is no reason to kill her, my lord.” Crispin kept his voice low, hoping Aubrey wouldn’t hear. She had rushed over to the sisters and glared at both Buxton and at him.

“She needs to be
silenced
!” Buxton seethed, teeth clenched.

Crispin held his breath and glanced to Sister Bernadette, who stood clutching her side, and on to Aubrey, his stomach twisting. There was no guarantee that the nuns knew the statue was stolen. “Aubrey, get out.”

“No!” she snapped, red faced, shielding the nuns behind her.

His eyes met her defiant ones, begging for her trust in vain. “Lock that door!” he ordered the guards at the back of the room, then marched past Buxton, who watched him with sharp scrutiny and unconcealed rage, over to the women.

“You say this statue belongs to you.” Crispin drew himself up to his full, intimidating height and addressed Sister Bernadette in a low, emotionless voice. He fought to ignore the way Aubrey was ready to tear him limb from limb.

“It was stolen from the Abbey of St. Mary in Coventry.” Sister Bernadette forced herself to stand straight, her serenity turned into stone-hard resolve.

She was speaking the truth. “How can you prove this?”

“It has the mark of the artist on the reverse,” she told him, wincing and doubling again as Madeline caught her. “A triple cross.”

Buxton dashed over to the statue and pressed himself against the wall to check for the mark. Crispin didn’t need to look. He probably still had the triple cross imprinted on his chest. “And what do you plan to do?”

Sister Bernadette gazed up at him. “We will return the Madonna to her rightful place in our abbey.”

Crispin admired her resolve. It softened his tone as he said, “And you will not speak a word of where the statue has been while absent?”

Sister Bernadette smiled and tried to stand straight again. “I have no need to, sir.”

Crispin nodded. “Find a physician to attend to her.”

Aubrey’s eyes darted between him and Sister Bernadette. Madeline watched the whole proceeding with mouth half opened in surprise and fear.

“No!” Buxton exploded into the silence that had fallen. “Absolutely not!” He left the statue and stormed across to where the others stood, pushing Crispin away from Sister Bernadette so hard that he stumbled. “You will not take
my
statue anywhere!”

“My lord.” Crispin recovered his balance and attempted to stand between them.

“It is not your statue,” Sister Bernadette addressed Buxton.

“Well it is now. Guards! Seize them!” Buxton shouted. The guards rushed forward and knocked Aubrey out of the way, each grabbing one of the helpless women. Sister Bernadette cried in pain. “Kill them!”

Aubrey shouted as the guards fumbled to draw their long swords while holding the women.

“Hold your swords!” Crispin’s voice boomed like thunder. His eyes blazed defiance. The room fell to total silence. Crispin stared at Aubrey. The spark in her eyes as she watched him gave him the courage to defy his master. “My lord, you cannot do this!”

Buxton gaped in stunned outrage, gripping his fists until his knuckles went white. “I can do whatever I want, whenever I want! If I want them silenced then they will be silenced!”

“And if you kill them you condemn yourself.” The air between Crispin and Buxton crackled with murder. Buxton’s eyes blazed with shock and hurt, but Crispin’s words began to have their desired effect. Buxton leaned back. “They have been seen in the castle, my lord. They are known to be here. If they are killed it will be discovered how and why.” Every nerve in his body screamed. He wanted to glance to Aubrey, to know what she thought of his suicidal defiance.

Buxton quivered with rage. He took a step towards the women. Madeline jumped back against the guard who held her. “Then cut out their tongues!” he ordered. Madeline went white. “They will not talk!”

“My lord, you cannot cut out their tongues either.” Crispin could feel the sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Buxton whipped around to him, teeth bared in a sneer of frustration. “Then what do you propose we do? Take them on a picnic?”

“Lock them in one of the tower rooms. If they are in the High Tower they will be out of sight, guarded, and kept in luxury. Send them home in a month when people have forgotten about the statue.”

“Are you suggesting,” Buxton growled, “That we give them
back
the statue?”

“I see no other choice.” Crispin met the man’s eyes.

Buxton held Crispin’s gaze, beady eyes swirling with both anger and a new emotion, fear. Crispin’s heart raced. He glanced sideways at the nuns. Madeline was still as pale as a sheet while Sister Bernadette was only upright because of the guard who held her. His eyes darted to Aubrey. She watched him, expression unreadable. His face softened and his heart leapt when the corner of her mouth twitched.

When he looked to Buxton there was no mistaking the connection his master had just made as his eyes flickered from Crispin to Aubrey. Buxton bared his teeth at her. Crispin’s stomach twisted in pain.

“Put them in the north room,” Buxton seethed. “I want
eight
guards stationed in the tower hallway now, not six. Swords
and
maces. No one goes up except for me and Crispy.”

“The elderly one needs a physician-”

“No one!”

Crispin squeezed his eyes shut and let out a breath. “They have a manservant with them, my lord.”

“He has been sent on an errand,” Sister Bernadette informed them.

Crispin frowned. “When he returns, bring him to me.” Aubrey opened her mouth to protest but snapped it shut, eyes wide with panic. He nodded to the guards. “Take them to the tower.”

“If they make so much as a peep I want them killed, do you understand?” Buxton fumed. “No excuses!” He jerked around to Crispin. “I have not raised you to the position you hold now because you show
mercy
.” He spoke the word as if it were an obscenity. “I have put you where you are, given you the power that you have, because you are a useful tool, a knife in the dark!
I
have given you power.
I
have given you position. Never forget that I can take it away like that.” He snapped his fingers under Crispin’s nose, standing toe-to-toe with him for several edgy seconds, staring into his eyes with such malice that Crispin glanced down. Then with a rumbling chuckle he narrowed his eyes at Aubrey and swept out of the room behind the guards.

Blood and feeling returned to Crispin’s aching muscles. He pushed out a heavy breath and turned away from Aubrey, praying that somehow she would forget what she’d just witnessed. He could feel her behind him even though she was silent. He took two steps to rest his hands against the altar, pressing his weight against it. He had defied Buxton. For the first time. And Buxton knew why.

“Crispin,” she spoke his name. He swallowed. The care in her voice after what she’d just seen drove knives into his stomach. “Are you okay?”

He let out a breath and turned to face her. “I’ll be fine.”

She moved towards him. “Come out and sit in the fresh air of the cloister.”

Her hands closed on his arm. The warmth of her touch made him want to throw her across the altar and make love to her like a demon. He craved it so badly that he let her lead him halfway through the chapel before sense returned to him. He stopped. “I can take care of myself, Aubrey.” He brushed her hands off, the motion unintentionally violent.

She stood close to him. “Maybe not.”

Her voice drew his eyes to her. The concern she showed, the way she had touched him. The insanity all around him. He looked at her, trying to really see her, trying to see himself through her eyes. He rested a hand on the side of her face. Her eyes continued to stare up into his, their blue-green depths unreadable.

He leaned down to bring his lips close to hers. He could feel the quick breath she exhaled against his mouth, the warmth of her lips. If he put his arms around her he could hold her and she couldn’t get away. He could take her and it would be glorious.

At the last second she pulled back and turned her head. He snapped his eyes shut in a wince and straightened as if he had been slapped.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, “that was inappropriate.”

“I-” She blinked rapidly and tried to fix her eyes to a spot on the floor. They wouldn’t keep still. Her cheeks burned pink.

She was disgusted by him. Embarrassed, heartbroken, Crispin hovered a moment longer. He should apologize for ever thinking she could want him, for ever trying to win her. But she wouldn’t look at him. He held his back stiff and straight.

“I hope-” She chose that moment to glance up to him. Her eyes smoldered. His words died on his lips. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “I trust the rest of your stay at the castle will be more pleasant.”

He turned and marched out of the room and along the hall, turning the first corner he came across to get away.

Aubrey fled from the castle into the streets of Derby as evening settled. She pressed the back of her hand to her lips as she dodged down a small side street on her way to The Fox’s Den. It was ridiculous. He hadn’t even kissed her. She hadn’t wanted him to kiss her. She hadn’t wanted those blazing blue eyes to devour her, those large, warm hands to touch her, that deep commanding voice to order her to….

She cursed under her breath. Ethan. She wanted Ethan.

She dashed around the corner and The Fox’s Den loomed before her.

“Ethan!” She shouted his name, eyes wide and heart pounding as he stepped out of the inn’s stable, leading his horse. “Ethan you’ve got to help!”

“What’s got you so riled?” His devilish grin bounced right off of her.

“Madeline and Sister Bernadette have been captured.”

“What!” Jack tore out of the stable and was inches from Aubrey before Ethan could hiss out, “Huntingdon. It figures.”

Jack ignored Ethan’s scoffing. “Is she hurt? What happened to her? Did they put her in the dungeon?” Tom and Toby rushed out of the stable to listen.

“Buxton wanted to kill them on the spot but Crispin convinced him to lock them in the tower instead. But Sister Bernadette is injured and Buxton won’t let a physician see her.” She grabbed Ethan’s arms. “You have to help me save them!”

Jack looked for Ethan’s reaction. Ethan still hadn’t let go of his horse’s reins. “Aubrey, I’m leaving.”

“What?” She crushed his muscled arms in her fingers then let him go, face burning with fury. “What do you mean leaving? You can’t leave!”

“I told you I’m going to Matlock. We’re leaving tonight.”

“You can’t just leave when your friends need you!” She clenched her jaw and her fist to keep herself from flying to pieces.

Ethan kicked the dirt, glanced over his shoulder to Toby who snapped his head away. He cleared his throat. “You said yourself that they are just being held prisoner.” He grimaced as he spoke. “They can wait until I get back. Matlock can’t.”

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this.” Aubrey gaped. “Your friends need your help, Sister Bernadette might be suffering … but you’re too busy paying a social call?”

“Aubrey, I
have
to get Windale back!” He glared at her as if she had insulted him. Aubrey took step back, jaw slack, too livid to speak. He waited for her to say something, but when she remained speechless he sighed and pulled his horse forward. “Come on,” he mumbled to his men.