The Warrior and the Dove - A Short Novel (Medieval Chronicles) (12 page)

“So out of
villainy comes good?”

When she just sighed
and laid her head on his shoulder, he let the question go. Who was he to doubt
her belief? After all, although her innocence had put her in danger, it had
also protected her in a way. If she had understood what it meant to be raped,
if she had known of the dangers in fleeing alone into the night, she might have
been paralyzed with terror and indecision, easy prey for vicious men.

“What are we
going to do?” she asked after a few minutes.

He looked down
at her. “Do you think you can sleep now?”

“If you’re with
me.”

He smiled. “I
will be, sweetheart, count on it. But one of Will’s messengers will be riding
hard for Winchester before dawn. I need to write to Edward, telling him what
has happened, as well as requesting his leave, as my liege lord, to marry you.
And asking him to intercede for me with the King because we’re already
married.”

“
What
?”
She sat bolt upright. “What does the King have to do with us? I didn’t exchange
any vows with de Beche, I swear it.”

“I know,
darling. But given that you have a castle and lands that must be held for
Henry, you need him to approve your husband.”

“But ’tis de
Beche who is my guardian,” she whispered.

“Not any
longer,” he stated with deadly purpose. “He forfeited those rights the instant
he conceived his plans for you. Make no mistake, Edward will hear about that as
well.”

“Oh.” But still
she gazed at him, her eyes wide. “Will the King be very angry with you for
marrying me without his leave?”

“Nay. Henry has
a kindness for me, and Edward and I have been friends since we were boys.” He
grinned. “Nor does it hurt our cause that I just helped rescue the King from
captivity. Given the current state of the royal exchequer, I can expect to pay
a fine and all will be well. They will probably be only too happy to let me
deal with de Beche, too.”

“Hmm.” She
looked at him thoughtfully. “He will want me back. We can use that.”

“Use you as
bait
?
Not in this—” Hugh stopped dead, swallowing the flat refusal he’d been about to
utter. Annith was right. Every protective instinct he possessed was horrified
at her suggestion, but the hunter in him was already considering it.

“Mayhap,” he
amended. “’Twill take some planning, my sweet.” He rose with her in his arms
and crossed to the bed to lay her down. He leaned over, bracing his hands on
either side of her. “But now I want you to sleep,” he ordered very tenderly.
“I’ll be right there at the table if you need me.”

Her eyelids were
already drooping. She was utterly exhausted, he thought. His brave little love.
He bent down to kiss her cheek and she murmured something too softly for him to
hear.

“What was that,
sweetheart?” he asked.

But she had
already plummeted into the depths of sleep.

When Annith woke
next morning, sunlight was streaming into the room through the unshuttered
window, and she was alone in the bed. It must be late, she thought drowsily,
wondering where Hugh had gone.

She turned her
head and there he was, lounging back in the chair, long legs outstretched, his
booted feet crossed at the ankles and propped on the table. His elbows were
resting on the arms of the chair, his fingers steepled as he gazed thoughtfully
out of the window.

Planning, she
thought. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind. There was still
much to be done, but for this moment she was content to lie there, to watch
him, to feel her heart throb simply from looking at him. She had told him she
loved him last night, just before she had fallen asleep. How could she not?
She’d had no defenses left after remembering all that had happened, and he was
everything to her. Husband, lover, protector.

“Hugh,” she
murmured.

Her voice was
barely a breath, but he turned his head sharply as though he’d been waiting for
her to waken, and lowered his feet to the floor. He rose and came across to the
bed to lean over her as he had last night, his fists braced on either side of
her. She expected a kiss, a wicked look, even a smile, anything but the
searching intensity with which he studied her.

“How do you feel
this morning?” he asked.

Annith smiled up
at him, wondering if he would say anything in response to her declaration of
love. “I feel rested,” she said. “I feel like me again.”

The intent look
in his eyes gave way to amusement. “Would that be Annetta or Annith?”

“Who would you
prefer?” she asked, giving him a mischievous look.

Without a word,
he lowered himself on top of her, taking some of his weight on his forearms,
but pinning the bedding around her so she was effectively trapped. He framed
her face with his hands, a smile curving his mouth as he gazed down at her. “I
think Lady Annetta can be reserved for others,” he murmured. “But when ’tis
just us, you’ll always be my sweet, passionate Annith, who nearly sent me out
of my mind with need last night.”

“Ohh.” She
blushed, and tried to banish a sudden pang of wistfulness. Was Hugh going to
ignore what she’d said? Mayhap he thought that would be the best course if he
couldn’t return her love. But need was better than nothing, she told herself.
He desired her. She knew he would always protect her. He was kind and
honorable. Sensible females did not expect more from marriage, and often didn’t
get that much.

“Is that why you
have me pinned in here so I can’t even touch you?” she demanded, taking refuge
in raillery. She tried to get an arm free. “Because you don’t wish to lose your
mind.”

“Something like
that,” he said wryly. “I’m staying on this side of the bedding so I’m not
tempted to make love to you until you can’t get on a horse this afternoon.”

“Oh.” Annith
stopped wriggling. “We’re leaving today?” She took stock of the faint
tenderness in her body, not to mention various twinges in muscles that were
unused to riding, and sighed in reluctant agreement. “Mayhap I will grow used
to you in time.”

He grinned. “You
will.”

“You did feel
very big last night,” she went on thoughtfully. “Do you think you might be a
bit smaller next time?”

Hugh burst out
laughing. He laughed so hard he rolled off her and nearly landed on the floor.

Annith struggled
free of her cocoon, sat up, and leveled her brows at him. “It seemed a
reasonable question,” she said, affronted, and that set him off again.

Despite her
indignation, she felt a smile curve her mouth. It was good to hear him laugh.
It reminded her of the happy times with her family. She mentally added shared
laughter to the treasures their marriage had brought her. Then she sobered.
There were still obstacles to be overcome before she and Hugh were free to
share anything, and one of those obstacles was occupying her family home at
this very moment.

Sensing the
change in her, Hugh’s laughter died away and he sat up on the side of the bed.
“Don’t worry, darling. All will be well, trust me.”

“To the ends of
the earth,” she said valiantly, as one ready to face any danger.

“I don’t think
it’s going to be that bad.” He smiled and got to his feet. “I’m going to talk
to Will. I’ll have one of the maids bring up some food for you, and more hot
water for another bath.” He leaned down until their lips almost touched.
“’Twill ease the soreness occasioned by causing me to lose my mind,” he
murmured wickedly. And smothered her indignant protest with a lingering kiss.

*         
*          *

The rest of the
morning had flown by far too quickly. After Annith had breakfasted, bathed, and
dressed in her new clothes, with her hair braided and confined in the gold mesh
crespinette, she had joined the men in the hall. The look in Hugh’s eyes when
he had seen her dressed as a lady, and Will’s friendliness, had soon overcome
her shyness and she had readily answered their questions about her lands and
the number of men-at-arms at de Beche’s disposal.

Then Will had
been called out to the bailey, and Hugh had succumbed to her plea to be shown
the town. He had been watchful the whole time, his alert gaze seeming to
examine every person who had business in Worcester that morning, but no one had
approached them or taken any undue interest in her.

After visiting a
goldsmith’s shop where Hugh had bought her a delicate gold wedding ring, they
had returned to the castle to dine with Will, then Hugh had brought her up here
to the ramparts. The autumn breeze was brisk, plucking at her hood and ruffling
Hugh’s black hair, but she was snug enough, wrapped in her cloak and standing
within the shelter of his body while they watched the activity along the river
and he pointed out various landmarks.

“And over
there,” he said, looking toward the south-west, “Is the road to Hereford and
Buckland Manor beyond.”

“You’ll be glad to
be going home when this is done,” she murmured, hearing the anticipation in his
voice. “How long is it since you’ve seen your manor?”

“Years.” He
smiled down at her. “As for glad, aye, there’s much to be done. According to
the steward, my father abandoned interest in the place years ago, if he had any
to begin with. But ’twill be different now. With the barons’ wars all but over,
Edward can afford to let most of his men return to their lands. And I hold a
strategic position near the Welsh border. He’ll be content to leave me there.”

“I’m looking
forward—” She stopped abruptly, tension gripping her, as a man rode into the
bailey. He dismounted and glanced nervously around as though not sure if he was
in the right place.

Aware that Hugh
had gone very still in response to her sudden silence, she leaned forward,
trying to see the man’s face.

“Do you know
him?” Hugh asked.

“Aye,” she
whispered, although there was no chance they could be overheard. “’Tis de
Beche’s messenger. He came to the priory once a year. For the past three years
only—there were others before him.”

“Well, well,” he
murmured, and she could all but see the wave of predatory anticipation surge
through him. He took her hand and led her toward the stairway. “Come, little
dove. Let’s hear what the fellow has to say.”

*         
*          *

By the time they
reached the hall, after leaving Annith’s cloak in their chamber, Will Beauchamp
was seated at the high table, drumming his fingers on the wooden boards while
he contemplated the man standing before him. Neither contemplation nor drumming
appeared to fill the fellow with anything but dread. His arms twitched and he
started wringing his hands.

“My lord, I beg
of you to cry the lady’s description through the town. She is not at the
priory. I have been there twice now. Who knows what dire fate has befallen her.
She must be found.”

“She has been
found,” Hugh said quietly behind him.

The messenger
leapt into the air as if he’d been stung by a horde of wasps. He spun around
and blinked at the sight of Annith, standing very straight, her hand resting on
Hugh’s arm.

“Lady Annetta!”
he exclaimed. “You are…you are well!”

“Did you expect
her to be otherwise?” Hugh demanded with a narrow-eyed glare.

“Uh…uh…”

“This fellow
claims to be a messenger in the household of Baldwin de Beche,” Will drawled
while the courier stuttered. “Do you know him, lady?”

“I do,” Annith
said. “He is what he claims to be.”

“Then there’s no
need to toss him into a cell,” said Will, with an affable smile for the
courier, who promptly blenched. “He’s all yours, Hugh.”

The man looked
from one to the other. “My lords?”

Hugh held up a
silencing hand. He led Annith over to the fireplace, and seated her on the
settle there. Knowing he blocked the messenger’s view of her, he lifted her
fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Stay here, sweetheart,” he murmured for
her ears alone. “I think we can turn this to our advantage.”

She nodded, but
her eyes were anxious. He touched her cheek briefly, turned and strode back to
the courier.

“What are you called?”
he asked curtly.

“Au…Auden, my
lord.”

“I assume de
Beche is concerned for the safety and whereabouts of his ward.”

“Aye, my lord.
You could say that. Beside himself, as it were.”

“Indeed?”

Auden wrung his hands
again. “In truth, he is a man possessed, my lord. He has men out everywhere.
That is why I must be gone from here. I beg you will be of a like mind as Lord
Beauchamp, and not throw me into a cell. I must return and tell my liege the
lady is safe. He will wish to come and fetch her home.”

“Calm yourself,
messenger. You will, indeed, return to de Beche. And you will inform him that
Lady Annetta has been under the protection of the Deputy Sheriff of Worcester
who has appointed Lord Hugh de Verney, and an escort of men-at-arms, to return
her safely to her home. Furthermore, you will tell your lord that his ward has
been ill after falling and hitting her head during her journey to the priory.
She suffered a grievous loss of memory, otherwise a message would have been
sent to him days ago.” He paused. “Clear so far?”

Auden nodded
violently. “Loss of memory. Message days ago.”

“We will leave
Worcester when Lady Annetta is fit to travel, but will ride in easy stages,
spending a night on the road so as not to tire her. You may look to see us in
two or three days’ time. A woman will travel with us, of course. To preserve
the proprieties,” he added blandly. “I’m sure your liege lord will agree they
must be strictly observed.”

“Aye, my lord.
Uh…anything else?”

Hugh raised a
brow. “Should there be?”

Auden cringed.
“I thought… Mayhap my lord de Beche will ask how the Deputy Sheriff came to
find the lady.”

“I will tell de
Beche anything he needs to know. You may go.”

“Aye, my lord.
At once, my lord.” Auden turned, clearly eager to flee, but halfway to the door
he caught sight of Annith, and halted.

“I did my best,
lady,” he said sadly. “I am sorry ’twas not enough.”

“What the devil
does that mean?” Hugh thundered. He strode down the hall after the messenger, motioning
Annith to stillness when she rose to her feet.

Auden stumbled
back several paces. “Naught, my lord, naught. Just that I lied to my liege
about the lady’s age.”

Hugh halted in
front of the man. “Explain yourself,” he ordered. “Have no fear. De Beche will
not hear of any lie from me.”

“Th…thank you,
my lord. ’Twas the first year I was sent to the priory, the year Lady Annetta
turned thirteen. My liege asked me if she had reached marriageable age. It
seems he had never bothered to ask how old she was when he was given wardship
of her. But—she was so young, so innocent.” Auden hung his head. “My older
sister was married at thirteen to the man who took my father’s lands, a man as
vicious as de Beche. She died in childbirth a year later. I was too young to
save her, but I could protect my lady, for a while anyway, so I lied. I said
she was eleven.”

Hugh’s brows
went up. The man had fallen in love with Annith, he thought. Not a lustful
love, but the protective love he would feel for a child, or a lady beyond his
reach. “That was risky,” he said. “What if de Beche had gone to see her?”

Admitting his
lie seemed to have lent Auden some courage. He straightened himself. “She was
very small, my lord. In truth, she looked no more than eleven or twelve at
most.”

Hugh nodded,
keeping his face expressionless with an effort.
Thirteen!
De Beche had
wanted Annith for his vicious games thinking she was only thirteen.

He eyed Auden
narrowly. “Did you know that de Beche was the intended bridegroom?”