Lord of the Blade (10 page)

"The villeins are suffering, my lord. They
have been hurt hard by the recent plague and are doing their best
to maintain. Most their livestock has died and even the crops
suffer severely."

"Their best isn't good enough," Corbett
growled. "My estate will not run on intentions alone. You have a
job to do, now do it.”

"Aye, my lord. Shall they be punished if
their rent is late?"

Appalled by the thought, Devon anxiously
awaited Corbett's decision. Living in the monastery kept her
sheltered from such cruelty all these years. How could he punish
them for not giving to him what they did not have? It would be like
trying to squeeze water from a stone.

"If they cannot pay, they will be forced to
do more labor to me in return. I am severely understaffed and could
use the extra hands."

"Aye," replied Stephen straightening his
posture. Anything else my lord?"

"Yes. Comprise a list of all the villeins
accused of crimes in the past year. It is far beyond time I hold
trial."

"I will do it at once, m'lord. Although I
fear the list will be quite long, as the plague has caused many of
the villeins to turn to crime. Their minds are yet unsettled from
the recent hardships."

"Then they will pay for their actions,"
calmly answered Corbett, securing his sword around his waist and
inspecting his hunting weapons. "Dismissed," mumbled Corbett as he
went about his business.

Stephen brushed past her without even
looking her way as he left the stable.

"Will you be wanting the falcons today,
m'lord?" came a voice from beyond the stall.

"Nay!" he shouted as he fastened his spear
to his huge, black stallion. "How many times do I have to tell you,
the falcons and my raven don't get along." Corbett checked his
horse. "And tell Delwynn to hurry. I have no use for a squire who
cannot be on time."

"Yes, my lord," came the falconer's voice as
it trailed off.

Devon watched as Corbett checked his
crossbow carefully and fastened it to his horse. The raven strutted
around the stacks of bundled hay, and Corbett looked up as if he
were having a conversation with the bird.

"Why do I need those mangy falcons anyway,
when I have such a handsome raven to assist me on the hunt?"

Devon stifled a laugh, and Corbett swung
around quickly to catch her peering at him from outside the
door.

"How long have you been standing there,
Devon?"

Devon slowly entered the stable, clutching
the sack of fresh bread in her hands.

"I am surprised you even remembered my name,
my lord. Mayhap your memory has improved from this morning?"

"I don't see it as any of your concern as to
whom I remember. I am loyal to my overlord and saw it best not to
confuse his mind any further."

"I see," retorted Devon, her fury rising.
"We would not want to confuse anyone's mind now, would we?"

"Why are you here, instead of at the bedside
of the baron where you belong?"

"I am doing what was ordered." She nearly
threw the sack of bread at him.

“A servant never lets go of an object before
her lord accepts it,” he told her, handing it back. “Not to
mention, a servant is always supposed to make her presence known
rather than eavesdrop on conversations.”

She handed him back the bread, but this time
held onto it until he took it. "I will now get back to my duties,
if you will excuse me, my great lord."

Corbett grabbed her arm to stop her from
going. Her body stiffened in response.

"I have not excused you yet."

The little pout was back on her face and the
feel of her skin beneath Corbett’s hand was more than he could
bear. He pulled her body into his, smashing her breasts against his
chest. His mouth claimed hers hungrily in a kiss, doing nothing to
sate his hunger. He'd only meant to scare her, yet he was scaring
himself the way he felt about ready to lose control. His need for
her was stronger than his will, and he didn’t know how much longer
he could keep from taking her to his bed. He quickly released his
hold, and stepped back.

"
Now,
you are excused!"

"My Lord?" Her innocent eyes stared up at
him, the expression on her face almost one of amusement. Why did
she try his patience? He'd dismissed her and still she remained,
her sweet voice using his title only making matters worse.

"I have already dismissed you," he
explained. “What do you want?"

Her eyes settled on the semi-flat bundle he
now blindly held in his hands. "I do believe you have just smashed
all the fresh bread."

Corbett looked down, finally noticing the
mangled parcel in his hands. He couldn't help but see the humor in
the situation and smiled. She smiled too. He turned away to tie the
pack onto his stallion.

"If the hunt is unsuccessful, we will be
welcoming this bread in any condition."

When he turned back to Devon, he found her
taking a crust of bread from her pocket, and feeding it to his
raven. She reached out a cautious hand and stroked the bird upon
the head.

"You must have my raven bewitched," he said
in surprise. "He has never let anyone touch him besides
myself."

"He's so mystifying!" exclaimed Devon,
leaning closer to look at the bird. "And his eyes…"

"Quite different, aren't they?"

"I have never seen a raven with amethyst
eyes," she explained. "'Tis so uncommon."

"I have never considered my friend as
common."

And neither did he consider her as common
though he wasn't going to tell her. He reached out and took her
hand which still clutched a crust of bread.

"When is the last time you ate a full
meal?"

"I - I am not sure," she answered, quickly
pulling back her hand and throwing down the remaining crust to the
raven.

"When I return I will see to it personally
that you have a proper meal."

This warm, caring comment gave Devon just
enough courage to meet his gaze. But quickly, he broke it, and
reached past the raven to pick something out of the hay.

"I want my overlord's servant to be strong
enough to care for him."

The fast notion of him caring for her
suddenly left. He had motives for everything he did. She felt a
small tickle on her cheek, and quickly turned toward it. Corbett
was stroking her face with one of the raven's lost feathers he had
picked from the hay. A sensual act. Something she wished he hadn't
done at that moment. It only made her want to kiss him again, meld
in his arms and lay her head against his chest. This was something
she couldn’t allow.

The raven cackled softly and flew from the
stables. She turned to watch it go and as she did she felt another
tickle. This time she felt it in between her breasts. She jumped
back and looked to her bodice. The feather was lodged in her
cleavage, a triumphant marker of where Corbett had been. She tore
the feather out from between her breasts, not at all amused. All
she could think about was that night with Corbett in the larder.
Was this a subtle reminder? Was it a promise? Or was it a
threat?

The stallion whinnied and Corbett pulled
himself up into the saddle.

"Look at me," he commanded.

She purposely stared at her feet.

"Devon." His voice was soft and his hand
reached down to tilt up her chin. "I want you to look at me before
I leave."

It was hard to look him in the eye after
everything she'd been through. Looking him in the eye would be like
baring her soul to this man who only wanted to use her. His thumb
glided over her lips and she had half a notion to open her mouth
and suck it inside. She wanted to taste him again. She wickedly
wanted to relive that one night, but this time because they cared
for one another, not because of lust. That would never happen.

When she looked up, he was leaning over the
mane of his horse towards her and she almost thought he was going
to kiss her from atop the stallion. His own long, black mane hung
past his face and the ends of his hair brushed across the top of
her head. A tingle sped through her and she felt her warmth rising
to the surface. His hand was still cradling her chin when she lost
herself in the depths of his eyes.

It was at that moment that she felt like
she'd known him before. Been with him, if only in a dream. She
noticed the same look in his eyes she'd seen that night in the
larder. That caring, daring look. That look that said a thousand
words with just a glance. There was much more to Lord Corbett than
he portrayed. He put up barriers, and she planned on knocking them
down one by one.

"That's better." He dropped his hand and
settled himself atop his horse. He slipped his gauntlets from his
belt and pulled them on.

"I am ready, my lord!" Malcomn rode his
horse into the stables. His hunting attire was ridiculous. He wore
a small cap pulled over his ears, and boots which were overly
dressy for the event in which he was about to partake. He again
wore parti-colored clothes, this time of a bright red and blue and
covered with metal studs, so that he threw off shining reflections
of the sun every time he moved. Around his hips he had strapped not
only his broadsword, but several daggers as well. And in his hand
he carried a long bow, with a quiver full of arrows attached to his
back.

Corbett stared at him and scowled. "God's
mercy," he cried. "With an outfit like that, every beast within
miles will be warned of our approach. We are going on a hunting
expedition, not auditioning for position of court fool!"

Malcomn's mouth opened as if to protest, but
stopped as he spied Devon. Devon hid the feather behind her back.
Malcomn's horse sauntered closer, and Corbett hurriedly pivoted his
horse from the stall, obviously impatient to leave.

"We meet once again," replied Malcomn to
Devon, looking her over as always. "And why, I must ask, are you
not by my father's side but with Lord Corbett instead? Alone, I
might add?"

Devon heard the tinge of jealousy in his
voice. She wasn't sure how to answer and was thankful when Corbett
interrupted.

"This servant girl will be coming along on
the hunt. We need someone to pour our wine."

Devon’s eyes popped open in surprise. Did he
just call her servant girl? And had he said she was going with
them? She couldn’t have heard him correctly. Or is this why Heartha
was so insistent she come to the stables? She had wanted to at
first kiss Corbett for saving her from Malcomn, but now she decided
slapping his face would be more appropriate.

Corbett motioned to Malcomn for their
departure. "I have assigned Brother Ruford to the task of finding
another servant girl to assist the baron for now. She’ll help this
one in caring for Kenric once we return."

Devon thought him rude for directing his
comments and full attention to Malcomn as if she were nothing more
than one of the mares. Why hadn't he told her about this change?
Why did she have to first hear of it as he told no other than
Malcomn?

"There will also be two sentries placed by
his door," explained Corbett, turning his horse to leave the
stable. “Since the baron is ailing I thought it best to protect him
in my absence.”

Malcomn nodded in agreement.

“Follow along on foot with Sefton and the
dogs,” Corbett told Devon over his shoulder, never ceasing to shock
her. As if going on the hunt wouldn’t be a big enough challenge.
Now he expected her to run at his side like his dogs, in shoes that
were already worn through.

At Corbett's appearance in the courtyard,
one of the huntsmen sounded the ivory horn, signaling the departure
of the hunting party. The sound of the horses’ hooves echoed off
the castle's walls as they galloped over the cobblestone leading to
the outer ward.

So the hunt had begun, thought Devon as she
watched Corbett leading the way with his squire Delwynn and Malcomn
close behind. Half a dozen or more huntsmen followed, with Sefton
the kennelgroom, and his hounds trailing on foot at the rear. She
felt every stone through her worn shoes as she ran to keep up with
the hunting party.

She watched Corbett's hair blow in the
breeze, his warm cloak trailing down his back. Her own cotehardie
was so threadbare she shivered in the breeze, as he hadn’t even
allowed her time to secure a cape. How she hated this man right
now. How she wanted to teach him a lesson he’d never forget. She
spotted Corbett's raven atop the turret. It spread its large wings
and took flight. It led the hunting party as it glided across the
sky.

The raven
. She opened her hand as she
ran, glancing at the lone feather. Now she was sure he’d only meant
it as his marker, not an act of endearment. She released it and
watched it flutter to the ground. The next mark of triumph would be
one of her own.

Chapter 8

The men hunted all day in the forests outside of
Dartmoor, capturing the game they had hoped to find. Sacks
containing pheasant, hare, and badger swung from the heavy laden
horses which had seemed to be moving slower now as the sun began to
set. The hounds' tongues dragged nearly to the ground, exhausted
from the chase of several very energetic, wild boar. Corbett
himself fell several roe deer, but the rich venison of the fallow
buck he so desperately wanted to bring back for the baron had not
been spotted on this trip.

"We will camp here," announced Corbett sitting high
upon his steed. The animal threw back its head with a snort,
seeming to agree. He watched as Devon lowered herself onto a log
and rubbed her feet. She looked worn and tired and he knew now he
never should have brought her along. It was his own want to be near
her that made him command she come along. After five minutes on
foot, he’d wanted to pick her up and ride her on the back of his
own horse, but couldn’t. Servants were not allowed to ride with
their lord. Only after she’d tripped twice had he jumped off his
horse and lifted her to ride with one of his lower-ranked men.