So Worthy My Love (58 page)

When the slashing winds and blinding snow finally spent their fury, the men shoveled paths through huge drifts, gaining better access to the surrounding wall, stable, and the tumbled ruins of the barracks and storehouse. They searched through the rubble until they found, in rough form, most of what they needed for the making of new weapons. They tore away wooden planks and piled heaps of it in protected places where it would remain dry. Small pieces of iron were thrown into barrels and the bulk of it stored near kegs of black powder. Their frugal confiscation stripped the outbuildings to stout timbers and bare stone, for they left no corner untouched.

Sealed jugs of lard were found in the cellar of the storehouse and were emptied into huge iron vats
in the middle of the courtyard. The pots had been hung on iron frames fashioned by Spence, and roaring fires were built beneath them until the contents were melted down. When the kettles cooled, heavy lids were settled into place over the pots to keep out the moisture. There they were left for another day's heating.

With Spence assuming the duty of smithy in the stable, blades for lances, arrowheads, and heavy quarrels were fashioned. It was Spence's empathy with animals and a foreboding of the northern climes that had goaded him to make several trips to Hamburg for forage and hay while the master was away in Lubeck. Thus, while the storm had raged, all remained snug and warm in the stables. Now each night the ringing of iron and the roaring of the furnace drowned out the contented munching of the animals and lulled the lad who tended them to sleep.

In all of her maidenly dreams of requited love Elise had never once imagined that a remote castle, built on a barren bluff and caught in the depths of an icebound winter, could provide such a sublime haven. Many evenings she curled in Maxim's arms while he sat in a chair before the blazing hearth. Wrapped together in a thick fur, they solved the problems of the world in soft voices punctuated by long moments of silence. When the fire burned low and the chill drove them to bed, they burrowed deep within its warmth and passed such nights . . . Oh! They were far beyond any fantasy an innocent maid could have conjured.

It was inevitable that morning would break upon the land, and so, marked by the aging of one day
into a week, a week into a month, another season would come. It was a lament of Elise's heart that time could not stand still. For once in her life she dreaded the advent of spring.

A brace of fortnights passed, and the castle remained secure from all outside interference. In the frozen world of white beyond its gates, there was a hushed stillness, as if this faraway hinterland and all of its inhabitants held its breath in expectant dread of the furor yet to come. An occasional breeze rattled the limbs of the trees, shaking free a fine dusting of snow that glittered iridescently in the shafts of sunlight streaming through the barren branches. Small birds flitted though the treetops, seeking seeds and frozen berries. A squirrel was seen sitting in the crotch of a tree, while below him a lone stag cautiously approached the slow, dark trickle of water that marked the first thawing of the river.

The days gradually warmed beneath the climbing sun as the harshness of winter dwindled to a mere shade of its former self. A shiver crept along Elise's spine as she watched the dust motes that danced a leisured ballet in the bright rays shining in through the thick, wavy glass of the windows, where the drapes and shutters had been opened wide. Maxim had built the fire high in the hearth before hot water had been carried up for a bath, then after partaking in a connubial lavation, he had left Elise to luxuriate in the warmth while he had toweled himself dry and dressed. After a lengthy kiss and another admiring caress of soapy, wet skin he had departed the chambers, giving the excuse that he wanted to exercise Eddy for awhile. Though
there was no outward reason for a chill, Elise shuddered as a cold knot of dread formed in the pit of her stomach. She realized only too well that a careful patrol of the area was beginning.

A long, pensive sigh slipped from her as she slid down into the tub, and her eyes moved sadly about the chamber as her mind brought back in careful recall the events of the past months. Since leaving England she had become a woman in more ways than one. She reveled in the stirring immensity of her love, for it satiated her heart to overflowing. Maxim fulfilled every facet of her far-reaching aspirations of a loving, considerate, and gentle husband, and yet there was a passionate sensuality about him that sparked the hot blood within her. He could, with a look, start her pulse leaping, but there was no need for him to be so purposeful. Her eyes could settle on his back and warm with desire as they wandered admiringly over his manly frame, especially if that form was bereft of garb.

A smile lifted the corners of Elise's lips as she leaned her head back against the rim of the tub. Deliberately she summoned to the fore of her mind an image of those wide shoulders, the muscled ribs, the narrow hips, and the long legs that bulged with the play of rippling sinews as he moved. When a man was as well put together as Maxim was, it was rather hard for a young wife not to admire her own husband. A lopsided grin would slowly twist his lips whenever her stares betrayed her curiosity, and he would approach her with a purposeful gleam in his eye, interrupting many a toilette. His gentle guidance and instruction were every bit as exciting as
those moments when his own rutting quests swept her into a whirlwind of frenzied passion.

Of a sudden Elise's eyes flew wide and she sat up in some astonishment. Canting her head, she raised her hand and slowly counted on her fingers. Could it be possible? She counted again, more carefully this time. Was it really true?

Foolish mortal she to doubt it! Beware the bed and the craving lusts of a man! Or so went the warnings of many an old dame to a virginal daughter. But where love abounded, there was pleasure to be had in all things . . . even in this small, cherished blooming of life.

A secretive smile traced across her lips as she remembered numerous occasions when their love might have brought this small miracle into being. No exact determination could be made to single out the moment, but then, there was no need. Each memory was worth keeping.

Another week slipped past at the same idyllic pace, and as the days lengthened the men ventured out more. They rode beyond the gate to patrol the countryside and sometimes to hunt. Their careful vigil extended to posting a guard near the gate, and Spence and Fitch took turns to make the place secure from all intruders.

One early morn Elise came down to the kitchen to find that the men had already taken their victuals and had withdrawn to the courtyard. She was sipping tea before the kitchen hearth when the front door burst open and the sound of running footsteps claimed her questioning attention. Her apprehensive stare halted Sir Kenneth in his tracks.

“Your pardon, my lady, I . . . ah . . .” The man stammered in confusion as he searched for an appropriate excuse for his haste and finally took himself firmly in hand “I didn't mean to disturb you, my lady. I only wanted to fetch my buckler and sword.”

Elise's thoughts gathered in a dark cloud of worry as the ogre, Hilliard, came to mind. “Is aught amiss? Is . . .” Her tongue froze on the name. “Is someone coming?”

“No need to fret, my lady,” Sir Kenneth attempted to assure her. “ ‘Tis naught of import. One of the small nags is missing, and
Frau
Hanz is nowhere to be found. ‘Twould seem she has fled the fold. His lordship is saddling our horses. We only mean to follow the tracks for a ways to see . . . well, to see what state the road is in.”

Elise read more in his pause than the knight had meant to convey. “Do you expect trouble to follow
Frau
Hanz's leaving?”

Sir Kenneth cleared his throat and returned a noncommittal answer to her inquiry. “ ‘Tis best to be wary in any case, my lady.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “And there is indeed cause to be cautious of
Frau
Hanz. I fear she was never one of us.”

“His lordship's sentiments exactly, my lady,” the man conceded. “He was expecting her to leave and allowed for the possibility.”

Elise absorbed the information in silence, aware that her husband seldom missed a detail. Before their trip to Lubeck, he had been totally indifferent to the woman . . . but his caution had become apparent
shortly after their return. Whenever
Frau
Hanz had drawn near enough to listen during his discussions with the men, he had deliberately changed the topic or pointedly fell silent until she left. It became a matter of rote, when he called the men to private council in his bedchambers, that either Fitch or Spence would be posted outside the door to guard against possible eavesdropping. If there was naught but one thing Elise had come to realize about her husband in their brief time together, then it was surely the fact that he was not a man to be taken lightly. His confrontation with Gustave had given vivid evidence of his quick cunning and agile wit, and possibly the thing that made him even more dangerous to his enemies was his courage to carry out feats of daring with both aplomb and finesse, usually
to the surprise and utter distress of his adversaries. Considering his capabilities, Elise concluded with some pride, perhaps it would be more appropriate to pity the foolish ones who were eager to challenge him.

“You needn't worry yourself about Hilliard, my lady,” Sir Kenneth assured her, intruding into her thoughts. “ ‘Twould take better than the likes of him to outwit your husband. Mark my word, my lady.”

His tender assurances brought a soft smile of gratitude to Elise's lips. “I shall be glad to, Sir Kenneth. And thank you.”

“ ‘Tis always my pleasure, my lady.”

He left her and raced up the stairs two at a time and, a short moment later, returned to take his leave of the keep. A rattle of hooves on the bridge and the
clanging clank of the lowering portcullis gave evidence of their departure from the courtyard.

In the silence of the hall Elise recognized her own easement of tensions. It was rather encouraging to think she would not have to endure
Frau
Hanz's glowering frowns and sour disposition any longer. Her spirits soared apace with the release as the day aged, and with renewed enthusiasm, she bundled herself in a warm cloak and tugged on the old hide boots. Sherbourne gave her a brief argument at the gate, but at her sweetly voiced pledge to go no further than what was safe, he yielded and cranked the wheel that lifted the heavy iron grating.

Beyond the bridge, Elise wended east along the wall where the reflected sun had cleared a narrow path in the snow. A soft southern breeze brought a light, evasive essence of spring to her nostrils, and she pushed back the hood of her cloak to let its gentle warmth caress her face. For a time she stood bathing in the invigorating brightness of the sun and was about to walk on when a spot of color near the base of the wall caught her eye. Small green leaves had sprouted in a crevice, protected yet warmed by the sun. And in the midst of the green . . . Elise knelt to see it better. Aye! ‘Twas a white flower, so tiny as to be almost apologetic for its brazen presence. Tugging off her glove, she reached down and carefully plucked the bloom.

Once, long years ago, she had gathered wildflowers to braid a crown of many colors to adorn her father's dark hair. Her mind drifted back in sweet recall and teased her with random shards and scattered glimpses of another time and another place. A
haunting recollection came winging back of a narrow beach buttressed with towering cliffs that were themselves punctuated with caves. Eternally lapping waves washed over the beach, and an exhilarating sense of freedom filled her as she remembered racing barefoot along the stretch of sand as a child and her father giving chase. A memory drifted back of misty moors dotted with wooded crests, a large cottage, and tumbled ruins whereon they had sat and leisurely pondered the gamboling clouds high above. He had loved that place, and many were the times he had encouraged her to go back just to wander the moors, to explore the caves as she had done when she was a child, to enjoy the damp breezes on her skin, and to sit upon the stones. It was strange that in the last couple
of months or so before his abduction his urgings to go back to their cottage and to that place of sweet, remembered dreams had grown stronger. He had even made her promise to return there upon his death, to take possession of her mother's portrait that had for years hung in the house, and do all the things they had done when they had been together.

Elise lifted her head as if she heard a voice speaking to her from the past. It seemed to echo in her mind. Go back. Go back. Go back. Go back.

A shout rang out from the tower, capturing her attention, and she turned her head as another answered from afar. Shading her eyes against the reflected light of the snow, Elise scanned the road until she caught sight of a pair of mounted riders racing along the path. Her heart quickened with excitement as she recognized the tall, familiar form of Maxim on the back of
the stalwart steed. Lifting her skirts, she raced back over the rough ground along the wall. The low rumble of horses' hooves echoed from the bridge as it was crossed, stilling the trilling song of a nearby bird. The drumming seemed to reverberate within Elise's chest, filling her with excitement, and as the men rode into the courtyard she quickened her pace and raced across that same wooden expanse.

Maxim reined Eddy about as he heard the light patter of running feet behind him. Having cautioned Sherbourne to keep a close eye out for Hilliard, he was surprised to see Elise coming across the bridge. His first instinct was to reprimand the knight for allowing her to venture out alone, but as his wife neared, Maxim's heart fairly leapt within his breast at sight of her dazzling, disarrayed beauty. Rosy-cheeked and breathless, with her hair spilling in glorious color down her back, she was an unforgettable and unreproachable vision. He could think of no harsh rebuke when faced with such beauty.