The Baron's Quest (13 page)

“There is not much to tell. It’s just my brother and myself. My mother died birthing another child, and my father – my father – as you know, was murdered by bandits. I never got to say my goodbyes. I can’t get the bloody image of him out of my mind. When the guild members brought him back to town to be buried, he looked as if he was attacked from behind, and never even had a chance to draw his dagger. How awful that must have been.”

“So he didn’t hear the bandits approaching on the road?”

“I guess not. If so, he would have pulled his dagger from his waistband.”

“Unless it was someone he trusted.” He looked as if he pondered the situation, and she wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m sorry. I know it must be hard for you. I didn’t mean to make you sad.” He pulled her into his arms, and willingly she let him. “Let’s stop talking of things that make you sad, and instead think of what will make you happy.” He reached out and kissed her then, and she forgot all about her troubles.

Nicholas wanted Muriel badly, and it was driving him mad. It had been over a fortnight now since they’d first coupled, and it was all he’d been able to think about lately. He ran his hand down the side of her cheek as they kissed, his fingers trailing downward and settling at the hollow of her neck. Her skin was as soft as the bolts of silk lining the shelves of the solar walls, and she was tastier than any tart Henry could construct.

“When I’m with you like this, I forget you’re not of noble blood.”

Her body stiffened when he said it, and to his dismay she pushed away and fixed her hair.

“I think it would be best if I joined Isaac at the mews,” she said, and turned to go. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her. He sat on the table, and pulled her between his legs and kissed her once again.

And once again, she pulled away. This game was getting old.

“Muriel, what are you doing?”

“I’m not sure you want to be kissing just a spinster – a mere merchant’s daughter. After all, what will your friends and family think?”

“I don’t care what anyone thinks. I will do as I please.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t sound that way to me. I think you are embarrassed to be seen with a commoner. After all, every time you want to get intimate with me, you don’t do it until you’ve sent everyone away, or hidden me where no one can see us.”

“Are you saying you want to couple in front of others?”

“Of course not! I’m just saying, I wish I could be something to you other than just your spinster or your mistress.” She turned and started away.

“Muriel!” he shouted, and she stopped in her tracks. He took several slow steps toward her, and stilled. “Turn around and look at me.”

“I am a free woman, I owe no fealty to you, my lord.”

“And I’m not asking you to give it to me. I just want you to look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me as much as I want you. If you can do that – I promise to never touch you again.”

She turned ever so slowly, and raised her eyes to his. He saw anguish and sadness reflected in her gaze, mixed with a hidden gentleness behind her tough façade.

“Say it, Muriel.” He took a step closer, his words throwing down the gauntlet in challenge before her. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me, and you can go back to town and I will never bother you again.”

“I . . . I . . . ”

His heart almost stopped when he thought she was really going to say she didn’t want him, and he only hoped he hadn’t read her signals wrong. Because if she walked out that door, he would have to keep his promise. And to never touch her or kiss her or make love with her again, would be the worst punishment he could ever imagine.

“I . . . do want you, my lord,” she said to his relief. “I want you more than any man I’ve ever met. I feel something in your embrace that I’ve never felt before. And while I am not of noble blood – I feel like a queen when we are intimate together.”

“Come here, sweetheart,” he said softly, holding his arms out to her. She lunged forward, propelling herself into his hold, nearly sending them sprawling across the floor.

Her kisses were so passionate he felt a fire in his chest ignited by every one of her touches. She did want him, as much as he wanted her. And right now, nothing else mattered. Spinster or merchant’s daughter, he really didn’t care. All he cared about was joining their bodies together as one, and burying himself deep into the warmth between her thighs.

His fingers fumbled with the laces on her bodice while they kissed, and her hands went to the bottom of his tunic as she pulled it up and over his head. She threw it to the floor and reached for the ties on his hose next, and before he even had her undressed, she had him standing stark naked before her.

He pulled off her clothes, fondling her breasts as she fondled his weapon of love. Then in one powerful swoop he cleared the contents of the table with one hand and picked her up in his arms. Her strong legs wrapped around him, and she pushed the delectable swells of her breasts against his hard chest.

Then he sat her down on the table, laying her back, picking up her legs and sliding her forward until he sank into her warm depths up to his hilt.

“God’s eyes, Muriel, you excite me.”

She arched up off the table, her rosy hardened tips pointing up toward the sky as he thrust in and out.

Her cries of pleasure and passion echoed against the stone walls, and his breathing became labored.

“My lord,” she cried out, and it was all he could do to speak at a time like this.

“Call me by my name,” he said, wanting to hear his name on her lips in the throes of passion. It made him even more excited.

“Nicholas,” she said, but it was not more than a soft whisper.

“Louder,” he told her, causing her to cry out again.

“Ohhhhh, Nicholas,” she said, but he wanted – needed to hear his name shouted from her as she reached her climax.

“Louder,” he ordered. “Cry out my name louder.”

“Nicholas,” she shouted this time. “Ohhhhh, my god this feels so good.” Then at the top of her lungs she moaned in pleasure and used his name again. But this time it was loud. Very loud, and he liked it.

“Nicholas, take me. More, Nicholas, more.”

That drove him over the edge, and he too shouted her name loudly. “Muriel, Muriel, arrrrrrrrgh,” he cried, finding his release. Then, leaning on the table for strength, and with her legs spread wide around his waist, they both were spent and sated.

That is, until the door to the solar burst open and in ran his friends, Conlin and John with their swords raised.

“Romney, what’s going on?” cried Conlin. “Is someone hurt?”

“We’ve got you covered,” shouted John, waving his sword in the air.

Nicholas leaned forward and covered Muriel’s naked body with his own, to keep his friends from laying eyes on her beautiful form.

A crowd of people rushed up in the corridor behind them, and Nicholas could have died at that moment.

“Romney, no one wants to see your ugly bare ass,” said Conlin, making a face and looking away.

“Get them all out of here,” he called out, but John started laughing hysterically, and that started Conlin laughing as well.

“By the rood, did you hear me?” he growled. “Get out of here and close the door.”

“And why don’t you just come on over here and do it yourself,” challenged John.

“Because, he’s too em – bare – assed,” said Conlin, and the two men doubled over in laughter.

“I said, get out!” Nicholas reached over to a pair of scissors still on the table, and flung them at his friends. They stopped laughing as soon as the scissors were embedded into the wall directly behind them.

“I think he’s serious,” said John.

“Everyone, back to work,” he shouted at the crowd in the corridor. He hoped to hell Muriel’s brother wasn’t out there looking in as well.

“All right, get moving,” said Conlin, pushing everyone out the door and leaving with them.

“Was it good?” asked John with a raised brow. “By the sound of the screams, we thought someone was getting murdered in here.”

“Out!” shouted Nicholas, picking up a basket of thimbles next, turning this time, but still blocking Muriel, and throwing it at his friend. The basket brushed John’s arm, and the thimbles hit the floor with a slight tinkling sound as they scattered amongst the floor rushes.

“Next time . . . lock the door,” said John. “And then no one will have to see such a sight.” He turned to go, and shouted back over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean you, Muriel, I meant the ugly peacock strutting around naked.”

Nicholas hurried across the room and slammed the door. When he turned around, Muriel was standing there, holding her gown in front of her. One side of her mouth turned up and then the other, and then she started laughing as well.

“What the hell is so funny?” he growled.

“You can’t hide your intent for me anymore, my lord.”

“And that amuses you, does it?”

“Nay.” She shook her head and giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. “I was just laughing at Lord Conlin’s jest about you being em – bare – assed, and Lord John calling you a peacock.”

“It’s not funny,” he said, but when he saw her smile and the twinkling of her indigo eyes, he felt as if he wanted everyone to know that he considered Muriel his. He smiled as well, and then he laughed too. Because mayhap – somehow – the whole situation was just a little amusing.

Chapter 17

One week had passed, and Muriel couldn’t stop thinking about what happened in the Ladies’ Solar with Nicholas. Her fingers flew as she spun wool, walking down the wharf alongside Cecily as she followed Nicholas who was up ahead and already talking with his dockmen. Isaac had been shadowing Roger, Nicholas’s squire lately, and Muriel was sure he had addled dreams of someday learning to wield a weapon or become a squire himself.

She felt as if she were dancing on clouds lately, she was so happy.

“Muriel, I swear you are glowing,” said Cecily as they walked.

Muriel had met her friend here, as Cecily was waiting for her stepfather who was at the Collector of Customs’ booth. He was waiting for his stamped receipt of detailed goods from the shipment he’d just picked up and paid taxes on. Cecily’s mother and four young siblings were waiting in a horse-drawn wagon at the end of the docks for him, with the shipment already loaded.

Trading was in full swing as always and the wharf area was very crowded, even though the trade fair that everyone looked forward to did not start for a sennight yet.

“I think mayhap you’re right and that I am glowing,” said Muriel in a sing-song voice. “I don’t know why, but I feel wonderful today!”

“Could it have anything to do with the fact that you’ve been coupling with Lord Nicholas?” asked Cecily. “After all, everyone in the manor knows about it after your little excursion in the Ladies’ Solar. Half the town is speaking of it as well.”

“That might have something to do with it,” she said with a giggle, continuing to spin wool like crazy.

“Muriel, does the baron really make you spin wool everywhere you go?”

“He ordered me to do so, however, I’m sure I could stop if I wanted to, since I am ahead of schedule making all the clothes for the banquet. But I find spinning relaxing and look to it as a form of – calming myself. So I keep spinning no matter where I am.”

She came to a stop with Cecily at her side. She could see Nicholas standing by the Collector of Customs on the pier, talking to several of the merchants from town, checking their detailed stamped receipts.

“So the baron still thinks someone is trying to swindle him and the king?” asked Cecily with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m sure he’s just imagining the whole thing, but he takes his job very seriously.” Her spindle had almost hit the ground the yarn was so long, and she stopped and wound it up quickly.

“Then mayhap he should look elsewhere other than the guilds. After all, the guilds would never do something like that.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Muriel, looking at her work. “After all, Oliver Card and some of the other guild members seem to have a lot of power. You saw what they took from me, just because they could.”

“It was to pay your father’s debts. And Oliver is also our town’s mayor. I can’t believe you just said that!”

She stopped spinning now, and stuck the spindle in her bag. “I don’t care who he is, I still don’t trust him. Cecily, we both know the debts my father had were far less than what the guild took for compensation. And they excommunicated me as well just because I’m a woman.”

“That’s not uncommon. You are not a widow, but a daughter of a guildsman so that is different.”

“Is it? My brother is a boy, yet he is not welcome either. I swear, it is as if they want us out of the way.”

“Nonsense. How could you even think that?”

“Cecily,” called out the girl’s mother from the cart. “Please go tell your stepfather the children are tired and hungry. We’d like to leave soon.”

Muriel looked up at the woman and almost gasped. Cecily’s mother always seemed to have bruises, but this time her eye was even swollen shut.

“I’ll tell him, Mother,” Cecily called out.

“What happened to your mother’s eye?” asked Muriel.

“Oh . . . she walked into a door chasing the baby, that’s all.”

Muriel didn’t think the woman was a simpleton, but mayhap so. “Your mother doesn’t look happy.”

“Why do you say that?” snapped Cecily defensively.

“I just meant, she looks drained and tired.”

“Ever since the death of my father years ago, she has not been herself.”

“Your brothers and sisters are much younger than you. I know they are your half-siblings, but does your stepfather still think you should have to raise them?”

“Yes, he does. And since he does nothing to help my mother raise them, I have no choice. Sometimes, I don’t think he even wants to have children or be married at all.”

Muriel didn’t have time to respond to that. Cecily’s stepfather came barreling down the docks toward their cart that was already loaded down with traded goods. The stamped parchment with the tallied goods that had been taxed stuck out of the bag thrown over his shoulder.

“Mother says the kids are tired and hungry,” Cecily told him.

“Let’s go,” the man ordered, as if he were in a big hurry.

“Goodbye,” called out Cecily as her stepfather hurried her toward their wagon – the wagon that Muriel realized used to be her father’s at one time. She noticed the parchment fall out of the man’s travel bag, and the wind picked up, blowing it down the wharf towards the water.

“You dropped something,” Muriel called out, and chased after the parchment. She made it to the docks just before it went over the edge and into the water, stamping her foot atop it to stop it. She saw both halves of the port’s seal stamped on the outside of the document from the Collector of Customs and the Controller of Customs as well.

She picked it up, and when she did, it fell open. Her gaze settled on the receipt, and her eyes opened wide when she realized it was blank! She’d seen Cecily’s stepfather’s cart loaded down with many goods, and by right each of those items should be listed on the parchment now in her hand. If they had been tallied correctly, the receipts would show exactly the amount of goods he’d paid taxes on. But for some reason, the receipt was blank.

“Give me that,” called out Samuel, as he ran toward her. Muriel held it behind her back and the man grabbed her opposite wrist hard and twisted it. She cried out thinking he was going to break her bone. “That is mine and you have no right to touch it.”

Then she heard another man’s voice and saw the baron rushing over with his hand atop the hilt of his sword.

“Let go of the girl,” he called out, and the man dropped her wrist immediately. Muriel already saw a bruise forming from the man’s hold. “Muriel what have you got there?”

“Samuel dropped his receipt, and I caught it from going into the water,” she told him.

“Let me see it,” the baron said with an outstretched hand. “I am checking receipts today.”

“My lord, I have the parchment stamped with the two halves of the seal,” Samuel pointed out. “I’ve already paid the taxes due.”

Nicholas looked over to his cart surveying his goods. “Has everything been recorded in the collector’s ledger?” he asked.

“Of course, my lord.”

He continued to hold his hand out to Muriel. “I’ll take a look at it anyway. Muriel, hand it to me.”

She looked back to Samuel who was shooting daggers with his eyes at her. Then she glanced over to Cecily and her mother and children waiting for the man in the cart. She knew having a blank document was going to get the man arrested, fined and punished, and mayhap even killed. She also realized now that he was probably the one giving his wife the bruises. If he became angered, he’d probably hit his wife or possibly some of the children in retaliation. She didn’t want that.

He was the main supporter of the family, and she didn’t want to see Cecily’s family lose everything the way she had. It was a terrible feeling, and if the baron hadn’t helped her and Isaac, they’d be homeless on the streets right now. With just one word from her, Cecily’s family’s lives would more or less be over.

“Muriel? I’m waiting.” Nicholas’s voice was stern.

Samuel’s silent stare begged her not to hand it over, and she was so confused right now she wasn’t sure what to do. Cecily was her best friend, and she didn’t want to lose her too. If she gave the parchment to the baron, she knew her friendship with Cecily would be over.

A strong wind picked up and Muriel took her hand from behind her back and held the parchment out to the baron. But right before he could grab it, she opened her fingers and purposely let the parchment go. It flew up into the air, and over the edge of the pier, landing far out on the water.

“Muriel, why did you let it go?” Nicholas was certainly not happy with her.

“I’m sorry, my lord, the wind took it from my hand.” She looked back at Samuel who was still glaring at her, but at the same time giving her a slight nod of approval.

“Fine. Merchant, you can go to the Customs booth and ask the Collector to write up another one for you,” Nicholas told him.

“Aye, milord, thank you.” The man ran off, and Muriel just watched the parchment floating away. She should be happy she did something to help her friend, but at the same time she was miserable. Nicholas was right. There was corruption amongst the guilds, and Cecily’s father was involved. Could her father have been involved as well? She didn’t want to think so.

“Romney,” yelled out a man, and she looked up to see Baron Hastings, and Baron Sandwich headed toward them quickly with Nicholas’s squire and Isaac following right behind. Nicholas’s friends had been making many visits to New Romney lately, and she realized that the three barons were good friends.

“I’ve got matters to attend to, what is it you need?” He looked at her while he spoke, and she felt as if he knew she’d betrayed him.

“A messenger brought this from your manor,” said John, handing Nicholas the missive. “He said it was of utmost importance.”

Nicholas took the missive and opened it, and his eyes scanned the parchment. Then his face became stone-like and a gray wash colored his skin.

“What is the matter?” asked Conlin with concern.

“It’s from Pensworth.”

“From your father?” Muriel stretched her neck to try to read it.

“Yes,” Nicholas folded the missive and stuck it into his waistband.

“Something’s wrong, very wrong, I can tell,” said Muriel.

He looked up at his friends, and then over to Muriel. “You were right, and now I am too late.”

“My lord?” she asked in question.

“I should have told her years ago, but now I can’t.”

“You make no sense, Romney,” spat John. “Tell us what’s in the missive.”

“It’s a missive from my father. He is sending the news that my mother has died.”