The Dark Knight (22 page)

“Aye, my lord,” Sandor added, stepping around Tonia. He refused to cower behind her skirts—he would fight his own battle. Taking her hand, he entwined his fingers through hers and gave her a little squeeze for encouragement. “Methought that you were the King’s men come to ascertain Tonia’s death. Though she had described her family to me, on that day, we were all well wrapped against the cold and I did not recognize you.”

Francis lowered his sword. “I perceive that you have lost your northern accent,” he remarked with a small trace of humor.

“Indeed, my lord. That too was a ruse.”

Sir Guy cocked his head. “How did
you
know that she was to die?” he asked, drawing out each word.

Sandor steeled himself for the answer. “Because, my lord, I was the late King’s executioner. I was sent to kill her.”

“
Le Monsieur de Mort
that Tonia spoke of,” breathed Celeste. Her countenance softened when she looked at him.

Sandor flashed a warm smile at the petite gentlewoman. Now he knew where Tonia had inherited her dark hair and her beauty.
“Oui, ma dame,”
he replied in his childhood tongue, then continued in that language. “’Twas my former office until I met your most beautiful daughter.”

Celeste
clapped her hands with surprise and pleasure. “Oh la la! You are French!”

Sandor bowed to Lady Cavendish. “I was born outside of Paris,
ma dame,
” he replied in flowing French. He chose not to reveal that he had been born literally outside—in a field.

Sir Guy narrowed his eyes. “Did you say the
late
king? What news is this?”

B
efore the Gypsy could relate the events that had rocked London for the past few months, fat raindrops suddenly splattered upon them. While the Cavendishes had given their attention to Sandor, a large black storm cloud overtook them. Tonia and her mother ran for the shelter of their carriage. Sheathing his sword, Guy shot the rogue a withering glare before he addressed his servants.

“We
will return to Snape at once,” he instructed his driver. To Sandor, he continued, “And once there, you will answer a great number of my questions.”

The Gypsy returned Guy’s steady gaze with his own. Only then did Guy notice the man’s blue eyes. Most unusual for a dark-haired, swarthy Gypsy, he thought. Unsettled by the strange eye color and boldness of the man’s gaze, Guy mounted his horse and spurred it into a trot, heading back down the road toward home. As he rode, his mind spun in a hundred different directions, none of them comforting. What manner of mischief had this charlatan worked upon his innocent Tonia? How had he bewitched Guy’s most sensible daughter so that…

He gritted
his teeth as he blotted out the mental image of his chaste daughter making love with this foreigner. No doubt the knave had employed some devilish charm to blind Tonia’s mind while he had his way with her body.

Guy’s blood grew hotter. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, he was satisfied to see that Francis rode beside the man—the better to keep an eye on him. On the other hand, Francis did not show as much wariness as he should. Instead, he engaged in a lively conversation with their unwelcome guest. Guy eyed the carriage. At least, Celeste had kept the leather blinds closed. Tonia would not be able to call out to the rogue who had used her so foully and who had poisoned her mind in the bargain.

When we return to Snape, I will deal harshly with this churl. He will count himself fortunate if he ever sees daylight again.

Inside the stifling carriage, Tonia fanned herself and glared at her mother. “Cannot we lower the blinds, just a little, Mamma? By my troth, I will melt ere we arrive home.”

Giving her daughter a sad look, Celeste shook her head. “’Tis better this way. The rain comes in fits and starts.”

Tonia snorted. “Not so! You really mean to say that you do not want me to speak with Sandor.”

Celeste sighed. “Methinks that your Pappa would be most upset if you even look at that man.”

Tonia curled her lip. “You mean my husband? Do not gape at me, Mamma. ’Tis true—we are married—and soon we will be the parents of
your
grandchild.”

Celeste’s eyes grew wistful. “Oh la la! A grandchild!” She sighed. “I have longed to hold that little one in my arms ever since the doctor told me of your condition.”

Tonia spied
a small chink in her mother’s defenses. “Aye, I know that you do. I have seen you sewing little gowns and wrappers.”

Her mother shrugged. “The child will need clothes no matter who its parent is.”

Tonia pressed her advantage. “And the babe will be a beautiful child. You have seen his handsome father. You must agree.”

Celeste cleared her throat. “
Oui,
I will confess that your Sandor makes a very good appearance despite his poor apparel, but he is a common vagabond, not a proper husband for my girl.”

Tonia patted her stomach. “I am no longer a little girl in leading strings, Mamma, but a woman grown—and married.”

Celeste rolled her eyes. “How so this marriage? Did you exchange vows before a priest?”

Tonia swallowed. “Nay, there was none to be had at Hawksnest, and we were pressed for time. But we did profess our love and loyalty inside a chapel.”

“No banns? No witnesses? No marriage contract?” her mother asked.

Tonia shook her head in answer to each question. She showed the horseshoe-nail ring to her mother. “Sandor gave me this as his pledge, and we mingled our blood together so that now we are one forever.” She leaned over and took her mother’s hand in hers. “Mamma, help me. I love him so much. I will die without him.”

Celeste kissed her daughter’s cheek. “
Oui,
any blind fool could see that. The problem is, what does your father see? If looks could kill, your Sandor would have died back there amid the thistles.”

Francis
observed the man riding beside him, and he found he liked what he saw. Like the rest of the Cavendish family, he had despaired when beautiful, gifted Tonia had chosen to shut herself away from the secular world instead of being married to some fortunate man. Only when he had seen Tonia and her lover together, did Francis realize how lonely she had been before this Gypsy had come into her life. Within Sandor’s embrace, his half sister glowed like a bright sunbeam dancing on the surface of a pond.

Eyeing his father’s straight back and the unyielding set of his jaw, Francis knew that Sandor’s suit for Tonia would be an uphill struggle. Did the Gypsy have any idea what a dangerous road he walked?

Urging his horse closer to his companion, Francis asked, “Tell me, Sandor. Do you love my sister? Or is it her fortune?”

The Gypsy’s sun-kissed skin turned a few shades paler. “If you were not my Tonia’s beloved brother, I would split your liver for that question. To me, her fortune is herself alone. I accept no dowry like a
gadjo.
”

His answer and the emotion behind it took Francis by surprise even though he did not understand the meaning of
gadjo.

“How can this be true? All men are in love with wealth.”

Looking down his nose at Francis, the Gypsy replied, “Men are blind if they do not see that your sister is beyond the price of gold and silver. May I die if I lie.” Then he added, “’Tis
I
who must pay the bride-price. I will explain this to your father—if he gives me the chance before he runs me through like a roast on a spit.” He flashed a rueful grin at Francis.

Francis’s
eyebrows rose; he whistled through his teeth. “Hoy day, I have never heard of such an idea.”

Sandor’s smile widened. “’Tis the custom among the Rom…that is…my people. A man would be shamed—and so would the bride—if he did not pay the girl’s father a goodly price for his daughter’s hand. Methinks your father will see my point, once he understands that my heart is true.”

Francis puffed out his cheeks. “Sir Guy Cavendish is a very reasonable man, most of the time, but in the matter of his three daughters, he tends to lose all reason. You have your work cut out for you. If it makes you feel more easy in your soul, be assured that I will add my words to yours.”

Sandor stared at Francis, then he laughed. “Methinks that you speak true. My thanks. I will count you among my friends, my lord.”

“Since it seems that we are already brothers-in-law, call me Francis.”

Though the Cavendishes returned unexpectedly and after dark, the chamberlain of Snape Castle rose to the occasion. New fires were lit in the great hall’s hearth, and fresh candles were inserted into the sockets of the chamber’s large staghorn chandelier. Supper was hastily prepared for the famished travelers while clean linens were laid on the recently stripped beds. While her parents refreshed themselves after the day’s journey, Tonia followed Sandor to the stables. It was her first opportunity to be alone with him since they had parted at Hawksnest. Not quite knowing how to pick up where they had left off, she watched him in silence while he prepared Baxtalo for the night.

Sandor had rarely set foot inside such a lavish abode as Snape. Most of the nobility did not allow the Rom under their roofs for fear of theft. Seeing Tonia within her own setting for the first time made him wonder if she could be happy with him, no matter what comforts he could provide for her.

“You
live in a grand house,” Sandor remarked as he curried his horse.

“I had rather live with you,” she replied.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I have very little to offer you.”

She cocked one of her beautiful, sweeping eyebrows. “Give me your heart and I will be happy.”

He grinned. “Do you require it wrapped inside a brassbound box?”

She shuddered. “Oh, I mistook! I meant, give me your love.”

He put down his brushes and took her in his arms. “You have that already, ten times over and more. But will that be enough for such a fine lady as you?”

Two red spots colored her ivory cheeks. Her eyes flashed in the lantern light. “How now, Sandor? Do you think damask gowns and ropes of pearls win me? What do you take me for?”

“I took you for my love,” he answered in a quiet tone, “but at the time I forgot that you were also nobility.”

She pulled away from him. “Did my brother offer to buy you off? How much did he pay for you to renounce me?”

Looking up to the stable’s roof, Sandor sought guidance from heaven. “
Jaj!
What is the matter with you
gadje?
You look at me and think that you can read my soul—that all I seek is your coin. Had that been true, I would have taken the King’s gold and wrung your neck.”

Tonia
pressed her lips together and stared down at her feet. Sandor returned to brushing his patient horse.

Venting his frustration, he spoke to Baxtalo in Romany. “What am I to do with this pigheaded wife, eh, my friend? Doesn’t she see how much I love her? I am ready to leap into the fire of her father’s wrath for her, yet all she talks about is money!”

Tonia punched his arm with her fist. “If you are going to be angry, pray do it in English, or French, if you prefer. I am well-versed to argue in either language.”

Relieved that she had not stalked away, Sandor hid his grin before he turned to face her. “I merely asked Baxtalo’s opinion of my wife. As you can see, he is a wise horse and says nothing.”

“And what is
your
opinion of your wife?” Tonia asked, tilting her chin up and staring quizzically at Sandor.

He stepped closer to her and slipped his arm around her waist. “I think that she is the most beautiful woman in this world.”

“Ha!” she replied, though she blushed.

Heartened, Sandor continued. “That she is also the bravest, for she dared to challenge her executioner and so won his heart.”

“Oh,” she murmured, allowing her body to relax.

“And that she is most buxom in bed, though I have not tested that opinion in recent months.”

“Ooh,” she
murmured, wrapping her arms around him. “I have missed you so much, my love.”

He pulled off her maid’s cap and unpinned her hair so that it cascaded over her shoulders. “You have no idea how much I have missed you,
sukar.
At night, when the wind blew cold through my little window, I would close my eyes and dream that I held you close to me. That made the weary days in prison fly faster.”

“Prison?” She gasped, looking up at him.

“Aye, beloved. ’Tis why I have not returned to you until now. Under orders from some royal minister, I was kept in close confinement at the Tower of London until good Queen Mary released me.”

Tonia trembled. “God save you, Sandor. You were in that dreadful place? Whyfore?”

He smoothed her satinlike cheeks with his thumbs. “Who knows? The King’s pleasure? A whim of the Constable? I knew not. They said they would hold me until they were satisfied of your death.”

She hugged him tight. “Forgive me, my love. I didn’t know. Methought—”

“That I had abandoned you?”

She hung her head. “I prayed for your return, night and day. I worried that the
patrin
I had left at Hawksnest might have blown away. Then I wondered if I had been misled by your sweet words. Then, when I knew I was with child…”

He lifted her chin with his finger. “Peace,
sukar.
’Tis past—bury it. Let me remind you of my great love for my wife.”

He lowered his head and caressed her lips with a whispering touch as if she might melt away, as had her image when he dreamed of her. Without hesitation, Tonia returned his kiss with her own, pressing her strawberry-sweet mouth against his and twining her tongue with his. By her response, Sandor knew that his prayers had been answered. He drew deep from Tonia’s bounty and she returned it to him in double measure. She tasted of warm honey and summer’s clover. He fumbled to loosen her bodice.

Just then
someone coughed loudly behind them. Sandor reluctantly pulled his lips from hers. Tonia straightened up then looked over her shoulder.

“What is it, Tad?” she asked.

A young turnspit boy stepped into the circle of the lantern’s light. “Yer pardon, m’lady, but yer lord father awaits ye and him.” He pointed to Sandor with a mixture of awe and fear. “An’ yer lord father said that ye had better not be a-rollin’ in the hayloft or he would flay
him
alive.”

Sandor ran his fingers through his wind-snarled hair. “
Jaj,
’twas a near thing,” he muttered under his breath.

Tonia retrieved her cap from the stable floor. “Tell my father that we follow directly and that we were
not
in the hayloft doing anything. Do I make myself clear?”

Tad nodded. “Aye, m’lady, fer I found you in the stable, and ye was only a-kissin’.”

“Tad!” rebuked Tonia. “You do not need to say
what
we were doing. Just say that we are coming now.”

Tad touched the brim of his cap. “Aye, m’lady.” With another swift glance at Sandor, the child ran out the door. His footsteps echoed on the courtyard’s cobblestones.

Tonia slipped her hand into Sandor’s. “Pappa is really a very kind man,” she assured him, though her kiss-swollen lips wobbled a little.

Sandor
kissed the tip of her nose. “Aye, and pigs with wings fly around Snape Castle.” He lifted the lantern from its nail. “Fare thee well, Baxtalo. I trust that we shall meet again in the morning, provided that my lady’s father does not fry my liver before then.”

As they wended their way to the yawning door of the castle, the image of the
tarocchi
Fool flashed through Sandor’s mind. Tapping his pouch at his belt, he felt the stiff vellum card.

This is the moment when I will jump off the cliff with both feet and my eyes open.