The Faithful Heart (13 page)

“It’s so beautiful!” She took his hands as
she met him, glancing around in wonder.

“Yeah.” He shrugged with false modesty.
“Kedleridge is alright.”

She couldn’t help but giggle. His shoulders
relaxed and the tension around his eyes evaporated as he realized
he was forgiven.

“My you look imposing today!” Up close she
could see the tunic he wore was of the finest cloth with intricate
silver embroidery and his boots were polished. He’d trimmed his
goatee and washed and brushed his hair as well.

“Is this your ensign?” she brushed a hand
over the silver wolf’s head on his tunic.

“Nah, it’s Crispin’s. I don’t got one
yet.”

“It looks dashing nonetheless,” she
smiled.

“Oy, gotta look good for the nobs packin’ in
to Derby for the council,” he winked.

A tremor of uncertain energy rattled through
her as he took her arm and escorted her around to the front of the
house. “Jack, would you mind if I made a suggestion?”

“You can suggest anything you like, MP.” A
grin tweaked the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were
anxious.

“Have you … have you ever considered altering
your accent?”

“Oy! What’s wrong with my accent?” he put on
the thickest drawl he could.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or blush.
“If you’re going to hold a position of authority in the shire then
you’re going to have to play the game by their rules.”

She’d given her advice in as light-hearted a
manner as she could, but Jack’s face still slipped back into a
frown. “Crispin said the same thing,” he told her, a distinct upper
class lilt to his words.

She squeezed his arm in support. “Of course I
love the way you talk.”

“You do?” He glanced at her, checking to see
if she was telling the truth.

“Of course.” She sucked in a breath, steeled
her courage, and kissed his cheek.

It had just the effect she’d hoped for. “Well
then, my lady,” he spoke in a smooth noble accent, “would you care
to have breakfast with me and then journey back to Derby
Castle?”

“Yes, my lord,” she beamed, “I would.”

Much to Simon’s distress, they had their
breakfast brought out to the garden so that they could eat and chat
within sight of the shining orchard. For one wonderful hour
Madeline felt at peace with the world. She had Jack all to herself.
He seemed to realize the importance of the fleeting time they had
together and talked so fast, while eating, that she laughed at
everything, even the more serious details of his duties in
Derby.

All too soon the hour was up and Simon and
the stable hand arrived at the side of the garden with horses. “My
lord,” he tried several times to catch Jack’s attention. “My lord
you really need to be on your way to Derby.”

“Simon,” Jack winked at her. “No tellin’
where I’d be without him watchin’ out for me.”

He stood and helped Madeline to her feet. Her
glance drifted past him to a caravan of riders coming down the road
towards them. Jack followed her glance and shrugged.

“The road through Kedleridge has been more
well-traveled lately, my lord,” Simon explained, “due to the
prevalence of outlaws in the Derbywood. It is longer but safer to
come this way when traveling from the north to Derby.”

“Right,” Jack nodded. He took Madeline’s arm
and escorted her towards the horses without giving the travelers a
second thought. She was ready to ignore them as well until she saw
who they were. Her heart dropped to her feet.

“Oh no, Jack, it’s my father,” she whispered,
letting go of his arm and dashing around him to hide.

“Where?” Jack’s voice dropped to a growl. He
looked back towards the caravan and stood straighter, facing them
head on.

They stood there, Jack crossing his arms,
Madeline hiding behind him, Simon watching with a guarded
expression, until Matlock and his men reached them.

“So this is the dunghill our usurping prince
tossed to you, peasant.”

Madeline felt Jack bristle. Simon’s face also
flushed with offense, though his expression didn’t change.

“Yes.” Jack refused to be intimidated. “It’s
the home given to me for doing something other than being born to
the right mother.”

“I’m surprised a dog like you even has a
mother,” Matlock sniffed.

“I do have a mother,” Jack nodded, “and a
father that I know sired me. From what I hear your kids can’t say
the same.”

Madeline gasped as Matlock stood in his
saddle, fist clenched. His fury turned from Jack to her.
“Disobedient bitch!” he bellowed.

Jack’s hand jerked to his belt but he wasn’t
wearing a sword. “Watch your tongue!”

“Seize her!” Matlock ignored the threat and
motioned to Madeline. Two of his men dismounted. “I told you to go
back to the convent and now I find you here in this dog’s
house?”

“Madeline is my guest,” Jack’s voice trembled
with rage as he threw out his arms to protect her. Simon stepped
around the horse he held to be ready to defend her as well. “And as
long as she’s on my property I will protect her with my life.”

The two men wavered, looking to Matlock for
direction, their wary eyes judging whether they could take Jack and
Simon.

“Then you’d better stay on this property.”
Matlock glared at her as if a battle wasn’t about to erupt. “I
don’t have time for this. But if I see so much as your slipper
anywhere else I will make the time to see that you are returned to
the Abbey of St. Mary, even if I have to return you in pieces!”

He held her gaze for a moment, reducing her
bones to jelly, then lifted his hand and kicked his horse forward.
The two men remounted and the whole entourage jumped to follow
their leader, sending deadly sneers over their shoulders as they
rode away.

Madeline caught her breath in quick, gulping
sobs. Jack turned and she collapsed against him. He pulled her into
his arms and squeezed her for all he was worth. She closed her
eyes.

After a thick silence he said, “Simon, can I
leave her here in your care?” He had never sounded so serious.

“Yes, my lord.”

She took a breath and stood on her own,
looking up into Jack’s hard face. “I,” she swallowed, “I shouldn’t
be intimidated by him. He’s just a great bully who doesn’t care
about me anyway. I need to stand up to him. I should go with you no
matter what he says.”

Jack shook his head, glancing down at her.
His arms loosened around her and he kissed her forehead. “I’m not
willing to risk it.”

“But-”

“The council is in two days. It might take me
one more day after that to mop up and see everyone on their way.
Then I’ll ask Crispin for some time off. I’ll come back here and we
can … well, we can figure out what to do next.” An unexpected grin
lit his face.

It filled her with confidence. She smiled and
nodded. “Alright. I’ll stay here. But,” she hesitated, her glance
fluttering down, “but you must hurry home, Jack.”

He tucked his fingers under her chin and
tilted it up to kiss her lips. “There’s not a thing in this world
that could keep me away from you.”

Chapter Seven

Lydia slouched against the stone railing of
the balcony that ran along the front of Derby Castle watching
clusters of noblemen march up the front steps for the council.
She’d spent the last three days learning who everyone was, judging
their position in the shire, asking questions to see what they
could do for her. Lord Stephen of Matlock glanced up at her as he
mounted the steps flanked by his sons. Their eyes met and she sent
him a lazy grin. He had been a particularly interesting find. He
was powerful, energetic, and everyone who was anyone in Derbyshire
respected him. It had been easy to get into his bed, but with a
wife still living he could do nothing more for her than make the
nights a little less boring.

She sighed when he entered the castle and got
up to wander into the hall. The doorway to the gallery above the
Great Hall was closed with two guards stationed on either side.
Several men and women loitered, hoping to beg or bribe their way
into the council session. She wouldn’t stoop so low. Not when she
still had Jack.

“My lord!” She jumped into action when he
turned the corner and strode down the hall towards her at Sir
Crispin’s side. “My lord, I’ve been looking for you
everywhere!”

Jack smiled when he saw her, his eyes
sweeping across the cinched kirtle she’d swiped from a storeroom.
Yes, Matlock may have been important, but Jack was still available
and still stupid and still the best way for her to get her foot in
the door of power.

“Oy, Lydia, what’re you doin’ here?” He
nodded to Sir Crispin and veered off to speak to her.

“I wanted to be with you, my lord.” She held
his arm as soon as he came close enough and pulled him back onto
the balcony. “I wanted to support you in the council.”

He chuckled. “There’s loads of things more
interesting than a stuffy old council.”

“Oh I don’t think so,” she replied with a
breathlessness that pushed her chest up against the low-cut neck of
her dress. “I can’t think of anywhere more interesting than
wherever you are.”

“Yeah, well.” He squirmed, grabbing the
blasted rosary.

She forced herself not to frown. He may have
the wretched memento with him, but the spiky-haired little chit was
miles away. As far as she was concerned Jack was fair game.

“I want to hear what is being done to collect
the king’s ransom.” She leaned in closer, pressing her chest
against his arm. He glanced down right into the cleft of her
cleavage. “Can you get me into the Great Hall?”

He barked out a laugh, his arm tensing as if
he would pull away. He didn’t. His laugh died and he looked at her
with one eyebrow raised. “You really wanna see the council?”

“So much! Could you please get me in, my
lord? Please?” She let her lips fall open, the same as she would if
she were waiting for a kiss.

The effect on Jack was obvious. He swayed
towards her then jerked back, clearing his throat. “Well I suppose
Joanna could use help servin’ the nobs. As long as you stay quiet
an’ do what she says.”

A flash of ire threatened to ruin her
composure. “Whatever you say, my lord.” She forced her best
smile.

“Right, come on.” He turned to escort her
towards the Great Hall, attempting to drop her arm and shoo her
like a servant. She gripped his bicep like a vise.

The huge Great Hall boomed with the talk of
the nobles of Derbyshire. Young and old, they had all come to the
emergency council when Sir Crispin summoned them. Lydia’s eyes went
wide and her mouth watered at the sight of so much finery, linen
shirts and brocade tunics, gold chains and worked leather belts and
boots. The air was thick with masculinity. It made her wet just
walking through the ranks of the rich and powerful, their deep
voices raised in debate and posturing. They glanced at her as she
passed, the light of appreciative lust in their eyes. The attention
was exactly what she wanted. She licked her lips. Once she was Lady
Lydia of Kedleridge she would have all of them eating out of the
palm of her hand.

Her eyes met Matlock’s as he took a seat at
the far end of the council tables opposite where Sir Crispin and
his wife were seated, their heads together in whispers. Matlock was
glaring, but not at her. Jack stiffened under her grasp.

“Oy, there’s Joanna.” He pointed out the
beautiful woman who was Lady Aubrey’s maid. “Go ask her what to
do.” He shook out of her arm and marched on to the head of the
table, meeting Matlock glare for glare.

She sent another look over her shoulder to
Matlock. He continued to stare Jack down. Half the nobles in the
room switched their conversations to pointed whispers, waiting for
him to trip as he reached Sir Crispin and Lady Aubrey. He stood
beside them, leaning in as Sir Crispin turned to include him in the
discussion.

She darted another quick glance around the
room. Joanna was busy instructing a group of pages holding trays.
Her lips quirked into a sneer. She’d be damned if she bowed and
scraped with that lot. Before she could be noticed she skipped to
the side of the room and found a neglected corner where she could
watch.

“My lords, if you could come to order,” Sir
Crispin stood and thundered over the stray talk. He was a tall man,
fit and intimidating and more than pleasing to look at. He had an
air of danger about him. Lydia bit her lip and glared at his wife.
If not for Lady Aubrey she would have set her sights on the earl
above all others. The authority in his voice quieted the room
almost at once. “Please take your seats.” His eyes scanned the
assembly as if his glance alone could move mountains.

Jack finished whispering to Lady Aubrey then
took his seat at Sir Crispin’s right hand. Within moments the room
was hushed.

“I have no wish to keep you here any longer
than is necessary,” Sir Crispin got right to it. “Our business is
simple. King Richard has been captured and is being held by Emperor
Henry for the ransom of one hundred and fifty thousand marks. It
has been determined that Derbyshire will raise ten thousand marks
towards this sum. This is well outside the bounds of the taxes
currently being collected. My bailiff, Lord John, and I have come
up with a few ideas to raise the needed amount, but we also seek
your counsel in determining further fiscal measures. Lord John.” He
turned to Jack with a nod and sat.

Jack stood, dark patches of red on his
cheeks, unable to keep still. He cleared his throat, glanced around
at the nobles with what came off as an imitation of his friend. “My
lords,” he began, “The earl and I have spent many long hours
assessing the strengths and weaknesses of the shire and have come
up with the following proposals.”

Lydia’s eyebrows shot up. He spoke with a
passably posh accent. Perhaps there was hope for him beyond being a
titled meal ticket after all.