The Heart of the Phoenix (12 page)

“Milady, Sir Stephen will handle the details,” Marie insisted. “A lady should never be seen in an inn’s common room.”

“But I will not be alone,” Evie reminded her, “you will accompany me.”

The maid offered a few more objections as she did up the gown’s laces, but Evie did not listen. Finally Evie retied her braid and swept to the door. “Come along, Marie.”

She pressed her hand against her stomach to still the jittery sensation and focused on her mission. To learn details of the crossing, not to see Stephen again. It wasn’t as if strangers might accost her. These same men were her companions every day and night. They’d think nothing of her joining them.

Before she could tell herself otherwise, she started for the stairs.

The men nearly leaped to their feet when she entered. All but Stephen. Other patrons stared as she glided across the rough wooden floor to her guards, gathered around a long table at the back of the large chamber. Stephen glared at her as she approached. Finally he rose.

He was not happy. The muscles in his jaw clenched, making it flare. One eyebrow rose as he scowled, and a ridiculous sense of pleasure washed through her. Just seeing him brought her joy. She fought back the smile she knew would infuriate him.

“I thought I might join you to discuss plans for tomorrow.” Her voice pitched low to avoid curious ears. “Now that we will be among strangers, our stories must match.”

The guard named Thomas stepped aside to offer his place next to Stephen, and she smiled. Face red, he bobbed his head and rounded the table to sit on the bench farther down.

Mathilde materialized with a cup of wine which she placed in front of Evie. Catching her eye, the woman winked conspiratorially, then whisked herself away as quietly as she’d appeared. The men resumed their seats, glancing at Stephen, who at last eased down.

Mouth in a grim line, he refused to look at her. Well, then. If he preferred to act like an angry boar, so be it. She planned to remain for this discussion. She smiled at each of the knights around the table. And the monks. Why were they here? They always took part in all the activities of the others. Now that she thought on it, she never saw them at prayers.

The atmosphere around the table struck her at last. Grim. Determined. Again, Evie sensed an undercurrent of tension that seemed strange for a simple journey. What did they fear? Another quick look convinced her—they feared nothing. They were somber, resolute. About what?

And then from somewhere deep inside, she knew. It was the other reason for this trip, that’s why they clustered to plot.

Not one man met her gaze as it went from one to the next. They fought to conceal something. Evie lifted her chin. This time she would not leave until she knew exactly what was going on.

At last Stephen cleared his throat. “Lady Evelynn, our passage tomorrow…”

A disturbance at the door interrupted his words. Mathilde hovered beside a new arrival, then threw an anxious look toward their table. A hand at her shoulder moved her to one side and a figure in priestly garb stepped into the wavering light. Another figure followed him, enveloped in a long, hooded cloak.

Stephen leaped to his feet. “Brother Gerald. What brings you here?” His deep voice sounded strained as his long stride ate up the distance across the floor. He stopped short before the mysterious hooded guest. “Christ’s chains.” Stephen’s low, fervent curse hung in the expectant silence.

The men moved to one side, and Evie could clearly see an elegant hand reach out.

Jeweled rings sent the faint light back in multi-colored flashes. Before a coherent thought could form in Evie’s mind, the stranger threw open the cloak and stepped forward to bow.

Swathed in veils, the figure rose close to Stephen, not much below his height. “My lord and master,” spoke a low, melodious—but carrying—voice. “I could no longer wait. Your Geoffra has come to you.”

A woman. The hood fell back then, removing all doubt when it revealed layered veils and black hair, gleaming back from her forehead like the jewels on her fingers.

Stephen’s face was expressionless for a long moment as he stared into the woman’s eyes. The holy man whispered something and both nodded.

Then Stephen turned, took her hand, and led her to the table. Slowly, she flowed across the floor, eyes averted. The monk followed. They halted before Evie, and she rose.

“Lady Evelynn, this is my…friend, Geoffra, who aided me after Acre. Geoffra, Lady Evelynn of Chauvere, whom we shepherd to the safety of her family in England.”

The newcomer raised her head; Evie caught her breath. Geoffra’s eyes were blue-gray as a lake at twilight and set beneath naturally arched, black brows. Those eyelashes were ridiculously long and thick. Her expression held Evie’s, and if Evie didn’t know better, she’d vow the lady was laughing. Eyes, nose, and forehead were visible, but a veil covered the lower part of the woman’s face. Her forehead showed the color of skin golden as honey, as if she’d spent her life in the sun. Of course. Saracens were darker-skinned than English.

Praying her voice held steady, Evie said, “Welcome. I am pleased you arrived safely. Were you forced to travel through the storm yesterday?”

The lady lowered her eyes and murmured something Evie didn’t understand. Stephen answered with a sharp phrase, then slanted a glance at Evie. Did the Saracen say something about her?

Although he stood at a distance, Brother Gerald answered Evie’s question. “Yes, milady. Discomfort was our companion on the journey. But with God’s help, we found a barn for shelter and escaped the worst of the lightning and downpour. If not for the storm, we would have arrived much earlier.”

Mathilde stepped forward, assuming her role as innkeeper. “I regret to have only one bedchamber left, for the…lady.” The tone of the woman’s voice left little doubt she questioned the word. “Your men can bed down in the stables or here before the fire.”

“Never mind me,” Brother Gerald interrupted. “I’ll find my rest right here with the others.”

“No need to prepare a chamber for Geoffra.” Stephen added. His narrowed gaze was fixed on the lady. “She will stay with me.”

Blood roared in Evie’s ears. The stew she’d managed to down earlier rose in her throat, and she couldn’t seem to draw breath. She plopped down. Fortunately, the bench was behind her. Dear God. This woman had come to Stephen. Across hundreds of miles, she had sought him. What must she be to him?

He finally seemed to recall her existence. “We must be ready before dawn to sail, Lady Evelynn. You should seek your bed now.”

Miraculously, Marie appeared to take her arm. Evie couldn’t form a coherent word. She merely gave a nod and, head high, walked to the stairs. Behind her, as if from a distance, she heard Stephen’s heavy tread, accompanied by a lighter one.

****

Stephen slammed the door so hard, the bed trembled. “What in all the fires of hell do you mean by this trick?”

Geoffra winced.

“Have you any idea what you’ve done?” Stephen strode back and forth across the floor of the chamber.

Geoffra kept silent; rhetorical questions required no answers.

“Of course you don’t. Where in perdition is the brain I thought you possessed? How do you intend I explain the presence of a Saracen lady in my troop? Oh, I need not explain. Now that I’ve installed you in my chamber, no explanation is needed. Everyone will think you’re my leman. Damn you.”

Geoffra moved to the door and dropped the bar with a single tapered but strong hand. Then she turned and batted her enormous eyelashes at Stephen.

“But my lord.” Her low, rich voice flowed across the space between them. “Where else could I come in my time of trial? Had I remained at home, I would die.”

Stephen halted his pacing and stared. “You were discovered? What happened? Oh, for God’s sake, remove that damned veil before I rip it off.”

With a deep chuckle, she said, “I wish you could have seen your expression when we appeared at the door. The Devil himself would have received a happier reception.”

The opaque but diaphanous fabric fell away to reveal a strong chin with a slight cleft. Fingers brushed a lightly stubbled cheek. “I must shave.”

The young man who faced Stephen smiled, then shrugged. “This seemed the best way to leave Cyprus when assassins searched for a male.”

His anger forgotten, Stephen frowned and motioned to a rough bench. “You are unhurt, then? How did they find you?”

“First I must tell you—I have word. No proof, just the tale of an old woman. But I believe her. The story she tells matches the time we believe the Dragon traveled through Jerusalem.”

“Who is it?” Stephen interrupted, his voice cold, hard. “Damn you, Geoffrey, stop talking in circles.”

Geoffrey’s shoulders slumped. “I do not yet have the name, my brother. But I have his movements. We will place a name to him very soon.”

“And proof. We need proof. Damnation. I can’t act without proof.” Stephen dropped to a wooden chair near the cold brazier.

“Ah, but you never demanded it before. You said only to find the man’s name, and you would take care of him.”

Stephen leaned forward, forearms on his knees. A frustrated sigh at last broke the silence. “Things have changed. My father would be crushed if I killed without justification. Especially if the victim is an English lord. He could lose all he’s built if I were discovered.”

He straightened, running his hands through his hair. “I must be able to defend my actions to him, even if I’m not caught. I’ve found I no longer want to keep secrets from him. He knows about my time in Outremer.”

“All of it?” Geoffrey asked in wonder.

“Nearly.” Stephen pushed to his feet and paced toward the window. The wooden shutter trembled beneath a frustrated slap. “Some, he should never know,” he conceded, his voice low. “Even a father would not understand and forgive everything I have done.”

He turned and pinned his friend with a pointed look. “Now. Tell me what sent you flying to England.”

Geoffrey nodded, narrowed gaze on Stephen’s face. “I found one of the jeweled cross necklaces taken from our home. Happened on it by chance in a market stall in Cyprus.”

“You’re sure it’s the same one?” Stephen went still, his voice low, intent.

“I’m certain. My lord father had the red stones set on one side to form my mother’s initial. At the bottom, his initials and hers, carved into the wood. It was one of a pair. His larger one bore both initials, as well. Whoever took this one tried to dig them out, but outlines remained of the original carving beneath. The merchant was reluctant to give up the source of such a prize. But with twice what he asked in price, I was able to persuade him.”

Stephen drew back and looked at Geoffrey in doubt. This grandson of a former crusader did not part with coin unless forced.

“Very well,” Geoffrey conceded with a shrug, “the price along with a slight incentive.”

“Which was…?”

“His life.”

A cynical smile quirked Stephen’s mouth. That sounded more like his friend. “Persuasive indeed. He believed you?”

Geoffrey’s expression was innocent. “Yes. It seems the name of the Phoenix was well-known to him.”

“Was?”

“Alas. He died of a stomach ailment soon after dining with a fellow merchant. Unfortunately, he expired before he could confirm the name of his source.”

“This other merchant, did he know of your agreement?” Perhaps the fellow chose to eliminate a rival and claim the reward for himself.

“That’s the irony of this sad tale—it was a different deal that led him to dispose of his competition.” He shook his head, lips pursed in regret. “I fear I lost my temper when I learned of the tainted oysters my merchant had succumbed to.”

“Then how did you discover your man?”

Geoffrey smiled, his blue eyes glittering. “The old woman in the next stall remembered who brought the cross. She had observed the sale and described for me the markings on the knight’s coat and on his shield. It was that of the Dragon. A few judicious questions and we’ll have him. Curse the luck, I was recognized and had to leave before I could uncover his identity.”

The humor died from his face. “I sent the others ahead to track the band. Bernard had left us to follow another lead. I could not locate him. Hasra will do so.”

“No need.” Pushing away from the wall, Stephen resumed pacing. “Bernard rejoined us a fortnight ago with some of the information. But not all that you have brought.”

The thump of his boots filled the silence. The name Geoffrey mentioned finally hit him. “Hasra? He is still with you, then? Good. Hasra can move undetected through many camps.” Stephen nodded in grim satisfaction. If anyone could follow a cold trail to success, it was Geoffrey’s cousin. “How will he send word?”

“Ask Brother Gerald. He has a message for you as well.” Geoffrey unfolded his lean frame and stood to stretch, only to wince at the colorful gossamer draping his arms. “Ah! What garments we beauties must wear. Bound up like a leg of lamb. I look forward to shedding them.”

“Bad news, my friend. You arrived as a woman, and so you must remain until you leave. What this will do for my reputation, I shudder to think.”

Geoffrey chuckled. “To have a mysterious lady of the East attending your every need will only enhance tales of your prowess.” He ducked a non-too-friendly punch from Stephen. “Except for one. The delightful Lady Evelynn. If looks could kill, my poor, wearied self would lie bloody on your very dirty inn floor.”

“Evie? You’re wrong. That lady would gladly see
me
lying bloody at her feet. I’ve made damned sure she thinks the worst of me.”

“But why? She is lovely. You must marry again one day.” Geoffrey stopped short, a look of remorse on his face, but the words were out.

Stephen stared at the floor, jaw clenched. Although the memory had faded through the years, it would never disappear. He’d worked hard to move beyond the pain, but the guilt rode him. It would not ease until he exacted revenge.

“I am sorry, my brother,” Geoffrey whispered. “I spoke without thinking. It has been five years, now. Sorya would not wish you to grieve forever. My sister loved you. She would want your happiness.”