The Heart of the Phoenix (31 page)

There, members of the Brotherhood who were in London assembled in Stephen’s chamber. Geoffrey removed the gag from Brother Gerald, who had been bound hand and foot, then roped to a wooden bench.

“Why?” Geoffrey asked.

Gerald ignored the question.

“I assume you know the punishment decreed by king’s law for betrayal and murder?”

“You can’t touch me. Only the church has jurisdiction over its members, and I’ve done nothing but help capture traitors.”

“Did you consider Michael a traitor?”

“But he was. Everyone at St. Anselm knows that. Even Father Joseph believes Michael disappeared rather than face his crimes. Now you say I killed him? You have no proof.”

“Why?” Stephen repeated. “You were part of our missions; you helped plan many of them.”

Surveying the fierce warriors circling him, Gerald sneered. “Because you were so trusting. All the coin and jewels you collected, building your fortunes from each undertaking. What did you offer me? ‘Thank you, Brother.’ ‘God Bless You, Brother.’ ‘We couldn’t have done it without you, Brother.’ Did you ever give me one paltry ring from your horde?”

Bernard lurched from his spot at the window. “We got all that from fighting with the king, you fool, not like the Dragon’s men, from stealing and murdering innocents, They’re the ones who must be stopped. Why do you think we been trying to find their leader for god-a-many years?”

William loomed over Gerald. “Were you the one betrayed us the day my brother nearly died? When they violated his lady?”

“Did you tell them where we’d be when they raided Lechny?” James asked. “When I lost Annelle the day before we were to wed?”

Claude pushed through the circle. “Did you give ’em our location when they killed Matthew and the old men?”

“Did you send the bastards to kidnap Lady Evelynn?” Stephen’s question stopped the others.

“Why did you do it?” Geoffrey asked.

“Last year, when they tracked you to St. Anselm, they talked to us. They promised money for information. I find I don’t care for the life of poverty.” Smugness showed in his eyes. “Now I have enough to leave and live comfortably. I offered Michael the same; he refused.”

“The church won’t allow you to leave the order.” James faced the group. “I say kill him now; save the church the trouble.”

Gerald actually smiled. “They won’t. I will make a fine donation, do penance, and be forgiven.”

“Why are you so sure we won’t kill you first?” William asked.

“Because each of you has an illusion that you do what is right. It doesn’t matter, because Lord Fulk will persuade the king you are guilty of the crimes he names, and you will all die. He has eluded you for years. He will always win.”

“May be true,” Bernard said, “but you won’t see it.” He brought forward a bag, a smaller version of those used to transport wool. “In you go.”

Brother Gerald’s eyes bulged. “You can’t do this.”

The ropes were removed from around the bench but not those binding his legs, nor those holding his arms to his body. Amidst his curses and threats of retribution, the man was lifted into the bag, and it was tied around his neck, leaving his head free. James looped a cloth around his mouth.

“Do you have to use the convenience?” Claude asked. “Oh, too late.” He slipped a loosely woven cloth sack over Gerald’s head.

“Bernard, deliver him to the ship,” Stephen ordered. “James, take three others and accompany the good brother to St. Anselm. Father Joseph knows how to ensure a proper penance. When you return, look for me at Riverton Castle near Rively.”

As they left, Stephen called, “And find us another vessel, Bernard. It’s good to be prepared.”

Lodgings in London were at a premium, what with folks congregating in town for the coronation, but Henry had managed to locate a small house far enough away from the bustle to give Evie and Kate more peace and better security. They had settled in before dark.

The quiet should have enabled Evie to rest after the danger and strain of the past days, but this night she couldn’t seem to sleep for more than short bursts. She always roused to the same thoughts:
Where is he tonight? Is he safe? Please, keep him well!

Wide awake, she stared out the window of her bedchamber at the stars flung across the inky sky. Like tiny eyes they stared back, unblinking.

One particularly bright one, larger than any around it, seemed to be telling her something. If only she concentrated, perhaps she could divine the message in its steady beam. Even if she failed, the task kept her thoughts off her problems.

Her mind blanked. She focused so completely, when a sharp “clack” hit the window’s outside shutter, she jumped and screamed in shock.

“Shhhh,” came the sound from below.

Her heart jumped. She’d know that shush anywhere. Stephen. He’d made it.

She flew to the window and, sure enough, he stared up from the small courtyard. “You’re safe, thank God.” She leaned out. “Come up.”

“There’s nothing to climb unless you have a rope,” he said in a loud whisper. “Let me in.”

“I think there’s a side door, just there.” She grabbed her cloak from the bench and slipped out of her chamber.

Her pulse hammered as she struggled to open the door at the end of the stairs, but at last she freed the bar.

The moment he stepped through the narrow opening, she was in his arms, his mouth devouring hers.

“I worried you had been found and harmed,” she managed when he lifted his head. “Come upstairs so we won’t wake anyone.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him along the corridor. Inside her chamber, he slid the bolt and turned. They looked at each other, suddenly awkward now they were alone.

He held out his hand and she took it. “What has Henry done about the betrothal?”

“He sent an agent this afternoon to arrange a means to break the contract. After I told him all that occurred, he’s as opposed to the wedding as I am.”

Stephen led her to the bed and drew her down beside him. “There is likelihood you will be free, no matter the answer. I wanted you to know before tomorrow, so you wouldn’t worry. If our plans are successful, he will face justice for his crimes.”

She clasped his hand in both of hers. “I pray so. But I don’t understand what you mean by his crimes.”

“That’s why I’ve come. So you’ll understand if you happen to hear talk.” He separated their clasped hands and kissed her palm. “The story isn’t pleasant.”

“I want to hear,” she insisted, but a feeling of near panic oozed through her veins.

“Remember when I left with my foster father, Hawksworth, on crusade? He knighted me on the field of battle, after we took Acre in the Holy Land. Someday I will tell you the whole story, but tonight I’ll just say Hawksworth was murdered by one of our own knights. When I tried to stop it, the same knight drove a sword into my side.

“When I regained consciousness, I discovered I’d been rescued by an influential Saracen family who were searching for relatives. They took me to their home and treated my wounds. The daughter cared for me during that time, and I came to love her. She was kind and gentle. And beautiful. I married her.”

Evie’s breath lodged in the throat. “You are wed? To a Saracen? Why did you not tell me?” Her hand flew to her mouth, the contents of her stomach threatening to revolt. The intimacies they shared on the road, and he belonged to another.

She flinched away. What a fool she’d been. He was married to a woman he loved, and he’d never told her. Not a word in those long days together, when he had every opportunity. How could he have allowed her to—

“No.” He captured her hands and pulled her back to his side. “Let me finish. Sorya was the granddaughter of a Norman knight, a former crusader who remained in Outremer to serve the King of Jerusalem. Her grandmother was the daughter of another such Norman knight. Her father was their son, who married the daughter of a wealthy Saracen merchant of excellent family.”

She straightened. “Geoffrey. He’s her brother, isn’t he? It explains his appearance. Why didn’t your wife return with you to England—”

“Evie—”

“—two years ago?”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Stephen.” Her eyes brimmed with tears for his loss but also in shame for reacting as she had.

“We were visiting her cousins. I had to leave for the day. When I returned, I found everyone in the village had been massacred, their valuables stolen, their animals butchered and left to rot in the sun.

“I don’t know how long I sat in the sand, holding her body, before Geoffrey found us. It was then that I vowed to find the murderers. Over the years, others joined the search.”

She circled his waist with her arm. “And the Brotherhood was born.”

He nodded. “We discovered that a band of renegade knights was to blame. Many crusaders remained after Richard pushed on, and many of them resorted to thievery. Finally we tracked down those responsible, but as soon as we eliminated one or two of their members, others took their place. That particular group grew stronger and more vicious as time passed. It didn’t take us long to learn they worked for a Norman lord. But he never took part; his identity was always hidden.”

“The Dragon,” Evie said.

“Named for the insignia the members adopted.”

“You’ve found the man responsible?”

“I believe so. We will know soon.” He sat forward, forearms braced against his knees, hands clasped.

Evie leaned into his shoulder, her fingers brushing aside the strand of hair that liked to droop across his face. “Thank you for telling me. It explains so much—the sadness you seemed to carry always.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry you lost her. You must have loved her a great deal.”

“I did. She saved me. I couldn’t save her.”

“It was not your fault.” Evie smoothed along his arm. “I suspect if you’d been at the village, you would have died, as well.”

He covered her hand, and his warmth tingled against her skin. “Geoffrey says the same. I’ve come to realize it’s true. Still, for many years, hatred and revenge drove me. I had to keep going, to find the one who ordered the raids that killed her—and all the others since.”

“To give her justice.” Evie laid her cheek on his shoulder. “And you have. Perhaps you can find peace now.”

Neither moved for a while, then Stephen turned. His big hand cradled her cheek. She turned her face into the rough, sword-callused palm.

“Evie. I should have told you sooner. Forgive me.” The gruff words muffled as his lips moved against her temple. He dotted kisses along her cheek, across her eyelids, nipped at the corner of her mouth. And then his lips were on hers, gentle at first, then intent, hungry.

She struggled against him; he flung his arms wide to the side. “I’m sorry.”

Did he think she didn’t like his touch? “No. No. I just couldn’t breathe. Come here.” She anchored her hands in the neck of his shirt and pulled him forward.

His arms closed around her like a vise. She gave a push, and they toppled onto the mattress. In a quick move, he flipped her onto her back and braced on his arms, searching her face.

The hesitant look that reflected in his eyes made her uneasy. As if he were reconsidering his decision to stay. She’d worried too long over him; she
would
have this moment.

“Don’t you dare think of leaving.” A smile accompanied her fierce warning. “Kiss me again, Stephen.” She ran her hands up his arms, liking the way his tense muscles jumped at her touch. “Please.”

He groaned and granted her request, his body warm and hard against hers. She inhaled the fragrance that surrounded him: night air and smoke, rich with the deep, mysterious spice that belonged to him alone.

When his hand stroked her breast through her shift, she gasped. This was what she wanted, this man, this night. She tugged at his tunic. He slid it over his head while she went to work on the ties of his shirt. When they loosened, she slipped her hands into the opening and flattened them against his chest.

She smoothed her fingers through the soft, springy dark curls, across the expanse of his muscled chest, to his flat nipples. They puckered, hardened. He grunted. She smiled.

Wrapping his shirt around her hand, she tugged. “I want this off.”

“Not wise to do.” He lowered himself, brushed his lips down her throat to the pulse at its base, tongued it, then blew gently.

A throb answered from between her thighs. She arched her hips.

“That is certainly not a wise thing to do.”

She rubbed her lower body against his, until he sat back on his knees and grasped her hips. With his face in shadows, she couldn’t read his expression, but his rough breath showed he wasn’t as controlled as he’d like her to think. The thickening ridge pushing against his braies proved it.

Reaching forward, she curled her hand around him.

“Stop Evie. I have only so much self-control right now, and it wears thinner each time you touch me.”

His tone had deepened, roughened, and it sent a thrill through her. “Twice you have given me pleasure. Show me how to please you.”

A groan wrenched from his throat. “If you please me any more, you’ll kill me.”

“Ummm. You didn’t answer. I see I must experiment.” With a few quick movements, she untied his braies and dipped a hand inside.

Her breath hissed when she touched his cock. It throbbed in her fingers, alive, eager. She mapped its territory: thick, long, incredible softness covering impossible hardness. Just holding him created answering responses in her body.

Some of the sensations were familiar from their earlier times together, but wilder, more intense. Inspiring her. She released him and rose to her knees.

“I want to see you, Stephen. Lie down. Please.” Before the words were out, she was stripping off the shirt. The maneuver needed his cooperation, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure he’d grant it. After a pause, he ducked his head and stretched his arms forward.

Once she’d accomplished that, she yanked at the waist of his braies. Before she could budge them, he stopped her.

“We can’t do this. As much as I want to hold you, there’s a limit to what I can stand. If we continue the game, I’m not certain I can stop. I desire you too much.”