The Loyal Heart (13 page)

“My lord.” Crispin nodded and turned to leave.

He walked until he was out in the hall with the door closed then darted to his own room at the far end of the hall. He crossed the bare room in two steps and plunged his hand into the half-empty pitcher of water on the table under the room’s single small window, sighing with relief and revulsion. He withdrew his hand and shook the water off, drying it with a towel folded on the table.

If he could have Aubrey he would in a heartbeat. He glanced to his bed, the image in his mind of her lithe, naked body sprawled across his coverlet making him hard.

He cleared his throat and threw the towel on the table, leaning against the wall. As if she ever would. It had been so long since he had bedded anyone that he couldn’t control his body or his thoughts anymore. A deliberate manipulation on Buxton’s part to keep him in line and hungry for violence. He pummeled the wall with his fist and stood straight, breathing deeply until he was composed. At least Aubrey had come to the castle. That was something to be thankful for.

He was halfway across the room to the door before hesitating and returning to the table to wash his face. He took up his brush and ran it through his hair, feeling like a complete idiot, before discarding the whole toilet and walking with doubled energy out into the hall.

Aubrey had been given a room in the castle’s other tower and he had to walk all the way down one flight of stairs, across the main hall, up a second flight before reaching her room. The journey left him flushed and out of breath. He cleared his throat and stood straighter before knocking on her door. He waited, listening to silence, then knocked again. There was no answer. A busy servant missed a step as she passed him waiting and rushed off with concealing a grin.

Crispin sighed. What was he thinking? He scowled and slammed his fist on the door before storming back along the hall and the long staircase. He had wanted Aubrey at the castle so that he could protect her, not so he could turn into a slack-jawed git. She hadn’t been there a full day and he already had servants laughing at him. He was a fool for inviting her, a fool for hoping she had come to be closer to him.

By the time he reached the main floor his face wore a scowl so dark that people jumped out of his way as he walked. He was a fool to hope. The most affection he would ever see would be from Buxton.

When he turned the corner into the castle’s main hallway, eyes full of fire and head full of steam, he ran smack into Aubrey as she came the other direction. She was followed by the two sisters and their ginger-bearded manservant. The impact would have knocked Aubrey off her feet if he hadn’t caught her. She was too stunned to react at first and rested her weight against him.

“Crispin!” she gasped. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest and glared at her with all of the anger and annoyance he felt for himself. Her face melted from shock to indignation. “What’s wrong with you?”

Crispin felt her body pressed against his, felt his blood rush to his groin. He wanted to tell her about the frustration of his position, the indignity of Buxton, and the boiling emotions that wouldn’t let him rest. He wanted to hold her tighter and slide his hands along her curves, feel her mouth against his.

He blinked and let out the breath he’d been holding as he set her on her feet. “Lady Aubrey.” He nodded and rushed on, eager to be anywhere else but the castle.

Aubrey blinked as she watched Crispin flee.

“Oy! What’s got into him?” Jack whispered from under the hood of his disguise.

“I have no idea.” Aubrey shook her head and continued to stare. For a moment she’d thought he was going to tell her something. For a moment she’d thought he was going to kiss her.

She swallowed the idea. Crispin wasn’t the one she wanted kissing her, Ethan was.

Ethan. He was furious with her for coming to the castle. Their parting hadn’t been what she dreamed it would be. Emotional, yes, but not in the good way.

“Come on,” she shook herself and continued leading the small party along the hall.

The chapel was deserted. Aubrey doubted it was used with Buxton in residence. The altar stood at the far end of the room underneath a modest stained-glass window, the Madonna and Child statue resting on its pedestal behind it. Aubrey lead them up to a long cushion in front of the chancel, genuflected, and knelt as if praying. The sisters did the same, muttering an actual prayer. Jack glanced at Madeline to see what she was doing and attempted to do the same. The four of them knelt in silence for several minutes, Aubrey and Jack glancing at the two praying women between them and at each other.

Finally Sister Bernadette glanced up at the statue, crossed herself, and said in her tranquil tone, “That is our treasure.”

Aubrey grinned and glanced to Jack who wore the same expression of excitement. “Treasure, eh?” He took a closer look at the work of art. “Looks like a lady with a baby to me.”

Madeline tried in vain not to giggle. Sister Bernadette hummed, “You do not know what you are looking at.”

“Yeah, I do.” He lost his grin and lowered his voice. “I’m looking at a bloody big hunk of wood.”

Aubrey reassessed the statue. It was imposing. She remembered the damage it had done to Crispin when he and two others moved it. She frowned. “I think we have a problem.” Sister Bernadette turned her head to raise an eyebrow at her while Madeline leaned forward and blinked. “Well, you intend to take it back to Coventry, right?”

“That is correct,” Sister Bernadette nodded.

“What are you going to do if Buxton won’t give it back?”

“If he will not willingly part with it we shall have to take it by force.”

“Oy, I was afraid she’d say that.” Jack drooped.

Aubrey frowned at the statue, the new thorn in her side. “So. Do you want to try asking Buxton to give her back or do we just assume that we’ll be taking her by force?”

Silence. Aubrey wondered if anyone had heard her. She glanced to Sister Bernadette but the woman’s expression betrayed nothing. It wasn’t until she was ready to ask the question again that the sister replied, “One should always ask nicely first … but prepare for an answer that is not acceptable.”

“Right,” Jack muttered. He glanced to Madeline and winked. Madeline’s mouth twitched before she could school her expression into reverence.

“When do you want to confront Buxton?” Aubrey itched to get right to the part where they figured out how to sneak a bulky three-foot wooden statue out of a heavily guarded castle without being caught.

Sister Bernadette surprised her by saying, “Buxton will come to us.”

Aubrey blinked, not sure that she had heard correctly. Her plan had been more along the lines of marching up to his room in the tower and demanding an audience with him. “Are you sure?”

Sister Bernadette bowed her head in prayer. Aubrey sighed and crossed herself before standing. Jack jumped to his feet and waved a hand randomly over his face. Madeline began to move but Sister Bernadette took her arm and held her in place. “We will stay here and perform our devotions, Sister Mary Peter.”

Madeline sighed and shot a longing glance to Jack. Aubrey waited for more to be said and when it wasn’t she nodded for Jack to follow her out to the hall. Once they had turned the corner and passed into the cloister she turned to him. “What do you think?”

“I think Sister MP shouldn’t be a nun.”

Aubrey rolled her eyes. “You and your nuns. No, I mean about the statue.”

Jack pulled at the collar of his rough cloak. “From what I’ve heard it’s a waste of time talkin’ to Buxton.”

“I agree. We should just go ahead and take it back, sooner rather than later.”

“I hate to break it to you, but we’re never gonna be able to just pick it up, toss it in a sack, and carry it to Coventry without so much fuss.”

“No we will not.” Aubrey bit her lip.

Jack stroked his goatee. “We’d better go tell Ethan.”

Aubrey raised her eyebrows in surprise. “What’s this I hear? Is this a bit of loyalty for your leader?”

“He’s never my leader,” Jack corrected her with a sharp scowl.

“Sure.” Aubrey walked past him with a wink.

“He’s not!” Jack protested, catching up with her as they strode out into the courtyard and away from the castle.

Aubrey and Jack wound their way through the streets of Derby to a modest inn off the beaten path called The Fox’s Den. It was clean and sturdy, but being so far from the main thoroughfare of the city it served as a retreat for those who didn’t want to be seen or couldn’t afford to be. Ethan was a little of both. Aubrey wasn’t surprised to find him, Toby, and Tom biding their time waiting for their report at a table laden with half-empty mugs in a shady corner.

As she and Jack told their story Aubrey stared at the mugs, frustrated with men and their drink. Once again she had been the one to go out on a limb while the men lay around. They had probably swapped stories about the size of their swords while they were at it. Worst of all, Ethan hadn’t seemed at all impressed with her plans for recovering the statue. The only time he rewarded her with one of his charming grins was when the barmaid plunked a mug of ale in front of her.

“Will you stop looking at me like I’m a child with a toy sword?” she exploded, sloshing ale as she shoved the mug across the table to him. “I’m trying to come up with a plan to steal this statue and you’re no help.” He opened his mouth to retort but she went on. “Now I saw two men lift it before, but they were-”

“Aubrey, I don’t have time to help the nuns steal their statue.”

His words made her stop mid-thought. “What?” she snapped and was echoed with equal ferocity by Jack’s “Oy!”

He shrugged, scratching an old stain on the table. “I’m going to Matlock.”

“What?” she repeated, voice rising an octave.

“Lord Stephen of Matlock is one of the strongest men in the shire,” he continued, eyes blazing with purpose. “If I can win him to my side then I can regain Windale in weeks, maybe even days.”

Aubrey blinked. “You’re going to leave your friends hanging to go lick some noble’s boots?”

Ethan bristled. “Aubrey, you don’t understand-”

“Oh, I understand.” She stood and pushed her chair back so quickly it fell over with a clatter. “I understand that once again I am the only one willing to stand up and do something. I understand that you … you
men
can’t think of anything but your own comfort. You expect me to run things single-handedly while you go off and stroke your vanity, and when you come home you’ll expect me to give it all back again as if I was never capable of handling anything important in the first place!”

She stopped as the shocked faces around the table brought home the meat of her outburst. Only Jack looked as though she had a point. The other three stared at their mugs, embarrassed by her show of emotion. Ethan flicked anxious eyes to her before clearing his throat. “Aubrey-”

“You know what? Never mind. You go do what you want to do.” She waved him off and turned to storm out of the inn.

She marched through the door and down the stairs into the courtyard, then turned and crossed her arms. She waited for him to come after her, waited for him to rush to apologize. He didn’t come.

She bit her lip and spun to storm back up to the castle. Damn him for making her embarrass herself like that.

By the time she stormed up a narrow alley deep in the city her temper had swollen to the point of tears. She froze in her tracks when she spotted Crispin crossing the street ahead. He saw her and stopped, face flushing with anger that matched her own. Good. She was in the mood for a fight.

“Aubrey, what are you doing out here?”

“I went for a walk.” She surged towards him, meeting him in the middle of the intersection with an urge to punch him.

“This is not a part of the city you should be wandering in.” His hands flexed at his sides and his eyes dropped to the heaving neckline of her kirtle.

“Well what are you doing here?” she challenged him, his intensity feeding hers.

“Scouting recruits for Buxton’s guard.”

She sent him a flat stare as she walked past him along the road to the castle. Her anger began to dissolve.

He chased after her and defended himself with, “He wants security tightened while the murderer remain uncaught.”

“And of course we must give Buxton everything he wants.”

She froze when she realized Crispin had stopped. When she turned around he was glaring at her with fire in his piercing blue eyes that made her want to melt into a puddle at his feet.

“I do
not
give Buxton everything he wants!”

She was in no mood to put up with his temper or her own weakness. “Yes, Crispin, you do.” She whipped away and marched on to the castle.

He was at her side in a heartbeat. They marched through the castle gate side-by-side. She could feel the fury dripping off of him in waves, knew he wanted to speak, to chastise her or defend himself or both, but he remained stiff and silent. Her own temper had coalesced into a hot, throbbing ball in her stomach.

“If you have something to say you might as well just say it.” She spun to him and snapped when they ducked into the cloister.