The Loyal Heart (22 page)

“Aubrey.” He whispered her name as a plea, a prayer, a curse. Rage warred with pain as he charged into the hallway. It couldn’t be.

He tore down the stairs, stumbling at one point and crashing against the wall only to ignore his bruises. He reached the main hall and sprinted across to the stairs leading up to the Short Tower. As he reached the hallway with her room he forced himself to be calm and breathe. Crusaders were returning every day. The Bandit could have bought or stolen the sword from one of them. Perhaps he had even fought himself. Aubrey couldn’t be the Bandit. His heart couldn’t take the betrayal.

He stood outside of her door for several painful moments, looking up to the ceiling and praying. He knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again, louder. “Aubrey!”

He hesitated for only a moment before turning the handle and pushing it open. She lay in bed, linens pulled up to her shoulders. Prickles of relief spilled over him and his stomach clenched in shame. He stood staring at her for a moment, watching the faint rise and fall of her chest under the bedclothes. Her face was flushed but beautiful. Her trunk was open and a few items of clothes spilled out. A robe and a couple of dresses were strewn across the bed as if she had been packing to move to Windale and had gone to bed in the middle of it. His hand shook as he pushed a damp lock of hair out of his face with the back of his bruised and sooty hand. Retreating into the hall he cursed himself for his suspicion.

Tom pressed himself flat to the floor under Aubrey’s bed, trying not to move or breathe. He waited until the sound of Crispin’s footsteps disappeared at the end of the hall. Then he slid out from under the bed and circled around to check Aubrey.

He pulled her clothes and robe off of the large bloodstain that had been left on the covers when he’d tucked her into bed. He’d managed to carry her to her room after she passed out and had done a rudimentary job of cleaning and stitching her gash with a sewing kit in the room. Patching Jack up after countless fights had taught him a thing or two, but he was no doctor. He pulled back the bedclothes to check his work, hoping that it would hold, then set to work finishing a bandage with pieces of sheets.

When he was sure that the wound was clean and would hold together, that the bandage was secure, and that she would at least make it through the night he tucked the covers back over her and went to sit in the chair by her cold fireplace. He would stay there all night, as long as he had to, to make sure she was safe and well.

Jack sighed and sagged in his saddle as his horse rose beside the cart that held Madeline, Sister Bernadette, and more treasure than he wanted to think about. Dawn was beginning to cast colors in the sky in front of them, washing Madeline’s sleeping face in hints of pinks and peaches. A wistful smile danced in his eyes. She and Sister Bernadette were riding in the back of the cart while Toby drove. Ethan rode his horse in sullen silence on the far side of the cart. He hadn’t been willing to fight to rescue them but he’d been more than happy to play the hero by borrowing a cart and escorting them.

Jack didn’t have room to resent Ethan. He had watched Madeline as she settled into her place, closed her eyes, dropped her head, and passed out from exhaustion. He considered it a great injustice that he had gone to so much trouble to rescue her only to let her go. He’d known a lot of women in his days but not one of them had ever made his heart flip in his chest like MP. It wasn’t bloody fair.

When they reached the spot where the road split to the east and north Jack wasn’t sure if he was relieved or miserable. Toby stopped the cart and he reined in his horse beside it, hopping down, every muscle in his body, particularly his heart, aching. He let the horse stand and went over to the side of the cart to wake Madeline.

“Oy, MP.” He reached over the side of the cart and rested a hand on her shoulder. His fingers brushed the side of her face. “Time to get up.”

Toby twisted in his seat and shook Sister Bernadette to wake her. Madeline was slower to let go of the peace she had found in dreams. Only when she realized Jack was shaking her did she blink herself awake and turn to stare drowsily up at him.

“Hello,” she smiled.

“Hi.” His chest tightened, his throat closed up. “We’re at the crossroads.”

“Oh.” She sat up and got her bearings. “I guess we are.”

“Let me help you.” Jack held out his arms as she pushed herself to her feet. She rested her hands on his shoulders and he held her around her slim waist and lifted her out of the cart. For a moment they stood half in each other’s arms, sad eyes locked. He glanced across the cart to Ethan, who deliberately turned his horse away, to Sister Bernadette who was being helped out of the carriage by Toby.

He pulled Madeline against him, stealing a kiss from her surprised, parted lips. She hesitated for only a moment before melting into his ardent embrace and kissing him back. He breathed her in, memorizing her soft scent, his face contorted in despair as his hungry mouth devoured hers. It was the most wonderful, painful kiss he had ever experienced and it ended too soon. Madeline pulled away, her face wet with tears.

“I’m not a nun because I want to be, Jack,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I was sent to the convent when I was ten. It was not my choice. My father has seven children, five girls. He couldn’t afford dowries for all of us and I’m the youngest so….” She shrugged and glanced down the road.

Toby cleared his throat and drew Jack’s attention. He separated from Madeline as Sister Bernadette turned to mount the seat of the cart. Then he glanced back to her. “Some of us don’t care a fig for dowries,” his voice was thick. He kept his hands to himself but bent close to her ear and whispered, “You were never a nun to me.”

She caught his hand as he moved to walk past her and squeezed it. He shut his eyes to block out the tear in his soul. When she let go and walked on to the front of the cart he felt something pressed in his hand. He took a few unsteady steps forward and glanced down, opening his hand to find her rose quartz rosary curled in his palm. It’s beads sparkled like teardrops in the moonlight.

“’Scuse me,” he grunted, walking past Ethan and towards the edge of the forest.

Nothing could have prepared him for the pain that tore at him with the sound of the cart lumbering on along the road as he made for the line of trees. He had prided himself on never giving his heart to a woman and was devastated that one had taken it in so little time. One he could never have. He refused to believe that God deserved her more than him. He closed his fist over the rosary and brought it to his lips to kiss it. Then he wound the beads around his wrist, tucking the crucifix against his skin to hold it in place. She had his heart, he had her soul. Someday he would have all of her.

When she first woke Aubrey wasn’t sure what had happened. The sunlight streaming in through her window was too bright for early morning. Her side burned like lightning. She groaned but as she tried to move gentle hands on her shoulders held her still.

“Easy, my lady.”

She blinked at the sight of Tom’s worry-clouded smile above her. “What happened?”

“You were injured.” He pulled his hands away and stood.

Aubrey closed her eyes and forced her thoughts to the night before. Memories of Crispin’s rage as he fought the Bandit, intending to kill, washed over her. She raised a trembling hand to her wound. “How bad is it?”

Tom shifted, his expression far from encouraging. “May I?” He peeled back the bedclothes.

She nodded, surprised to find that she was dressed in her nightgown. Tom hitched the hem up, covering her lower body with the edge of the coverlet, concentrating as he unwrapped her bandage. The wound had been stitched up but had bled some during the night.

“Not bad, my lady.”

She winced. “If you say so.” He set to work redressing the wound. The pain of his ministrations caused her head to swim. “Have you been here all night?”

“I have.”

She frowned. “Did the servant come this morning?”

“She did. I hid under your bed again.”

“Again?” Dread shot down her spine.

Tom’s eyes flickered to her. “Sir Crispin came to your room last night. He had your sword with him.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “What did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything. He was relieved that you were in bed, asleep.”

Aubrey didn’t want to think about the alternative. “You saved my life, Tom.”

He only smiled and continued to work. That was where the resemblance to his brother ended. Jack would have talked her blue.

She tried to distract herself by imagining the look on Jack’s face as he rescued Madeline. If he rescued Madeline. “Did Jack get Madeline and Sister Bernadette out?”

Tom finished tying her bandage before answering. “I don’t know.”

She swallowed and dragged the coverlet up to her neck, cursing her shaking hands.

Harder memories assaulted her. Ethan had abandoned her when she needed him most. He’d been angry with her for putting him at risk. As if she didn’t risk everything every day of her life. She raised a trembling hand to her forehead, wiping away the sweat and the threat of tears. If Jack had failed there was only one thing she could do to save her friends now.

“I’m getting married tomorrow.”

“You should not move from this bed for a week at least, my lady.”

It was sweet of him to show so much concern. “What other choice do I have?”

“Lord Ethan will save you like … like he planned.”

She shook her head. “No he won’t.”

A knock at the door stopped Tom from contradicting her. She widened her eyes as Tom flinched. Crispin’s voice called, “Aubrey.”

Tom dove for the floor and rolled under the bed. She didn’t have the energy to panic. “Come in.”

Crispin opened the door and stepped into the room. His vexed frown transformed into deep concern when he saw her still in bed. “Aubrey, are you ill?” He rushed to her bedside.

She nodded, trying to make her fuzzy mind work. “I don’t feel well.”

“What’s wrong?”

She fought not to blanch with pain as he sat on the side of the bed by her hips. “My stomach. Something I ate.”

“Do you have any idea what it was?”

Sweat beaded on her forehead. It was little relief that he was buying her story. “I feel better than I did last night at least.” White flecks flared at the corners of her vision as his weight jostled the bed.

He lifted a hand to stroke her forehead but hesitated. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

She shook her head, swimming through the pain to find a way of learning what she needed to know from him. “I just need to rest. I’ll be fine. Are Madeline and Sister Bernadette ready to go home?” Her arm shifted towards him under the covers and connected with his thigh.

He spent a long, silent moment staring at the lump of her hand touching him. His black hair tumbled across his forehead, hiding his eyes. She squeezed her own eyes shut to fight the fire in her side. He cleared his throat. “The servants are packing their things as we speak.”

She breathed out. They hadn’t made it. Her fate was sealed.

“Aubrey?” The tremor in Crispin’s deep voice made her writhe with guilt. “Do you think you’ll be well by tomorrow?”

She didn’t answer. There was no way to go but forward. She nodded against her pillow. “I just need rest.”

Crispin nodded and rose. He turned to go but didn’t move. She pried her eyes open and glanced up at him in question. He wavered, face pale, eyes tormented, then turned back to her and opened his mouth but shut it again. If she had had the strength she would have forced him to spill whatever she knew was eating at him. All she could do was close her eyes and pray he would leave before she passed out and he discovered her secret.

Several long seconds ticked by before she heard the sound of his footsteps pacing to the door and leaving. Tom crawled out from under the bed and lifted the coverlet to check her bandage.

“Tom?” she whimpered before blackness could envelope her.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything.” He crouched beside her bed and lay his hand over hers.

She drew in a deep breath. “Go find Ethan. Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I can’t spend my life waiting for him. Tell him I’m marrying Crispin.” Hot tears rolled down the side of her face.

“I….” His eyes implored her not to make him the messenger. She hiccupped with tears then winced at the pain the small jerk caused. Tom melted. “Alright, I will.”

She closed her eyes, spilling more tears across her swollen face. The cool touch of Tom’s lips on her forehead only made the weeping worse. It was the sweetest gesture anyone had ever made to her. She listened as he stood and left the room, then let herself fall into heavy, dreamless sleep.

By the time Tom rode into Morley he was exhausted and his nerves were frayed. He had never seen bravery of the kind Lady Aubrey possessed. Ethan was a noble and a man to be admired, but he had made a mistake by putting his personal agenda ahead of the woman who loved him. He cursed himself for not taking him aside and pointing out what was right in front of the man’s eyes. It was too late now.