Timeless Tales of Honor (74 page)

Her gaze lingered on the room a moment longer, attempting to ascertain where Sister Repentia might have disappeared to. Just as she turned to quit the chamber, a slight figure dressed in yards of gray wool entered the room from the cellar, one arm laden with a basket of autumn fruits and the other holding her skirts so that she would not trip over their length.

"Sister," the abbess hissed. "You are expected."

Sister Repentia looked up from her basket as she came into the light. Pale green eyes gazed back at the mother abbess.

"I have been made aware, Mother," she said softly. "I was preparing refreshments."

The abbess stared at her a moment. It was obvious by her calm expression that she had not been informed of the arrival's identity and the older woman sighed again, her manner softening. Unaware of the impending news, Sister Repentia moved to the stone counter and began to prepare the food.

Behind her, the older nun's hesitant gaze lingered on the woolen-swathed head. There was simply no easy way to soften the blow.

"She’s here."

Sister Repentia placed an apple into a wooden bowl before turning her confused expression to the mother abbess. "I.... I do not understand.
Who
is here?"

The abbess moved toward her, slowly. Her manner gentled dramatically. "Arissa, my child. She’s come early."

Sister Repentia stared at the woman a moment, emotionlessly. After an eternal span of time in which she allowed the abbess' words to settle, her only reaction was to lick the lips that had suddenly begun to quiver.

"My.... Arissa has arrived from Lambourn?"

The abbess nodded, unwilling to be party to the emotions Sister Repentia was feeling. She would council, assist, and pray with her charges, but she was disinclined to experience the depths of the emotions that so often plagued them. For a woman whose natural sympathies were endless and deep, she had found it painful and exhausting.

Even though she had allowed herself to become far more involved with Sister Repentia than was her usual practice due to the woman's unusual circumstances, she realized she had to halt the progression at some point in time. With the addition of the dark-haired woman in the gallery, she was aware that the time for separation had come. Truthfully, there was nothing more she could do. Sister Repentia would have to face her daughter alone.

"She’s waiting for her refreshments," the abbess said quietly, turning for the door and away from the emotional turmoil that threatened to snare her. "You will greet her immediately, sister. Do you understand?"

Sister Repentia stared at the bowl of food before her, nodding after a moment. Even as she repeated the abbess’ words in her mind, over and over as if somehow afraid she had dreamt them, their meaning was still difficult to believe.

With shaking hands and a heart that screamed with joy, she fumbled with the apples before her. Although she had known this moment would eventually be upon her, still, she found herself emotionally unprepared for the reality of it.

Her baby had arrived.

A
rissa was
glad when the mother abbess left them alone; she had no desire to explain her tears to the old woman, for it would only serve to open the gateway for more explanations that would hardly be pleasant to a woman of the cloth. While Emma sat in brooding, perplexed silence over Gavan's unexpected display of chivalry, Arissa struggled with a complete unwant to have come to Whitby at all. She hated the place already.

But she was distracted from her ponderings by softly approaching footfalls. A small wooden bowl of apples and bread was placed upon the table and Arissa quickly wiped at her eyes, preparing to thank the provider of the sustenance; even if she did not want to be at the old abbey, she would not be rude.

Lifting her gaze, she found herself staring into eyes of the most amazing nature and the words of gratitude died in her throat.

Pale green eyes stared back.

"My name is Sister Repentia," the nun's voice was strangely tight, as faint as baby's breath. Arissa didn’t even notice the tremble to the woman’s hands. "Welcome to Whitby."

Arissa forgot all about her tears as she continued to stare at the woman, feeling an odd curiosity. The longer she gazed at the woman, the stronger the feeling became.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The nun’s response was a forced smile. But Arissa did not particularly notice; she was still staring into the woman's strangely familiar eyes.

"I hope your journey was uneventful, my lady," Sister Repentia sounded as if she were breathless. "'Tis a long trip from Lambourn."

Arissa listened to the woman's soft, beautiful voice. It occurred to her that the nun was vaguely familiar, as if an acquaintance of long past. But try as she might, Arissa could not remember where she had ever met the woman.

"Have.... have we met, sister?" Arissa asked, studying the woman closely as if to recollect what refused to come to mind. "You seem very familiar to me."

Look in the mirror, my darling Arissa, and see me within your lovely features
. The former Lady Ellyn Glendower de Worth gazed into an exact likeness of herself in days past, joy and sorrow such as she had never known threatening to destroy her composure

Her mind wandered back to those dark days when she had first been separated from her only child. Only the knowledge that someday her beloved daughter would join her at Whitby had provided Sister Repentia the strength to go on during those desolate years. Before she had been smuggled north to the abbey, Henry had made a promise; since it had been necessary to separate mother and child at birth, he had vowed that the two of them would spend the rest of their lives together when Arissa became of age, sequestered in an abbey far from the realities of England's politics. Even if Sister Repentia had missed the first eighteen years of Arissa's life, she would spend the rest of her years coming to know the young woman she had birthed. It had been Henry's vow.

"Sister?" Arissa's voice was faint, inquisitive. Torn from her thoughts, Sister Repentia struggled to focus on her daughter's question.

"I apologize, my lady," she labored to recover a measure of her composure, hoping her voice did not reflect her emotions. "You put forth a question to me?"

Arissa nodded, noting the woman's cheeks had pinkened slightly in the past few moments. "I asked if we have met before. You appear most familiar."

Sister Repentia shook her head, slowly. "Nay, my lady, you do not know me."

Arissa frowned, attempting to sort her memories. The odd, warm emotions that had swarmed her the moment Sister Repentia had introduced herself seemed to be fading and she shrugged. "Then I apologize if I am staring at you,” she said. “I thought we might have been introduced once before and that I knew you."

Sister Repentia smiled weakly, tears stinging her eyes as she held back the confession she so desperately wanted to release. She had shared this conversation with Arissa a thousand times in her mind, imagining her daughter's reaction when she revealed her true identity.

But now was not the time for such admissions. Certainly, with time, the opportunity would present itself and Sister Repentia looked forward to that moment. Until then, however, she had every intention of remaining by Arissa's side as she became accustomed to life in the abbey. The mother abbess had entrusted her with Arissa's introduction to Whitby, and she would gladly accept the duty.

With a deep breath for courage and strength, she turned from the young ladies to retrieve a cooling pitcher of wine and two wooden cups. As Arissa and Emma gingerly helped themselves to the bread and fruit, Sister Repentia poured the tangy liquid and listened to their insignificant chatter with more contentment than she ever thought possible. Hearing her daughter's voice for the very first time.

She was so involved listening to the sweet sounds of her only child that she failed to notice the wounded man in the corner as he shifted from the floor, rising unsteadily to a sitting position. Swathed in yards of dirty, stinking wool, he resembled a badly-wrapped corpse until some of the bindings fell away to reveal glistening pieces of mail beneath.

More bindings fell away as Sister Repentia remained focused on her two young charges, gradually becoming acquainted with her daughter and listening to the young woman's tale of their trip north. By the time Arissa's story reached the boundaries of Coventry, nearly half of the rotted wool had fallen away from the armored man in the corner.

Rising from the floor, the tall man retrieved his helm from the dilapidated satchel at his side and placed it on his head, leaving the visor raised. His eyes, glittering in the dim light, were full of malevolence as he silently congratulated himself on a plan well executed. There was a God, after all. His victim had finally arrived.

Turning toward the table occupied by two young women and a nun, his sinister smile flickered in the darkness.

"It's about time you made an appearance, you little bitch!"

Arissa and Emma shrieked at the sound of the voice, turning their attention to the armored man emerging from the shadows. Immediately, they instinctively bolted from their wooden chairs and stumbled away as the phantom stormed his way into the heart of the dimly-lit room.

Crashing into tables and stools in their haste to escape the advance, the two young women watched in horror as his sinister features met with the soft illumination of the gallery.

Tad de Rydal jabbed a gloved finger at Arissa. "I have come all the way to Yorkshire for you, wench,” he announced. “You are coming with me!"

Sister Repentia had been frozen with shock until the moment the evil knight made his target known. Seized with a fierce sense of protectiveness, she grabbed the pitcher containing the wine and hurled herself forward, smacking Tad on the side of his armored head. Caught off guard by the avenging nun, he lashed out and caught her in the chest, sending her crashing to the floor.

Horrified, Arissa and Emma screamed as Sister Repentia lay in an unconscious heap upon the cold stone. But Tad continued to move for Arissa, knocking aside tables and stools as he progressed. As Emma separated herself from Arissa and fled into the kitchens in search of help, Arissa made a mad dash for the entrance of the abbey.

She could scarcely believe Tad de Rydal had come for her. The last news of his well-being had not been favorable, wounded in an ambush, and she had assumed that he had met his death. But the man following her with determination was anything but dead; his face was pale and his movements slowed, but he remained powerful nonetheless.

Arissa raced down the small corridor leading to the massive oak door; beyond lay the North York Moors and Richmond. Around her, she could hear screams and shouts as the nuns cried alarm, but she was unconcerned with their panic as she dashed for the door. She was only concerned with her own terror and the fact that Tad was determined to do her great harm.

Her pace came to a panicked halt as she fumbled with the lock on the oak panel, heavy with age and size. The door was bolted and she struggled to dislodge the lock, acutely aware of Tad's approaching footfalls.

Time passed as she wrestled with the iron bolt. A shriek came to her lips as she heard his heavy boot falls behind her, closing in. She was trapped.

"Try to flee from me, will you?" he slapped her on the cheek, forcefully enough to bring a trickle of blood as her teeth carved into the soft tissue of her mouth. Grabbing her brutally, Tad forced his captive to meet his gaze.

He smiled devilishly, his gaze roving her beautiful features. "I am pleased to see that you have grown more beautiful since we last met," his breathing was harsh, his face pale with exertion. "So you are surprised to see me? Fortunately, your lover failed to complete his act of vengeance against me and it is my pleasure to be able to seek revenge against him by stealing what is most precious to him."

Arissa shook her head with disbelief and horror. "You cannot steal me, Tad. I belong to Whitby!"

His smile vanished, a malevolent gleam in his eye. "And I told your father that he was a fool for committing you to the church when a woman of your beauty should be savored and enjoyed. Something I would wager Richmond le Bec has already indulged in."

She struggled against his mighty grip in an attempt to break free. "You are mad!"

His grip tightened and he moved to pull her close, attempting to kiss her blood-streaked lips. But she spit at him, spraying his flesh with saliva and blood, and he hissed angrily.

"I shall teach you the meaning of madness, bitch,” he snarled. “Know that I have come from my death bed to capture you, to plan a diversion for le Bec while I waited for you in the abbey disguised as an injured traveler. I fooled the witless nuns into sheltering me so that I could lay in wait for you, knowing you had to make an appearance sooner or later with le Bec as your escort," he calmed strangely, gazing at her frightened beauty. "I mean to have you. All of you. I knew it from the moment I first lay eyes upon you."

"Is that what all this is about?
Having
me?" Arissa shook her head, bewildered and terrified. "You have violated an abbey, Tad. The wrath of the church shall come down upon you and your family, and there will be no protection from their anger!"

Tad's jaw ticked. "There will be no proof of my presence or my transgression. Especially after I burn the abbey to the ground and her occupants with her, there will be no witnesses left to identify me," keeping a firm grip on her arm, he jerked the iron bolt free of its lock. Casting a lingering glance to Arissa, he smiled wicked. "You shall enjoy me, love. I am quite good, I am told."

Her expression rippled with loathing. "I simply cannot believe that you would come all the way to Yorkshire simply to abduct me. You are supposed to be dead."

A flash of madness ignited in his sunken eyes. "Le Bec's men were off their mark, damaging my shoulder and nothing more. Even so, I was only able to arrive yesterday and pray that I was not too late," as if suddenly remembering his fury, his grip tightened and he yanked her against him harshly. "No more talk. You and I have a date with destiny."

She opened her mouth to protest as he jerked open the door, but what wait on the other side of the heavy oak panel did not surprise her.

Richmond's sword was raised in an offensive stance. Tad caught a glimpse of the glistening metal and was wise enough to surmise the situation. With lightning speed, he pulled Arissa in front of him to act as a human shield; thrusting her forward, he expected her to meet with le Bec's fatal downparry.

Richmond was a hair’s breadth away from striking Arissa but veered off at the last possible second. Off balance and filled with terror, he stumbled sideways as he narrowly avoided slicing her in two. Heaving with shock and horror, he raised his faceplate to her swollen, bleeding face.

"Dear God...," he gasped, swallowing the bile that threatened to erupt. "Kitten, are you badly injured?"

She shook her head, her pale green eyes filling with frightened tears. Richmond emitted a ragged sigh, struggling to return his focus to Tad. The moment he gazed at the man, he felt his loathing and determination return tenfold.

What had begun as a moderate game of abhorrence had transformed into something so malignant that he was not at all concerned with the repercussions his actions against the de Rydal heir might have. He did not care if Lambourn and Goring Hall remained embroiled in a bitter feud for all eternity as a result of his deed. He was going to kill the bastard and enjoy every minute of it.

Tad smiled thinly, stroking Arissa's arms in a seductive manner purely to enrage Richmond. "So you discovered my plot, le Bec? I am not surprised, although I expected you to be involved with the battle time enough to allow me to escape. But no matter; I shall be allowed to go on my way or the lady will meet with an ugly beating. Right before your eyes."

Richmond struggled to maintain his composure as Tad attempted to kiss the side of Arissa's head, only to be met by a slap. She squirmed and shrieked, trying to pull free, but he simply laughed and tightened his grip. "I shall wager she’s not so resistant to you, Sir Richmond. In time, I am sure she will show me the same eager response."

"You shall never leave this place alive," Richmond growled. "Release her and I shall end your life mercifully."

"I think not. Move aside or the lady will suffer."

Richmond took a deep breath, shifting on his thick legs. He seemed to be calming, refusing to look at Arissa lest his composure dissolve completely. As long as she was relatively unharmed, he could handle the negotiations with Tad without an overly emotional reaction. But the struggle to maintain his control was a constant, unnerving battle.

He had been shocked to realize the de Rydal heir had masterminded the ambush. He had been led to believe that the arrogant young knight had one foot in the grave, hence Ovid de Rydal's attack against Lambourn. Even though the man before him was pale and drawn, he was alive nonetheless and fully capable of executing an organized abduction.

Too weak to fight in the battle he had staged as a diversion from his true goal, Richmond had suspected early on that, somehow, he had unknowingly delivered Arissa into Tad's waiting arms.