Twilight Magic (5 page)

Take me to bed. Become my lover.

She came close to blushing at the wayward bend of her thoughts. One day, he would become her lover, as fate decreed, but not in the next few minutes.

“We are supposed to leave court.”

“And go where?”

Earl William clamped a hand on Darian’s shoulder, startling them both.

“Go to Kent,” William told Darian. “You can stay at Hadone until we deem it safe for you to return.”

Darian’s mouth twisted in distaste. “Someone killed de Salis with my dagger and I need to find out who.” Then his shoulders sagged. “Hellfire. The king still has my dagger.”

William wagged a finger. “Let the murder be, for now. Already Henry is trying to convince Stephen that he made a mistake in believing Lady Emma. Neither of you should be in the city if Henry is successful. I will get your dagger back. Both of you gather your belongings and be prepared to leave within the hour.”

Then the mercenary captain smiled and bowed to her. “Felicitations on your marriage, Lady Emma.”

Stunned, Emma couldn’t think of a thing to say except, “My thanks.”

Chuckling, William headed back toward the royal chamber, leaving Emma alone in the antechamber with Darian.

“Kent!” he complained. “How am I supposed to catch a murderer if I am exiled to Kent?”

He wasn’t the only one who preferred not to go to Kent.

“I shall not be able to speak with the king about my sister from there, either. Sweet Jesu, how am I to explain to Nicole that I have failed her? What a mess!”

He raised an eyebrow. “You will remember who got us into this mess.”

She raised her chin. This unpleasant turn of events was
not
all her fault. “Perhaps next time you will keep better track of your belongings so you cannot be accused of murder!”

He leaned forward, so close she caught his musky scent. “Perhaps next time you will do me the favor of not meddling in my affairs. And just how did you know I have a scar under my ribs?”

Emma bit her bottom lip. She’d interfered and knew of his scar from a vision. She didn’t dare tell him how clearly she’d seen, and admired, more than his scar.

“I guessed. All men who wield weapons bear scars somewhere, and I doubted the bishop would force you to remove your clothing to prove it.”

“You guessed?”

“Had I told him you have a scar on your right thigh, would I have been correct?”

He backed away, his eyes widening in horrified disbelief. “Aye.”

“Then my guesses are not too off the mark, are they? If we are to leave within the hour, had we best not prepare? We shall need a cart for my trunks.”

Her change of subject brought a frown to his face. “How many trunks?”

“Two.”

“Must you take them both?”

“For certes, I cannot leave anything here. If I send for them later, I might not get anything back, maybe not even the trunks.”

“Should they not be safe in the queen’s solar?” “As safe as was your dagger in the barracks.”

Darian traversed the long, narrow room lined with pallets the mercenaries closest to William occupied as their barracks when at Westminster.

Marc, Philip, and Armand, all men he’d trusted, sat cross-legged on the plank floor at the end of the room, tossing dice. Had one of these men betrayed him? The very thought made him ill.

Damn, he wished he didn’t have to leave, but William had ordered him to go to Hadone, so go he would.

Where Emma de Leon required two trunks to hold her belongings, Darian needed but one leather satchel to contain all his worldly goods. He picked it up from where it sat on the pallet he’d been using, the same satchel from which someone had filched his dagger this morn.

He flipped it open to see if aught else had been disturbed.

He rummaged under a spare tunic to find a small pack containing his shaving knife and an ivory comb. A large, heavy sack of coins felt no lighter than before. ’Twas all he owned and aspired to nothing more. What a man owned could be taken away from him, as his father had been robbed of his family, property, and life. As Darian’s dagger had been taken this morning.

From behind him he could hear the other mercenaries approach.

“Heard rumors, Darian. What happened?” Marc asked. “Rumors already?”

“The men loading de Salis into a cart possessed loose tongues. Is it true?”

“What did you hear?”

“That the watch found your dagger near de Salis’s body, and Bishop Henry hauled both the corpse and dagger before the king and accused you of murder. That the woman who you were with last night came forward and the king was forcing you to marry her. Quite eventful for so early in the day.”

News traveled quickly at court, and Darian wasn’t sure which bothered him more, being unjustly accused of murder or being forced to marry Emma de Leon.

Married. Ye gods.

Surely Emma disliked being forced into marriage as much as he. Was it possible to have the vows declared illegal, obtain an annulment? A bright thought on a dreary morn. He’d have to speak to her about an annulment and would have plenty of time to do so in Kent.

He almost groaned aloud. He did
not
want to go to Kent. Unfortunately, William’s reasons were sound.

“I did not kill de Salis. Someone must have taken my dagger from my pack this morn. Did any of you see anyone rummage through my satchel?”

Philip shook his head. “I was not here. Thomas and I slept in the stables to watch over the horses. I came in but a few moments ago.”

“I heard you come in,” Marc said. “Once I realized who it was, I went back to sleep.”

Armand confessed, “I did as Marc—woke briefly, then went back to sleep. Are you sure you did not misplace your dagger?”

All mercenaries were light sleepers. Their profession demanded they be alert, even in the comparative safety of the barracks. Even in his sleep Darian knew which men came and went from the sound of their footsteps and didn’t doubt his fellow mercenaries possessed the same ability.

“I did not misplace it. I put my dagger in my satchel this morning before meeting with William. Someone took it out and then used it to kill de Salis—or at the least handed it over to Bishop Henry.”

That possibility gave Darian pause. Perhaps the dagger hadn’t been used to murder de Salis, only handed over to make it appear Darian had committed the murder.

Which would mean the bishop might be more involved than simply seeking justice for a murdered man who deserved no justice. But that made no sense. Why would Henry become involved in the murder of a man whom he’d staunchly objected to being assassinated the day before?

“No one enters the barracks except those who belong here,” Marc insisted; then his eyes narrowed. “Are you saying one of our own stole your dagger and killed de Salis?”

Darian still felt ill. Marc was right. No one entered the barracks except the men the earl considered his personal band among the many bands of mercenaries he commanded. These were the men to whom the earl gave special privileges and entrusted with challenging, sometimes perilous duties.

All men Darian had trusted—until today. One of them had to have stolen his dagger. “If not one of our own, then who?”

Philip puffed with indignation. “You are mistaken, Darian.”

“Am I? We all know when we each come and go. Were an outsider to enter the barracks, neither Marc nor Armand would so quickly fall back into slumber, would they?” Darian suddenly wished he’d paid better heed to which men had been on their pallets when he’d entered the barracks. In his haste he’d not noticed, nor had reason to notice. “Anyone who heard me enter could have waited until I left, taken my dagger, and walked out without question or suspicion.”

Marc rubbed his chin. “We would be alert to those entering but not going out, I grant you. But tell me why, Darian. We have all been together for an age, guarded each other’s backs. I know of no dissention among us, do you?”

Armand rocked back on his heels, grinning. “Well, there is that matter between Julian and Lyle over a sweet little doxy in Southwark. And if I remember aright, Perrin still owes Darian twenty pence from a wager over a—”

“Stop it!” Philip snapped. “Perrin would not steal Darian’s dagger. ’Twould only add to his debt. And irritation over a lost wager is not dissention.”

Marc nodded. “True. But if not one of us, then—” “
Not
one of us!” Philip insisted. “And I resent Darian’s accusation and demand he withdraw—”

“Enough!” William strode into their midst—and not a one of them had heard him coming. “Darian, out. The rest of you, I will speak with later.”

Philip flung a hand in the air. “My lord, you cannot truly believe one of us would betray Darian!”

“I am not sure what to believe, and until the puzzle is solved, everyone is suspect.”

Darian walked out of the now-silent barracks beside William and headed across the busy palace yard for the stables, both to fetch his horse and arrange for a cart to carry Lady Emma and her two trunks.

“I sent the stable boy to the kitchens for a packet of food for the journey,” William said. “When you get to Hadone, give my regards to Gar and Maura and pat the hounds on the head for me.”

William made the journey sound like a pleasure trip, not being forced into exile.

“I do not like this, William. ’Twould be best if I stay in London.”

“Your duty now is to remain out of the bishop’s reach and take care of Lady Emma. Get your horse while I arrange for a cart.”

Readying his horse didn’t take long. The stable boy showed up with a packet of food and the carter with his ox and cart. All was ready except for his tardy wife.

So where the devil was Lady Emma?

“A mercenary?” Julia de Vere exclaimed in horror. “Oh, Emma, had you told me you wished to take a lover I could have helped you choose from among several suitable men! How could you sink so low?”

Emma pulled her cloak from the trunk Julia had helped her pack, her ire rising at the one person at court whom she would miss.

“Earl William is also a mercenary. Would you be wroth with me had I taken him as a lover?”

“William comes from noble blood. Your new husband does not! Truly, Emma, you cannot think to go off to the wilds of Kent with a man you barely know. This Darian might be dangerous! Only think of how he might harm you.”

The harm was already done, and Emma didn’t worry for her physical well-being. Other concerns took the fore. Right now, she worried that if Darian were forced to wait too long, he might leave without her. The man was angry, and in her experience angry men lacked patience.

“The king ordered us to leave court, Julia. Go I must.” Emma managed a small smile. “You need have no concern for my well-being.”

Julia sighed. “You cannot be certain.”

Not certain, but hopeful. True, mercenaries were soldiers for hire, and such men could be unmerciful and violent. She had to trust that this particular mercenary could also be gentle and giving, as she’d sensed of him in her vision. Besides, he was under royal orders.

“Darian is also charged to ensure I am well cared for; so if I have a complaint, I have recourse.”

“But certes, you must be offended. The daughter of a baron should not be forced to marry a Flemish peasant. Were your parents still alive, the king would never dare such an insult. You do intend to have this situation put to rights, do you not? Many of the nobles will not like what has happened to you, even if you are in disgrace. Noble blood is noble blood, after all.”

During the past four months, no noble except Julia had noted Emma’s rank. “I have seen little evidence they respect my noble blood.”

“Still, should you apply for an annulment, they may rally behind you.”

Annulment? Was that possible? Perhaps. But on what grounds? Certes, they’d given their consent before a large crowd, presided over by the king and blessed by a bishop.

The vision had shown her she and Darian would become lovers, so they would consummate the marriage. An annulment might not be possible.

So did the vision mean they had been destined for more? Were they meant to be man and wife?

Emma’s ire over her visions rose once more. ’Twas useless to wish she knew if they were glimpses into a certain future or merely possibilities along life’s path.

Her musings ended when two large footmen entered the solar. She raised her hand until they saw her and began to move her way. All was ready to go, with only one thing left to do.

“Julia, might I ask a boon? In late summer I gave a petition to one of the chamberlain’s clerks. Would you do me the great favor of finding out if one of them still has it, and if it will be presented to the king anytime soon?”

“I can try. Where do I send a message?”

Emma had to think for a moment. “I believe the earl called the place Hadone.”

“That makes sense. Earl William builds a castle there.” Julia caught her up in a hug, which Emma gratefully returned. “Have a care.”

“Fare thee well.” Emma laughed so she wouldn’t cry. “By the by, I do not require you to sleep with a clerk. A simple inquiry into the petition’s whereabouts will do.”

Julia gave her a saucy smile. “Why bother with a clerk? Perhaps I will entice the chamberlain!”

Emma followed the footmen who carried her trunks, not at all sorry she was leaving Westminster Palace behind, her worst regret having miserably failed Nicole.

How was she to explain to a ten-year-old girl that she’d put a mercenary’s life above her sister’s—all because of a vision of a naked chest and a glorious smile.

And now she was headed for Kent, and the king would soon be on his way back to the siege at Wallingford, and only God knew when their paths might cross again.

Chapter Four

D
arian shifted in the saddle, envying the man who rode past him at swift pace. Were he alone, he could easily reach Hadone by nightfall. But he wasn’t alone, and the cart couldn’t go any faster than the ox’s stride allowed.

Nor could he banish the mist that wet his cloak and face. And no matter how much he hated leaving Westminster, he knew William was right about staying out of Bishop Henry’s reach for a time.