Wildewood Revenge (28 page)

Miles sat back in his seat and considered the girl before him.

“Belle, I don’t know why you misled the Lady Grace and put her at risk. It was a dangerous and wicked thing to do, to betray a member of your own household. You must be punished for your actions. If you were one of my men I would not hesitate to take a whip to your back or
put a knife to your throat. But you are not one of my men. You are a child who mistakenly believes she is a
women
. Your grandmother will no doubt find an appropriate punishment for you. You must grow up, Belle, and learn responsibility for your actions. Everything you do in life has consequences. Yesterday you nearly cost the life of an innocent woman...” He paused to let his words sink in. He trembled with emotion, Belle trembled with fear.

“But today you have shown courage and you may have saved the lives of us all. Think on that, Belle.”

The girl, who had been studying her feet, looked up then, relief evident in her soft gasp. She glanced at Grace who smiled and nodded.

“You may go to your grandmother now,” added Miles. She fled the hall gratefully and he let out the breath he had been holding.

“We have a chance,” he said to the assembled men. “Let us not waste it. Those who are not on first watch should get some sleep.” He turned to the Scot who was readying to leave. “Do you need anything from us?” The man shook his head. “Then will you pass my thanks to Alex, I am in his debt.”

“Nay son, we are in
yer
debt and will remain so as
lang
as Alex lives. If it
wisnae
for ye an’
yer
courage in
defendin
’ him
agin
the Saracen Horde then we
widnae
have a leader capable o’
leadin
’ us in the defence of
oor
lands against
yer
English barons.” He gave Miles a wry grin, “Of course
yer
English noblemen may
come
tae regret
yer
actions, but we Scots never shall.” He crossed to the door.” Tae ye and
yers
...”

“And you and yours,” answered Miles. Life continued to amaze him. He felt humbled. One life saved in the heat of the Palestinian sun and he had gained lifelong support from over the border. Although the border region had been fairly settled for some years now, with the exception of
the occasional rustling, who knew what would happen in the future? As he had tried to explain to Belle, every action had consequences.

The gathering dispersed, with the majority seeking comfort on the floor alongside the rest of their families. Miles wondered absently whether perhaps some of the outbuildings could be made weatherproof and adapted for the families. He knew too well the discomfort of sleeping on a cold stone floor and there was no privacy for those couples who did not choose to go straight to sleep. He would speak with John maybe a little work would keep everyone’s minds off the predicament they found themselves in. Now he had Mayflower’s money he could afford to pay them, which would go some way to recompensing them for the time spent away from their land.

He hoped they would soon be able to return to their homes, but until his feud with Gerard was settled, nothing was assured.

Chapter Thirty

“We need more than Mayflower,” Miles confided in Grace later. “We need more evidence to take to the king.”

Grace drew her bottom lip between her teeth, her face a study in concentration. She sat on the bed cross-legged, covers pulled up around her, a goblet of elderflower wine in her hand, courtesy of the Foresters. It was her second and almost finished. For someone who couldn’t take her drink, Miles reckoned she was certainly getting some practice. He paced back and forth across the room, with the flagon. As he gestured with his hands, he sloshed the wine, over the floor and the toes of his leather boots.

“Sit down. You’re making me dizzy just looking at you,” she demanded. He acquiesced, taking space at the bottom of the bed his booted feet on top of the covers. Grace looked pointedly at the boots and he moved his feet to the floor without comment.

“We need to put Edward in a position where he cannot fail to decide in
Wildewoods
favour. He’ll not want to stand up to such a powerful family unless it’s advantageous for him to do so. He relies upon the power of the de
Frouville’s
to keep his northern border patrolled and safe from Scottish attack.”

“Is it likely, he’ll do anything at all?” asked Grace. “How far back does his connection with the de
Frouville’s
go?”

“Generations; It was King Henry II who first instructed the de
Frouville’s
to build a castle at
Ahlborett
. To be fair they have managed the land well, and defended the border as instructed, Alex would no doubt vouch for that. The region has enjoyed an extended period of peace which is largely due to the de
Frouville’s
. The fact Gerard has
behaved like a prick since he was old enough to piss straight, is neither here nor there as long as he continues to protect the king’s border and doesn’t do anything to damage the king’s reputation. Edward will not allow Gerard to make a fool of him, but I doubt whether he’ll go so far as to hang him for murder.”

“And yet your mother was a de
Frouville
’ and so are you. Surely the king could act as arbitrator in what is essentially a family disagreement?”

Miles narrowed his eyes.

“I do not care to think of myself as a de
Frouville
’. I have never been a part of that family. They maltreated my mother when she most needed their support. They murdered her when she was at her happiest. And I know Gerard would see me dead.”

Grace hesitated. “What of your father?”

“I know nothing of my father,” Miles replied curtly. That subject was not for discussion.

“What else has Gerard done that might anger the king?” asked Grace.

“In addition to the murder of my mother?”

Grace winced. “Um...yes.”

Miles thought about it. In his opinion everything else seemed insignificant. “He imprisoned Walter de
Sweethope
. Edward was forced to intervene to get him released.”

Grace drained her goblet and clinging onto the covers with one hand, twisted around looking for the flagon. “Who is Walter de
Sweethope
?” she asked, leaning perilously over the side of the bed as she reached out blindly with her hand.

“A landowner, from some way west of here.
Kirkwhelpington
, I believe.” Miles cocked his head and watched as the covers slid away and she hovered closer to the point of no return.

“Why?”

“Why did Gerard imprison him, or why did Edward intervene?”

“Well, both I suppose.” She pulled herself back from the brink and ran her fingers through her hair.

“Not sure to both, I assume he pissed Gerard off for some reason, and I assume Gerard subsequently pissed Edward off. I don’t know the man,
Sweethope
, so I couldn’t really say.”

Grace studied Miles. “Do you know your swearing is increasing, rather alarmingly?” He raised a brow and opened his mouth to reply but she beat him to it. “I think you’re mixing with the wrong people,” she giggled and he returned a grin of his own.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, I wouldn’t care to be accused of corrupting you.”

“That’s better,” she said. “You look so much nicer when you smile.”

“There hasn’t been much to smile about recently,” he replied. His eyes trailed over her, “Apart from you of course.”

She crossed her legs again and rested her elbows on her knees, her chin pensively on her hands. “Okay, anything else?” She yawned softly.

Miles tipped his head back, closed his eyes and put his boots back on the bed. He needed to stretch out. His thoughts were beginning to wander and his concentration not helped by glimpses of flesh and white lace. His imagination took hold as he visualised her stretched out next to him. “There was the business of the missing treasure,” he muttered.

Grace leaned forward.
“Treasure?”

“Something Alex mentioned, Gerard was suspected of misappropriating some loot from the crusades. It was all supposed to come back to the king’s coffers and apparently Gerard’s didn’t. He claimed it was stolen.”

“Wasn’t that your excuse?”

“No, it wasn’t an excuse, it actually happened. Guy and his associates took it while I was otherwise engaged.”

Grace let that go with a smile. “But if no one knew what Gerard had in his possession in the first place then it would be hard to prove.”

Miles shrugged. It was late, his thoughts were already elsewhere.

“Do you remember what you had, before Guy took it?”

“Not everything.” It had been three years’ worth after all.
“A collection of gold and jewellery, merely what could be carried on the back of a horse.”

“Do you think Guy and Gerard might possibly have pooled their ill-gotten gains?”

Miles considered it. They were both self-centred men and he doubted they would have the capacity to share anything unless they had a specific plan and purpose. The fact they were now working together, led him to believe there was indeed a plan afoot. “You think if they have, Guy may have included the valuables he took from me and I might be able to identify them?”

“Possibly.”

“But we’d have to find it first.”

Grace’s face changed as something important finally dawned. Miles saw the excitement sparkle in her eyes. “I may just be able to help with that,” she cried excitedly.

“You’re telling me you know where Gerard has hidden the treasure?” he raised a sceptical brow. “I thought we’d already established you aren’t a witch.”

She glanced at him through lowered lashes, mischief lacing her words. “I think I do ... but who knows what powers I’ll need to unleash,
in order to be sure.”

He shook his head. “Don’t - not even in jest, Grace. There are people not so far from here who would hang you from the nearest bough simply because you’re … unusual. Don’t give them further cause. Anyway, how do you know?”

Grace scrambled out of her cocoon of covers and left her empty goblet at the side of the bed. She crawled up the bed to him on all fours, sat astride his out stretched legs in her underwear and shuffled up onto his knee.

“Careful,” he winced as she adjusted her position with a hand on his still tender abdomen. “We were talking about the treasure...I think.”

She kissed the end of his nose and he put his hands on her hips to keep her still. “How do you imagine you know where it is?”

“My grandfather told me.” She shivered delicately,
goosebumps
spreading over her bared flesh and reaching behind her she attempted to pull up the covers.

Miles shook his head. “You expect me to concentrate while you writhe half naked on my lap?”

“I’m testing your chivalry,” she replied with a grin, and continued to wriggle.

“And I’ve told you, chivalry is dead. Long live – lust, revenge and pleasure -” He dipped his head and caught her mouth with his.

“You underestimate yourself,” she said softly as she pushed him half-heartedly away.

He helped her to pull the covers around her shoulders, allowed his palms to linger on the soft skin at the nape of her neck. “You said your grandfather told you?”

“Yes. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, that’s why the
name de
Frouville
’ was familiar when we first met.” She leaned into him conspiratorially and hushed to a soft whisper. “Apparently one of the de
Frouville’s
hid his stash in the crypt below the chapel at Kirk
Knowe
, or so the story goes. It must have been Gerard; it’s too much of a coincidence.”

“And your grandfather, the gardener at Kirk
Knowe
, told you this - when?” asked Miles. Something didn’t add up. Her conflicting stories were beginning to overlap. His mind strayed back to spies and witches.

Grace shrugged. He couldn’t tell whether her cheeks pinked as a result of subterfuge or something else. She wriggled closer and he cast all thought of spies from his mind.

“But you haven’t seen it?” he croaked. She was doing things she shouldn’t and he should probably stop her, but his self-discipline was ebbing at a surprising rate.

“Well, no of course not. It was just a story, but where better to hide something you didn’t want found?”

Miles looked at her, weary scepticism creeping back into his expression.
“A story?
We need a little more substance than that.”

“But it makes sense doesn’t it.” She smiled her sweet smile and slid her hand beneath his shirt.