A Knight to Remember (5 page)

“Robin…earl of Jagger?” His voice was hoarse with anguish and fury. “Are you taunting me?”

She stopped work and frowned at him. The raw distress in his voice echoed in her ears, and she fetched her bottle of tonic. It would, she thought, ease the rasp in his throat, but as she knelt beside him, she knew she lied to herself. He hadn’t reacted as she’d expected at all, and she wanted to know what he meant. “You’ve talked too much.” Pouring the putrid thick brown potion into a cup, she shoved it into his hand. “Do you need me to hold you while you drink?”

As offensively as possible, he said, “I need you to vow you’ll keep your silence until I am well away from here.”

She reared, stunned by his attack. “I’ve kept it this long! Do you think I would tell the nuns what I’ve done? That I’ve kept a man alive in the dispensary without their knowledge?” Her gaze raked him from head to toe. “And such a man. A
warrior
.”

“What’s wrong with a warrior?”

“My husband was a
warrior
. A great warrior. I can’t believe I’ve risked everything—shelter, food, a safe place to…” She inhaled and leaned close enough for her breath to touch his face. “I risked my security…for another
warrior
.”

He watched her warily, as if they were talking at cross-purposes and he were as confused as she. Picking his words with care, he said, “Robin, earl of Jagger, died last year in the service of Simon de Montfort.”

“Die? He didn’t die.” Her cheeks burned, and hot tears filled her eyes. “He was captured by the earl of Roxford, dragged through the streets like a common criminal, and executed.”

“As a traitor to the royal prince.”

She met his gaze boldly, but her hand crept to her heart. “’Tis a fate you might avoid.”

“Avoid?” He frowned. “You think
I’m
a traitor to the crown?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I am not!”

She’d heard that before, and she answered him with just as much conviction. “Aye, that’s what Robin said, too. He said he was no traitor, but a defender of the rights of the barons against the king’s tyranny.” Her mouth curled in contempt. “Prince Edward didn’t see it that way. Simon de Montfort captured the king last year, and he drags him around like a pawn in his dangerous game. He uses the king’s power to make decrees, and Prince Edward would do anything to free his father. So when the prince’s commander sent Robin to London, Robin hanged by his neck until he was dead. The prince confiscated all of Robin’s lands and wealth. And as a lesson to others who might rebel against him, the prince threw Robin’s wife and his children into the dirt to live or die as best they could.”

Hugh enunciated his
words as if Edlyn were hard of hearing. “I am not a rebel against the king.”

“Of course you’re not.” She smirked, just for the pleasure of aggravating him. “That’s why Wharton was frightened you would be discovered. That’s why you’re content to hide here until the other soldiers are gone.” She gave up on sarcasm and went right to the point. “You’re afraid Prince Edward’s troops will discover you and take you to be executed.” She took a quivering breath. “Like Robin.”

“That is not true.”

“Then why don’t you call for your companions? Why don’t you consent to go to the hospital where the nuns could care for you?”

“I can’t be seen lying helplessly. There are assassins—”

Who did he think he was? The commander of the royal troops? She covered her mouth to contain her laughter.

Solemn-faced, he studied her. “You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you? There’s no talking to you, is there?”

She shook her head nay.

“Very well. But Edlyn, countess of Jagger, you should be shy of judging all men by the same stick.”

He was sulking! The man she thought so impervious had his lips pressed tightly together, and Edlyn experienced a surge of triumph. All men were the same—little boys who demanded respect while failing to earn it. Treating him just as she would Parkin or Allyn, she drew him onto her knee and said, “Here. Drink this.”

His hand rose to push the mug away, then he paused. “Would you like to know the other reason why I refuse to go to your hospital?”

“If you wish to tell me,” she acquiesced gracefully.

“Because I always knew you were the only one who could cure me.”

He laid his hand over hers, pressing her palm into the smooth side of the horn cup. The calluses on his palm scraped her, and he rubbed his fingers in small circles over her skin.

His voice deepened with sincerity. “Even when death pressed close, I heard your voice talking and felt your strength flow into me.”

“Heard me?” She almost choked.

“That’s why I have been drinking vile things, wearing mashed weeds on my wound, eating pap, and hiding myself in a pile of rags whenever anyone comes close to the dispensary.” He brought her hand, and the cup, to his mouth and drank. “Because you tell me to.”

She wrinkled her nose. He’d heard her? Heard her? When?

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You look like you bit down on a bug.”

“I…” She scrambled for a likely excuse. “This tonic
does
stink.”

“It tastes worse.” He finished the cup and released her at last. Contemplative now, he asked, “You were thrown out of your holdings with nothing? You and your children?”

“Aye.” She wanted to move away, but she had to find out. “Did you understand my voice when you were close to death?”

“That’s not important.” He dismissed her question without curiosity. “How many children?”

“Two boys. And I think it’s important.”

“Do you?” She had caught his attention, and he stroked his chin. “How interesting.”

By the saints, she didn’t mean for him to think about it! “Probably not important.” She tried to smile. “Two sons, Parkin and Allyn. I didn’t know what to do when the prince’s troops came and put us onto the road with nothing but the clothes we wore.”

“The prince’s troops. Did they hurt you?”

“Rape me, you mean?” Unwillingly, she remembered that dreadful day. “Nay. The knight in charge had strict orders, and he followed them.” With scorn and haughtiness. “Throw me and anything that hinted of Robin’s possessions into the dirt.” She’d stood there among the pile of flags and tapestries marked with Robin’s crest and held the boys’ hands. “Prepare the castle for its new lord.”

“Who was that?”

“I have not heard the prince has awarded Jagger to anyone yet.”

“I know where he won’t award it,” Hugh said.

An odd thing to say. “Where?”

“To any of the lords who support de Montfort.” He suddenly seemed to taste the tonic. “Give me something to clear my tongue.”

She was glad to change the subject and helped him
back onto his pillow. Wrapping a strip of padding around the clay pot warming on the oven, she brought it to his side and lifted the lid. The scent of herbs wafted into the air, bearing more than a hint of…meat?

Suddenly alert, he lifted his head. “What’s that?”

“Broth,” she said, grinning. “Wharton snared a rabbit and cooked it in a stew.”

He craned his neck and stared into the pot. “Where’s the stew?”

She understood him perfectly. “You can’t have pieces of meat yet. Your stomach’s not ready.”

“Nonsense. I’m starving on that porridge you’ve been shoveling into me.”

“I’m lucky to get that for you.” She dipped the spoon in the broth. “Do you want this, or not?”

He wanted to argue.

He wanted to eat.

He ate.

As she fed him, she said, “’Tis a great sin, not sharing the food with which God has blessed us. The others in the abbey long for meat also. But I didn’t think I could claim
I
had snared the rabbit in the royal forest while out looking for herbs.”

“Couldn’t Wharton have explained
he
snared the rabbit?”

“They already eye him with suspicion. Not that we don’t get vagrants hanging about the abbey, but your Wharton has an unusually rough edge to him, and they see him only in the dawn and the twilight.” She liked the way Hugh ate, quickly, savoring each drop, yet determined to let every spoonful settle before taking another. “He’s protective of his identity.”

“Aye.” Hugh looked grim. “There are many who would recognize Wharton and betray him for twelve gold coins.”

That made her squirm yet again. She tried to keep faith in what she thought was best, as Lady Corliss had instructed, but were there those who would wreak havoc on the abbey for sheltering these two men? Had she brought disaster on them all?

In a voice that sounded amused, he asked, “Are you really so inept the nuns wouldn’t have believed you could trap a rabbit?”

“I am not inept at all! But taking a rabbit from the royal forest is poaching, and our abbess takes a dim view of such dishonesty,” she replied.

“You could tell her it died at your feet.”

“I can’t lie to Lady Corliss. She looks at me so calmly through those blue eyes and—” At the memory of that kind gaze and the disappointment a transgression brought, Edlyn shuddered. “Nay, I can’t. Anyway, I really wouldn’t know how to explain I needed an extra helping to bring to the dispensary.”

He nodded, understanding that. “So what happened to the rest of the rabbit?”

“Wharton and I ate it.” She waited for him to snarl at her for her selfishness.

Instead his gaze swept her. “Good. You look like you could use a meal.”

A jab of gloom surprised her. She remembered a time when Robin had spent a whole day just gazing at her naked body, stroking her, admiring her. Her body was the best he’d ever seen, he claimed, and her body had been the one chain she thought would keep him bound to her.

Silly woman that she had been. His boundless delight in her physical appearance had never faded, but nothing chained Robin. And now Hugh looked at her without interest and called her skinny.

It was stupid to care or to let Hugh’s consistent indif
ference dig at her. After all, what had the man done but ignore her childish infatuation and go on with his life?

Reaching into her bag, she brought out a crust of bread she’d saved from her own meal and dunked it into the broth, then transferred it to his open mouth.

“Mm.” He closed his eyes and sighed as if tasting paradise.

Then he opened them, and she knew he had focused on a new problem.

“How old are your sons?” he asked.

“They have both seen eight winters.”

“Twins?”

She gave the answer she always did. “Two boys as alike as you would ever see.”

“So rare that both children survived birth.”

She didn’t answer that.

“’Tis time they were fostered.” He spoke briskly.

She answered in a like tone. “They have been fostered. Our abbot from the adjoining monastery has taken them under his wing, and even now they travel on their first pilgrimage.”

“A pilgrimage?” His brows lowered, and he chewed the new sop of bread thoroughly before he replied. “An abbot? You have placed them with an abbot?”

His incredulity galled her. “Who else would you suggest?”

“For the earl of Jagger’s sons? They should be pages in a knight’s household.”

“They don’t want to be in a knight’s household.” She pointed the spoon at him for emphasis. “They want to be monks.”

“The earl of Jagger’s sons want to be monks?”

His voice hit a note she’d never heard him use before, and she answered defensively, “They do.”

“A waste! The earl of Jagger was one of the finest fighters I ever met. Why, he almost defeated me!”

He jumped and glanced at her sideways while animosity swept her. “At one of the tournaments he frequented, no doubt, while he left me at home to raise money for his battles and raise his sons for the future.”

He took the bowl from her and blotted the last of the broth out of it with the remaining bread. He handed her the bowl.

She clutched it tightly and urged herself to stand, to put distance between them, to ignore him as the shallow pig deserved to be ignored. Instead she remained as she was and said, “You give me advice on how to raise my sons, but how much do you care for their fate? They are
my
boys, kept by me and nurtured by me. To you they are only a whim to interest you as you lie there, and you are subject to whims which are nothing more than itches. You scratch them, you’re done, you forget. But if I allowed you to, you would twist my whole world around for those itches, and when you had scratched and forgotten, my world would still be askew.”

“I am not so capricious!”

“All men are capricious. They have the power, why shouldn’t they be?”

He took a breath and when he spoke, he used the voice of reason. “It is not capriciousness which makes me realize that any sons of the earl of Jagger will be fighters. I knew Robin, Lady Edlyn, in the prime of his life, and I felt the power of his blade. I saw how his men worshiped him and how the ladies…well.” He cleared his throat. “You say his sons want to be monks. Perhaps, but perhaps if shown a different path, they would find themselves more fitted to knighthood.”

“Robin
died
in the prime of his life.” Her heart almost stopped its beating as she remembered the lively, handsome, heroic man and realized he would never again walk this earth. “I want more than that for my sons.”

“But what do they want for themselves?”

“They are eight years old. They don’t know what they want.” She stood and placed the bowl in the bucket with her other dirty dishes. “Other parents set their children’s feet on the path which they must follow all their lives. Why do you think I’m less capable?”

“Perhaps your father could give you advice.”

He hadn’t answered the question, she noticed. “My father doesn’t even know where we are.”

“Why not?”

She opened the bag she had taken with her into the woods that morning and shook the plants and roots out on the table. “I haven’t sent him word—nor has he sent to ask. When I married the first time, I was one of five girls. My mother gave birth to two more after that, all to be married or placed in a nunnery, all to be given some kind of dowry. I helped purchase husbands for three of my sisters, as I was expected to do.” She sniffed the mandrake root, then continued calmly, “Nevertheless, I hazard my father would not welcome me back into his home, disgraced as I am.”

“A sad state of affairs,” Hugh rumbled.

“Not at all,” Edlyn answered. “You were born to a family as poor as mine. Would
your
parents welcome you home again?”

“Nay, but I’m a man grown!”

“Too true.” Had he detected her sarcasm? She doubted it. He was too much of a man to ever conceive a woman’s thoughts. She was a woman grown and as
accomplished as he in her endeavors. But they were not a man’s endeavors and therefore worth little.

It irked her, the way men plunged through life, assuming their way was the right way, secure in the world they had created especially to serve their own needs and wants. Women had to try to fit into that world, to understand their men’s thoughts and desires. If a woman failed, she was punished
by
her man. If a man failed, a woman was punished
with
her man.

“Perhaps Sir David would consent to give his opinion,” Hugh said.

He sounded more hesitant now. Maybe he was reading her after all. She could imagine the frown that puckered his forehead, the way the light hazel of his eyes deepened to green, the serious turn of his mouth.

She could imagine all that, and she cursed herself for that imagination. Why did she know him well enough to forecast his reactions? Oh, aye, she had spent hours as a girl studying him—his firm lips, wide with the promise of sensuality, the way his blond hair swept back from his face, how his eyebrows habitually lowered as he faced the challenges before him.

But she’d forgotten all that! It had been years ago. She did not, damn it, did
not
carry his image like an icon in her mind.

Which led her to another less than palatable thought. If she wasn’t remembering him, then she’d been observing him here in the dispensary. Observing him not as a patient, but as a man worthy of attention. She didn’t believe she’d been doing that. Yet here she was, prognosticating how he would act and react.

She hated this about herself. It was like thinking she had been cured of an infection only to find it lingered still in her veins.

“I hope you’re mumbling that I have a good idea.” Hugh didn’t sound as if he believed that.

Separating the trefoil, she stacked it into a pile and began plucking the crimson blossoms. “When I lived with Lady Alisoun, she and Sir David treated me with the greatest kindness. I have nothing but respect for their opinions, but I fear I am unable to apply to them for anything. It would not be acceptable to me.”