His Fair Lady (16 page)

With the signal of his gloved hand, Sir
Royce relieved the guards, then continued toward her with brisk,
purposeful strides. Time itself seemed to press upon him.
Unhappily, Ana realized her days in France were at an end.

“Hannibal is safely boarded. ‘Tis time we do
the same,” Sir Royce informed, halting before her. “Here, you will
have need of this for our crossing. ‘Tis made of double-thick wool,
fur-lined, and will keep you warm.”

Without pause, Sir Royce caught the mantle
off his arm and, in one fluid movement, enveloped Ana in its folds.
The gesture startled Ana, jolting her back in time, back to that
long ago night in Vaux.

The knight’s movements struck her as
identical to those her squire had employed on discovering her
beneath the boat. At the time, seeing she wore no more than simple
toweling, the squire had swiftly removed his mantle and enwrapped
her with it, as the knight had done just now. But ‘twas more than
the act of drawing the mantle around her, but the motions
themselves, that she found so similar — the way both the knight and
the squire had achieved the task. They’d leaned forward, just so,
their heads slightly tilted, as they brought the mantle about her
with a distinctive flick of the wrists.

Apprehension purled through Ana, her
feelings jumbled, anxious, conflicted. ‘Twas but an illusion, she
chided herself. There were no similarities between the two. How
dare the knight remind her of her squire — one so noble, so caring,
so wholly unlike this despoiler of cities.

Ana drew back a pace from Sir Royce. “I’ve
told you before, I want none of your gifts.”

Surprise appeared in the knight’s eyes, then
turned to a look of annoyance. “Nonetheless, you may find yourself
in sharp need of the mantle once we are upon the open water and
grateful to have it. The cold is far more bitter and more
penetrating upon the sea than on land.”

Ana resisted his argument, not wishing to
agree with him on any matter. Yet a small voice of reason prodded,
reminding if she hoped ever to see her loved ones again, she’d need
to survive the crossing. ‘Twould be foolish to freeze to death out
of stubbornness and ‘twould serve no purpose. Then too, the mantle
was exceedingly warm, she quickly discovered. ‘Twas weighty, yet
soft, and possessed a deep hood that would further shield her from
the elements.

“Very well, Sir Knight.” She drew herself
up, staring at him squarely. “I will accept the mantle and make use
of it for now. But only for now.”

»«

Royce watched as Juliana turned to
look out over the Channel, catching up the silver cross from where
it hung suspended over her heart. Just then, the air filled with
the shrill calls of a great host of lapwings. Together, he and the
maid witnessed the spectacular passage of the birds
overhead.
Certes
, they must
number in the thousands, he thought amazed. ‘Twas the time of the
annual migrations, ever a stunning sight along this portion of the
coast, as it was across the Channel at Dover.

Disappointingly, Juliana displayed no
reaction to the spectacle, but appeared immune to the sight. So
many wonders surrounded her, yet she refused to enjoy a single one.
She continued to cling to all she’d left behind, her heart sternly
closed, open to nothing. Yet, he couldn’t fault her. ‘Twas a hard
thing to lose one’s family. That, he knew first hand. But Juliana
had lost her loved ones twice. There was also the matter of the
hulking cooper, for whom she obviously cared.

Royce shoved aside his last thought, finding
it unpalatable, and cleared his throat. “We need be away, my
lady.”

Juliana gave a small nod of understanding,
fingering the silver cross as she did. But just as she began to
take a step she halted, going suddenly stiff. Her brows drew
together as her gaze dropped to the holy object in her hand.
Slowly, she lifted her eyes to his.

“How did you know I possessed this
cross?”

The question took Royce aback. He reached
through his memories of the past week, striving to recall the words
they’d exchanged upon the steps of St. Maurice, and how he’d cited
the cross as proof of the maid’s identity. ‘Twas time he disclosed
all to Juliana, of how their paths had touched years past, of his
full identity. On the other hand, he was unable to read her current
mood. They had a long journey before them aboard ship, and he had
no wish to spawn new troubles with the maid.

“As I believe I explained, Lord Gilbert
searched long for his granddaughter and was able to learn much of
Vaux, the squire, the cross—”

“But how did
you
know of the engraving on the back of the
cross? Lord Gilbert couldn’t have learned of it. Not even my foster
parents noticed the inscription till after we’d
moved
from Vincelles. They cannot read, but long assumed it to be a
prayer. Yet, you claim it to be the knight’s oath? How did you
know?” She narrowed her eyes. “Or did you simply make that
up?”

The accusation irked Royce, but he refused
to let the maid draw him out. “‘Tis not unusual for a knight to
inscribe his sacred oath upon the cross he wears.”

“Then you didn’t know for sure,” she
charged, cutting short his next words. “You only guessed it bore
the oath, and no one challenged you or thought to read it for
themselves.”

“Few could, I imagine.”

“Pere Armand could, yet he did not. Why, the
inscription might be a prayer after all, or something different
entirely than the knight’s oath. You said the cross belonged to the
squire’s father. Was that a guess, too?”

Royce started to respond, but Juliana
slashed her hand angrily through the air. “You deceived me! You
deceived everyone at the church. You don’t know if I’m this heiress
or not. And yet you forced me to go with you. You abducted me — on
my wedding day — just so you could be done with your quest.”

Royce’s temper spiked. The maid had
assaulted his honor. “The cross
does
bear the oath, exactly as I gave it,” he
said between his teeth. “There are at least two scholars traveling
in our company. Either one of them can read the inscription for
you, if you care to consult them.”

The maid looked poised to further argue the
point. His forbearance at an end, Royce decided to clear his
conscience and disclose all. “Lady Juliana, there is something
about the night in Vaux I must — “

“I am not Juliana!” she screamed, her
emerald eyes blazing. “And there is nothing,
nothing
, you have to say that I wish to hear.
Not today, not tomorrow, not ever! You have ruined my
life!”

The maid spun in place, gripping the
battlement to steady herself.

Her words struck Royce at his core.
Twice now he’d altered the course of Juliana’s life — first, by
mistakenly placing her in the care of commoners, denying her her
rightful place amongst the nobility and robbing her of
pre
cious years with her sole living relative, her
grandfather, Lord Gilbert. Now, he deprived her of the only family
she’d known during the last decade, the only one she could
remember.

He
had
ruined Juliana’s life. For that, he felt himself a miserable
wretch and equally torn. The angelic child, Ana, had inspired him
to prevail over his own weaknesses and to become the man, the
knight, he had become. He’d won his spurs and committed himself not
only to the service of God, but to the weak and powerless, pursuing
worthy and valorous deeds. He’d spent additional years in the East,
believing himself useful to those in need of him there. Indeed,
he’d become that noble defender for all the little Anas who had no
one to protect them. But now, the source of his inspiration, Ana
herself, despised him fully as he sought only to right things in
her behalf.

Royce clamped his jaw tight. Very well,
then. He deserved her wrath. ‘Twas just recompense, he deemed, for
he’d caused the maid untold distress. He would honor her wish and
not attempt to explain aught or to speak of the past. ‘Twould make
no difference anyway. Juliana was who she was, an heiress of noble
blood. No doubt, she’d loathe him forever for taking her away from
her sainted cooper. Yet, such a marriage would never be allowed by
her guardian.

He would do his duty by the maid, Royce told
himself. He would see her to court and to Lord Gilbert’s keeping.
Then he would give himself to matters concerning his own future. He
would take possession of the lands and castle granted him by the
Lionheart and set about establishing the House of Warrene.

»«

Ana wished to cry, but she refused to shed a
single tear in the knight’s presence. She had no wish to be
perceived as weak or defeated, or that her spirit had been in any
way conquered, for it had not.

Ana closed her fingers around the cross, its
silver metal cool to her touch. A thought suddenly unfolded in her
mind and she dropped her gaze to the piece. Perhaps her valiant
squire yet lived, returned from the Crusade. She’d long hoped he
would find his way to Chinon, but he had not.

Still, if he’d survived the infidels, she
might find him in England. And if she did, then mayhap he would
take pity on her and come gallantly to her aid once more and save
her from her awful plight. Truly, there was no one else to help
her.

If only she knew the squire’s name. But that
lack would not deter her. She would seek him, or news of him, among
those at Court. Perhaps someone knew of the company of knights that
had stopped at Vaux and aided its people.

Ana tried to conjure the squire’s image.
She’d seen him in naught but moonlight and torchfire and at the
breaking of dawn. She remembered his hair as being similar in color
to the knight’s, only darker and without his sun-washed streaks.
The squire’s eye color was perhaps more blue, but she couldn’t be
certain.

What might he look like now as a grown man?
She recalled him as standing to the other knights’ shoulders and,
therefore, not overly tall. He’d been slender in build, though when
she’d clung to him, she’d discovered him to be rock hard beneath
his garments and his arms like bands of iron as they offered her
solid, comforting shelter.

Ana glanced out a final time over the water,
feeling life itself closing in upon her. She drew into the warmth
of the mantle, knowing she had no choice but to brace herself and
meet her fate straight on.

“‘
Tis time,” the knight said simply,
bidding her to come away.

Ana turned and, head held high, accompanied
Sir Royce from the fortress.

“
In this world of change

naught which comes stays,

and naught which goes is lost.”

—
Madame Swetchine

Dover Castle, England

The sound of soft, feminine humming stirred
Ana slowly from the depths of sleep.

As she dragged herself toward consciousness,
she felt a delicious warmth surrounding her. Ana sank into that
warmth, her last memories being of the bone-chilling cold of the
sea and huddling in vain over a small brazier. Wherever she was
now, she didn’t care. She was warm and comfortable and she could
feel her toes once more.

Again the humming played at her ears. Ana
levered open an eyelid and saw that she was in a small chamber. Its
rough stone walls and high-planked ceiling reminded her much of her
lodgings in the fortress of Boulogne.

Ana blinked open both eyes and glanced
toward the source of the sound, only to discover a round, wimpled
woman bustling back and forth before the hearth. She wore garments
of good-quality cloth. Still, she appeared to be a servant for she
was preparing a bath for someone.

Ana watched as the woman emptied a bucket of
steaming water into a wooden tub positioned before the fire. This
done, she next set about strewing dried petals and herbs over the
water’s surface.

With a start, Ana realized the bath must be
intended for her for no one else was present in the room. Smiling
at that, she started to lift herself to a sitting position, but at
once, her stomach lurched and the room began to shift. Groaning,
Ana dropped back onto her pillow, drawing the woman’s
attention.

“Ah, my lady, good morrow. I was about to
awaken you. Your bath water is . . . My lady? Are you not feeling
well?” she chattered in thickly accented French.

Ana took a long, dry swallow. “I can still
feel the rhythm of the waves beneath me. ‘Tis as though I never
left the ship.”

The woman wagged her head sympathetically.
“Poor dear, you suffer the sea-complaints, do you? Get that way
myself, every time I put a foot in a boat. Needn’t even leave
shore. You just rest there, and I’ll finish readying your
bath.”

She started to step away then stopped and
turned back, crossing her hands over her generous, aproned middle.
“Almost forgot. My name is Mildred, and your gentleman has engaged
my services to see to your needs whilst you’re here.”

Ana strained to follow the maid’s words, for
in addition to her heavy accent, she spoke swiftly. Meanwhile,
Mildred crossed to the tub, tested the water with an elbow, then
set out snowy towels and a bar of soap. Ana wasn’t sure she felt up
to the woman’s unbounded energy and buoyant good cheer. For the
moment, she lay perfectly still, gazing up at the ceiling beams and
trying not to move. But questions crowded in. Ana glanced slowly
about the chamber, trying to remember how she got here.

“Where is this exactly? Did we land in
Dover?”

“Aye, my lady. And this is Dover Castle.”
Mildred smiled. “You were sleeping like a babe when your ship
docked. Your fine knight arrived with you in his arms at the castle
gate. Fast asleep you were. He didn’t walk all the way from the
shore, of course. Rode that black beast of his.”