Knight's Captive (10 page)

“We have a Protestant queen, milady. ‘
Tis dangerous to be anything but.
However, my mother was a
devout Catholic and she would not have stood by and watched this happen to
people of the same faith.”

“She would have been proud, no doubt,” Antonia
said softly.

A tiny boyish smile graced his face. “You’re the
daughter of the commander, are you not? I heard tell of you. They said Sir
Henry was entranced by your beauty.”

She dropped her head and stared at her fingers.
“I am not so sure about that.”

Entranced, no.
But he
was interested. And that thought made her stomach tumble over and over. She
twined her fingers together until her knuckles hurt from gripping them so
tightly. Silently, she uttered a prayer for his safety.

“I think they are right,” Richard said so
quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

Heat surged into her cheeks. She didn’t think
Henry had been enthralled by her. After all, he had first seen her in men’s
clothing and then soaked to the skin. None of which made her entrancing. She
could be beautiful in elegant gowns and with a maid to do her hair but in the
simple gowns she wore, she felt far from this exquisite creature who might win
over such a man. But then, even when she had worn expensive gowns and had spent
hours ensuring she looked perfect, she hadn’t been able to win over her husband
either.

“What shall—”

Antonia pressed a finger to her lips when she heard
a shuffle outside of the cave. She flattened herself against the rock and held
her breath. When Henry’s ruffled hair and handsome face made an appearance, she
let loose that breath and jumped swiftly to her feet to rush up to him and
latch her arms around him.

“
¡Dios mío!
, you could have been killed!”
She remembered herself and drew back when he gave
her an
awkward pat to her back. Her gaze fell onto a mark on the side of his face and
little blood on the corner of his lips. “You are hurt.”

“’Tis but a scratch.”

She reached up to use her sleeve to dab at his
lip and his blue gaze locked onto hers. It said,
don’t.
Don’t touch
me or you shall regret it.
Except she was beginning to
wonder if she really would regret it.

She ignored his warning look and pressed the
wool to the cut and murmured an apology when he winced. “What happened?”

“After a brief scuffle, all is well. Most of the
villagers had dispersed by the time I came back.”

“And none were hurt.”

“None.
It
seems Willis was behind the shots—a mere distraction ‘twas all.”

Antonia went onto tiptoes to try to dab away the
blood from his cheek, but she couldn’t quite reach and he ducked away from the
touch. “’Tis well enough, Antonia,” he said softly. “Are you well? Were you
frightened?”

“A little,” she admitted. “But only for you.”

He muttered a soft curse before twisting to view
Richard. “And you, lad? Are you harmed?”

“Nay.
Milady
here tended to me, thank you, Sir.”

Henry lifted one brow and gave Antonia a tilted
smile. “You are quite the nursemaid, it seems.” He offered her his hand to help
her down from the rocks. “
Come,
let us return to the
house. Richard, you shall come with me. I’ve a mind to put you to work in the
stables.”

“Is that a good idea?” Antonia asked. She was
already aware the priest was displeased with her remaining in Henry’s
home—would it anger people further if he also had a boy they considered a
traitor staying there too?

“Don’t question me, Antonia,” Henry snapped and
she jerked back. He grimaced and took her hand again. “Damnation. I only mean,
I will not let him come to harm. I could never forgive myself.”

She nodded and felt that familiar warmth suffuse
her heart. She was beginning to wonder how she could have ever mistrusted this
man. “I understand.”

His responding smile reached down deep inside
her. Perhaps what he did not know was that she was starting to understand more
than he realised. Here was the true nature of the man—not the gruff, commanding
one. And she liked this man very, very much.

Tension
hung thick in the air when they entered the village the next day. He wasn’t
sure bringing Antonia with him had been wise. She garnered too many resentful
looks as they rode to Willis’ house. His skin prickled beneath his shirt, and
he fought the need to wrap his hand around the pommel of his blade. Had it not
been for the physician’s interference the previous day, he couldn’t be sure
what might have happened.

He’d seen this sort of thing before—the way the
crowd got swept up and how tempers flared and even usually placid people
allowed themselves to be overtaken by the need for blood. There had been
several incidents when his father had been alive of clashes between the few
openly Catholic members of their communities and his father had put down those
uprisings with a great show of force.

Mayhap he should have gone for his men and
responded with violence but the thought of harming the
people
he was meant to care for turned his stomach, not to mention he refused to
abandon young Richard. He had the heart of a lion but not the body of one.
However, he was young and with training and time, he suspected the lad would
make a formidable and courageous member of the militia.

He glanced at the woman riding proudly atop her
rouncey. He shook his head. No sign of that nervous, terrified young woman
remained now. Except he heard Antonia pace at night, the floorboards creaking
with her footsteps, and he knew she still struggled to conquer her fears when
night fell. If only he understood how to reassure her and recover from the
horror of the ship sinking.

To think she had stepped out and put herself in
danger too. Hell fire, he really needed to figure out how to control the woman.
He should keep her locked away as he’d always intended but whenever she asked
something of him, he felt his knees weakening and his insides slowly turning to
dust. His resolve melted when it came to Antonia.

And still no word on what to do with the
prisoners. If their stay here continued for much longer, their supplies would
run out and he would have more problems than a few angry villagers.

They came up outside Willis’ house as clouds
began to roll in off the sea and a light drizzle began. Henry peered at the
headland and noted a heavy cast to the sky farther ahead. They were in for a
storm mayhap or at least some heavy rainfall. That would please the farmers
though mayhap not the villagers who would struggle with their daily chores in
the foul weather.

Dismounting, he paused to aid Antonia down. He
expected her to ignore him, but she placed her hands on his shoulders and
allowed him to slide her to the ground. He gritted his teeth so hard that his
jaw hurt. With a light sheen of rain on her face and her hair drawn back into a
tight braid, he found his gaze tracing the contours of her face and inevitably
skipping between her eyes and lips.

Lips that he dearly wanted to taste again.
Eyes that he could stare into for an eternity.
He grimaced
inwardly. His father would have scolded him for being weak to even think as
much had he been alive. Warriors did not long to stare into a woman’s eyes.

Henry set her back and motioned for her to enter
the house. He needed to begin visiting the villagers and making arrangements
for extra supplies for the prisoners. Much longer on the meagre rations they’d
already been given and he’d have a lot of sick men on his hands. If they
contracted any disease, the villeins would have more to worry about than
starvation.

“I shall call back for you before noon should
all go well.” He gave her a stern look. “Do not give me any reason to take away
such privileges.”

She lifted her chin a little. “Have I not proved
that I am trustworthy?”

“While your father is sick,
aye.”

Her lips curved slightly but why that amused
her, he knew not. “Good day to you, Henry.”

“And you.”

He turned before he could be tempted into
staring at her for any longer. He’d first go speak with the priest—a task he
was not looking forward to. But the man had refused Richard sanctuary and if
the lad had died, it would have been on his head. He couldn’t allow him to
continue in this manner. If he had to request the man be removed and replaced,
he would. His threats had not been idle talk.

Before he had walked even five paces from
Willis’ cottage, Antonia shouted his name. He spun around, pulse pounding, his
hand to his pommel. Ready to defeat whatever danger she had come upon.

But this danger needed no defeating. Antonia
stalked toward him, her movements jerky and furious.

“Where is my father?” she demanded.

 “What do you mean?” Henry demanded.

“He’s been moved! How could you do that?” She
jabbed a finger into his chest. “He is still sick. He’ll die if he’s not
properly looked after.”

Henry took a moment to process her words.
“Moved? What in God’s name are you speaking of?”

“Mr Willis said your men came early this morning
and took him away.” She clapped a hand over her mouth and held back a tiny sob
before removing it. “Are they going to harm him?
Santa Maria,
torture
him?”

He grasped her arms to bring her attention back to
him as her words grew rambled and her accent stronger. “Speak slowly now. What
has happened?”

She glared at him.
“Like you
do not know.
I suppose you thought I would forgive your mistreatment of
him because you saved my life, well you are wrong!”

“Mistreatment?
When
have I ever given you
cause
to doubt me? Have I not
been a merciful captor? Hell fire, Antonia, I hate to think what might have
happened to you had your ship been captured on any other part of the coast.”

“Do you wish him dead? Does it suit you to have
one less man of import to worry for?”

“Antonia,” he pressed through his teeth, aware
his temper was increasing. “I have no wish to see your father harmed. Now where
did Willis say he had gone?”

“He did not say. Your men took him early this
morning.”

“My men...” He released her and swept a hand
over his hair to clasp the back of his neck. “Damnation, there is treachery
afoot.”

She stared at him, hands propped on her hips for
several moments. “You...you did not order him moved?”

“Nay, of course I did not. How would it benefit
me to mistreat a man like your father? I need him, Antonia. He can help me
control the rest of the prisoners. Not to mention the queen would not like to
hear that he has been mistreated. She will want to return him to Spain after
negotiations have been made.” He heaved a sigh. “Did you really think me
capable of such a thing?”

“I—” Her cheeks darkened a little.

“Return to the cottage. I shall find out what
has happened,” he ordered wearily. He suspected he knew. Someone had suggested
to his men that her father needed moving and he knew who was most likely to
turn traitor. If this was not a sign of how little respect he commanded, he
knew not what was. His father would never have had such problems, but what was
he to do? Have the men thrown in the stocks? Have
them
lashed?

His father wouldn’t have thought twice. Henry
paused to watch Antonia meekly duck into the cottage. He didn’t need to think
twice either, he realised. 

***

Under
the golden glow of the candlelight, Henry pondered his missive and nodded with
satisfaction. The root of the problems had indeed been the priest as suspected,
but he hadn’t confronted him yet. Let the man worry for a while what he would
do to him. No doubt he knew that Henry had moved Antonia’s father back to
Willis’ with strict orders for him to remain there.

A prickle danced down his spine and he glanced
at the doorway to see Antonia lingering there.

“What is it?” He tried not to sound grumpy but
failed. He shouldn’t let himself be affected by her opinion of him but he was
nonetheless.

She lifted two bottles of wine and entered. She
had avoided him for much of the day and remained silent in his company. “Peace
offering, is that not what you say?”

He let a grin tug at his lips as she took two
glasses and slipped into the chair next to him before pouring a large glass of
the red wine. He eyed the bottle.
“Spanish?”

“Of course.
Only the best.
‘Twas found amongst the wreckage it seems.”

“How did you come upon it?”

“Richard gave it to me.”

His smile dropped. The young lad had been set to
work in the stables, but he’d noticed his gaze following Antonia around. It
didn’t matter that he was young and of no interest to her—it still riled him.

“You have charmed that boy it seems,” he said
coolly before taking a sip of the wine.

“I think he is more charmed by you, Henry. He
spoke of naught but your bravery.”

Henry shook his head and savoured the tang of
the wine on his tongue.
“’Twas not bravery, ‘twas folly.
I put us all at risk.”

“You saved Richard’s life and no one was
harmed.” Her gaze dropped to his lip where evidence of the punch to his face
remained. “Well...”

He touched his lip and gave a wry grin.
“Almost no one.”

She tipped back her goblet and took a long draw
of wine before placing it down and eyeing him. “I am sorry that I doubted you.
Had I taken a moment to think...
”
She propped her
elbows on the table and rested her chin on a palm. “Sometimes I do not think. I
am sorry.”

Henry stared into those dark, possessing eyes
and felt a little like she just sucked some of his soul from him. And damn if
he didn’t like the feeling.

“I understand that well enough,” he said dryly.
He couldn’t claim to have thought through his actions yesterday.

“So you forgive me?” She stared at her wine
before draining it and pouring some more. “You are not angered?”

He shook his head. It wasn’t in him to keep hold
of annoyance. “I am not angered.”

A look of relief swept across her face, and she
poured him some more wine. Antonia glanced at the missive. “You are writing of
the priest?”

“Aye.”
He
wondered if he should be annoyed at her inquisitiveness but in truth, he longed
to discuss his problems with someone—even a woman. “He was behind your father
being moved. He persuaded my men ‘twas what I requested. The reverend’s
influence is too great and his motives are immoral. He has been behind trouble
before and I cannot let it continue.”

“Trouble?”

“Aye, with people like Richard
and his family.”

“Because they are Catholic?”

Henry emptied his wine and bit back a sigh as
the warmth threaded its way through his body. He tried not to show his surprise
when Antonia did the same and refilled their glasses. “We are a Protestant
country now but ‘twas not long ago our queen was Catholic as you well know. We
cannot go against our queen, but there are many who will not let go of their
religion easily.” He curled a hand around the pewter goblet. “Nor would I
expect them to,” he added.

“What of you?”

“My father became a Protestant as soon as Her
Majesty was crowned.”

“So you were raised as one.”

“Aye.”

“Why then does Mr Reed dislike you so?”

“You think he dislikes me?” Henry masked a smile
behind the cup.

“
Si,
and you
know full well he does.”

He lowered the glass and sighed. “There was a
young woman...”

“Ha, is there not always a woman involved when
men are angry with one another?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“I would have willingly not involved her. Lucy
was a sweet girl but I had little interest in her. Not to mention my father had
hopes of me marrying someone else—anyone else.”

“A noblewoman perhaps.”

“Aye.
Lucy
was from a fine family but there was no noble blood in her and they had little
influence.”

“Was?”

“She died.
Consumption.
Not long after her father was taken away for heresy and never seen again.”

Antonia reached over and placed a hand over his.
Mayhap it was the wine making him weak, but he couldn’t help turn his hand over
so they were palm to palm and wrap his fingers around hers. It felt good to
take comfort from another.
Or from Antonia at least.

“I am sorry. Did you care for her?”

“I hardly knew her. But that she had her sights
set on me incensed Reed. Before he went into the church, he had asked for her
hand but she declined him. He has blamed me ever since.”

Antonia tilted her head and he noted her
movements were not as steady as they should have been. But then she was a small
thing and had drunk much wine.