My Valiant Knight (9 page)
“Fun?” Gabel laughed and kissed her, delighted by her response. “I have ne’er heard a woman call it fun.”
“Oh? And ye have had your skills judged often, have ye?”
“Not as often as you may think. You did not expect a man of six and twenty to be a virgin, did you?”
She smiled, her brief flare of jealousy quickly passing. He spoke pleasantly, simply stating a fact she could not dispute, and not admonishing her. Ainslee also knew that, although Gabel might find a hint of jealousy amusing, even flattering, too much could become deadly to whatever they might share. There was no future for them, and so tearing herself apart over his past or future lovers was extremely foolish of her. She idly ran her foot over his calf and wondered how much more they might share before she had to leave Bellefleur. Ainslee hoped to gather up a multitude of memories to take back to her bleak life at Kengarvey. She dared not ask, however, knowing that any demands at all could easily push Gabel away, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Nay, I didna think ye were as innocent as I,” she said. “I ken the ways of men better than I do the ways of women, but vanity briefly made me wish to be something more than just one out of many.”
“Oh, you are certainly that, Ainslee MacNairn.” He gently kissed her.
“I canna bear the uncertainty any longer,” she burst out “What am I to do now?”
Gabel grinned and took her hand in his, kissing her palm. “We could stay here or we could slip away to my bed or even yours. Did you think I would now dress and stride away?”
“Weel, nay, but I wasna sure who was supposed to do what.”
“There is a chill in the air,” he said as he sat up, pulling her up with him. “ ’Twill be more comfortable if we return to the keep.” As he handed her her clothing, he added, “We can slip away from here without being seen, so you need not fear that everyone will soon be whispering about you.”
“Not even my guard?” Ainslee briefly feared that her constant guard had been lurking outside of the stable for the whole time.
“I sent the man away when I first came out to join you by the dog pen.” He glanced at her as they both began to dress. “I still puzzle over why you were wandering about alone earlier this evening.”
“Alone? Why should ye think that I was alone?”
“Because, if your guard had been with you as he should have been, he would have told me of your trouble with that falling stone. Vincent knew nothing of it.”
“I eluded him for a wee while, is all.”
“Nay, I think not, although you should be commended for trying so hard to save a fool from a much deserved punishment. Vincent is a fool, but he is an honest one. He confessed to being distracted. So, Paul now shares the guarding of you with Michael”
“And what will happen to Vincent?” Although she knew it was a grave crime for a guard to neglect his duty, she did not wish to see Vincent pay too dearly. He had simply been a pawn in Lady Margaret’s deadly game.
“He will be mucking out the stables for a fortnight. A sore blow to a knight’s pride. When he returns to his post as one of my men-at-arms, I am certain he will be more diligent.”
Ainslee nodded as Gabel helped her don her cloak and led her out of the stables. It was demeaning to be reduced from a man-at-arms to a stableboy, but, if she had been any real danger to Bellefleur, Vincent’s distraction could have cost his lord very dearly. What Ainslee did not know, and dared not ask about, was if Gabel had taken any special note of whose maid had led the guard astray. If he had, he would have to ask why, and the answers might make him suitably suspicious of the Frasers. She prayed Gabel was asking himself a lot of questions.
As they reached the head of the stairs, Gabel hesitated only a moment before leading her to her bedchamber. Ainslee was briefly distracted by a soft noise, like the faint click of a door latch, but she could see no one. A chill rippled down her spine, and she huddled a little closer to Gabel. When they entered her bedchamber, she was momentarily concerned that Gabel would now leave her, but he smiled, then shut and latched the heavy door. Ainslee laughed softly and tossed aside her cape. She sat down on the bed and, with opened arms, silently invited him to join her. To her delight, he also laughed and strode over to the bed, gently tumbling her down onto it. Their love affair was destined to be a short one, but Ainslee intended it to be full and memorable.
“What ails ye, daughter?” grumbled Lord Fraser as his daughter shut her bedchamber door and angrily paced the room, pausing only to kick out at a piece of furniture.
“That MacNairn whore has taken Sir Gabel to her bed,” Margaret snapped, and threw a heavy tankard against the wall.
“Are ye certain?” Lord Fraser rescued the dented tankard and filled it with mead before sitting down on her bed.
“They just slipped by my door, wrapped in each other’s arms. They hadna even brushed the hay off of their clothes. ’Tis clear that they have been rutting in the stables like animals.”
“That doesna mean that he will now take her to wife. She is a MacNairn. Not only has her father blackened the name, but she has no dowry—no lands, no coin, no power. A pitiful poor choice for a bride.”
“Men have made pitiful poor choices before.” She leaned against the bedpost and crossed her arms over her chest as she scowled at the door. “And ’tis a sore blow to my pride to have that MacNairn whelp bedding the mon I intend to wed. She must pay for that insult.”
“Ye- have only had one plan to rid Bellefleur of the lass, and that failed.”
She glared at her father. “ ’Twas a good plan, but I have fools surrounding me. I must see to this myself. I begin to think it might not be wise to kill her here.”
“Where else can ye kill her? Ye canna wait until she returns to Kengarvey.”
“Nay, I canna. Howbeit, it should surprise no one at Bellefleur if the whore disappears. After all, prisoners escape all the time.”
Nine
Ainslee stretched, reached out, and sighed when she found the other side of the bed empty. Gabel had quietly slipped away before dawn, just as he had said he would. She knew it was for the best. Such discretion would save her some embarrassment. Nevertheless, she regretted the need for such subterfuge. It would have been far nicer to wake up to the morning wrapped warmly in his arms, with no need to worry about what people saw or thought. The need to creep about stole some of the beauty from their lovemaking.
She crossed her arms beneath her head and stared up at the ceiling. There was an aching in her body as a result of her first bout of lovemaking, but it was a discomfort made bearable by sweet memory. Everything she had ever been taught told her what she had done and what she intended to keep on doing was wrong, but her emotions told her it was right. Ronald would never condemn her for what she did, for her attempt to grasp at some happiness for herself, and his was the only opinion that mattered to her.
Curling up on her side, she decided it was too early to get out of bed. The sun had not even risen yet. Gabel’s leaving must have disturbed her and caused her to wake up, for she was still very tired. A cool breeze briefly touched the back of her neck, and she tugged the coverlet more tightly around herself. She then frowned, certain that she had heard a footfall, but, even as she turned to look, a blinding pain burst inside of her head.
“Careful, fools,” hissed Lady Margaret as she hurriedly looked over the unconscious Ainslee’s wound. “We dinna wish to leave bloodstains behind.” Assured that Ainslee was not bleeding, she signaled the two burly men with her to wrap Ainslee up in the blanket. “Get her out of here, and be careful not to be seen. I will follow as soon as I have gathered up her clothes.”
“Why do we need to take her clothes?” asked the pox-marked, dark-haired man who tossed Ainslee over his broad shoulder.
“Because, my idiot cousin, she is to have escaped. No one will believe that she has fled into the night barefooted and dressed only in a thin nightrail. Go, Ian,” she ordered her cousin, “and be sure that your hulking companion keeps a close watch upon your back.”
Lady Margaret cursed softly as she stuffed Ainslee’s clothes into a saddlepack. She wished she had more clever allies than her cousin and his friend. They were the only ones who could ride away from Bellefleur without rousing too much curiosity, however. No one would question two Fraser men-at-arms riding away to rejoin Lord Fraser’s son. Ainslee’s blanket-shrouded form could easily be explained away as part of the travellers’ baggage.
The first tint of sunrise was coloring the sky before Lady Margaret watched her cousin and his companion ride away. She was not too concerned about being seen up and about at such an early hour. No one at Bellefleur knew her well enough to dispute her claim that she had risen to be certain that her cousin carried a gift and a message from her to her brother. Rubbing her hands together to warm them, she hurried back into the keep, already anticipating the uproar, when it was discovered that Ainslee MacNairn had escaped.
A groan escaped Ainslee as she felt her body hit something hard. Cursing, she sat up, wavering slightly as a fierce dizziness overwhelmed her. She wondered dazedly how she had gone from her soft warm bed to a crumpled blanket on the hard, frost-tinged ground. Two pairs of dirt encrusted boots entered her line of vision and, rubbing her temples in a vain attempt to stop the throbbing in her head, she slowly looked up at the two men standing before her. She recognized one as Ian Fraser and felt a spasm of alarm. There was only one reason for her to be smuggled out of Bellefleur before dawn and dumped miles from anywhere. She was about to be murdered.
“Where have ye brought me to?” she demanded, hiding her fear and watching the two men closely.
“ ’Tis a wild place south of Bellefleur,” replied Ian. “Near to five hours ride to the south.”
“Ah, so ye arena intending to return me to Kengarvey.”
“Nay. Me cousin has taken a fierce dislike to you, Ainslee MacNairn. Now, de Amalville is a stranger here and doesna ken much about Margaret, but I wager ye ken what happens to ones she takes a dislike to.”
“Aye, she sends hulking idiot cousins out to get the blood on their hands.”
“I wouldst dull that sharp tongue of yours, woman. I hold your life in me hands,” he snapped, flushing with anger.
“Nay, ye hold the means of my murder, is all. Ye havena the courage to return to that hell-born cousin of yours and tell her that ye left me alive. So, why dinna ye and that mute, witless hulk with you just do as ye have been commanded to, and then skulk off to whatever hole ye slithered out of.”
To her surprise it was not Ian Fraser who lunged at her, but his companion. Her goading had served its purpose, however, by instigating a blind attack. Ainslee grunted with pain as the man fell upon her and wrapped his thick hands around her throat. She groped for his dagger, even as she fought for breath and against the urge to pull at his choking hands. When her fingers closed around the hilt of his knife, she nearly cried out her relief. Using the man’s body to hide what she was doing from Fraser, she stabbed her attacker between the ribs, driving the well-honed blade of the dagger into his heart. Even as he grunted and slumped against her, she pushed him aside. In one swift, graceful move, she took the man’s sword and stood up to face a stunned Ian Fraser, armed and ready for battle.
When the man reached for his sword, she tensed, hoping she had the strength to wield the heavy sword well enough and long enough to stay alive. Ian did not draw his sword, however. He stared at his dead friend, then at a grim-faced Ainslee, and back again several times. Her heart skipped with hope when he cursed and rushed to his horse.
Ainslee did not ease her fighting stance until Fraser was long out of sight. She slumped to the ground, weak with relief and some disbelief that she had fended off two strong men. Fortunately for her, they had been both stupid and cowardly. It was several moments before she realized that she was far from safe. She was out in the middle of a harsh cold land wearing only a nightrail, and with no chance of getting any supplies, for they were on the back of the horses Fraser had taken with him.
She grimaced as she looked at the man she had killed. Now that the threat to her life had passed, she was nauseated by what she had been forced to do. She fought that sickness, firmly telling herself that there were far more important things to do—such as survive.
It made bile sting the back of her throat, but she began to strip the dead man of everything she could use. She cut a length of material from his heavy cloak and her blanket, and wrapped them around her feet to protect them from the cold. Grimacing with distaste, she took his hose, cutting them to fit and using the strips to tie them to her legs. She used his sword scabbard to tie the cape around herself, and stole the Fraser brooch he wore to pin the blanket around her shoulders. The man had attacked so brashly and so quickly, he still had his wineskin slung over his shoulders, and she helped herself to that as well. Shaking her head over how odd she must look, she surveyed the land around her.
After several moments of studying the area, Ainslee reluctantly confessed that she had no idea of where she was. Ian Fraser had said she was south of Bellefleur, which put her a little too close to the lawless lands between England and Scotland for her liking. It also put her farther from Kengarvey than from Bellefleur.
Ainslee closed her eyes, clenched her fists so tightly her nails scored her palms, and then took several deep breaths. She needed to decide what to do with her head and her instincts, and not her heart. Returning to Bellefleur might well be the wisest thing to do, but she wanted the decision to be one well-thought-out and not born of emotion. This was the time to think of clan loyalties, and not of her desire for Gabel de Amalville.
Even on a straight unhindered course, Kengarvey was more than twice the distance from her as was Bellefleur. She had no suitable clothing, no horse, no weapons made specifically for her small hands, and no food, only one half-full wineskin. Between her and Kengarvey lay days of rough travel. She looked up at the sky and frowned. It was nearly midday, yet there was little light. The sky was a dull threatening gray. It was certain that the weather would soon hinder any travel. Whether it was rain or snow, she was not adequately dressed to endure it. Ronald was still a captive and, if she could succeed in returning to Kengarvey, her father would never ransom the man.
Opening her eyes, she straightened her shoulders and started walking in the direction of Bellefleur. She prayed that Ian Fraser had spoken truthfully when he had told her that they had ridden south for five hours. If she kept up a steady pace, did not get lost, met no outlaws or wild animals, and the weather did not grow too fierce, she could reach Bellefleur sometime before the midnight hour. She smiled faintly as she thought of the reactions of Lady Margaret and Gabel. Seeing that would almost be worth the arduous journey ahead of her.
“Gabel, Ainslee is nowhere to be found,” Michael announced as he strode into Justice’s room, where Gabel shared a morning meal with his cousin.
“What do you mean?” Gabel demanded, finishing off his tankard of cider and standing up from where he sat on the edge of Justice’s bed.
“I mean what I just said. Ainslee MacNairn is not at Bellefleur. I took up my post outside her door as always, and I did wonder why Paul was not there.”
“I sent him away last night,” Gabel muttered, talking mostly to himself as he began to pace the room. “Where could the girl have gone? She was sleeping when I left, and that was but two hours or so before you would have taken up your post.”
Gabel stopped pacing as he realized what he had just said, and slowly turned to face his cousins. He met their knowing grins with a stern frown, but neither flinched. It was clear that they had guessed where he had spent the night. Justice could easily have watched him take Ainslee into the stable, and Michael would have grown suspicious when he did not find Paul guarding her door. It evidently took a great deal more than tiptoeing around to assure discretion, he thought crossly.
“I was attempting to keep the matter secret,” he said.
“A secret at Bellefleur?” Michael laughed, but, seeing that Gabel did not share his good humor, quickly sobered. “Mayhaps that is why she has disappeared?”
“The girl was willing,” Gabel said.
“I did not suggest otherwise. Howbeit, I would wager that she was also virginal.” Michael shrugged. “What a virgin willingly gives up in the night, she may sorely regret in the morning.”
“Do you think she has fled back to Kengarvey?”
“Where else can she be? Call for another search, if you wish, but I assure you that no corner of Bellefleur has been missed. She is gone. A number of her clothes are gone as well.”
“ ’Tis hard to believe that she would flee without Ronald or that dog of hers,” said Justice.
“Ronald, of course,” Gabel cried and strode to the door. “He may know something.”
It was over an hour before Gabel accepted Ronald’s claims of ignorance and believed in the man’s show of concern for Ainslee. He realized that the only answer to Ainslee’s disappearance, one that he found painful to confront, was that she had escaped, and that she may have done so to flee from him. As he gathered up a small force of men to search for her, he grew angry. Ainslee had used him, had bedded him in order to dull his guard that she could easily slip away. The pain he felt over her desertion began to harden into fury as he slowly began to believe that he had allowed a tiny, red-haired, Scottish lass to make a fool out of him.
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