Secret Heart (29 page)

A fat, ripe pear plopped into her lap,
startling her into wakefulness. She caught the fruit before it fell
to the ground and sat there staring at it.

“
Chantal?” She looked up into the tree branches. They were
still now, without the faintest breeze to ruffle their autumn-hued
leaves. Other pears hung from the branches, but she could see none
that looked ripe enough to eat. “Chantal, are you here?”

She received no external answer, yet inwardly
she experienced the same peace and strength she had felt as she
walked through the royal audience chamber to confront King
Henryk.

At that
moment, if someone had asked her, Jenia could not have honestly
said whether Chantal’s spirit was with her there in the garden, or
whether what affected her was her own imagination coupled with the
pain she was feeling at the knowledge that she must let her beloved
cousin go. She knew at some point she would have to release Chantal
and let her fade from a compelling presence into a dear, yet
distant memory. So would Garit have to let her go. But not yet.
Neither of them was ready yet.

“
Stay
with me just a short time more,” she whispered. “Just until I
complete my quest.” She sat very still for long moments, but heard
no answer.

Finally,
still holding the pear, she left the garden, knowing she’d very
likely never see it again. She felt no sorrow at the realization,
only a continuing sense of peace.

She told no one about her hour in the garden,
for the emotions of the last two days suddenly caught up with her,
leaving her half asleep as she sat at the evening meal.

“
You need
to rest,” Roarke told her. “You look like a worn-down soldier the
day after a great battle.”

“
Thank
you very much,” she muttered. When she tried to glare at him, she
discovered that she was too tired, so she yawned
instead.

Roarke took her to her bedchamber and there
handed her over to the maidservant who had attended her on her
previous visit.

“
Stay
with me,” Jenia whispered to him.

“
If I do,
you won’t be fit to ride tomorrow.” To the maidservant he added,
“Put my lady to bed and make certain she’s not disturbed.” He
kissed Jenia tenderly and left her with a smile.

Too
sleepy to protest, she placed the still uneaten pear on the
windowsill before she submitted to the servant’s care. In the
morning she ate the pear, now a bit overripe and with a small
bruise on one side, along with the bread and cheese and the ale the
maidservant brought to her.

Well
mounted and heavily armed with swords and Sapaudian lances, the
troop of fifty men and Jenia left Auremont in early morning under a
grey and lowering sky. They headed east, into a cold wind that
swept down from the Nalo Mountains. By late afternoon Jenia was
thoroughly chilled. Her fingers and toes were growing numb, as was
her nose, which dripped constantly. She refused to complain. Her
discomfort did not matter, not when she was driven by the hope and
expectation of finding Walderon and of learning what he knew about
Chantal’s fate.

At nightfall, with several hours of riding
still ahead of them, they stopped at a stream in the Old Forest.
While the squires watered the horses and several of the men laid a
fire and began to prepare their evening meal, Roarke helped Jenia
down from her mount. He held her by the waist, steadying her until
she got her balance on icy feet.

“
Will you
be all right?” he asked her.

“
Of
course, I will.” She wasn’t going to admit to him just how cold and
miserable she was. Roarke believed she was brave and she wasn’t
going to provide any reason for him to change his opinion of her.
She did have an urgent request, though. She peered through the
gloom before making it. “Roarke, we haven’t stopped since midday. I
need to retire into the bushes for a few moments.”

“
I’ll
stand watch,” he offered, adding when she opened her mouth to
protest, “with my back turned. If any animal, or any person,
appears to frighten you, just scream.”

“
Thank
you.” She made for a particularly thick group of bushes that seemed
to offer the dense cover that modesty required. Behind her a small
fire flared as the men continued their evening preparations.
Telling herself to hurry lest she miss the discussion of exactly
when and how they were going to approach Thury Castle, she picked
her way through the underbrush. It was quite private, and with
Roarke nearby she felt perfectly safe.

She had finished and was straightening her
skirts when a rustling in the crisp, early autumn foliage drew her
attention. Peering in the direction of the sound, she opened her
mouth to call to Roarke. She thought better of the idea when she
perceived no hint of a threat, nothing to indicate an animal or a
human was stalking her. Unable to see much through the deepening
shadows of dusk, she simply stood still and waited.

The rustling came again, this time accented
by a small sob that sounded to Jenia as if it had been swiftly
smothered. Apparently, whoever was making the noises did not want
to be found. It could be someone spying on them, but Jenia thought
she detected fear in that single sob.

“
Hello?”
she called softly, knowing she really ought to alert Roarke, yet
loathe to do so. Surely, a person bent on harming her wouldn’t be
sobbing. Nor did Jenia know of any animal that would cry in that
way. She spoke again. “Who’s there? Are you hurt? Or
lost?”

Still no response, and Jenia found renewed
courage in the continued lack of any clear threat.

“
If you
mean no harm, come into the firelight where we can see you. We have
food and if you are as cold as I am, you will be glad of the fire’s
warmth.”

“
Dear
heaven above,” came a strangely familiar voice. “It cannot be. Are
you a ghost, come to torment me for my sins?”

“
Who are
you?” Jenia demanded. More worried than alarmed, she raised her
voice. “Roarke, I think you’d better come quickly.”

“
What’s
wrong?” He was beside her in an instant.

“
Someone
is hiding just over there. But wait, please.” She caught at his arm
to prevent him from rushing in the direction she indicated. The
rustling sound came again, more distinctly this time, though a bit
farther away, as if the person making the noise was trying to leave
the vicinity as quickly and quietly as possible. “Whoever it is has
been crying and is apparently afraid to show herself.”

“
Herself?”

Jenia
could just make out Roarke
’s puzzled expression in the shadows.

“
From the
voice I heard, I think it’s a girl or a woman,” she said.
“Possibly, she’s lost. Certainly, she will be cold.”

“
Go back
to the fire,” Roarke ordered. “Tell Garit what has happened and
stay with him.” He set off toward the ever louder noises made by
someone trying to hurry through the undergrowth in rapidly fading
light.

Jenia was
right behind him when he dove into a tiny clearing and made a grab
at something there. A woman’s terrified shriek echoed among the
trees. Immediately, alarmed shouts issued from the direction of the
fire, where the other men were.

“
Roarke,
don’t hurt her,” Jenia cried.

“
I told
you to go back,” he said, sounding angry. “Don’t you know that
women can be just as dangerous as men?”

“
I am not
dangerous!” his captive screamed, struggling against his grasp.
“Unhand me at once!”

The accent was that of a noblewoman. Though
the unknown lady managed to sound greatly annoyed, Jenia could
detect the fear underlying her words. She knew from sad experience
what self-control under such circumstances must cost a woman.

“
We won’t
hurt you,” Jenia promised. “Come to the fire and tell us why you
are wandering about a forest on such a cold evening.”

“
I see no
point in running away,” Roarke added. “If you try it, we will only
find you and bring you back, so you may as well come with us
now.”

“
No!” The
woman wrestled free from Roarke’s grip and bolted toward the trees.
She shrieked again as Roarke picked her up and tossed her over his
shoulder. Then, with Jenia following, he strode toward the
firelight. The woman wept and pleaded with him to set her down and
let her go. Roarke ignored her. At the edge of the clearing Garit
met them with his sword drawn and two sturdy men-at-arms at his
back.

“
Jenia,
did you scream? What happened? What have you found? Who is that?”
Garit added, staring at the flailing arms and legs and the undone
light brown hair that cascaded along Roarke’s legs, reaching almost
to the ground. “Is she alone?”

“
Yes, as
far as I can tell,” Roarke answered.

“
Roarke,
for heaven’s sake, put her down,” Jenia cried. “Let her catch her
breath so she can talk to us.”

Roarke
reached the center of their encampment before he flipped the woman
onto her feet. At a word from Garit the men-at-arms, who had been
poised for a fight, relaxed enough to resheathe their swords. Most
returned to preparing the evening’s food, though a few remained on
guard at the edge of the camp.

Seeing
how the woman swayed, Jenia reached toward her to offer assistance
just as Lord Giles approached from the rear to steady her with his
hands on her shoulders. The woman got her balance, pushed her hair
out of her face, and looked around until her gaze reached Jenia.
She gasped in unconcealed terror and stared for a moment or two
before her eyes rolled back and she sagged into Lord Giles’
arms.

“
Sanal!”
Lord Giles exclaimed.

“
Aunt
Sanal?” Jenia cried at the same instant. “What are you doing
here?”

Lady Sanal blinked, stared again, and made a
visible effort to pull herself together. Lord Giles continued to
support her from behind, for she appeared stupefied.

“
It
cannot be you,” she whispered, disbelief filling each word as she
looked at Jenia. “You are dead. He told me you were
dead.”

“
Oh,
really?” said Garit. Planting his fists on his hips, he sent a
fierce glare in Sanal’s direction. “By
he,
I assume you mean Lord
Walderon? Are you saying that your husband has admitted to causing
Chantal’s death? How much do you know of Walderon’s crimes? Where
is he now? Speak, woman!”

“
You are
together,” Sanal whispered, as if she hadn’t heard Garit’s
impassioned exclamations. She spoke to Jenia, her continued
confusion becoming obvious. “I am so glad. But, Chantal, how did
you escape? And why were you foolish enough to return here? You
should not have come so close to Thury; you should have fled as you
planned to do. I know about that. Walderon told me the story while
he was berating me for letting you get away. If he finds you now,
he will kill you and Garit – and me, too.”

“
Hold on
a moment,” Roarke commanded in a loud voice. He raised one hand to
silence everyone who was crowding around Sanal. “Too many questions
are being asked, and too few answers are being given. Lady Sanal,
sit down and drink a cup of wine. No one here will hurt you, or
allow anyone else to hurt you. We have enough men with us to keep
you safe.
Sit down,
my lady.”

He took a
single threatening step toward her. Plainly used to obeying a man’s
orders, Sanal dropped to the ground, choosing a place close to the
fire. She held out shaking hands to the warmth. Lord Giles knelt
next to her.

“
Oh,
Giles,” Sanal whispered, “thank heaven I found you and Chantal. Or
rather, you found me.”

“
You are
safe now, my dear lady,” Lord Giles told her, touching her shoulder
in a gentle and reassuring way. “Take your time. Drink some wine as
Roarke has suggested, and eat a bit of bread and cheese. After you
have recovered yourself a little, you may tell us why you were
wandering so far from home.”

“
Thury is
not my home,” Sanal declared bitterly. “I cannot stay there any
longer, not for one more day.”

“
Why is
that?” Garit demanded. “What has Walderon done to send you fleeing
from him without even a maidservant? That is what happened, isn’t
it? Walderon has committed yet another crime and you have run away
from him as a result of it.”

“
Please,
just give her a moment,” Lord Giles advised. He took the wooden
wine cup that one of his squires offered. “Here, Sanal, drink
this.”

Again,
Sanal did as she was told. She sipped at the wine, and when another
of Lord Giles’s squires brought her a chunk of bread and a wedge of
cheese, she ate the food with a solemn concentration that told
Jenia it had been a long time since her last meal.

Seeing
her aunt for the first time in more than half a year, Jenia
realized how Sanal’s unhappy marriage had etched stern lines of
endurance in her face, so she looked much older than her thirty-six
years. Still, Jenia felt little pity for her.

With the alarm over and no clear danger
threatening, the rest of the party settled down near the fire to
eat a cold meal, though Jenia noticed that Roarke and Garit
conferred and then chose a few extra sentries to guard the
camp.