Spring's Fury (4 page)

Lord Rannulf held out an arm to prevent the smaller man from reaching the stairs. "What he carries cannot contain my mark since I have never seen it. Without my approval, his contract is not valid."

"God's law supersedes Man's in this," the abbot sniffed. "If the betrothal vows have been said, they must marry."

"You will not trespass on what is my right." Lord Rannulf's voice held a deadly threat.

"Rannulf," Gilliam called to his brother, his tone mild, "this has you so hot you cannot think."

Nicola stared over her shoulder at Gilliam, startled that he was so calm when his brother was on fire. He graced her with a brief, cool glance that said more than words. Holy Mother, but he'd do it, he'd kill Hugh and take her before she could petition the court for her freedom. She'd not have a chance to prevent their marriage. Panic rose, then Nicola reminded herself to take only one step at a time. It was useless to worry over what had yet to happen.

To his brother, Gilliam said, "Come, let the man show Abbot Simon his contract, whilst you read over his shoulder as my clerk. Geoff will be here at any moment to add his authority to our claims. I want no slur on my ownership of Ashby."

Lord Rannulf made a sound that was nearly a growl, and strode up the stairs to stand near the abbot.

De Ocslade glanced between the two tall men, a slight look of surprise on his face. Nicola knew he was as startled as she had been to learn that Graistan's lord could read. So few in their part of the world did so. A moment later, Hugh came forward and found a place on the porch between Lord Rannulf and Nicola, a beech flanked by towering oaks. He handed the abbot his document.

"There is nothing amiss in what lies on the page, only the lack of Ashby's seal."

"And mine," Lord Rannulf snapped.

"That is not my fault," de Ocslade retorted. "John died on your brother's blade before he had the chance to forward it to you. He meant to add his own seal after your approval. If you disbelieve, Osbert and William here, witnessed our exchange of vows."

"You exchanged vows prior to receiving approval? How very unusual, almost dishonest, one would say." Lord Rannulf's comment dripped scorn.

Nicola leapt in. She'd spent her months of imprisonment concocting answers for all the possible questions he might ask. "You are right, Lord Rannulf, it was unusual," she said smoothly, "but my father had been after me for months to accept Hugh. When I finally agreed, Papa insisted on immediately saying the vows, fearing I would change my mind."

The churchman fingered the single wax disk at the parchment's edge then opened it. Lord Rannulf shifted slightly to read over the abbot's shoulder. While they did so, Nicola looked at the smaller man who held the properties to the south of Ashby.

Hugh's head barely topped her shoulder. He shot her a brief glance, his sharp, sallow features hard with the same disgust she found reflected in his black eyes. Nicola looked away and fought a mad desire to laugh. Of all her suitors, Hugh hated her most. At their last meeting, she'd blackened his eye and threatened death after he had tried to force himself upon her. He'd called her a breastless Amazon unworthy of any man's bed, then told Papa he couldn't wait to marry her. This was exactly why she'd chosen him for her plan to retain sole ownership of Ashby. If murder needed doing, she would have no trouble murdering Hugh.

When the silence continued, Hugh spoke to fill the void. "My Lord Graistan, I do not know if you recall, but we met some years back. I hold properties along Ashby's southern border. This makes Lady Nicola's alliance with me a profitable one for all concerned, even yourself. It was for this reason John of Ashby begged his daughter to accept me. I was grateful when Lord Ashby's remarriage finally drove Nicola to find her own husband in me."

Gilliam's lips brushed her ear, startling Nicola. "You would spread your legs for this babbling dwarf? Little girl, my estimation of you has dropped substantially in the past moments."

Nicola wrenched away only to bump into Hugh. The smaller man wobbled unsteadily on the edge of the porch, before catching himself. He shot her an irritable look then prattled on. "I realize this comes as a surprise to you, but there is truly nothing remarkable in either the contract or our joining."

Lord Rannulf gave a grunt of acknowledgment and continued reading. A moment later he raised his brows in surprise then looked up at Nicola. "On what date did you share these vows?"

Nicola hesitated, scrambling in her memory for the date that this contract had been drafted. Then she frowned as an alarm bell clanged in the recesses of her memory. He was asking more than just the exact date.

"Come, Lady Ashby," he insisted, "what was the date?"

She hedged. "I cannot recall exactly when, but 'twas at least a week before we came to Graistan for Papa's wedding."

Her overlord nodded slowly, then smiled and turned on the churchman "My lord abbot, there were no vows spoken, and the girl proves it by her own words. On the day of Lord Ashby's marriage to my ward, Maeve, John complained before myself, my wife, and all those in my hall that he could get his daughter to accept no man."

Nicola suppressed her flinch. Mary, but how had she forgotten that? She sagged. It was because Papa complained so often about her unmarried state, she'd long since ceased-to heed him when he did.

"Now, my lord abbot," Graistan's lord bent an intimidating look onto the churchman, "about my brother's wedding."

Abbot Simon only raised his brows and turned on Gilliam. "My Lord Gilliam, you heard the girl's father say these words?"

Gilliam shook his head. "I was not at Graistan at that time."

The churchman turned back to Lord Rannulf and shrugged in dismissal. "My lord, I find in your words proof of nothing, since there is no one but you here to witness them, whereas this man has witnesses who will say that vows were spoken. I see no reason to dismiss de Ocslade's claim on her. They must be wed."

Nicola's hopes leapt even as her warden's expression froze. She was right. The churchman would uphold the contract no matter what.

Lord Rannulf released a long, slow breath. "This has gone too far. You can be assured my complaints will be forwarded to the bishop." His quiet words were more threatening than a shout. "As for this contract, you will marry my brother to Ashby's heiress as planned. If not, I will hold de Ocslade and his knights prisoner as Gilliam rides from here with the girl. My brother will keep her in secret and without marriage vows until she carries his babe in her belly, rendering moot all question of betrothal or forced marriage. You will not misuse me in this."

"Nay!" Nicola screamed as his trap snapped shut around her.

The need to win free of his control overwhelmed all else. She lunged for Hugh. The smaller man threw up his arms, expecting a facial blow. Instead, her hand curled around his sword's hilt. With a foot planted on his hip, Nicola shoved him to one side, drawing his blade from its scabbard as she moved away from him.

"I think not," Gilliam snapped, as he grabbed her upper arms from behind her.

Nicola growled in frustration and released the half-drawn weapon with a hard push. Overbalanced, Hugh tumbled down the steps, his mail rattling against the stone as he rolled. The horses danced in surprise. Braced against Gilliam's broad chest, Nicola lifted herself and landed a vicious foot in Lord Rannulf's middle. Her warden groaned as he fell into the abbot. The churchman clawed at the baron to steady himself. In doing so, he pulled the bigger man down atop him.

Before they hit the ground, Nicola had her pin out of her mantle and cradled in her palm. She smashed her heel down onto Gilliam's cloth-covered toes. He yelped, his grip relaxing just long enough for her to lurch free. Her mantle fell between them as she whirled, her makeshift weapon held at the ready. With all her might, she slammed it deep into the thick flesh of his shoulder.

"Bitch!" Gilliam roared and reared back, both hands cupped at the wound. Red showed dark against his blue gown. Nicola's stomach leapt in fear. If he caught her now, he'd kill her for sure. She whirled toward the courtyard gate and freedom.

"Come!" Tilda shouted from the courtyard floor.

Nicola sprang without thought. Even as her feet left the porch top, she knew Gilliam was grabbing for her. She felt the rush of air as he missed. Then, he was falling past her, his feet tangled in her mantle.

Yelling in a wild mix of terror and triumph, her skirts hiked well above her knees, Nicola hit the courtyard stones running. Lord Rannulf's men fought their way forward, only to be pushed back as the laughing crowd parted to let her pass. The commoners knew as well as she that a noblewoman's chance of escaping the town was nigh on impossible.

Nicola raced after Tilda, through the abbey's arched gateway, and onto High Street. A man, dressed in a deep yellow gown trimmed in cloth of gold, shouted in surprise as she and Tilda nearly barreled into him. A boy in blue and red stood beside him.

"Fetch her back," the man commanded the two soldiers behind him, but the two girls were already past him on the clothmakers’ lane, sprinting toward the chandlers’ sweet-smelling enclave. Nicola glanced behind her. The townsfolk had all tried to exit at once and clogged the gate with their mass. Those soldiers commanded to follow had not been able to do so.

Tilda pulled Nicola around a corner, then tore between a wine merchant's warehouse and a cookshop. The alleyway here was so narrow that Nicola could have touched both sides with outstretched elbows. Halfway along the buildings one of the cookshop's wall beams had curved outward until it touched the building next to it. Save for a small triangular gap near the ground, it seemed the walls met with no space left behind them. Tilda dropped her pack and shoved it through the gap, then fell to her belly and wiggled in after it.

Nicola followed suit. The damp ground reeked of slop and offal. She held her breath only to panick at the sound of pursuit. The townsfolk were laughing and calling gleefully for the runaway bride, the soldiers were cursing, using the foulest of both French and English obscenities.

Spurred by what would happen if she were caught, Nicola thrust herself past the bend with one powerful push. Tilda yanked her to her feet. Hidden from the street by the bowed beam, they were guarded at the back by some building's rear wall, which was without window or smoke hole. Above them the slate roof of the warehouse touched the cookshop's thatching. The gap they'd just come through was the only way in or out.

The voices of those who followed grew louder then faded as they sped on down the lane. Nicola turned to Tilda, her fingers already loosening her gown's laces. "Hie, open that pack. We've no time to lose. Hurry, turn me into a boy."

* * *

Gilliam curled as he fell, taking the brunt of the impact on his uninjured shoulder. He rolled to his knees and leapt up, yanking her pin free of his flesh. The fabric of both his gown and shirt ripped as it exited. Damn that vixen. His best gown was truly ruined. He started forward only to be stopped by the roiling mass of humankind fighting its way through the abbey gates.

"Alfred, hie and see the main gate shut," he shouted to the soldiers battering their way through the mob. He trusted his powerful voice to carry over the commotion. "Robert, you are for the postern."

Even if his bride reached the town's portals before they shut, the gatekeepers would not let her pass. An unescorted noblewoman was as rare as a horned horse. In that instant, Gilliam forgave her the attempt. This escape had ruined de Ocslade's plot to steal Ashby from him. Gilliam need only shut the gates and drive her from her lair. Ashby was his.

Rannulf leapt down the steps to stand beside him. A muddy footprint now marred his brother's rich attire. "Damn that idiot vixen," he snarled. "Where does she think she can go to hide from me in my own town?"

"Uncle!" cried one of de Ocslade's companions as he dismounted to aid his relative in rising. "Are you injured?"

"Nay," the small knight snarled. His horse reared suddenly, gone skittish with the excitement. De Ocslade grabbed for its reins. "Stupid bitch!" It was anyone's guess whether he meant the girl or his horse.

"Vile woman," the abbot shouted to the heavens above then flew down the steps to de Ocslade. " 'Tis the last time I seek to intervene on behalf of the spawn of Eve. Here," he shoved the parchment at the knight. It fell between them and lay neglected on the muddy stones. "Take it to some other churchman, and get you gone from my house. Be gone, be gone all of you!" he screamed, revealing the extent to which his pride had been damaged.

Gilliam glanced at the gate. Geoffrey, now finely attired, was striding toward them. Jocelyn trotted at his heels, wearing a short blue tunic over red chausses. His cloak was clutched tightly around him against the day's chill, his nose already reddening. The boy lacked the bulk to protect him from the cold.

Rannulf turned on de Ocslade. "I want you and your kin off my lands. Leave now. Arnult, follow them," he called to his castellan. "See to it they are allowed to exit from the gate."

The small nobleman glanced from one FitzHenry to the other then acknowledged the arrival of a third. "My lord sheriff," he said in greeting to Geoffrey, a smile tugging at the corners of his narrow mouth. "Lord Graistan, believe me when I say I leave you with all haste and joy in my heart. This event has spared me a terrible mistake. Keep the vixen," he offered to Gilliam, "and may you survive your wedding night with no more than that pinprick."

De Ocslade mounted and roweled his horse into a turn, leaving the contract yet in the mud at his feet. His nephews followed as they left the abbey far more slowly than they had entered.

Gilliam stared after them. The nobleman was too smug for either defeat or enlightenment. He looked down at the ruined parchment. Why come when he had no seals on the contract? No man was that sort of fool. His eyes narrowed. It must be that de Ocslade not only knew Nicola would elude capture, he was positive she would run to him; he was retreating to their meeting point.

Damn, but if Gilliam could not find her first Hugh would sweep Nicola beyond his reach. As Rannulf suggested, with a babe in her belly no one would squabble over who her husband was. Gilliam turned to his brothers.