The Faithful Heart (6 page)

The woman stared at him with a furrowed brow,
giving him the same up-and-down look that every prissy nob in the
shire gave him when he opened his mouth. “My horse has thrown a
shoe,” she explained, gesturing to the natty old gray’s front
feet.

Jack glanced down and sure enough, the
horse’s left front foot was rough around the edges. “Bad luck
that.” He shifted his weight to one hip and sent the woman his best
saucy grin. “How long have you been stuck here?”

She met his look with a wicked smirk of her
own. “Hours. All day. Can you help me?”

“Depends.” He shrugged, crossing his arms.
“What kinda help were you looking for?”

The flirtatious twinkle in her eyes deepened
as she glanced down and sent him a look through long lashes. “I
suppose I need a ride.”

Jack grabbed his wrist, pressing the beads of
the rosary into his flesh until it hurt. Anything to keep him out
of the trouble that was standing right in front of him. He took a
deep breath and pushed his thoughts, and a few other things, down.
“Where are you headed?” He switched to a pure, neighborly tone,
reaching for the reins of the woman’s horse.

“To Derby,” she answered.

“Oy! Lucky for you, that’s where I’m goin’
too.” It was close enough to the truth. There was no way he would
find Ethan now. He walked the woman’s horse up to his own mount and
looked for a way to tie the reins to his saddle. “How’d you end up
all stranded out here all by yourself with a lame horse?”

“I was attacked by a band of outlaws at first
light,” the woman sighed, her perfect chest heaving as she
shuddered.

“Ethan,” Jack growled, almost missing the
intoxicating swell. Almost.

“Who?” The woman batted her eyelashes at him
as he jerked the knot in the reins tight.

“The folks that attacked you on the road. Was
there a man named Ethan with them? Or Toby or Tom or Roderick?”

“I… I don’t know.” Her eyelids fluttered and
her cheeks flushed. “They didn’t give their names. They didn’t give
anything. They just took.”

“Yeah?” Jack scowled. “What’d they take?”

“Everything.” She looked up, eye glittering
with that light that made his chausses feel tight again.
“Everything,” she repeated with significance, resting a hand
between the cleft of her round breasts.

Hail Madeline, full of grace…. He turned away
from her to mount his horse. “Yeah, we got a bit of an outlaw
problem in the forest at the moment.”

“We?” She blinked and took his arm when he
reached down for her.

“Yeah.” He grunted as he lifted her onto the
saddle in back of him. She ground her hips against him as she
settled. “Me and Crispin,” he croaked. He nudged his horse to turn,
the gray following, and started a swift walk back along the road to
Derby. The woman’s arms snaked around his waist.

“You and…,” the woman faltered. “No! You’re
not … Are you Lord John of Kedleridge?”

Jack twisted in his saddle to look over his
shoulder at her. “You heard of me then?”

For a moment she looked as though she’d
swallowed a silver farthing. “You’re really Lord John of
Kedleridge?”

“Yeah, I am,” he laughed. “Oy, I see my
reputation has preceded me.”

“Well, it’s just that-” She stopped. Jack
twisted around to see her staring at his back. Her mouth was half
open in surprise and a twinkle that would have given him the
willies if she hadn’t been such a looker lit her eyes. “I’ve always
been lucky,” she started up again, laughing, “but this, well, this
is extraordinary!”

“Oh yeah?” He shifted to look forward,
fiddling with the rosary and wishing they could get out of the
forest a little quicker.

“I was just on my way to Derby to find
you.”

“You were?” A tingle shot down his spine, but
whether it was from her revelation or the way she reached her hands
up to grasp his chest and squeeze him tighter he couldn’t tell.

“Yes. My lord,” she added the last in a low
purr.

“Why?” He squirmed in his saddle. Hail
Madeline, full of grace, blessed art thou among women….

“My sister married a Kedleridge man, my lord.
When I heard that the old lord had died and that a new one had been
appointed in his place, well, I just had to come see for
myself.”

“Oy, there ain’t much to see, mate,” he
chuckled, wondering why Simon had chosen such a hot tunic for him
to wear.

“Oh, I beg to differ,” she hummed in a voice
so low Jack wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it or not.

The road out of Derbywood had never seemed
longer or more enclosed as they made their way out of the forest.
Only this time it wasn’t the trees that unnerved Jack. Hail
Madeline, full of grace, he kept repeating as the woman pressed her
chest against his back and his mind counted the days since he’d
last had a woman in his bed. He could stop before they were out of
the woods for a quick tumble in the bushes. No one would know.
Something told him the woman would be game. But no, he still had
faith that someday soon he would zip down to Coventry and scoop
Madeline out of the convent.

“Oy, what’s your name anyhow?” he chattered
to keep his mind on the straight and narrow.

“Lydia,” the woman answered.

“And what’s your sister’s name? Maybe I know
her. It’s not Alice, is it?”

“Alice?” Lydia laughed, “Oh no. It was
Constance.”

“Constance,” Jack repeated. “What’s she do at
Kedleridge?”

“Nothing.” Her shrug rubbed him in all the
right wrong ways. “She’s dead now.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” He squirmed in his
saddle. They turned a corner and a patch of sunlight where the road
left the forest beckoned to him. He nudged his horse to walk
faster.

“Actually, my lord, I’ve come to see if I
might take her place in your household.”

The itch of temptation was met by the
uncertainty of how one went about hiring or replacing staff. “Uh,
yeah, maybe you could. What’d your sister do?”

“Many things, my lord,” she hummed, “Many
things.”

Madeline spun in front of the mirror Aubrey
had brought into her room, puzzling over the way her figure looked
in the green velvet kirtle Joanna had found for her. She smoothed
her hands over the soft fabric at her sides and over her hips.

“It’s just so odd,” she frowned.

Aubrey laughed. “How can it possibly be odd
to look like a woman?”

“I never have before,” Madeline shrugged in
reply. “Hassocks are meant to cover earthly things so that the mind
and heart can focus on God.” She turned the other way, frowning at
the rise of her breasts and pulling the under-dress higher to
conceal more.

“Stop fussing.” Aubrey stood from the bed and
came over to swat her hands. “You look beautiful.”

“Hardly.” She patted the netting over her
cropped hair. It didn’t do much to hide the boyish cut.

“Nonsense,” Aubrey huffed and took Madeline’s
hand. “You’re beautiful and I am quite sure at least one young man
I know will think so too.”

Madeline’s cheeks flushed and a quiver shot
through her gut to her toes. “You said that Jack was at the
castle?” She let Aubrey lead her out the door and down the
stairs.

“He … he had an errand to run. But I’m sure
he’ll be back soon.”

The castle was buzzing with activity, even on
the top floors of the High Tower. As Aubrey had explained, nobles
had come from miles around to bend Crispin’s ear now that he was
Earl of Derby, especially since the emissary from London was there.
The castle was overstuffed with lords and ladies in rich brocades
and velvets, walking the halls with their heads held high, ordering
the castle’s servants this way and that. Madeline was certain she
looked more like a servant than the grand ladies they passed even
in the velvet.

“I can’t stand a one of them,” Aubrey
whispered to her when they reached the main hall and cut towards
the castle’s huge front door. A handsome middle-aged woman in gold
brocade met Aubrey’s eyes with an obsequious smile that faded to a
sneer as soon as Aubrey smiled in return and looked away. “When
they’re not trying to worm their way into our good favor they’re
complaining about us behind our backs.”

The other half of Aubrey’s ‘us’ strode around
the corner, spotted them, and changed his path to meet them.
Madeline stepped back and half hid behind Aubrey. It didn’t matter
how much her friend argued otherwise, Sir Crispin was still one of
the most frightening men she’d ever known.

“Aubrey.” He reached her and grasped her
hand, stealing a quick kiss with a frown. “Lady Madeline.” He
nodded to her. “I heard you’d arrived.”

Fear closed her throat and she could only nod
back.

“What’s that look for?”

At first Madeline thought Aubrey was talking
to her, but when she glanced up to answer Crispin beat her to
it.

“Word of the king’s ransom has been leaked,”
he glowered. “I’ve had no fewer than five lords approach me to
complain about it already and I haven’t even begun to contemplate
methods of raising the money yet.”

“Well does anyone have any good
suggestions?”

“No,” he sighed. “They’re more concerned with
telling me I don’t have a right to take what’s theirs.”

“Surely they want to see King Richard freed.”
Crispin sent her a dark look that might have been intended as a
grin. “You’re going to have to call a council of nobles, you know,”
she went on.

Crispin sighed. “I know. But whether they’ll
support-”

“Sir Crispin!” a booming voice called across
the hall.

Madeline’s heart trembled into her knees. She
knew the voice. It came from the only man who frightened her more
than Crispin.

“Matlock.” Crispin nodded as her father
strode across the hall towards them. The castle’s servants and even
the nobles rushed out of his way. Crispin stood straighter, pale
skin contrasting with his black tunic. “I had not heard that you
had arrived at the castle.”

“I came just now.” Her father wasn’t as tall
as Crispin, but he carried himself with so much majesty that he
seemed larger than life. He always had. “And not a moment too
soon.” He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

“I take it you’ve heard about the king’s
ransom.” Crispin faced the issue head-on.

“I have. What do you plan to do about
it?”

“I plan to raise the money.”

The air between the two men bristled. Aubrey
glanced between them, her face flushed and eyes bright. Madeline
could only stare at her father, frozen in fear.

“How?” he challenged Crispin. “I doubt even
Buxton hoarded a sum like that. How much do you plan to wring from
the rest of us?”

“I don’t know yet, Lord Stephen.” Crispin
showed no intimidation and then added, “I would appreciate your
counsel on the matter,” before her father could try to cow him.

“I’m sure you would,” Matlock seethed.
Madeline knew the look in his eyes too well. He had no patience for
anyone or anything that did not bow to his authority.

“There is a banquet tonight,” Crispin changed
the subject. “Your attendance would be most welcome.”

Matlock met his eyes and held them, a battle
of wills. Finally he nodded and turned to go.

Madeline was halfway through letting out a
sigh of relief when his glance fell on her. All color drained from
her face as the light of recognition dawned in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Those eyes held no
welcome, no love.

“Father.” Her voice was half a wisp of sound.
“I… I….”

“I specifically wrote that you were not to
leave the Abbey of St. Mary’s for any reason.”

Madeline cowered as he stepped towards her,
lowering her head in a flinch as if he would strike her. She opened
her mouth but no words came out.

“Is this your doing?” Matlock rounded on
Aubrey.

Aubrey wavered but managed to pull herself up
to say, “Madeline escaped of her own free will.”

“Escaped? You will go back at once!” Matlock
ordered, pointing a finger at her.

“But… I….” She withered as if his finger was
a dagger stabbing her.

“You will see to it that she is returned to
the convent at once,” he directed his demand at Aubrey then spun on
his heel and marched away.

Madeline watched him, eyes wide, stomach
swimming with sick knots.

Aubrey huffed. “Not even a hello! He didn’t
even call you by name! Some father he is!”

“Maybe it’s best if I just go,” Madeline’s
voice shook as all energy left her.

“I’ll leave you to this,” Crispin muttered
before nodding at his wife and Madeline and fleeing the scene.

Aubrey crossed her arms and shook her head at
him before turning back to Madeline. “You are not going anywhere.”
Her command was as sure as Matlock’s had been.

“Aubrey, it’s not a good idea to cross him.
You don’t know what he’s like.” She could hardly raise her voice
above a whisper.

“If my father ever spoke to me like that….”
Aubrey grabbed Madeline’s hand and yanked her forward towards the
door and out into the afternoon sunshine. “Of course my father
never would have spoken to me like that. But if Crispin ever even
so much as thought of-”

Madeline stopped listening to her friend’s
rant. She froze at the top of the stairs, staring down into the
courtyard, eyes wide. There, riding through the front gates astride
a chestnut stallion, red hair blazing in the sun, was Jack. Her
heart pounded to her throat and she flushed from pale to bright
pink. He was even more handsome than she remembered. The fine tunic
he wore sat well on his broad shoulders. His eyes flashed with
mirth as he nodded up to Aubrey. He smiled as he turned to say
something to the woman who was riding on the back of his horse.

Her smile and heart dropped.

The woman riding behind him wore her thick
blonde hair loose around her shoulders. Her laughter lilted across
the courtyard. She held Jack around the waist and only let go after
she spoke something close to his ear. Jack smiled and swung his leg
around to dismount. He turned and reached for the woman, who
slipped easily into his arms. There was no mistaking her feminine
figure. Jack made sure she had her footing before stepping
back.