A Rose in Winter (75 page)

The common room was dark but for a single taper near the window. The hearth was cold, and the shadows brought him painful memories of laughter, a giggle, and warm, rich mirth. He grasped convulsively the hilt of the sword he carried, and his mind dwelt on the shedding of blood. The old lord's study was stagnant with age, and he absently touched a finger to the keyboard of the harpsichord. The single note rang hollow and flat without her voice to give it word and warmth.

Christopher stood with hanging head as the tall clock in the hall struck the second hour. He went to his chamber as the echoes of the chimes died away and, removing only his boots, stretched out on the bed. With an effort of sheer will, he blanked his mind and filled it with the creaking masts of a ship on the high seas. Rest was a necessity, even if it was for only a few hours. Soon it came, and mercy made it undisturbed.

The sun shining against Avery's eyelids cast a red glow in his mind. He ached in every limb and joint, and he could barely move his left arm, though a quick touch assured him the pulse was still in place. His head throbbed, and the exposure to the night's chill had seeded a tremor in his bruised body that could not be uprooted even by the warming sun. He lay as he had fallen, feeling sharp pebbles protruding into his back and the stinging sores where thorns had rent his flesh. He had not the courage to move, for to do so would have caused undue pain in his overly strained muscles.

A bird flitted overhead and then dipped to earth, settling on a nearby branch to survey this mangled sight of humanity. Avery rolled one eye around and squinted at the feathered thing that trilled so gallantly in the new day. He was certain the bird was mocking him.

A breeze wafted over him, and Avery blinked as he realized it touched the bare skin of his legs. With a grimace, he raised his head and saw that his breeches had been completely stripped from his lower half, leaving the ends of empty braces dangling from beneath his waistcoat. He leaned his head back against the rising bank and looked upward. There, high above, flapping from the ragged stump of a dead tree, was what remained of his breeches.

It was a long while before Avery assured himself that no bones were broken. He turned slowly, painfully, pushing himself to his hands and knees, and crawled ever so carefully around shrubs and trees toward his breeches. It was hardly worth the effort he expended, for the garment no longer resembled its former shape. The best he could manage was an apron of sorts that would questionably guard his modesty.

There was, of course, no sign of the horse the sheriff had given him, and he moaned over the loss of the fine saddle. Both would have brought him another fifty pounds or so, enough at least to sit down at a game of cards and begin rebuilding his fortune. Ah, well! The two hundred pounds in the purse would serve him toward that end.

He could not resist an accounting of his treasure and drew out the purse, emptying it on a flat stone between his spraddled legs. Then he stared agape. The greater portion of the purse was thick, dark-colored disks. He lifted one and bit into it, and its softness readily took the marks of his teeth. It was lead! Lead balls had been split into a semblance of coins to weight the purse. After he counted out the worth, he found only a few pence over twenty pounds.

Avery cursed and threw a handful of the lead into the brush. A fool's game, it was! Tears filled his eyes. All his planning, all his scheming and maneuvering were all for naught except for a slim twenty quid!

Angrily wiping away a tear, he vowed to seek out Lord Talbot and face him with this affront. He jammed his hat down over his ears, then rolled and crawled upward toward the road. He would have gotten to his feet, but he caught the distant sound of thundering hooves coming toward him, and he scrambled to hide himself. After a moment, a large black coach and a team of four came into view. He watched until it drew near, then gasped and ducked down, recognizing the crest of the Saxton family emblazoned on the door.

Claudia slapped the missive against the palm of her hand, sorely chafed with curiosity as to what message it bore. She had assured the man who had delivered it that she would give it to her father as soon as he returned, but even then she was not sure that she would learn of its contents. At times her sire waxed secretive and refused to inform her of his affairs. Of late she had overheard bits and parts of his conversations with Allan Parker, and the frequent mention of Christopher's name had not escaped her notice. She was aware that they suspected the Yankee of being the dreaded night rider, and the very idea filled her with excitement. She was wont to imagine him as a gallant figure riding about in the dark of night, not to murder, as the reports claimed, but to expend his lust upon beauteous maidens and hold them captive for a few delicious hours. Of course, she would not have really cared if the night shade had murdered Timmy Sears and Ben Mose, for they had seemed somewhat useless anyway.

Thoughtfully she tested the seal that secured the parchment and drew close to the fireplace, where she held the letter close to the warmth. The wax softened, and taking the letter quickly to her father's desk, she pried the wax carefully away from the lower half of the paper. She was sure that her father would never notice anything once she rewarmed the wax and pressed it carefully into place again. But she must hurry. He had told Parker before he left that he would return before noon of this same day.

Eagerly she unfolded the parchment, and as her eyes skimmed over the words, her tightening lips began to form them, and they were gritted out between gnashing teeth.

"... informed me that his daughter, the Lady Saxton, is with child by Seton. I have taken her in my custody as bait to bring in the Yankee dog. I will hold her upon your arrival at the castle ruins on the western tip of the firth. Allan Parker."

Claudia's face twisted in a savage snarl as she flung the parchment away from her and stormed from her father's study, not caring how that one might react to her tampering. She had a need to vent her fury on that Saxton bitch, and she would not be stopped in that cause.

"Charles!"
She fairly screamed the name as she strode across the foyer toward the stairs.

Sounds of running feet came from the back of the mansion, and the butler burst through the door, completely ruffled by her summons. Catching sight of her on the stairs, he skidded and stumbled to a halt beside the balustrade.

"Yes, mistress?" he managed breathlessly.

"Have Rufus bring the carriage around," she snapped. "1 will be taking an outing shortly."

"Yes, mistress." He gave a brief bow and hurried toward the back again to see to her bidding.

Shouting in strident tones for her maid, Claudia continued her ascent, and the trembling girl rushed out of her mistress' chambers to meet her in the hall.

"I will be going out for a while," Claudia stated sharply. "Lay out my clothes."

"Whi-"

"The red traveling dress and the plumed hat," her mistress barked. "And this time, don't dawdle! I am in a hurry!"

The young maid whirled and was about to dash back into the chamber, but she remembered herself and stepped quickly aside to let her mistress enter first. Claudia glared at her as she passed, and the girl shivered in trepidation. The bruises had barely healed from her last reprimand, and seeing the temper her mistress was in, she fully expected more to follow.

A half hour later, Claudia came from her chamber and descended once again to the elaborate foyer, snatching on a pair of gloves as she came down. She watched curiously as the butler hurried to the door well ahead of her, but what she had thought was an eagerness to please was no more than a part of his regular duties. Though she had not heard the knock on the front portal herself, she was sure it had come, for when Charles opened the door, there stood a man whom she stood in great fear of: Lord Saxton.

"I have come to see Lord Tal—"

Lord Saxton halted his announcement as he caught sight of the crimson-garbed figure on the stairs, and in sudden panic, Claudia glanced about for some place to flee, but she was held fast to the step as the cripple, brushing past the gaping butler, moved with his halting gait to the bottom of the stairs, where he stood looking up at her.

"Miss Talbot"—the rasping voice seemed to hold a sneer—"I was hoping your father had returned, but you might provide the information I seek."

"I don't know where they've taken her!" she lied, her tone reaching a high squeak.

"Ahh." Lord Saxton leaned on his cane and tilted his masked head thoughtfully as he peered up at her. "So you know why I came."

Claudia bit a trembling lip, daring no reply, and nervously pulled off her gloves.

"I'm sorry to intrude," her unwanted guest apologized in the same snide tone. "I see that you are going out."

"I"—she searched for an excuse—"need some fresh air."

His gloved hand swept in a downward motion, indicating the stairs. "Please, you needn't fear me." His chiding laughter mocked her obvious anxiety. "I rarely harm anyone... unless provoked."

Claudia gulped and glanced up, wondering if she could reach the safety of her chamber before he caught her. She saw her maid standing near the balustrade on the landing above, nursing a bruised and bloody lip, and distantly mused on what tricks her imagination was playing on her. She could have sworn she had seen a smug sneer on that one's face.

"Miss Talbot, join me," Lord Saxton bade in a flat, harsh tone.

In compliance she carefully descended the stairs but could not bring herself to move from the last step. There was no need. He came to her instead, making her cringe away to escape his imposing nearness.

"Do you know where the sheriff has taken my wife?"

His words, though deadly calm, jolted into her. She read in the rasping tone many implications that caused her concern for her well-being.

"Charles..." she whined fearfully.

Lord Saxton turned as the servant took several hesitant steps forward. "Stay where you are if you have a care for yourself. I will tolerate no interference."

Charles retreated an equal number of strides and nervously closed the door in want of something to do. Claudia blanched as the masked head came around, and she caught the hard glint of his eyes behind the holes.

"Well?" he barked. "Do you know?"

"Allan sent a note to my father," she rushed to explain. "I had no idea what he had done until I read it. He's keeping her in an old deserted cottage somewhere south of York, I believe. I was just going to see to Erienne's welfare now. Is there some message..." She stumbled to a halt as the eyes hardened behind the leather and sensed that he had seen through her lie.

"If you have no objections, Miss Talbot, I will go with you. My coach can follow us."

"But..." She sought some excuse to deny him, but as he stared at her with that fixed, leather smile, she felt the trap close about her. In an effort to escape it, she questioned, "Do you know that your wife is with child... by that renegade, Christopher Seton?"

The brittle light never wavered.

"Did you hear me?"

"Aye, I heard." The hooded head slowly nodded. "I have much to talk with her about."

Claudia's brows raised as a new thought struck. Perhaps there was much to be salvaged of her revenge by leading this beast of a man to the other woman. He might become violent with Erienne, and she could witness the beating the wench rightfully deserved. A smile touched her lips as she thought of such a comeuppance. After Lord Saxton finished with his wife, Christopher Seton would not want to look upon her again, and of course she, Claudia, would be quick to offer him condolences at his loss of a mistress.

She waved a hand almost cheerily as she beckoned the cripple to follow her. "Come along then. We'll be on the road for some time, and we'll need to get started now if we intend to reach the castle by noon."

Lord Saxton followed in her wake, dragging his cumbered foot past the butler, who stared after them in amazement. He knew his mistress was flighty of moods but wondered at her wisdom in going off alone with the beast who had all but threatened her on the stairs. He closed the door behind the pair and shook his head as he crossed the foyer. A movement on the landing made him pause, and he glanced up to where the maid leaned against the balustrade. The hatred on the girl's face had grown quite obvious now that her mistress had gone.

"I hope he drops her down a well-used privy somewhere."

Avery had managed to obtain himself a ride on the back of a cart to the edge of the Talbots' property, though the sheepman who had provided it had cast a deeply skeptical glance toward the pasty white legs jutting out from beneath the strange skirt that covered his loins. But as Avery scrambled to his fastest and most painful gait up the lane leading to the Talbots' manor house, he gave no thought to what the man might have thought of him. The Talbot coach had passed them a short distance down the road, and he had espied Lord Talbot himself sitting within it. Avery was too anxious to catch the man before he left again on some other business to worry about his own attire.

He jerked down the skirt of his britches as an errant breeze wafted up to caress his backside, but he did not slow his puffing pace as he saw the manor house just ahead of him and Talbots' coach standing in the drive before the portal. He smoothed his bedraggled garments as best he could and climbed the full dozen steps to the front portal. His insistent banging on the door plate brought him face to face with the dignified butler, who suffered a momentary spasm of repugnance from the sight that greeted him. His gaze disdainfully measured the tattered man before he regained his arrogant stance and sniffed. "Yes?"