After the Storm (8 page)

He could feel her trembling against his chest, but her voice was steady and full of sarcasm. He had to grudgingly admire even a noblewoman who could manage bravado despite being frightened.

Libby briefly considered driving her elbow into Bastien's flat, bare stomach, but decided that would be a good way to get herself killed. The man's grip was too tight, and the knife too closely pressed to her throat for her to take any risks.

"That dagger hurts, you know," she pointed out as they continued a slow retreat toward the keep.

"I'll try not to leave any scars."

"I'd prefer it if you tried not to leave me dead."

"I'll do my best."

She was oddly reassured by what was probably a lie. "Who are you?" she asked him. "Sikes? I thought Sikes was an old man."

"Sikes is an old man. And how do you know about Sikes?" And why was he having a conversation with this woman when he had a negotiation to get on with? "Reynard," he called to the sheriff, "release your prisoners or the woman dies."

He had not come alone to the fair. Five of his men were imprisoned in the castle's deep undercroft, five more of his band emerged from the crowd as he approached the outer entrance to the storeroom with his prisoner. They'd done a Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

careful reconnaissance of Passfair since they'd arrived that morning. Their escape plan was set and now they had the leverage to secure their comrades without using force. Bastien thought it was all going quite well.

Then he saw the priest lift his bow. Bastien shouted, "What are you trying to do?

Kill her?"

Sir Stephan called a command, and the sheriff a warning, but the priest loosed the arrow anyway.

Bastien barely had time to drag Isabeau to the ground before the arrow whizzed through the air where they'd been standing. He felt the warmth of blood on his hand, for he must have cut her when they fell. A horrible anger at the priest raced through him as he dragged himself and the girl back up.

He continued to hold her before him. This was no time to examine just how badly she might have been wounded. Two of his men flanked them, swords held at the ready, keeping Stephan and the other warriors at bay. The priest was on the ground. Reynard stood over him, holding the bow and looking disgusted.

"Do you live?" Bastien demanded of his prisoner, though he could hear as well as feel her shuddering gasps.

"I'm going to kill him," was her furious answer. "I swear I'm going to kill that son of a—"

"Hush, gentle one. Be meek and obedient and we'll be done soon."

"I'm going to kill you, too."

He had no doubt this young lioness might well try. "Don't be foolish. You're already bleeding, let's not make it worse."

"How do you know you didn't slit my throat?"

"You're still talking."

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

"Good point. What do you want?"

They'd reached the door of the undercroft where the prisoners were being held.

His men had already chased away the guard stationed there. He didn't answer Isabeau but directed his words to Sir Reynard. "I want my men released. It's as simple as that. Give me my men, I give you the girl."

"Now wait—" Sir Reynard began.

"Very well," Sir Stephan cut him off. He gestured the angry sheriff to silence.

"Take your vermin and go, Bastien."

"Gladly. Give me the key."

Libby kept still. She nursed her annoyance, and ignored the sharp pain of the cut on the base of her throat. The anger stung more than the slight wound, she was almost more angry than she was afraid. She didn't like the idea of Bastien of Bale rescuing
her
prisoners. Why had she bothered getting the damn key if this discount store Robin Hood was going to show up and do her job for her? When she'd come here to study outlaws she hadn't planned on getting involved in a hostage situation. While the fascinated crowd stared at her and Bastien, Libby watched Sir Stephan hold his hand out to Lady Sibelle.

Sibelle said, "I'm sorry, my dear, but I don't have—I don't recall—Ah, yes, Isabeau has been taking meals to the prisoners. She's quite concerned for their welfare." Sibelle smiled brightly. "Isabeau has the key. How convenient for the swine holding her."

"You have the key?" Bastien whispered in Libby's ear. "I went through all this trouble, and you have the key?"

"You could have asked."

"Give it to me."

"Get it yourself." Libby was annoyed with herself for her own bravado. The man Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

had a knife at her throat, for God's sake. Still, she couldn't help her reckless reaction. She did add helpfully, "It's in my pouch. Watch where you put your hands," she complained after he moved his hand from her waist and brushed her inner thigh before finding the embroidered silk bag hanging from her belt. The brief intimate touch sent a completely unexpected jolt of desire through her.

He moved the knife from her throat long enough to cut the pouch free, then tossed it to one of his men. "Hurry."

The girl reacted in the moment it took him to throw the pouch to Odda. She tried to escape, but he grabbed her by the belt before she could run. She swore in a most unseemly way as he pulled her back into his embrace. He didn't know whether to laugh at her spirit or threaten her with dire punishment for it. Before he could decide, the storeroom door was opened and his captured men came tumbling out.

"Up the south wall walk," he commanded, not giving any of them time to say a word. They weren't the brightest of men, but they reacted well to orders if they were given firmly enough. "Odda, Harald, show them the way." Once they were well on their way to the wooden walkway that circled the inside of the curtain wall he nodded to his remaining followers, grabbed his prisoner firmly by the wrist and ran for the stairs.

"Have you considered going out by the door?" Isabeau demanded as he dragged her to the top of the stairs.

"Too many guards on the gate. And it's the wrong direction," he explained as they raced along the walkway.

His men were already climbing down the ropes that had been secured around the central crenelations while he'd been involved in the archery match. The chance for the diversion had been a godsend, one that made him grateful for obeying the Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

overpowering impulse to protect Lady Isabeau from the overbearing young noble.

The south wall faced the forest. They would have to cross the outer bailey and a deep ditch filled with sharp stakes. It was still a quicker, safer escape route than attempting the main gate and Passfair village where most of Sir Stephan's force was posted. Besides, the stakes faced outward to protect the castle from external attack, the defense would be easy enough to slip through going the opposite way.

He also had archers posted at the outer edge of the forest as cover for retreat.

He'd planned this escape very carefully.

At the base of the wall was a cart filled with a soft cushion of hay, left there in the chance that any the captives might be too weak to use the ropes. Fortunately, none of the men seemed so worse for wear that they needed to be tossed off the wall. In fact, he noted as he and his hostage reached the group by the rope, the fools who'd gotten themselves captured all looked remarkably healthy.

In fact, far from looking cowed and beaten, two of them went so far as to smile and give courteous bobs of their heads. Not to him.

"Good morrow, my lady," said Aethelstan as he climbed up on the flat section of wall between the high squares of the crenelations.

"Lady Isabeau," said Cynric. "You were right to say we'd see freedom today."

Bastien didn't know whether to glare at his newly freed second-in-command or the Norman woman Cynric seemed so friendly with. "Why would she help you?"

he demanded. He gestured for the men to hurry. Aethelstan grabbed the rope and swung out over the wall.

"She has too gentle a heart to let anyone she knows hang," Cynric answered while he waited to take his turn climbing down. "Wanted to know all about our childhoods and such. She likes to listen, does Lady Isabeau. Saw we were fed Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

well, too. Thought she might let us slip away when the bonfires were lit tonight."

The older man narrowed his eyes questioningly. "You're not going to hurt the lady, are you, Bas?"

Libby could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs while the men talked. "Go,"

she ordered. Cynric went, leaving her and her captor the last ones on the walk.

"Who's running this rescue?" Bastien questioned indignantly as the last of his men disappeared over the wall.

"It could have been done with a little less flash," she countered with equal fire.

He thrust a finger under her nose. "I have this situation under control."

"Ha!" she said, and knocked the knife out of his other hand. He gaped at her as the weapon bounced off the wall with a metallic clang. Then, before she quite knew what she was doing, she twined her arms around his neck and pulled him forward. "For luck, as the princess said to the Jedi."

Overtaken by mad impulse she kissed him, her mouth pressing hard against his with swift passion and urgency. It lasted only a moment, it could only last a moment with his life at risk, but the stolen pleasure of it burned a new memory into her mind. The few wild seconds while her lips clung to his almost made up for some of what she'd lost.

When she broke the kiss she put her hands on his chest and pushed very hard.

His hips hit the low wall, but the momentum was enough to carry him over the side. He swore at her as he fell toward the ground.

Libby paused only long enough to see that Bastien had landed in the haycart before she snatched up the fallen dagger. She tucked the souvenir from this escapade into the sleeve of her underdress as she turned to face her rescuers.

She knew why she'd helped with the escape. She owed Bastien a favor for his knocking out Henry. He'd saved her, now she'd helped save him. They were even.

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

She had no idea why she'd kissed him.

Still, she was smiling like a fool at the memory of it when Sir Stephan rushed up to grab her by the arms. "Are you hurt badly? No, it's just a scratch. We saw what you did."

She blushed. "You did?"

"It was brave of you to push the churl off the wall."

"Very," Sir Reynard said dryly as he turned from looking over the wall. "Might as well call your men off, Sir Stephan. It looks like they're going to make it into the forest before we can catch them."

"Pity," Stephan said.

Sir Reynard gave a laconic nod. "We'll get them eventually. And at least we know who the leader of this new band is. He's an interesting rascal, isn't he, my lady?" There was a glint of amusement in Reynard's eyes as he looked her over.

Libby thought he might be teasing her, so she lifted her head proudly, then touched the cut on her throat.

"Interesting isn't how I'd describe him, Sir Reynard. More like a ruthless menace."

"Uh huh." He brushed his fingers gently across her cheek. "Your lips are a bit swollen, my dear, but I didn't see him strike you."

She felt a strong need to get away from Reynard of Elansted's shrewd appraisal.

The cut was still bleeding slightly, though she'd forgotten about the pain in the rush of the escape. She cupped her palm over it as she said, "I think I'd best have Lady Sibelle see to this."

"Of course," Sir Stephan said. "Come, let me help you down the stairs. You poor brave child."

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

Libby almost squirmed with guilt at her godfather's kind words, but she let him practically carry her down to the courtyard without saying another word. She was really glad that arrogant brigand Bastien had shown up at Passfair for May Day. She'd been prepared to help the prisoners on her own if Bastien hadn't taken the matter so dramatically in hand. That would have been a betrayal of the Lord of Passfair, and the sheriff, and, most importantly, the Time Search rules of non-interference.

Knowing the brutal fates of hanging or having their hands chopped off that awaited the outlaws if Reynard had taken them to Reculver had made her lose all objectivity once she'd gotten to know them. They had become people to her, not case studies, but men who'd been forced to try to eke out their existence on the fringes of their own society. While they had attacked her party she couldn't see that the punishment they would receive for it was equal to the crime they had committed.

Despite what he'd done to her, she was glad Bastien had shown up to take care of his own people. His men had been loyal enough not to breathe a word about their leader or their organization when she'd questioned them. Then he'd loyally appeared to rescue them. It would be valuable to study that loyalty. It was the stuff of folktales and legend. It was exactly the sort of thing she'd come here to investigate. He was the sort of man she'd come here to study: a legend in his own time.

"Or at least in his own mind," she muttered as she reached the bottom of the stairs and was surrounded by. a gaggle of concerned womenfolk.

"Out!"

"What?"

"You heard me, priest. I want you away from Passfair before the bonfires are lit Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

tonight."

Libby looked from the enraged Sir Stephan to the sputtering Father John who stood before him below the dais. She'd come down from the bower with Marj and Lady Sibelle after being bandaged and changing into fresh clothes. She'd walked in to find the household gathered in the ominously silent great hall. It hadn't been silent for long. As soon as Lady Sibelle joined him on the dais, Sir Stephan had shouted angrily at the priest.

Father John, who had been clutching the side of his head with one hand, drew himself up and pointed at the knight. "I was appointed by the king!"

"And you're being dismissed by me!"

"Why? What have I done?"

Sir Stephan put his hands on his hips. "You very nearly killed one of my guests today."

"I was defending your lands from outlaws."