Borderland Betrayal

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BORDERLAND BETRAYAL

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Copyright © Samantha Holt, 2014

Cover Art ® 2014 by VALERIE TIBBS

BIN# JGPI2014060-SH5

Electronic Publication Date:  March 2014

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Borderland Betrayal

Samantha Holt

CHAPTER ONE

Northumbria, England 1370

James swirled his ale around his cup, eyeing it with distaste. He cast his gaze about the alehouse and grimaced. In an attempt to gain peace in a place where his face was not known, he’d resorted to seeking out an inn on the outskirts of Durham, far from the busy lodgings in which he was staying.

Draining his ale, he motioned to a serving girl for another. Aye, this inn did not have decent drink as The Rose and Crown did, but no one knew him as the Captain of Thornewall here. The rough patrons suited the dilapidated state of the alehouse, but at least they left him alone.

He allowed his gaze to follow the movements of two peasants as they staggered out the door, letting a waft of fresh air cut through the stale, sweat-tinged odour of the building.

Curse the idiot criminal who thought he could hide out in Thornewall.
Escorting the thief back to the sheriff had taken him away from his duties, and James did not relish leaving the castle in the hands of Lucy, his lord’s young bride, who now carried Dominic’s babe.

Grin hidden behind his cup, he conceded that if anyone could run a keep as vast as Thornewall while her husband toured the lands, it was Lucy. The Lady had proved her worth time and again.

The battered wooden door swung open once more with a thud and James glanced up as a woman in a drab brown gown and apron wove through the long tables, carefully skirting the sprawled legs and groping hands. James straightened as he studied her. She carried herself with surprising grace, and his breath caught as her gaze settled briefly on him, interest sparking in her expression.

With her long brown hair caught in a messy braid and that plain gown, it would have been easy to dismiss her as her nothing more than a wench, but one glimpse of her face made his blood simmer. Her strong features and exotic dark skin were far from the pale, delicate looks of the noble women he knew, but underneath the peasant-girl appearance was a face that could start wars.

Sensual lips quirked into a smile as she bent and spoke with a grizzled old man. Murky smoke from the tallow candles swirled as she breezed around the crowded inn. All eyes remained on her as she tugged something out of her apron. She grinned as she approached the nearest table, leaning over and fluttering her eyelashes at the men as she inserted herself between them. Over the din of raucous laughter and leering shouts, James just made out her voice as she offered the men love potions. A hint of a lilt in her tone told him she was not native to England. Spanish perhaps.

She slapped at the errant hands of the men as she pressed little fabric parcels into their palms and took their coin with a wide smile. James watched closely. As much as she seemed to have the men under control, she would be no match for any of the drunkards if they decided to push themselves upon her. His hand flexed over the pommel of his sword. His mouth thinned as he noted the movement of her hands while she seduced them with her charms.

 A thief.

God’s blood, the woman was a thief. As she distracted the patrons with her looks and potions, she snaked a hand into their coin bags. James shook his head to himself. Suddenly she did not seem so enticing. Dishonesty made his stomach curdle.

The woman secured her gaze on him as she rose from the table and made her way over, her hips swaying. James scowled. Her every movement held all the men captive, including him, in spite of his disgust. As she settled on the bench next to him, he gritted his teeth and studied his ale, determined to ignore her disturbing presence.

“Sir Knight.” Her voice was smooth and flowing, with just the faintest hint of an accent. Spanish, for certain. Yet her words were as well-spoken as an educated lass. “Does a woman put that scowl on your face? Mayhap you would like a love potion? Your beautiful lady will likely fall head over heels for you with but a drop of my herbs in her wine. Or mayhap you would prefer her to fall into your bed. I have potions for that too, though I suspect a man like you has little trouble with such matters.”

Giving into curiosity, James met her teasing gaze and studied the woman properly. Her long straight nose, expressive dark eyes and high cheekbones instantly captivated him. Her lips were pale against her skin and even when curved into a grin they remained full and succulent. Aye, certainly her looks were worth fighting for. A pity her soul was wanting.

Though tempted to ignore her, he wondered if he could not teach her a lesson. A lesson from him would be far better than one from any other man. He did not find pleasure in the thought of her put in the stocks or worse.

“Aye, I shall take some of your herbs.”

Her smile widened, revealing a set of pretty teeth. Extremely uncommon in a peasant girl. Who
was
this woman?

“And which herbs would those be, good sir? For bed or for marriage?”

“Whichever, I care not.”

“You care not whether you bed or marry her? She cannot be a special woman. Or mayhap you take delight in tormenting a woman so. Mayhap you are already married and take joy in women falling desperately in love with you.”

James let his glower deepen and he extended a hand. “Are you here to sell me your herbs, lass, or question my morals?”

“My, you shall need these herbs with that scowl. I have never met a knight with such rough manners.”

“And I have never met a lass with such a candid tongue.”

“‘Tis time you did then. Here, you shall have these. I will not reveal which I have given you. You shall find out for yourself when you administer them.”

The woman slipped a small packet into his hand and forced his fingers to close about it as if it were some sacred potion rather than a mix of likely useless herbs. Though rough, her fingertips glided over his hand, creating a simmering sensation under his skin.

Mimicking her, he pulled a coin from his money pouch and snatched at her wrist. She sucked in a breath and observed avidly as he pressed the coin into her palm. Her eyes lit but he couldn’t be sure if it was the coin or the touch of his hand that did it. Enfolding her fingers around the coin, the desire to bring those fingers to his lips struck and he dropped her hand abruptly.

A disturbance broke out nearby and James instinctively thrust an arm in front of her as the two men crashed into a table and sprawled on the floor. He almost missed the tug on his belt as the woman’s intrepid fingers delved into his money pouch. Had he been inebriated, he doubted he would have noticed.

As the two fighting men were shoved out of the building by the burly innkeeper, James snatched her wrist and yanked it from his bag. She gave a slight cry and her eyes widened in alarm as he held her hand out in front of him, a coin clearly clasped between her fingers.

“I think that mayhap I cannot afford the cost of your herbs, lass. Here I did not realise they would cost me
all
of my coin.”

“P-pray,” she tugged away from him but James tightened his grip, “forgive me, sir. I had no intention of…”

“Robbing me?”

“Nay! Nay…I am desperate. Pray, my lord, I shall cause no trouble again, I swear it. Just release me and I shall hand you back your coin.”

James plucked the coin from her fingers and slid it safely into his leather pouch. Her reaction appeared to be one of genuine fright, not something he expected from a seasoned thief. In his experience, they usually attempted to worm their way out of trouble using quick tongues and even quicker movements. The lass had a quick tongue to be sure, but it seemed she had lost the use of it.

“My lord, I beg of you…” She wriggled against his hold.

“Calm down, lass. I’ll not see you punished but I trust you will not thieve again.”

“I will not,” she promised breathlessly. “I am not a bad woman, pray believe that.”

A shadow fell across the table and James glanced up to see the innkeeper bearing down upon them.

“Ellise, ‘tis ye? Ye are leaving me patrons barren of coin?”

“Oh nay,” she forced a giggle, “we are just sharing a jest, Rob. I am no thief.”

Rob’s brows rose and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Is this true, sir? Ye be jesting?”

James gently released Ellise’s wrist and nodded. “Aye, just a jest.”

The innkeeper snapped his head round as a man from across the room shouted, “Hey, me coin! Some little thief has been at me coin! Rob, ye’ve got a wretched thief in yer midst. I’ll see ‘em hanged, if I catch ‘em.”

Rob’s nostrils flared, his jaw tense as he motioned hastily to a serving wench. “See that Tom has his fill of ale for free this night.” Seeing the other man’s dissatisfied expression, Rob waved a hand to the man. “Ye’d have lost all yer coin on ale this night anyway. Ye cannot complain surely?”  His gaze darkened as he turned his attention to Ellise and James curled a hand around his sword. “Ye, girl, will be leaving now. I’ll not have a thief driving away my patrons. Grab yer belongings and be gone with ye or I’ll take ye to the sheriff.”

“Where shall I go?” Her voice wavered and James’ heart panged with remorse.

“Away from here. Now,” Rob barked before pushing his way back past the customers and slamming through the rear door.

James grimaced as he glanced at Ellise. Hell’s teeth, he hadn’t meant for the lass to lose her lodgings. He’d only meant to teach her the error of her ways. This was the last time he’d take the moral high ground.

“Forgive me,” he went to put a hand to her, “I intended not—”

Ellise leaped away, coming to her feet and stumbling over the bench in her haste to escape him. “It matters not what you intended. You sought to punish me and now you have. I hope it has brought you satisfaction.”

With this, she spun on her heel and raced through the back door. James cursed and slammed his palm on the rough table. He cursed again. This eve had gone from bad to worse.

~***~

Arms wrapped around herself, Ellise kicked a pebble and cursed under her breath. Having gathered what few belongings she had, she left the inn through the rear courtyard, unwilling to face the knight who discovered her.

Wretched man. Why could he not have let her be? She should have known better than to approach him, but he enticed her with his handsome looks and serious brow. A small flicker of guilt teased at her and she tamped it down. She took no pleasure in thieving but she needed the coin. Desperately.

A man who looked like an angel caught her stealing. Ellise snorted. Of course, should she have expected any less? Still, she would not be cowed by events. As soon as she’d found somewhere else to live, she would figure out another way of earning money. Mayhap she could work in one of the townhouses or even as a seamstress. She shook her head. Nay, her sewing skills were severely lacking.

Ellise shivered, despite the balmy summer evening. The few torches in the street had long since been snuffed out and large buildings loomed over her, their uneven white walls glowing in the moonlight. Alleyways threaded their way between the houses and Ellise eyed them warily. Danger lurked in every corner at night. She touched the small knife in her apron, assuring herself it was still there.

Where should she go? With little coin and her ragged appearance, none of the finer inns would take her in. Her only hope would be to sneak into a stable for the night or else she’d be left on the street.