By Possession (12 page)

No longer “that good man,” but a traitor now. “My father's convenient and merciful death lost Barrowburgh. With my absence there was no one to speak on behalf of our family, but what has occurred can be undone.” He rose. “Now I must take my leave. Apologize to Lady Mary that I could not attend the festivities that she planned in my honor.”

Simon stood, no longer the affable brother but an adversary who had just been given fair warning. Addis
turned to Owen. “You were with Sir Theo on the
reise
where I fell. Did Theo survive?”

Owen shook his head.

“But you did. How fortunate for you.”

Owen colored at the insinuation that cowardice had saved his life in a battle where most had died.

“Do you return to Darwendon?” Simon asked while they descended to the hall. Addis perversely arranged it so Owen walked behind them. That dreamlike sensation had expanded, surrounding him with an entrancing mist. A small part of him dared Simon to give the signal to his henchman, because it really wouldn't matter. He could hardly be killed if none of them truly existed in this time and place.

“Nay. I do not think I will be at Darwendon for some months hence.”

He floated through the hall being prepared for a feast that he would not attend. Late morning sunlight blinded him for a moment when they emerged from the keep. He stood looking down on the townspeople and merchants milling in the yard. The colors of their garments appeared too bright. The details of the walls and battlements looked too sharp. Something jostled his elbow and he glanced to see Simon turning slightly, communicating silently with the red-haired man whose presence warmed his back. He knew his danger with a calm certainty, but also experienced an odd irritation with Simon's reticence.
Do it
, a corner of his mind whispered.
Think of the trouble it will save us both.

He stood at the top of the stairs longer than he ought, immobilized by that small voice while waves of nostalgia and weariness and resignation inundated him. The formidable strength of the fortifications loomed all around, the walls of the home he would have to destroy to regain. Fearful, shielded glances from guards and townspeople
met his gaze. He felt Owen move, and sensed the hand easing up to the belt where the dagger hung. He did not react, tempting them still, blindly scanning the crowd below.

And then, like sun breaking through fog, he found himself alert and aware again in an instant. His gaze swung back to where it had just passed, to a woman near the gate peering up at him over the shoulder of a merchant to whom she showed her baskets.

The danger howled. The dreamy lethargy vanished. Stepping abruptly, he placed Simon between Owen and himself.

“Fare thee well, Simon.”

He turned and walked down to his horse.

CHAPTER 6

H
E JUST STOOD THERE
, a nod or a wink away from death. Moira watched while she showed the merchant her best baskets. She wished that she could fly. She would wing up those steps and give him a good shake and wake him up to the danger increasing with every moment of delay.

You could feel death in the air, as if the tension growing among the three men had settled over the whole yard, stilling the breeze and slowing time. Even her oblivious merchant had been affected. He kept peering about himself curiously, as if his spirit knew something was not quite right.

Addis looked magnificent. Simon, for all of his jewels and gold, could not compete and appeared a vain and pompous man who neither liked nor comprehended the commanding nobility beside him that garnered so much attention. Her heart swelled with both pride and sorrow at the image Addis presented. So right. So inevitable.

Her own rightful place among the lake of commoners flowing below him also struck her with force. She did not resent the reality of it. One might as well resent the movement of the sun or the change of the seasons. She watched him survey the walls and crowd, oddly at ease despite his danger, comfortable in the place he would one day stand again by force of his own will. When that day came Moira the basket maker would be a shadow again, a dim memory of a bondwoman who had served him while he decided his course.

Her eyes never left him and she answered the mer-chant's questions without really hearing them. She thought that her head would split from the suspense. She observed with trepidation the silent conversation between Simon and the red-haired knight, noted Simon's wavering hesitation, watched the knight's stance of preparation. If he used a dagger he could drag Addis back into the hall before anyone knew what had occurred.

You push too far, Addis. He is going to do it. Move now!

As if hearing her silent urging, his dark gaze slid past her, halted, and snapped back. For an instant they looked directly at each other. Just as Simon made the vaguest gesture to the knight, Addis moved to his brother's other side.

“Thank God,” Moira cried softly, exhaling the breath she had been holding.

Not too softly, because a knight in scarlet livery turned. She had not noticed him take his place nearby. He stepped closer, angling his bald head to peer at her. Moira tried to ignore him by giving the merchant more of her attention, but she kept one eye on Addis's progress to his horse.

“I know you,” the knight said.

“Nay, surely not. I am not from these parts.”

“At Hawkesford. I saw you there.” His dark eyes
squinted over sharp cheekbones while he searched his memory. The merchant had decided to take all the baskets and she clasped his coins in her hand while she walked away.

A heavy hand came down on her shoulder. “Now I remember. Lady Claire's little friend. 'Tis your eyes, and they don't change. Can always remember a person by the eyes.”

“You are mistaken.” Addis was on his horse now, aiming for the gate. The knight grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shadows of the wall. While she resisted his grip she glanced to the stairs. Simon still stood there watching Addis with a dark expression, but the red-haired knight had disappeared.

The man pressed her against the stones, hovering his body so she became invisible to anyone in the yard. Not a young man, but the years did not appear to have blunted his strength. “Are you with him?” he asked.

“Who?”

“Do not play the fool with me, girl. Did you come with the lord? I saw you look at each other just now.”

“You saw wrong.”

He gave her arm a firm shake that jerked her whole body. “Listen you now, and listen well. If you are with him, tell him Sir Richard advises he go to the village of Whitly, near the abbey of St. Dominic. Our reeve there, a man named Lucas, will give him shelter this night, and I will come in the morning.”

Addis was passing not fifteen feet away. He looked for her, but could not see her against the wall with Sir Richard blocking her from view. “Tell him yourself.”

“And have that wolf watching from the stairs see me do it? Nay, girl, those loyal to him are no use if they are dead.”

Simon did watch. His eyes might have bored holes into Addis the way he watched. Moira nodded, and pushed Richard away. Where was the red-haired knight?

She glanced to the gate through which Addis had just passed. The crowd in the outer yard separated, creating a lane for him. Simon remained on the stairs, as if waiting for something to happen.

She scanned the people, looking for that red hair. Impossible to see much in this crowd, but then he could do nothing down here. She peered up at the battlements, pushing into the yard's center for a better view.

A red head moved along the wall walk, heading back to the keep. She turned in the direction from which it had come. A guard bent in the shadow where the wall met a tower. Panic split through her. She stared at him sighting his crossbow, and then pivoted to see Addis approaching the outer gate, a slow-moving target.

She did not hesitate. “Look!” she cried, pointing to the bowman. “Up there! Look!” She yelled this time, using all of the force of a voice that had sung in large halls when she was a girl.

Bodies and faces turned. She kept pointing and yelling, and other hands and voices joined her. Excitement and confusion rippled through the yard. Dozens of fingers led hundreds of eyes to the guard preparing his shot.

The noise distracted him. The bolt flew and Moira heard its high whistle despite the din. Addis's horse reared while he twisted and looked back to the battlements. The bolt missed its target but everyone had seen and all hell let loose in the outer yard. Hands swung out to smack the horse's rump and, willingly or not, Addis galloped out beneath the portcullis.

Moira turned away with relief, only to find angry, cunning eyes glaring at her from atop the stairs. Another hand
pointed, this time Simon's, this time at her. The red-haired knight began descending toward her.

“Out now, and run, girl.” Sir Richard muttered, walking in front of her. “I'll see you get through the gates.”

Blood pulsing with fear, she turned on her heel and dodged through the buzzing crowd. In the outer yard the crowd slowed her progress, but she elbowed and nudged and squeezed to the gate. Popping through, she could not see Addis on the lane ahead. Despite the excited stream of townspeople pouring around her, she decided it would be safer to skirt along the back lanes in case that red-haired knight still followed.

She darted behind the ovens and aimed for the town buildings, trying to stay in the shadows beneath eaves. Would Simon send men after Addis now? The whole town was in an uproar, and people spilled into the side lanes where she sprinted.

Shouts and yells began piercing the general noise. Horse hooves clamored on paving stones not far away. Addis on a horse might get through the town gate before Simon ordered it closed, but she on foot might not. She wondered what Simon did to people who foiled his plans and felt a renewed surge of panic.

The sounds of a horse grew louder, trotting down a side lane in her direction. She ran for her life. The hooves followed in pursuit.

He was upon her in moments, cutting off her path with the bulk of his animal. She heaved breaths of exhaustion and closed her eyes in resignation.

They opened to find a strong forearm bound by a gold armlet stretching down to her. She looked up at the dark head limned by the bright sky. “Up quickly,” he ordered. “Unless you want to grow old with me in one of Barrowburgh's dungeons.”

She grabbed his arm and he swung her up behind him. She had barely landed before he spurred the horse to a gallop. People gawked and peeled out of the way while they flew through the narrow lanes.

“Do they follow?” she yelled into his back while the horse's rump jostled her.

“Damned if I know. Would you like to stop and see?” he shot back. His angry tone reminded her that his delay while he searched for her had increased his danger. “Not yet on horse, if they do. None saddled in the yard for them to use.”

He turned into the main lane and headed for the gate. Its portcullis was just beginning to lower. People saw them coming and many raised arms and cheers while they passed. Addis streaked beneath the descending iron edge and out into the silent countryside. Moira's whole body went boneless with relief.

He didn't slow until he entered the woods. They trotted along its paths until they came to the clearing where her cart waited. Addis swung his leg over the horse's neck and jumped off, then grabbed her and hauled her down.

“I told you to wait here.” A tight fury poured out of him. He grasped her firmly around the waist and she angled away in resistance.

With relief had come her own annoyance at his foolish boldness. Now his tone made her patience snap. “You also told me that he would not try to kill you.” Her mind saw it all again and his carelessness made her livid. She smacked her hand into his chest to relieve her exasperation. “What were you doing up there? Standing forever like that? You know his mind! Tempting the devil, that's what! I'll wager that you challenged him directly when you spoke too, didn't you? Told him outright that you would come for him one day. Gave him fair warning, like
the chivalrous”—
smack
—“noble”—
smack
—“stupid man you are!”

He caught her hand and whipped it behind her back, pulling her closer, arching her body. “You could have gotten us both trapped in there!”

She flattened her free palm against his chest and pushed back from him. A firm arm circled her waist and forbade her release. “You were safe enough once you got through the castle gates. And that bolt was your own fault, daring him like that with your conceited boldness. Do not blame me for any danger you faced today.”

“Should I have ridden out and left you within those walls? That is all I need now, for Simon to discover who you are and use his hold of you against me.”

“If he had caught me, what would he have had? A bondwoman. One serf more or less will not affect the outcome of this, and that man is smart enough to know it.”

She glared at him, hot with anger. She wanted to smack him again, but her free hand had become imprisoned between her body and his chest. Gold lights flamed down at her from absorbing eyes embedded in a stern face.