Heather Graham (15 page)

He turned around, arching a brow.

“I didn’t do it,” she repeated. An irritated and yet injured note touched her voice then. Her eyes were brilliant, she appeared very regal and feminine. She looked beautiful, and, like Lenore, seductive. “I tell you,” she said firmly, “I was not guilty, and you owe me an apology.”

He didn’t reply for a moment, swayed by the vehemence of her words.

But he knew better than to allow her to sway him. He crossed his arms over his chest, surveying her. “I’ve yet to receive an apology for what you did to my wine or my boots.”

“I never touched you.”

“Sir Thackery awaits me,” he said, and left her.

The guest chamber was nearly as comfortable as the master’s quarters. That night, Adrien slept deeply and long. In the morning, he learned more about the layout of the castle. Danielle’s ladies and tutors were housed in the south tower while the north tower was the domain of the knights and men-at-arms.

He spent hours in the great hall with Sir Thackery, going through Danielle’s Gariston accounts and finding that the place was, in truth, all but a Camelot. Sir Thackery trained the men-at-arms himself, no blight had ever touched the fields, and the countryside was peopled by numerous craftsmen as well as farmers. There were two blacksmiths, three coopers, three stonemasons, at least ten good carpenters. There were seamstresses, metalsmiths, millers, and more. The sheep were some of the finest in all England, and the revenues from the sale of wool to the Flemish were generous.

Adrien commended Sir Thackery for his excellent management of the estates, assuring him that the king was well pleased with his efforts.

“I’m glad that my good lord Robert’s daughter has come here at last. He was a very great man, and it is good to see his bloodline follow here!”

Adrien agreed that Robert had been a great man.

Sir Thackery suggested a hunt for the following day, since the forests were rich with game and there were now many more mouths to be fed at the castle. He had been entrusted with the care of the Glenwood Forest, since the old earl had died without an heir, and the king had yet to choose a man upon whom to bestow the title, estates, and income. “Deer are plentiful, wild boar as well. Ah, and the birds to be taken! Pheasants and fowl fill the air. We’ve a fine selection of hawks and falcons for the chase, and it’s a good day’s pleasure, Laird MacLachlan.”

Adrien wondered for a moment why so many people chose to use the Scots accent when addressing him, since he had been away from his father’s country so many years. He didn’t mind. No amount of time could erase a man’s roots, and though he was Edward’s knight, he never forgot that his first language had been Gaelic and that he was Carlin MacLachlan’s son.

“I should enjoy a day’s hunting,” he agreed, then excused himself from his host and exited the hall to walk around the fortress, assessing everything he saw.

Out in the large expanse of courtyard, men and women plied their trades. A barefoot girl walked with a flock of geese, a cooper sat upon a stool beneath a thatch-roofed hut, nimbly transforming oak shavings into a barrel. As he walked down along the row of craftsmen, Adrian saw a goldsmith fashioning a circlet and he paused, watching the delicate work as the artisan welded tiny beads into the design.

“A beautiful piece, milord,” the bearded craftsman called to him. “Worthy of a lady a man such as yourself might call his own.”

“Indeed it is,” Adrien agreed. “When will you be finished?”

“When would you like to have it?”

Adrien laughed. “As soon as possible. I plan to see the countess settled, and then ride out and find my lady. I’m eager to bring her back here to be with me while this cruel plague haunts the country.”

“The circlet will be done this evening,” the craftsman promised.

Adrien paid the man without haggling over the price. In London or Winchester, it would have been considered low. He imagined that Joanna would love the circlet, and he suddenly pined to see her. She would enjoy Gariston with its high, strong walls and beautiful interior details. She would enjoy the warmth inside those walls from the huge hearths, and she would enjoy Sir Thackery as well, he was certain.

He had brought the countess safely here, as he had been commanded. By himself, taking shortcuts through more narrow trails, he could return to Winchester before Joanna had a chance to leave and convince her that she must come with him to wait out the plague here. Her father would forgive them both for not seeking his leave since time was so important. Adrien had been feeling a growing anxiety ever since he had seen the friars with their burden of dead, and he wanted to make sure Joanna was far from the congestion of Winchester. Perhaps she had already left for her father’s estates, and perhaps not. She had not to leave for several days, since she had to see that the last of the queen’s offspring and belongings were packed and gone before seeing to herself.

He would attend Sir Thackery’s hunt tomorrow and assure himself that Danielle was settled and in good hands and that the fortress was well supplied, then depart the following morning with the dawn.

With that decision made, he found his mood lightened. He continued on his walk through the courtyard, and was not surprised to find Danielle holding her own manner of court with a number of young squires and men-at-arms. Somehow, she had managed to join in a training session for tournament jousting, and she laughed with delight as she balanced a heavy lance while seated upon her mare.

“You’re extraordinary, milady, but the thing will burden you to the ground in but minutes!” came a warning cry. “Give it over, Danni.”

It was Daylin, his own squire, who rushed forward to take the long, heavy shaft from her before it became too heavy. The girl smiled again, then spoke softly to all those around her, and a loud cheer went up for the new countess. She looked up suddenly, almost as if she had sensed that he was there, and a defensive tilt immediately came to her chin. She slipped from her mare, handing the reins to Daylin, then hurriedly left the group and headed for the east tower, ignoring Adrien as if she hadn’t seen him.

Dear God, but she could irk him.

He followed behind her, whistling.

Once inside the hall she stopped and spun around. “What is it, milord? Do you feel that I falsely hope to gain the loyalty of Gariston’s forces?”

“On the contrary, you seem to be doing just fine. The perfect lady.”

She didn’t seem to be surprised, merely wary. “Ah. So I can be the perfect lady. Is this your way of apologizing?”

He shook his head. “No, milady. You deserved exactly what you got from me. You will always get exactly what you deserve.”

“Really? Well, perhaps you will be so good as to tell me, milord, just when you are leaving Gariston?”

“Actually, Countess, I am leaving at dawn the day after tomorrow.” A look of such surprise and pleasure touched her features that he added quickly, “I have decided that I cannot leave matters to others—I am going back for Joanna. I will bring her here to reside until the king frees me from looking after his French ward. Pray God, lady,” he said wearily, “tell me that you do not seek to fight me on this!”

“I adore Joanna,” she said gravely. “She will always be welcome.” She turned about and left him, seeking her own chambers.

They remained civil to one another that evening as they dined with Sir Thackery, Lady Jeanette, and Monteine. Danielle was charming as she assured the elderly steward that she was anxious to attend the hunt and meet the castle’s birds.

She was weary, though, and retired quickly. Her emerald eyes assured Adrien it was his company that wearied her most. Adrien and Sir Thackery enjoyed a game of chess, which ended in a stalemate.

When he was climbing the stairs to go to sleep that night, Adrien encountered Monteine coming out of Danielle’s chamber. The girl was pretty with dark sable hair and eyes to match—small, slim, and somewhat anxious.

“Milord!” she said quickly.

“Monteine.”

She still blocked his way. “I—” she began.

“Yes?”

“Please,” she said worriedly, “you mustn’t be so angry with the countess. She is young and delicate, and lost a great deal in life with the death of her mother. She grew up in France, watching the destruction the English caused. I beg you, she does not mean—”

“She means every word she says to me, and she is about as delicate as the boars we will hunt tomorrow. She knows what to expect each time she crosses me, and that is the greatest kindness I can give her. Now, if you will excuse me, I am very weary.”

He started to pass by her.

“Milord!” Monteine called again.

He paused. Her breasts were heaving, her hands folded nervously before her. She moistened her lips and stood very close, and he wondered if she might not be trying to offer him favors in return for his ignoring the wild streak in the countess.

“Aye?” he said.

“I wish—that you would not be so angry. If there were some way to ease your spirit …”

“The countess and I will have to learn to get along, Monteine, and we must manage that on our own,” he told her. “Good night, Monteine,” he said, and started up the stairs to the third floor.

He felt her eyes watching him as he walked, and he was certain that there had been more that she had wanted to say.

In the morning, Danielle was mounted along with her women, Sir Thackery, Daylin, and another young castle guard when Adrien came down. Mark was saddled and awaiting him this morning, along with a fine young falcon. He saw that Danielle was gloved and that she stroked the belly of a peregrine falcon that perched upon her arm, speaking softly to the bird. She greeted him politely enough with Sir Thackery before them, and then had her mare fall in step with Daylin’s mount as their party started out for the forest.

The day was beautiful, the air clear. It wasn’t long before they came upon a pond where waterfowl flocked. A pheasant suddenly started into the air and Danielle released her bird, they all watched as the magnificent creature burst gracefully into the air, bringing down the bird. The hunt was on.

Later, they rode hard across an open field. Adrien realized that Danielle enjoyed riding at great bursts of speed far more than she actually cared for hunting. She crossed a field ahead of him, then disappeared in a copse of trees. Suddenly a scream riddled the air and panic seized Adrien. He raced after her, his heart pounding furiously.

She was upon the ground and her beautiful bay mare was flat upon it, too. Adrien leapt from his horse, hurrying to Danielle. He hunched down before her and reached for her carefully, afraid that she had broken every limb. But she was already sitting up and not even noticing that he touched her, for her eyes were focused on her mare, Star, who had fallen, and lay flat …

“She threw you?” he asked.

She shook her head wildly, “Adrien … she was startled. Oh, God, Adrien, there!”

He looked where she pointed, past the mare, and saw a tree just beyond the fallen animal, where a corpse hung. It was bloated, pathetic. Crows had picked at the eyes. It appeared that an old hermit, suffering the agonies of the plague, had cast his own belt around his throat, jumped from the tree, and hanged himself. The horrible sight had startled the mare, and both Danielle and her horse had gone down.

“Jesus!” he whispered, crossing himself. He stood. “He’s dead, Danielle—he’s been dead a long time.”

“I know,” she said, but her face was ashen. She allowed him to help her up.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. He cupped her chin, forcing her to look away from the corpse.

“Are you sure?”

“Aye.”

Sir Thackery burst upon the scene then. He, too, saw the corpse, and crossed himself. “We’ll get the fellow down. My lady … ah, Countess, you at least seem well. The mare will have to be put down.”

“What? No, oh, no!” she whispered suddenly. She freed herself from Adrien’s touch and knelt by the horse’s head. Adrien sighed, kneeling down by the horse himself and discovering that a sharp branch had torn straight into the mare’s inner right hind leg.

Daylin had reached them by then. “Ah, lady! She’ll have to be put down. She won’t be able to walk again,” he said.

Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back furiously and looked at Adrien. For once, there was nothing in that emerald gaze but pleading. “Please, Adrien, is there nothing at all you can do?”

“Danielle—”

“No, you cannot kill her!” she cried then, reaching for him, her fingers curling into his tunic and shirt. “Please, please, you cannot! Help me, Adrien, don’t let them kill her!”

She loved her horse, but he realized as well that she was trying very hard not to see the dead man. She had already learned bitter lessons about the ravages of the plague, and he realized that fighting for her horse now was a means of fighting back against a horror that none of them could control.

He sighed deeply, looking at the horse, then at her. They all looked at one another—far better than seeing the long-dead corpse. “I can try to rig a stand for her and there are roots you can use to make poultices for her injury, but you’ll have to dress the wound several times a day,
day after day
, and even then, she might not make it.”

“But we can try!” Danielle whispered. Her lips were trembling. “Please!”

He nodded, and looked up at the men surrounding them, all of them staring at him in silent reproach as if he had gone daft.

“Don’t stare at me, Daylin!” he snapped to his squire. “We’ve got work to do. We must create a litter.”

“For a horse—milord?” Daylin said incredulously.

“For a horse!”

“Danielle, I don’t want you near the poor fellow in the tree. Get away until the body is cleared,” Adrien insisted.

“I’ve had the plague already and survived,” she said softly. But she met his eyes, and apparently decided on obedience under the circumstances. She did as he bid her. One of Gariston’s foot soldiers, Martin Nesmith, told Adrien that he’d had the plague as a child and would cut down the body which had so startled the mare.

When the body had been removed, Adrien turned his mind to the horse.